Final steps for Deerfield Diary

After almost three years and 355 posts, Deerfield Diary is closing up shop. I hope you'll agree I have a good reason, which I will share with you at the end of this final post.

The new set of steps pictured here is the final project of the renovation of our wrap-around deck that I began almost a year ago. Son Lem helped on the project during a recent visit. As physicians go, he's not a bad carpenter.

Looking back over my receipts, I see that the project used 12 pounds of deck screws and 120 pieces of "2-by" lumber ranging in length from 8 feet to 20 feet. I'm glad it's finished.

What have I learned over the last three years?

I'm now able to identify most trees now by their bark. I've become fairly adept with a chainsaw. My John Deere four-wheel drive tractor is as familiar to me now as an old pair of slippers. My biggest disappointment has been my vegetable gardens. I have decided I don't have the patience to be a good gardener. If I work all day tilling and planting, I want to see something happen. Pronto. It doesn't work like that.

Our house, a victim of the violent hailstorm in April, is finally in good shape for the winter with a new roof, power-washed and freshly stained cypress siding and newly painted trim. The woodshed is full.

To those of you who know me, I'll call your attention to a piece I wrote recently for International Stuttering Awareness Day. You can find it here. I've had some good reaction from it. The ISAD online conference lasts all month and is visited by thousands of people from 40 or 50 countries.

And now to my reason for ending Deerfield Diary.

After six years and thousands of hours at the keyboard, I'm proud to announce that Random House/Delacorte has purchased my first novel and plans to publish it in the spring of 2013. It's a young-adult offering entitled "Paper Boy." (There's a good chance the title may change.)

The story takes place in Memphis in 1959 and involves an 11-year-old boy who has to take on his friend's paper route for a month. The boy has a debilitating stutter and can only tell his story pecking away on an old typewriter in his upstairs room. I'm as proud of the manuscript as anything I've ever done. It's taken me 65 years, but I've finally managed to tell my story in the way it should be told.

My editor at Random House wants a final revision done by the end of the year. I plan to start on another writing project as soon as I finish the revision. I will create a new website and possibly a new blog in advance of the publication of my book.

For these reasons, Deerfield Diary is ending its run.

Deerfield Diary has averaged about 35 unique visitors a day for the last few months. My thanks to all who have taken the time to read my scribblings.

Now, it's time to take the next step. It's always about the next step.

More creatures featured

Neighbor Larry, chief correspondent for Deerfield Diary, keeps with the wildlife theme and reports that rabbits and hummingbirds are flourishing in his neck of the woods.

There are plenty of dogs in Deerfield, but most are too lazy to chase the rabbits. With coyotes on the decline and hawks preferring plentiful field mice, the bunnies are free to eat our flowers and vegetables. We had several that spent the summer under our back porch.

Larry is the second person we know to report an influx of hummingbirds these days. By the way, do you know what you call a group of hummingbirds? A group is called a "charm of hummingbirds."

Isn't that charming?

A new creature in Deerfield

Diary readers know that I like to feature all the creatures that I spot in Deerfield. Our latest creature feature -- the common bat.

I spotted this little guy or girl several weeks ago hanging under the eave of the overhang on our retreat. He seems to have adopted this spot as his permanent home. I don't know much about bats, except they are great consumers of mosquitos. I hope this one eats his fill because we have more than enough to go around.

If you need me, I'll be here for the next six months

Our home in Deerfield is surrounded by gigantic poplar, elm, locust, hackberry, hickory, white oak and persimmon trees. Some of the trees are 36 inches in diameter.

The storms of the spring and summer had me in a tizzy. I would watch the tree tops bending, almost touching the house. We could hear trees crashing in the forest. A limb from a hickory tree came crashing down once, barely missing the renovated deck.

Instead of worrying, it was time to do something about it. I called in a tree service and the crew spent two days this week taking down trees near the house that were capable of causing problems. All the crews did was take the trees down. I will be doing all the cleanup.

I'll be cutting off all the limbs and will leave the trunks in 12-foot lengths. I'm hoping to find someone who will come and get the trunks for sawmill wood. I will burn the tops and limbs. If my tractor can't move the trunks, I'll call on my neighbor with the big tractor to help.

If I'm lucky, I should be done by next spring.

Hidden beauty, hidden disaster

This cross-cut of a 20-inch American elm trunk has a beautiful pattern until you realize that the tree was actually rotting from the inside with Dutch elm disease. Some estimates say 90 per cent of all the elm trees in East Tennessee have been infected with the disease.

We have a few more elms at Deerfield, but this is the last one near the house. It had to go. Thanks to the April hail storm, we are getting a new roof next week. The last thing we needed was a tree crashing through it.

An embarrassment of gourds

Here's my gourd story, and I'm sticking to it.

In my post from April 18, I was all a twitter about the prospect of growing my spring garden from seeds and not from starter plants.

I purchased three seed flats and carefully planted several types of squash, cucumber, pepper and other delectables. I decided to try one little batch of a gourd seed mix. I carefully marked each section of the flat with its seed type. I faithfully watered and soon found the seeds bursting forth with small shoots. Once or twice I watered a little too much, but I was fairly certain that the seeds didn't "float" out of their assigned cubicles. I planted the small shoots and waited.

