I wasn’t going to write this morning.
After a day at the Ranch on the Knoll, fighting the first sign of ants, I got up early, looking for signs that I’d eliminated the first wave.
It appears I have beaten them back, but they are resilient.
During discussions with a few other local homeowners, I learned that ants are on their minds as well. And not the good kind who pinch your cheek, give you a quarter, or make blueberry muffins before you get out of bed; these are smaller and don’t smell like lilac-scented toilette water.
I’d seen none since moving here, but came home to a couple lounging at the kitchen sink, unconcerned about my opinion on the matter. I went nuts with the elimination granules, sprayed around the perimeter of the foundation, and even did some initial patrol to look for their homes.
I’ll keep you apprised about whether I’ve succeeded in a few days. I am sure you are riveted by the thought of such an update.
I was under the impression that I wouldn’t have to deal with this in the new location, but then I remembered that ants have their own union rules.
I digress.
I am heading back to camp in a couple of hours. Our foray into putting up some pine on the walls took longer than we’d planned, leaving my neighbor’s place untouched. My job is to make it liveable for their arrival in a little over a week.
This time, I’ll take Ellie, and she knows it, as I’ve already stacked a couple of tool boxes by the garage door. Now I have to deal with her following me all over the house for fear that she will be left behind without the direct supervision of her Mama, who, by the way, did have four broken bones in her foot from her vacation mishap.
Due to how the medical insurance industry makes our lives a lot like Hell with similar leadership, she had to fly back to her home base to seek out her own physician for treatment. Up here, we’d have had to take her to the emergency room, and that was more than the flight to get back home.
Sheesh.
She claimed in a late-night phone update that resetting her own toe after the break saved her a lot of hassle during her treatment. She’s not spleeny, that one.
All is good, and she now has another walking boot, which is attractive in its own special way, far better than the fake Clark sandals she recently received in the mail. IYKYK.
So, with no time to photograph the ants, I did find that my Bro-in-Law has been taking pictures from his place at the lake. He’s off-grid and a bit up-lake from me, but he does seem to find his way cross-country to my place when the wind is right, and I’m cooking lunch on the charcoal.
He got some good shots of today’s sunrise in Washington County. He won’t mind if I share. I bought his breakfast the other morning at Tom’s on Dublin Street.
I really am a gem of a brother-in-law, now that I think of it.
I have to give him credit; it is a great shot.
Well, that’s all I’ve got this morning. I need to pack the truck and do the opposite of what my friend Horace Greeley would do.
From the Jagged Edge of America, with highs expected in the low 60s (perfect camp-opening weather), I remain,
TC
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