All posts by Jennifer Odom

People of Central Florida

Gail Cratty and Gosling’s Monkey Baby

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by Jennifer Odom

A yellow-orange sun crept lower and lower behind the pines’ darkening silhouettes, winding down another day on the farm. Gail ran the back of her gloved hand across her frozen nose and opened the metal latch of the feed room at the end of the horse stalls. Last night’s temperatures were some of the lowest of the year, and tonight’s promised to be worse. The mercury’d already dropped. Her fingers and toes were ice. She rushed, wanting to wrap things up and get inside to the warmth of a heater and the dogs who were likely pacing for their supper.

In front of the barn she unfolded Amelia’s canvas “playpen,” and set her down to nibble the grass, and get a little exercise. She leaned Amelia’s toy monkey against the side to keep her company.

The monkey was just a part of Amelia’s daily routine. Wherever she went around the farm, Gail dragged the monkey along with Amelia’s other things, her food, water, and playpen, and thought little more about it. Until Amelia grew up and became independent, less vulnerable to predators, that’s simply how it would be. Amelia would have her things and her playpen.

As far as the gosling was concerned, Gayle would find out, it was more than a routine.

“Amelia, you stay put, and I’ll be right over here doing my chores.” The gosling always peeped louder if Gail moved too far away, but a few feet was no problem. Ducks and geese will bond with humans like that.

Gail poured in the horse feed, raked up, and topped off the waterers. By the time she’d wrapped everything up, the dim light of the stalls had turned into darkness. “That’s it, Amelia,” she said, then scooped up the fuzzy baby goose and cuddled it against her chest as she put away a few more things in the feed room before closing it tight. “Let’s get out of here and get up to the house.” Then they headed the hundred miserable paces through the biting cold to the porch.

Inside, the dogs nearly knocked Gail down with affection and their desire for food. “Settle down, guys. I’ll get to you in a minute.” She lowered Amelia in her wire kennel and fed the dogs.

A nice hot shower is all Gail wanted, and a big hot bowl of last night’s leftover potato soup. She needed to warm her bones.

From behind her in the kennel, Amelia let loose a discontented noise. Peep. Peep. Peep.

“You settle down, baby. I’m getting your supper, too.”

Gail fed the gosling and closed the cage again. Peep. Peep. Peep.

By now the dogs had just about finished theirs. Gail would eat after her shower. She headed to the bathroom and turned on the water, then waited for it to warm up as she tossed aside her grungy farm clothes.

Peep! Peep! Peep!

Hmmm, Maybe Amelia wanted more attention. After all, Gail had cuddled her on the way back to the house.

Gail stuck her hand in the shower to check the temperature, then climbed in. Well, Amelia’d just have to wait until Gail took care of herself right now.

Hot water drained over Gail’s shoulders and back. Ahhh. Just what she needed.

Peep! Peep! Peep! Amelia’s cries grew stronger.

“Hey, settle down in there.” Man, that little goose was getting spoiled. The hot water ran over Gail’s face. Amelia would have to wait this one out.

Peep! Peep! Peep!

“Ah come on, Amelia. It’s not that bad.”

The yorkie trotted into the bathroom, whining. Gail pulled back the curtain and peeked out. “What? That goose gettin’ to you?”

The shower curtain punched in on the other side and the mastiff’s nose appeared, his brow wrinkled as if to say, “Can’t you do something?”

“Hey, get outta here.” Gail pushed him out of the shower and peeked through the other side of the curtain, out to the hall.

She turned off the water and wrung out her hair. After a quick towel run across her wet skin and a few quick passes across her dripping hair, she threw on her pajamas, slippers, and housecoat.

Then it hit her. Gail grabbed her damp forehead. No wonder Amelia was fussing. Her monkey was gone. “Oh. My. Gosh. Of all the nights.”

She’d left that crazy toy monkey back in the dad-gum feed room. She’d set him down with the tools. “All right, all right! I’m goin’. Right now. I promise.”

Peep! Peep! Peep!

“Get outta the bathroom,” she yelled at the dogs.

Peep! Peep! Peep!

Gail wrapped her housecoat tight around her. It was cold outside. Out in the hall the baby goose wandered left and right in her kennel. Peep! Peep! Peep!