All summer the vines grew in resplendent glory. Yep. You guessed it.

Where I thought I had several types of cucumbers, I had gourds. Where I thought I had butternut squash, I had gourds. Where I thought I had acorn squash, I had gourds. Gourds to the left. Gourds to the right. Out of my gourd.

For the record, I got zero cucumbers and a handful of zucchini. A few yellow squash did manage to survive the gourd attack.

The photo is a sampling of my gourd harvest. Anyone have any good gourd recipes out there?

'What is It?' answered

Lynn Ray Lewis, good friend and editor extraordinaire, came to the rescue by finding a close cousin to my creature at www.butterfliesandmoths.org. It appears this larva is that of a spicebush swallowtail butterfly. Thanks, Lynn Ray. We can all rest easy now.

We play the 'What is it?' game again

I found this little fellow (or gal) on the front porch recently. I want to say it's the maturing larva of a butterfly, but as sure as I do some expert will tell me what a dunce I am.

So, as we agree that I'm a dunce, does anyone know what it is?

Antidote for the Dog Days of Summer

After three hours of sawing, splitting and stacking firewood in the 96-degree heat, Willie and I couldn't stand it anymore. We headed for a dip in the Tennessee River.

Willie has been a river dog since he was six-months old when he took to the river like a duck to water. A clumsy duck for sure. What Willie lacks in style points, he certainly makes up in exuberance. Each dive from the bank lands him a little farther out in the river. He swims back to the bank, gags and coughs and then flings himself into the river for some more.

The locals on the bank always say they like my "pit bull." If they only knew. Willie is about as much a pit bull as I'm a spokesperson for the Hair Club for Men. The only danger around Willie is being licked to death. However, he does get a little testy if you take his spot on the couch.

Mama Coon prepares dinner for her little ones

In my post of July 8 I noted how we had seen Papa Coon and Mama Coon, so Baby Coons couldn't be too far behind.

They're here.

Every afternoon Mama Coon climbs down from her poplar tree with her two babies trailing behind here. Mama climbs up in the small maple tree and shakes the sunflower seeds out of the bird feeder. The babies nibble away as the black oil sunflower seeds shower down on them. Mama occasionally slips in a seed or two for herself.

We haven't seen Papa Coon lately. He's probably out playing golf while Mama Coon takes care of things.

Speaking of golf, I have to get back to ESPN's around-the-clock-coverage of The British Open.

Have I found my horticultural calling?

Readers of this blog know of my dubious exploits concerning my vegetable garden. I plan, dig, sweat, amend, sow and harvest with less than optimal results. It seems I get excited about the photos of luscious vegetables on the seed packets, and what sprouts forth in my garden always pales in comparison. I tend not to weed, spray and fertilize.

This spring I was trying to smooth out a rough hillside and decided I needed to plant something to keep down erosion. I bought a $5 bag of wildflower seed, broadcast it by hand over the tilled earth and immediately forgot about it.

We have been blessed this summer with all manner of wildflowers. Betty gathered these in the photo to take to a friend.

This may be the solution to my gardening needs. Till, sow and forget.

The great escape

We were careful not to disturb the small cocoon plastered on the window of our front door. Luckily, it was on the side of a double door that we did not have to open.

For almost a month we kept watch as the milky green caterpillar spun a tight capsule around itself. It did not succumb to the stormy winds that blew. It escaped the beaks of the numerous small birds that flit around Deerfield. Its tight body-wrap clearly displayed its antennae.

We wanted to see our butterfly-to-be friend spread its wings, but we woke this morning to find the cocoon empty.

Our butterfly bushes in our front yard are filled each day with the beautiful winged creatures. We trust that our former tenant is among them.

Wearing out their welcome -- again

Our raccoon family in Deerfield is being bothersome once more. We don't mind them cleaning out the bird feeder so much. We don't even mind them making Willie bounce off the living room windows.

Last night, however, they broke the hummingbird feeder which is about the 6th one they have trashed over the years. We have a mama and papa coon (mama is pictured), so probably we'll see baby coons before too long.

We like to live and let live, but I also have a live trap. I don't like to break up a family, but if they get too aggressive they may find themselves taking a trip to a park about five miles away. Fair warning.

Willie is a winner

I was reading a recent issue of Garden & Gun magazine when I came across one of their photo contests with the subject of "dogs being dogs." I thought of the above photo of Willie I took a couple of years ago as he busted through the screen door on the back porch for the umpteenth time.

I sent the photo in and promptly forgot about it. Lo and behold, Willie was the winner. You can see him here in all his screen-busting glory.

Willie got a new Garden & Gun collar in the mail yesterday and I got a new cap as our prizes. I wish the magazine had just sent a new 50-foot roll of screen because he continues to go right through them.

Vawter House update

Several readers have asked how the renovation of the Vawter House in McKenzie, Tenn., is coming. I can report that it will be ready by July 4th as planned.

