Well, “hello Francine!”
We have endured hotness of the upper nineties and even 100 degrees for the past several weeks even months.
Our water has been limited and constrained to a modicum of moisture for the same and our grass has turned a well-done if not seared and scorched fescue of fodder so long our big cows have a hard time of finding their cuds to chew. The baby cows born during this arid spell have suffered with the effects of the elements.
Our ponds have dried up to the point of the big cows having to wade out to the middle of the ponds so that the water would reach their big cow bellies just to cool them down. My daddy would say it’s so dry, the fish are looking for a fish hook to hang on to.
I have watered my flowers so much that I am weary and exhausted of filling the watering jugs and carrying them to the big pots of the dried-out greenery. I’m almost ready to say, “That’s it for this year!”
Then, here comes Francine. She seemed to come from nowhere and plow into New Orleans overnight bringing the valued and appreciated water we have all needed all summer.
Again, I ponder as to the reason all hurricanes for years were always named for women. Do you think it’s because some scientist somewhere thought, certainly without reason, that we women always bring disorder and confusion into a situation? Think about it. There was Camille, who caused years of damage and destruction to our gulf coast. Then there were Betsy, Elena and Katrina. It seems the practice of giving storms personal names dates back to the 1890s when a meteorologist from Australia, Clement Wragge, named storms after women and politicians who he didn’t like.
Then during World War II, the Navy and Air Force meteorologists began naming the hurricanes for their wives and girlfriends. This seemed to be names easily remembered. Then, finally in 1979, the World Meteorology Organization began using the names of women and men with no explanation. Personally, I believe one of their wives might have taken offense.
We were on the Mississippi Gulf Coast one year just three days before one of the most devastating hurricanes came ashore. We have always talked about how blessed we were to have been moved from that place just in time. An act of the Almighty, I faithfully believe.
No matter what the hurricane’s name that came through here last week, I’m thankful first that less damage was caused than anticipated, lives were not lost and our cows can now maybe pull a good chew from the saturated forage.
I’m giving you a “recipe” this week for something I might have perfected. When we moved back into our log home after it burned, we installed no gas, only electric, so I have my first glass cook top. I have so much trouble keeping it shiny and clean, so I use hydrogen peroxide, baking soda and a sponge.
In a small bowl, mix enough soda with peroxide to make a paste. With the sponge, work the paste around in circles on most soiled areas. Soda absorbs grease and peroxide will help to lift the residue. Gather up your baking soda in a pile and remove. Wet a cloth with water and remove any remaining baking soda. Buff with a dry rag.
