Wednesday, August 15, 2018

A bookstore, rats and grass fungus—and a truly hot potato




No, they don’t all go together, as though there were rats and fungus in a bookstore—disgusting thought. Good news first--Fort Worth will once again be home to an independent bookstore. This, to be called Leaves, will feature books and teas—I gather everything from dry tea leaves to fresh-brewed. Waiting to for specific details but it will be located in the newly booming Near South Side area. I’m asking all my friends to support it in whatever way they can.

Now the not-so-good news: I am still hearing rats—last night their squeaking was so close, I wanted to just say, “Well, come on in.” I have seen two, looked like babies, run along the back fence—in fact, I scared a guest sitting on the couch one night by announcing, “Rat!” He ducked immediately, and I had to reassure him it was outside and wouldn’t land on his shoulders.

Out of curiosity, I look up the rat/chicken relationship and found the expected—chickens do not attract rats but their food, water, habitat does. Feeders that hang in the are best, and our neighbors use those. But I still see the chickens scratching at the ground.

The rats don’t really bother me, but it’s kind of eerie to sit and listen to them and think, “They’re out there, waiting to attack.” Like something out of science fiction of a Hitchcock movie.

I also wondered about the relationship between rats and rain, because I didn’t hear them until our recent rainy spell—call it what it was, a deluge. Generally, from what I read, heavy rains aren’t likely to bring out the roof rats, which are probably what I’m hearing. Yes, rats will leave their burrows and seek a more secure spot—like your car engine—but roof rats likely also have a home in your attic already. And they head there, not for the trees where I’m hearing them. So no explanation—there are rats out there, and if they get to be a problem I’ll call an exterminator and get those dog-proof boxes.

Meanwhile, a yard problem solved—and easily. All summer our grass has been disappearing in the back yard—not a very big space but still. Everyone had a different theory—I thought we should check for fungus (though I don’t know how you do that), Christian thought it was fragile grass (new last year) and three dogs, albeit little, peeing on it killed it; Greg, who used to be my gardener, shrugged and said, “It happens.” I got fed up, called the landscaper who put in the ground cover (and whose wife was Jacob’s first-grade teacher—we live in that kind of small world). He came by this afternoon, and I didn’t even see him glance at the grass went he went by, but he had his answer—gray leaf spot fungus. Hesitantly I asked for a price to treat it, and he said, $40. To think I could have done this two months ago, and we would have had grass all summer! He’ll treat it tomorrow.

So two up—a bookstore and an easily treatable fungus—and one down—persistent rats. Not a bad record. Hot this week, not so much so next week. I’ll take that for sure.

Ah, but the day held a final indignity. With my still uncertain stomach, I fixed a baked potato for supper—put half in fridge for tomorrow and was busily cutting up the other half getting ready to slather it with butter and yogurt and add salt and pepper. Somehow potato and plate flew off the butcher block table. The plate landed in Sophie’s water dish, and the potato I assumed was under the table. She found it before I did, prized it out from under the bottom shelf, and prepared to trot away with her prize—but it was too hot. She dropped it and proceeded to look at it in puzzlement. Telling her no at this point was useless, but I tried. She picked it up again, went a few feet and dropped it. By then I had my grabbers and did just that—grabbed it and put it in the trash. She nosed around, nibbled a few crumbs that had dropped, and went back to studying under the table, as though another potato half would emerge. I should have gotten pictures, but I was too busy trying to recover the potato. And laughing.

Cottage cheese with yogurt for supper.

                                                                                                                                              

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