“Good golly, goose. You’re gonna be the death of me yet.” Gail grabbed the back door knob, took a deep breath, and threw it open. Now or never. The door slapped behind her as she sprinted through the frozen darkness and charged past the stalls to the feed room. No need for a flashlight. She knew the way.

Shivering under her cold wet scalp, Gail opened the latch and squinted into the darkness. There, up on the shelf sat the grinning monkey, right where she’d left him next to the tools. She’d meant to carry him out when she closed up, of course.

This would be the last time she ever forgot that silly thing.

Like a relay race from elementary school days, she stepped across the feed room, grabbed the monkey’s skinny body, secured the gate, and raced for the house. Just not quick enough to keep herself from freezing to death.

Peep! Peep! Peep! Amelia’s cries reached her long before she reached the door.

She flung it open and slipped inside with teeth chattering, feet dancing, and dogs crowding her. “Oh, my gosh, it’s cold out there.”

Gail plowed between the dogs and stepped toward Amelia’s kennel. Amelia spotted the monkey and craned her neck, her black eyes shining. Her voice immediately settled into a complaining talk, more of an anh, anh, anh, instead of the loud peep.

Gail lowered the monkey inside and propped it against the towel in the corner. “Here you go, little one.”

Anh, anh, anh Amelia grumbled and moved close to the monkey.

Finally she quieted all the way, crawled up on the monkey’s lap, and snuggled down to sleep.

Still shivering, Gail reached for the dogs. “Of all the nights to forget that monkey. Remind me not to do that again.”

 

A righteous man regardeth the life of his beast Prov. 12:10a

 

 

 

People of Central Florida

Gail Cratty-The African Grey Goose Arrives

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by Jennifer Odom

Peep! Peep! Peep!  Gail reached a gentle hand into the cardboard box and caressed the little grey ball of fluff, her new baby African grey goose. A long time ago Gail owned  geese and her animal-lover heart had grown quite fond of and attached to them. So attached.

A little thrill ran through Gail’s heart. Soon little Amelia would be following her all over the farm.

“There, there, Amelia. It’s alright. Settle down. Shhhh!”

Peep! Peep! Peep! Geese are naturally noisy, and Amelia’s racket persisted. But it didn’t surprise or bother Gail. She smiled. For sure, riding in the car was a wild new experience for this one-day-old gosling. But Amelia’d soon learn to love her rides and her new life at Gail’s farm.

Peep! Peep! Peep!

“It’s okay, baby.” Gail returned her hand to the steering wheel. She hardly noticed the beautiful sunlight, the mossy green woods, or the miles that raced by. Her mind was churning with ways to make a happy little life for the new gosling.

Hey, hadn’t she once heard that geese liked a mirror in their box? Or a ticking clock? Might as well try it on Amelia.

An hour later Gail’s truck pulled into the farm. Her yorkie and mastiff met Gail at the door. With noses high, they circled around, eager to satisfy their curiosity about the noisy peeps drifting down from the box. Gail set the box down and showed them the little goose.

The dogs quickly settled as if to say, Oh, okay. It’s just another one of Mama’s critters.

Peep! Peep! Peep!

The gears still clicked in Gail’s head. Wait, wait, wait. Hadn’t her pet goose long ago bonded with a small stuffed cow?

There had to be a toy around here. At least a dog toy. Yes….and there it was, over there on the kitchen chair, the silly thing she brought home the other day, a skinny stuffed monkey, one that screamed when you threw it or hit it. The dogs had hated it. Turned their nose up at it.

Gail scrambled over, snatched it out of the seat, and crawled back to Amelia’s box. She lowered it into the corner and propped it up for Amelia to see.

Amelia’s peeps dropped to a quiet murmur. “Peeeeep, peeeep.”

Gail’s jaw dropped. She grinned and reached for the dogs. “Would you look at that.”

With satisfied chortles Amelia snuggled into a furry ball on the monkey’s narrow lap. It was just the right size for a downy puff like her.

Gail tightened her hug around the dogs. “Looks like we might just get some sleep tonight after all, guys.”

A righteous man regardeth the life of his beast. Prov. 12:10a

Plants of Central Florida

Sheep Sorrel-also called Sour Grass

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by Jennifer Odom

When I was eight I thought of a plan to become rich.

It was the sour grass. Daddy taught us how to identify its tall red stems with their red grainy seed-tops.

