Mount Timpanogos Cave Hike

6,000 feet above our usual altitude

2 weeks after an appendectomy

3 kids 6 and under with ZERO hiking experience

1 awesome sister and her fam to make the journey a smashing success

We hiked to Timp Cave!

I made the mistake of telling the kids that the top of the mountain looks like a woman lying down. Robert couldn't let that image go. He asked what part of the girl we were climbing. I guessed her hair. Then we went inside the cave and he pointed out her lungs (the brown flowstone waterfall in Middle Cave). There is a 2-ton stalactite in the cave that they call the "heart" of the cave. Robert accepted that as literal fact. Then somehow he got stuck on the idea of the girl's bum. He wanted to go out of her bum. We got out of the cave and he was vastly disappointed, to the point of tears, that we hadn't seen her bum. Bobby and I tried all kinds of symbolic alternatives, but nothing would do. He did not see anything that looked like a bum to him, so it didn't count. He cried about it on the way home and still mentions it every time we talk about the cave. It was his favorite part of the trip, despite the disappointment, and I would do it again. But only if we're hiking with friends or family again.

Mama Molt

Any time you can compare motherhood to the life cycle of a unique and interesting insect, I'm in! But cicada metaphors aside, I still find this article singing to me. I just say, "Amen, sister."

Change is growth is necessary is not always the kind of growth one expects...click on the cicada shell to read the article:

Japanese Beetle Control!

My poor apple trees have taken a beating this year. Aphids, fungus, rabbit damage, and now Japanese beetles:

The beetle grubs have left their telltale signs in my lawn, too (dead rings where they've feasted on the grass roots):

There are chemical controls, of course, but the adults are notoriously difficult to manage because they fly from tree to tree with ease and follow pheromone trails from up to 2 miles away. They are also abundant because their favorite foodstuff is pretty much everywhere (e.g. roses, maple trees, fruit tree, crab apple trees, etc.) and there's no end to the expanse of urban lawn in which to lay eggs.

A small-scale organic farmer like me can use physical controls pretty easily. Just handpick those guys off the plants straight into a bucket of soapy water. My dwarf trees are still small enough that I can reach the highest branches.

Today, though, I decided to see if the chickens would eat them. A friend told me about her chickens liking Japanese Beetles, so I thought I'd give it a try. What a treat! Those horrid beetles made a terrific cracking, popping sound when the chickens crunched into them. Mwah ha ha haaaaa!

Broody Biddy

Roo wants to hatch an egg. We come home from vacation and suddenly she's keeping herself in the coop, sitting on the eggs of her compatriots, and just waiting. It's a hormonal thing. A bird can be perfectly happy to abandon her eggs every day for however long and then suddenly feel the uncontrollable urge to sit on a clutch and wait. She stops laying eggs. She just waits on the ones she finds.

Oh, Roo. I cannot mock your desire to nurture a brood. I have been there, chickie.

But Roo, you're not laying eggs. In another month or so, all of you chickie ladies will begin to molt* and then NONE of you will be laying eggs until spring. I am faced with a choice. Are you a pet, Roo? Or are you a means to an end?

I don't need pets.
I don't want pets.
I don't nurture lives just for fun.
I'm quite selfish that way.

But Roo, I like you. I like you best in the flock. You are the most pet-like of them all. I would consider feeding and caring for you all winter if only to have your personality around a little longer. With good care, you could live another 3-4 years! But I don't want to keep the rest of your flock unless they're laying eggs. I've pretty much decided that they have to go once the molt begins.

But one chicken gets awfully lonely on her own. And the owners of that lonely chicken get a little weird. I've seen it. Don't want it.

So sit on those eggs, dear Roo. I know you can't help it. I don't like to admit it even to myself, but your days are numbered. And your last day with me won't be an easy day for me, but I think that's a good thing. I don't want death to become easy for me...unless it's the death of a Japanese Beetle. Mwah ha ha haaaaaaaa.

*molt: "to shed old feathers, hair, or skin, or an old shell, to make way for a new growth, especially as a regular feature of an animal's life cycle." (thank you, Google)

James at 10 months

He wanders down the hall on shaky feet and stiff knees, teetering from one forbidden door to the next. Someone forgot to shut one! He speaks gleeful, curious babble as he discovers Alice's slipper, holds it high in one hand and stumbles into the hallway with a grin. Victory!

We visited the library today so James could practice moving on stairs. This boy is determined to walk forward down stairs just like everyone else. No reverse crawl. No bum scoot. No exceptions. Such an easygoing kind of fellow suddenly has such a strong opinion. I like to see him assert himself. He'll need that in this family :) His determination with the stairs has already resulted in several faceplants and a healthy respect for the edge of a drop off. I'll count that as progress.

I'm a sucker for his wheezy little giggle: