Me and Mine

 The Brothers Bright and a beautiful, dark song.

—Mitchell Hegman

Video Link:https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=neCS21rPTHU

Rocks and Plants (Lemon Tree Report)

My lemon tree recently took off on a growth spurt and is going to need a larger place for wiggling its feet.  Wondering if placing rocks at the bottom of a new planter might be a good idea for drainage, I asked ChatGPT (the artificial intelligence chatbot) if using rocks for drainage on a potted lemon tree is advisable.  Here is the answer the chatbot generated:       

“Using rocks as a drainage method for a potted lemon tree is not recommended. Lemon trees, like many potted plants, prefer well-draining soil to prevent waterlogging and promote healthy root growth. Instead of using rocks at the bottom of the pot, it is more effective to ensure that the pot has proper drainage holes and use a well-draining soil mixture specifically formulated for citrus plants. This will allow excess water to drain freely without the risk of creating a perched water table that could potentially harm the roots.”

I have made a lifetime habit of ignoring the advice of people smarter than me.  I don’t think I should be bucking that trend at this stage of life by listening to a smarter chatbot.

I like rocks better than holes and shall be going with rocks.

Posted is a photograph of the lemon tree, the new pot (with rocks in the bottom), and a Cold Smoke beer as a reference for size.

My Lemon Tree

—Mitchell Hegman

Hitching a Ride

While driving along about a quarter-mile down the road after leaving my house, a blur of motion caught my attention at the bottom of my windshield.  For an instant, I thought a leaf had swept across the driver’s side wiper blade, but when I glanced down for a closer look, the head of a chipmunk popped up from under the edge of the hood.

I immediately stopped my car at the center of the country road.  “You need to jump off!” I yelled to the chipmunk.

The chipmunk didn’t move.

I found my phone and snapped a couple photographs.  “You need to go,” I repeated.  Thinking I could urge the critter to leave by freaking him out, I turned on the windshield wipers.

The chipmunk vanished under the hood.

Reluctantly, I jumped out of the car and opened the hood.  Even before I had the hood fully raised, I saw the chipmunk shoot out off the edge of the road and dive into a patch of sagebrush.

“And stay out, you little brat!” I called after him.

The Hitcher

—Mitchell Hegman

Twelve Years

Twelve years ago, on the bluest morning hour of May 11, Uyen Hegman slipped away from us, having lost her battle with cancer. She slipped away quietly as the stars shuffled on to make way for the unstoppable light of the next day.

I woke this morning from a dream in which Uyen returned from her long absence. She found me so she could show me an alabaster castle she had purchased, but the dream proved all too fleeting.

Mostly, I remember that smile of hers.

Uyen in California (1987)

Uyen in Huckleberries (2005)

—Mitchell Hegman

A Brother-In-Law Report

The other day, I shared a blog about how Terry, my brother-in-law, and I both misidentified a backhoe starting as the mating call of a big bird.

Terry, along with his knack at bird call identification, is a whiz at mechanical stuff.  I am sharing a photograph showing the new line configuration he tried on his weed eater.  I find the configuration aesthetically pleasing, but Terry assured me it does not work well for cutting the weeds.

Terry’s Weed Eater

—Mitchell Hegman

A Brief, Updated List of Facts

 

• You are never too old to be utterly stupid.
• There may never be an appropriate time to bellow out: “Bingo!  Bango! Mango!”  
• Nobody is obligated to tell you are out in public with your shirt inside-out.
• We are still waiting for a great kazoo artist to rise to the top.
• Getting comfortable with everything you do is merely setting yourself up to hit yourself in the head with a hammer.
• If you can’t be all you can be – at least be annoying so everyone remembers you.

—Mitchell Hegman

Birdwatching Slang

As a form of repentance for misidentifying a backhoe as a big bird the other day, I spent an hour or so visiting an assortment of websites dedicated to birds and birdwatching.  Bird watchers are a sober and dedicated bunch.  Turns out, they have also developed their own language.

Posted below are a few of the slang terms you might hear while birding:

Bins: Binoculars.

Butter Butt: Yellow-rumped warbler.

Dip (or dip out): To miss seeing a bird which you were looking for.

Dude: A casual birder who likes to go birdwatching but isn’t overly dedicated.

LBJ: Little Brown Job – Any small, brownish bird that you have not been able to identify.

Lifer (Life Bird): A bird species you have never seen before in your life.

Moo-Tweet: Cowbirds.

Nemesis: A bird that has eluded a birdwatcher despite multiple attempts to see it.

Nottabird: Something that looks like a bird from a distance but once binoculars or a spotting scope is used, turns out not to be a bird at all.

Patch: A local area often frequented by birdwatchers. 

Spuh: Birds that are only identifiable to genus level (from “sp.”, abbreviated form of species).

Twitch: The act of traveling a long distance to see a rare bird.

Twitcher: A birdwatcher obsessed with keeping and sharing lists.

Usual Suspects: Birds you expect to see in an area each time you go there.

Warbler Neck: A pain in the neck from studying birds high in the treetops.

—Mitchell Hegman