Sheep-sorrel, some people call it, and it grew in the back field, the same field where we explored for arrow heads, and two sisters later pastured their horses.

Daddy showed us we could pluck and chew the stems to get the tart lemony juice, a fun thing to do while we played in the yard.

So I decided that I could get rich by manufacturing sour grass juice.

Well, it was a short-lived idea.

But that doesn’t mean someone isn’t capitalizing on sour grass. No sir, some people claim sheep sorrel can fight cancer. (http://www.healthfreedom.info/sheep_sorrel.htm).

To be sure, my blog is not medical advice, and there are experts such as those at Memorial Sloan-Kettering Cancer Center who refute those cancer-cure claims. https://www.mskcc.org/cancer-care/integrative-medicine/herbs/sheep-sorrel

But whether its medicinal value is true or not, sour grass a terrific weed in other ways, handy for salads, soups, for curdling cheese, and in making wine. I once pondered whether the stems would make a good substitute in rhubarb pie.  But nah, probably too woody. In a pinch, though, it would keep you from starving. Herbalists claim all its plant parts are useful, the leaves, stems, flowers, and roots.

It’s March right now in central Florida, and fields are covered with this red-topped plant. Found in acidic sandy soil, the same kind blueberries like, it’s a real pest to blueberry growers. Maybe the blueberry growers should join up with the herb-collectors for free weeding help.

A member of the buckwheat family, this native of Eurasia and the British Isles is also known as Rumex acetocella, and spreads vigorously via underground rhizomes.

Let caution prevail if consuming it. Sheep sorrel contain an abundance of oxalates, and according to Wikipedia, should be avoided by people with kidney stones and anyone taking diuretics where it can lead to diarrhea and a dangerous loss of potassium from the body. Memorial Sloan Kettering claims it may cause an upset stomach and abdominal cramps, and the oxalates can damage your liver.

Regardless, sheep sorrel’s a beautiful plant, and will always remind me of my dear old dad and my plant to get rich off of sour grass juice.

People of Central Florida, Places in Central Florida, Plants of Central Florida

Orchids, No Longer Afraid

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by Jennifer Odom

After the confident way Suzanne Farnsworth of Sazanna’s Orchids demonstrated repotting orchids and snipping of the keikis (pronounced kay-kees) which is the Hawaiian word for child, maybe I could do it too. It didn’t seem such a scary operation.

This little keiki (or shoot) has roots and is about big enough to clip from the parent and transplant.

I’ve always heard, “Just forget growing orchids, they’re too complicated and finicky. Orchids are tricky to grow, and you’ll just lose out.”

But, like with other plants, it’s less about the green thumb and more about understanding the plants. And Suzanne gave the visiting Master Gardener group plenty of tips.

For example, keep the plant out of direct sunlight, but give it nice bright light, (enough light to read by). For the phalaenopsis planted in sphaghum moss, don’t give them too much water, just  1/2 to 1/3 cup. Orchids do not like wet feet. And do not use soft water. How often? If you stick a finger in the medium and find it too dry, then water it.

 It’s perfectly fine for the roots to grow out of the pot. That’s how they act. In fact, many varieties are grown on a metal hanger for support, with their roots completely exposed, just like in the jungle! They also need air movement, the more the better. It cuts down on disease. Make sure to feed them  orchid food according to package directions. 

Is the orchid plant loose in its planting medium?

It’s about time to repot it, which comes around about every two years. Use the proper bark medium made of sequoia, sponge rock, and charcoal.

Do not use pine or oak. Oak and pine bark are going

Don’t plant the orchid too deep.

to rot too soon. Peat moss will retain too much moisture. Just buy the mix, which is available at Sazanna’s in Weirsdale, Florida or wherever orchids are sold.

Orchids grown on a mount such as cork, cypress boards, or redwood cedar are more natural than in pots. After all, they hang on trees in the jungle. (If you must use a pot, some of Susanna’s customers prefer clear pots for phalaenopsis orchids so they can enjoy the beauty of the roots. And too, says Susanna, the roots have a relationship with light).

Another trick Suzanne revealed is that when she must make a cut, such as separating keikis, or trimming up some roots while repotting, she uses a brand new sterile razor blade. Any tools must be cleaned so disease is kept at a minimum.

