It did happen. 
I was home alone.  
Me, myself and I. 
No cars, trucks, visitors, family, friends.
Moments of shear bliss. 
Listening to Bunny Wailer, dancing, naked, singing, doing dishes.  

Dreamland.  
It is my house, 
and they are my neighbors
that stopped by.

 A short poem by a Dutchman called Godfried Bomans:

Sitting in front of the window I am so bored.
I wish I were two dogs so I could play together. 

So, this strange year with its ups and downs has turned a bright and dark corner.  After the fiasco with Romeo, I am now "boss"  to two new dogs.  Blek, the girly black one, and Dekker, her brother. 

There is such happiness in just sitting and watching those two pups, life is so new and so unencumbered for them, and it rubs off on whoever sees them.  They are housebroken already, that is: they know not to come in the house.  Went to Alco today to buy a doghouse, but the lady was really nice and said that it would be too small for the Lab/St.bernard dog type of mut.   So she talked me out of it, but she did have some old pallets she donated to the cause.  So in typical style I built something butt ugly, for no money and at least a temporary solution for a permanent problem.  It is big enough that I can sleep with them. 
Took them to the neighbors' lake, and the lab part cropped out.  They are water rats.  
I hope to get the St. Bernard part out in the next week and equip them with a beer can container so they can bring refreshments to the field.  

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 I left for St. Louis, the 3rd of July, and came  back the 4th (happy b'day USA) to find the house in a state of disrepair that was sub-par, even for a  diehard bachelor like me.    I can't remember taking any drugs nor can I remember that I took the trashcan contents and decorated the kitchenfloor.   Did I try to snort oatmeal, or why is it on the kitchen counter?  
If it is not me, it must be the racoons.  I guess that with the chicken buffet closed for the season (yes really I still have a few) and no dogs at home the coons figure they might as well help themselves to desert, which would be fine if they at least did the dishes.  I am going to barricade myself in my bedroom tonight., it reminds me of a Hitchcock movie.  If only Soks and Rosie were around I would feel safer.
I keep thinking it is the weather and not my inherent limitations that make this gardening thing so cu- cumbersome.  Too wet, too dry, too hot, too cold, oh let's do another too wet for the hell of it.  Planted green beans, they sent up their periscopes, then it turned 90 and than 2 inches of rain, and then they decided they were not built for this kind of weather and just kind of pooched it.  I should have stayed in bed this year.  
The potatoes are safe as the bank of England, you put a pound in, you get a pound out, beats the stock market. 
Got a paycheck last week that I haven't hobbied away yet, but, I found a walk in cooler on Craigslist, 10  by 15, going to look at it tomorrow.  I am such an optimist, right now I could store all of the 15 acre crop in a lunchbox with a buck nineteen worth of ice, but noh.....  10 by 15.     If the thing works I think I may for a while move my bedroom in it,  cool and coon proof.  Ok, time to go and set some traps.  
Update:  Pede is smiling.   Made 4 traps for 10 dollars a piece, and they actually work.  Got  two coons trapped already, one next to the front door and one at the backdoor.  Think I'll have to go for a road trip and take em to Hermann. 

I had the strangest day today, not quite sure what to think.  It started out innocently enough, loading the van to go to market, around sixish (ok, I admit it was more sevenish).  The usual scramble looking through the garden, the refrigerator, finding a table, cloth and crates and turning back on 19 because I forgot the cashbox.  Since there wasn't enough earthly freshness to warrant a drive to Columbia market, I decided to try my luck at the  Hermann farmers market, saving two hours of driving and a tank of gas.  Sales were good, the vendors nice and the customers I didn't know by name were far and in between.  The setting on the old Pamida parking lot in the shade was pretty decent and the selection of brought items was passable: new potatoes, miscellaneous homegrown sprouts (broccoli, daikon radish, mustard greens), new garlic, broccoli, basil (and more basil), carrots with tops, bright red tomatoes,  cherry tomatoes and that was about it.  Sold most of it, took the left overs to a local restaurant and one of the customers came to the farm later and picked 20 pound of green tomatoes.  
Quite unusual to have a day where it actually pays of, if only just a little, and I can skip the ATM for a few days.  Just the encouragement that I needed. 

I am awake, yet again.   After seeing the chicken stock dwindling day after day something had to be done and in due time two live animal traps were purchased at Orscheln.   I'd set the trap, put some choice sardines in them and would go out the next day to fund the sardines gone, the trap shut but no animal in it.  I fed the raccoons for another few days, but if you repeat the same actions and expect a different result you have to reassess your options, after some more wine that is.   So last night I camped out on the mobile home porch.   Couldn't use the fan because it makes so much noise that you can't hear what is going on, a  nice balmy 90 degrees so it wasn't all that comfy.  Got the gun loaded and with the safety on and a few flashlights next to me.  I wake up from the slightest noise and so at 2 ish I hear a wood scratching and scoot to the coup to see a raccoon trying to get in.  He looks at me rather sheepishly, caught in the flashlight beam, I look at him kind of sleepishly and shoot him, but the safety is still on and by the time I realize that he spears out of the situation and flashlight beam.  Wake up right at 5 sun just over the field, awoken by the clattering of metal on metal, and lo and behold that coon is in the trap, having his nightly fish snack, and I observe the thing in the cage, seeing how he is working on getting out.  Oh I feel good alright, I block the trap door with two big chunks of wood,  and see him sit there and hiss.  Going back to the porch, having a triumphant cigarette, too early in the day to smoke but hey.