Battle of the Beetle

Every year there’s a new scourge, a new plague, a new invasive species to be conquered and brought under control.  It is a never ending battle with Mother Nature.  If you don’t keep vigiliant watch, something moves in and gains the upper hand.   

This years’ scourge was the Japanese Beetle.  By the time we arrived in August, they had chomped through my roses, turned the tender tops of my basil,  and zinnias into lattice work, and for some reason they found my asparagus appetizing.   Something had to be done immediately. I declared war. 

Consulting my library of gardening books, one book suggested putting a little kerosene in a jar and picking the buggers off by hand!   Pick and flick.   What sport!

The first day I caught over 80 and dropped them into my “death” jar.  The catching was easy.  I’d position the jar under the leaf and then give them a little nudge.  Like lemmings over the cliff, they generally fell in without any fight. Once they hit the kerosene the end came quickly.

After day one, I became totally OC (obsessive compulsive) and went on active duty, patrolling my gardens hourly, looking for the telltale glint of irridescent wings in the sun light.  I kept up my guard duty right up until we left last Sunday.  

I have a feeling I won the battle, but may have the lost the war.

Gone with the Windmill

There’s not a more iconic reminder of the history of the farm than our windmill.  We assume it dates back to the ’20s — about when the house was built.  It’s blades have been chained quiet for 40+ years, but we can still make out its manufacturer, Aermotor Co. , Chicago, Ill.

At one time this was how they pumped water from 120 feet below to the surface.  As long as the wind was blowing, the water was flowing.  Clearly ahead of its time in harnassing wind power.

So why all this nostalgia over an old windmill?  It has to go, Ron informed me.  In order to repair the well casing which sits below it, the steel structure has to be removed.  The footings are not as solid as they once were and on a gusty day you can see the legs lift slightly from the ground. 

So it will be torn down, cut into pieces and sold for scrap metal.  And with it goes a little more history of the farm.