On all cuts Suzanne uses a light dusting of cinnamon powder which acts as a natural fungicide. Yes, regular old spice-cabinet cinnamon.

When dealing with young plants, an inverted u-shaped wire can be inserted into the medium to prop up bent leaves until they develop the proper memory for shape. But all orchid plants are delicate and can snap like young asparagus if handled roughly.

Because of that, when staking a flower stalk that is hanging low, you will have to do this in stages over a period of days or weeks. A quick change in direction can break them. Use a brown or green twist-tie to blend in, but do not twist. Wrap the stem smoothly and gently, remembering that the stem will grow in girth and you don’t want it to strangle.

Wrap the twist tie smoothly. Avoid garish red or yellow that take away from the plant’s beauty.

Maybe now you’ll feel more confident too, and venture out to find an orchid or two to play with. Until you try it, you’ll never learn to understand their beautiful ways.

And stop by Sazanna’s. She’d love for you to see her beautiful greenhouse and the gorgeous varieties for sale.

Sazanna’s Orchids & Supplies

15730 S Hwy. 35

Weirsdale, Florida 32195

352-821-2147

 

Suzanne shows visitors that the real orchid root lies inside a surrounding spongy layer.

And God said, Let the earth bring forth grass, the herb yielding seed, and the fruit tree yielding fruit after his kind, whose see is in itself, upon the earth: and it was so. And the earth brought forth grass, and herb yielding seed after his kind, and the tree yielding fruit, whose seed was in itself, after his kind: and God saw that it was good. And the evening and the morning were the third day. KJV Gen. 1: 11-13

 

 

Plants of Central Florida

Oxalis, Grandma’s Little Plant (Weed)

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by Jennifer Odom

The tiny pink flowers grabbed my attention as far back as age six. I’d tramp up Grandma’s back steps, and admire them over the handrail in their battered tin pot. The plant and pot together were no bigger than one of Grandma’s hens.

Their blooms clustered like dainty goblets among the triple-heart-shaped leaves.

But why keep them in a pot? I guessed she didn’t want the small half-inch blooms and delicate leaves swallowed up among her ornamentals.

When she passed away I inherited the little pot. But many years passed before I realized the true purpose of the container.

Oxalis debilis, known as pink woodsorrel, or oxalis, has leaves that resemble a four-leaf clover. The leaves, flowers, and stems are edible and have a tart, lemony flavor. The roots taste nutty. But their oxalic acid content (also present in spinach, broccoli, grapefruit, and rhubarb) could be harmful in large amounts, especially for those inclined toward kidney stones and calcium deficiencies (2).

Why contain them in a pot?

According to Mark Bailey, Marion County UF/IFAS Extension Agent, despite being called a lucky clover, oxalis is a persistent weed and is “more likely to bring on a headache rather than luck.”

“Once established,” he said, “pink oxalis can easily spread without aggressive control and preventive measures.” Though similar to yellow oxalis, which grows from rhizomes, he said,  “pink oxalis grows from a small bulb. From this bulb additional tiny bulbils emerge and easily break off when the plant is pulled up. And these, even when deeply buried, can form a new plant.”

Along the way, the pretty weed showed up in my own garden and quickly lost its charm for me. The more oxalis I pulled, the more it multiplied…seemingly overnight. My small problem quickly escalated and little heart-shaped leaves erupted everywhere, even between the roots of my ornamental plants.

Rototilling exacerbated the problem.

The solution?

Well, I heard that pigs like oxalis bulbs, but soon gave up on the “rent-a-pig” idea.

And now the weed was too widespread to utilize a sifting device.

Looking back I should have applied weed killer at the beginning, or simply dug deep and sifted out the bulbils when they first appeared.

According to University of Florida’s IFAS publication 1253, shallow mulching can suppress germination. The publication adds, “There are many different postemergence herbicides…but most have to be applied as a directed application,” and mentions the use of glyphosate, glufosinate, diquat, or pelargonic acid. A warning: read manufacturers’ labels and follow precautions. I tried a few with good success.

But what about oxalis that sprouts at the base of ornamentals? Pull those by hand and keep after them.

Amazingly, this same persistent weed is sold in stores, usually around St. Patrick’s day.

So, if you must buy oxalis, at least be wise like Grandma.

Keep your friends close, and your enemies even closer.

And this enemy belongs in a pot.