Tuesday, September 21, 2010

Ketchup. Catsup. Catchup.

Turkeys in the front yard. (Click on pic to enlarge)
A little glimpse into how my mind works.  I have always been interested in regional spellings and words that crop up in their own little parts of the country.  The heading came when I thought it was time to catch-up on my blog - which then led to ketchup and catsup.  And that led me to thinking about crick and creek, wash and warsh.  And on and on it goes...
I grew up in Ohio - sort of the mid-west - and when I hear someone talking about getting the 'warsh' done, I gravitate to them like Monarchs to Mexico.  I like mid-westerners.
     Lots going on around the farmstead in the recent weeks.  We continue to monitor Bartie, who remains a bit wheezy, but wants desperately to join the other sheep - buttheads or not.  I managed to trick him into eating a small head of garlic yesterday morning by serving up a tasty dish of raw garlic cloves (small), a chopped apple, a little cracked corn, sweet feed, topped off by a big dollop of molasses.  He licked the bottom of his dish clean.  I am not letting him out until I haven't heard a wheeze in at least two days.
     The lattice house continues to be a work in progress - I did manage to get the front panel cut and mounted, and put the remaining side up, too.  Other than the roof and roof ends, it is pretty much done.  I also made the decision to part with Miquel - I can do a lot of things, but I am not. in. the. least. bit. mechanical.  Having to deal with a 20 year-old truck has proven too nerve-wracking for me, so he's on the local market.  Amazingly, he started right up after sitting dormant for over a month and a half.  Buen chico, Miquel.
     Garden-wise, the cherry tomatoes are finally winding down, there are still lots of full-size tomatoes on the vine and my sole remaining eggplant is growing fruit.  A little late, but what the heck.  I've planted kale and spinach in the raised bed that once held garlic and fashioned a little hoophouse over it.  The seeds have germinated, so all I have to do now is to remember to fold back the plastic when it's warm during the day, then cover it back up at night.  I am a major fan of kale.
     It was in the 30s this morning which put me in denial.  I refuse to accept 30 degree temperatures while it is still September.  If I squinted just right, it looked a lot like 64, which I will accept.  There was a thin layer of frost on the deck table that further accelerated my denial/panic.  But, by the time I left for the office, it was sunny and climbing into the 50s.  While I waited for K to arrive for the administration of Bertie's shot, I grabbed a shovel and dug up some more of the dang thistles that seem to thrive everywhere.  Then I dug a hole and planted the horseradish that was -- miracle of all miracles -- still alive in it's temporary bucket.  I had unceremoniously plopped it into the bucket with water and dirt when I got back from Dansville.  There is going to be a string of mild days coming up and I figured it was now or never.
     Kevin Ford is due back for the fall shearing on Friday morning, so I will plan on taking before/after pictures.  Their fleece is beautiful right now - especially Juno's.  Until you look below the surface, that is, and see the five pounds of vegetable matter that's accumulated right down to skin level.  Stinker.


  1. I do a double-take when I hear, "pop" for soda. Or rather, paap.

  2. Yes, those of us who have moved around alot are more likely to be tuned into familiar words. I get a lot of long vowels up here - influenced by the proximity to The City.

  3. Gosh, too bad you don't have anything going on to occupy your time. ;o)

    After living up here so close to the Canadian border for (only) 35+ years, people from outside the area tell us what a strong French-Canadian accent we have. We do?? Huh, I'll be darned.

  4. Everyone looks at me strangely now when I go home to MN and ask for "soda"! I had no troubles losing the word "pop" LOL. You are certainly keeping busy!

  5. I'm from Ohio too, and my Dad always said "poosh" for push and "boosh" for bush. I live in the south now, where the candy is "Rees-ee" cups, not Reese cups.

  6. I used to work in a cubicle next to a woman who had a Southern accent so thick you could dig it up with a shovel. It was very carefully cultivated, though, as she had lived in NYC for over 24 years!