I drove a 26-foot Penske van filled with eight rooms of furniture to McKenzie last week. All the furniture is in place and pictures are up on the wall. I finished the kitchen trim and the kitchen and bathroom are ready for the final painting. Aunt Judy is putting the final touches on the farmhouse in anticipation for the family reunion on July 4th.

The photos show the front of the seven-bedroom house and the dining room.

It's been a lot of work, but enjoyable. The memories just keep multiplying.

Synchronicity in Deerfield

If you know much about the Great Smoky Mountains National Park, you know that much is made of the synchronous fireflies (Photinus carolinus) that appear every June in the Elkmont region of the park.

Two years ago we journeyed with some friends into the Park to try to catch one of the buses that carried you into Elkmont, supposedly the only place in the Smokies (and the world) to view the lightning bugs. Even though we got there several hours before dark, the parking lot was jammed with bug-watchers. A park ranger waved us away. That left a bad taste in my mouth.

Last night I was walking through my back field to my neighbor's house just before dark and lo and behold I was flashed in unison by hundreds of Deerfield's very own fireflies. I noticed immediately that these fireflies had a brighter luminescence than your average run-of-the-mill firefly. When I looked out across the field, there seemed to be several distinct groups of the fireflies, but there was no doubt that they were timing their flashes.

Here's what the Park literature says about the bugs:

Synchronous fireflies are beetles. They take from one to two years to mature from larvae, but will live as adults for only about 21 days. The males fly and flash and the usually stationary females respond with a flash. Peak flashing for synchronous fireflies in the park is normally within a two-week period in mid-June.

No one is sure why the fireflies flash synchronously. Competition between males may be one reason: they all want to be the first to flash. Or perhaps if the males all flash together they have a better chance of being noticed, and the females can make better comparisons. The fireflies do not always flash in unison. They may flash in waves across hillsides, and at other times will flash randomly. Synchrony occurs in short bursts that end with abrupt periods of darkness.

Skeptic that I am, I always wondered how the fireflies managed to stay cloistered in one little area of the Smokies. Now we know their secret.

Welcome to Deerfield, little lanterns. May your 21 days on this earth be pleasant and bright.

'Coon's-eye view

Folks often ask us if it isn't a little lonely living in the woods on a one-lane road in the middle of 10 acres. Not so much.
It turns out we have at least one pair of eyes on us most of the time.

A large raccoon has taken up residence in a large poplar tree at the side of our yard. From that perch it can see when we fill our bird-feeders. Give it about a half an hour and its eases down the tree from its 60-foot perch and helps himself to the black-oil sunflower seed.

Feeding techniques are varied. Sometimes it unscrews the top of the rusty bird feeder (with much less difficulty than some of us.) Or it jumps on and jostles the seed to the ground. Or if Mr. Coon is really hungry, it can upend in the feeder in the fork of a branch and just let the seed pour on the ground.

If we happen to interrupt dinner, it slinks back up the tree to its post and watches us until the coast is clear.

We once tried to outsmart the non-birds (raccoons, turkey, squirrel) with ropes, pulleys and fancy feeders. Now we just set a place for everybody. Live and let live. As Betty says, they were here first.

Friends and family beware: SQUASH ATTACK

The wind and hail can batter my berries and strip my fruit trees. The sun and unrelenting heat can cook my tomatoes and boil my corn, but nothing -- absolutely nothing -- will stand in the way of summer squash.

I grew my squash plants from seed this year, thinking most wouldn't make it. They all did. I didn't plant all of them, but everyone that I did plant is bursting forth with yellow squash.

Fair warning. If you see me coming with a sack in my hand, turn and run for your life.

"Jack and the Beanstalk" should be rewritten as "Jack and the Squash Plant." I'm certain that squash is related to kudzu.

Then. Just when you think it's safe to go out in the garden -- ZUCCHINI.

Our latest visitor

Pulling into my driveway this morning, I looked up ahead and thought I had another short limb down from a tree. Then it moved on me.

Closer inspection revealed an unusually large snapping turtle. I estimate it weighed 10-12 pounds. When I picked it up, it disproved the axiom "as slow as a turtle." In a lightning move, it flexed its neck and grazed one of my fingers.

Read what Wikipedia says: "The common snapping turtle is not an ideal pet. Its neck is very flexible, and the turtle can bite its handler even if picked up by the sides of its shell. The turtle can amputate a finger with its powerful jaws." Remind me to consult Wikipedia before picking up live animals.

When I scratched one side of its back with a stick, it would tilt to that side, and then do the same thing on the other side. Betty got a video of the "turtle dance," but I'm too much of a turtle brain to figure out how to upload it on this site.

When we finally got out of its way, the turtle moseyed on down the drive and then slid into Deerfield Creek.

A pox on our house

In South Louisiana cypress siding is used on homes because of its indestructibility. The siding might look as if it was put up yesterday but can be more than 100 years old.

While cypress stands up well against moisture and bug infestation, it's no match for the hail storm we had two weeks ago. You can see in the photo that it looks as if someone dabbed a brush in white paint and stippled our house.

I guess I know now what I'll be doing this fall.