GreenDragon
Well-Known Member
I spend 99% of my time in Chrome. The other 1% I'm forced to use the old Internet Explorer to fill out my timesheet.
How very, very true. Nothing wrong with talking to the animals. Some people actually believe that they can't understand us, they are quiet wrong of course. I grew up dairy farming in the days of walk through milking shed's, the cows always told us which bail and when they wanted to go in. Hens chatter away all day. Sometimes you just have to stop and listen. Ah the joys of waiting for the baccy to grow.I talk too much
I talk to the animals and birds that wander through my yard. (Catbirds are friendlier than house wrens.) Although, even with constant conversation, the groundhogs won't come very close to the porch, bunnies who started out not much bigger than a mouse frequently wander up to the edge of the porch, munching grass, while I hold a philosophical discussion with them. And the baby bunnies grow larger.
First thing this morning, I saw a bunny up on the porch steps, eating my potted Italian bean plant. I lurched out of the door. "Not my coffee bean!" I shouted.
The bunny looked up at me, like a puppy, and took another bite.
I waved my arms, and advanced ominously.
If it had a brow, it would have furrowed it in puzzlement. The bunny went down two steps, and resumed its breakfast of grass blades.
"What's wrong with you? I haven't mowed in two weeks, and you have to eat my coffee bean?"
The bunny didn't smile, but moved a few feet away, eating more overgrown grass blades. It wasn't until a catbird zoomed it (apparently saying, "Leave the old fart alone."), before the bunny scampered off.
Moral: The more you talk to your kids, the less they listen.
Bob
Cats rarely talk to each other. Just to us.How very, very true. Nothing wrong with talking to the animals. Some people actually believe that they can't understand us, they are quiet wrong of course. I grew up dairy farming in the days of walk through milking shed's, the cows always told us which bail and when they wanted to go in. Hens chatter away all day. Sometimes you just have to stop and listen. Ah the joys of waiting for the baccy to grow.
Enjoy your day.
Cheers Oldfella
Dogs have owners. Cats, however, have staff.Cats rarely talk to each other. Just to us.
Dogs have attachment issues.Dogs have owners. Cats, however, have staff.
Sorry I had to get that in.
Cheers
As I write this I'm conversing with my adopted chipmunk. Don't forget to talk to your plants! There have been 'studies' (kids' science projects) showing impressive results. Also Don Juan Matus (of Carlos Castaneda's bizzare and possibly fictional tales of a mysterious sorcerer) said it's important, though elusive as to exactly why.I talk too much
I talk to the animals and birds that wander through my yard. (Catbirds are friendlier than house wrens.) Although, even with constant conversation, the groundhogs won't come very close to the porch, bunnies who started out not much bigger than a mouse frequently wander up to the edge of the porch, munching grass, while I hold a philosophical discussion with them. And the baby bunnies grow larger.
First thing this morning, I saw a bunny up on the porch steps, eating my potted Italian bean plant. I lurched out of the door. "Not my coffee bean!" I shouted.
The bunny looked up at me, like a puppy, and took another bite.
I waved my arms, and advanced ominously.
If it had a brow, it would have furrowed it in puzzlement. The bunny went down two steps, and resumed its breakfast of grass blades.
"What's wrong with you? I haven't mowed in two weeks, and you have to eat my coffee bean?"
The bunny didn't smile, but moved a few feet away, eating more overgrown grass blades. It wasn't until a catbird zoomed it (apparently saying, "Leave the old fart alone."), before the bunny scampered off.
Moral: The more you talk to your kids, the less they listen.
Bob
Perhaps. "Bog log" Got a (nice) Ring to it anyway.Finally a Sunny Day!
The sun came out. I waited for my soggy ground and overgrown grass to dry enough so that I wouldn't need to wear hip-waders. The temp soared to 85ºF. Time at last to put some tobacco in the ground. I went to my enclosed back porch to select the tobacco transplants that would be the first into the ground this year.
The sky suddenly darkened. Wind picked up to 50+ mph. Rain began to fall. It didn't last long. Just long enough to soak everything again, leaving mud in the planting beds. The temp dropped by 17°F. Maybe later today? Drizzle now comes and goes.
Perhaps I was overly ambitious in naming this thread "Grow Log".
Bob
I believe you have to speak French to them.The skunk missed something in translation.
If you know them well enough you may call them,I believe you have to speak French to them.
~Monsieur Le Pew
We discuss any variety of tobacco, as well as numerous approaches to growing, harvesting, curing, and finishing your crop. Our members will attempt to provide experience-based answers to your questions.