Taking care of the little things on Gill’s farm
The last two times I’ve refilled my hummingbird feeders, a thought crossed my mind. Maybe it would be a good idea to clean the inside of these onequart containers.
The sugar-water standing in there makes little rings on the inside of the bottle, as well as leaving a hazy film. Each time I thought better of it. “Nah. Takes too long. Later.”
Last week it became “later.” The process turned out so well, I had to tell you about it. It’s simple as dirt, but that’s what I use: simple sandy dirt.
I empty my feeders two at a time, and always rinse them out before refilling. This way any remaining sugar, if there is any, gets rinsed away and the bottle starts out relatively clean. There are still sugar lines inside, plus a bit of haze. Now, with empty feeders, I can take them outside for proper cleaning.
First, I fill a twoquart pitcher with water, and take it outside to rinse the containers. I start with about two inches of water in the feeders, then take them outside. A good handful of sandy dirt is then stuffed in the mouth of the container. The sandier the better, for the grains of sand are your tiny scrub brushes. Make sure you don’t put any small rocks in with the dirt. They probably won’t break the glass, unless you really shake it hard. But they’re sure noisy. A few to-vigorous shakes could potentially become a problem.
Shake and spin the dirt and water mixture inside until the deposits are ground off the inside. This may take a minute or more. Don’t get in a hurry. You’re not going anywhere, anyway.
Once the inside of both containers is clean, pour a little water from the pitcher on your hands, first one then the other. Rinse the outside of the feeder and put an inch of water inside with the left-over sandy water. Slosh that around a bunch, then pour the muddy-sandy out in a planter. I try to rinse the feeders as free of dirt and sand as possible while outside. If I’m careful with my water in the two-quart pitcher, I can rinse all six feeders, and my hands, before running out.
I can now take feeders in the house that are not almost sand-free. I don’t feel guilty rinsing the little remaining dirt into the sink, after a careful rinsing outside. The result is a sparkling clean feeder with no sugar rings inside, nor any of the haze. I doubt if the sugar-water tastes any better to my birds, but it looks nicer to me.
With my hummingbird feeders sparkling clean, I decided to go for a short walk. My two four-footed roommates stay home when I go for a long walk, but they love to go out for shorter trips, always on a leash, and explore. With them, I go down the drive and along Globe Drive a short distance. By the time we get to the county road, they’ve already had a good start to their exercise, even though I’m just getting started.
I’ve taken them on their individual leashes before, and it’s a bit of a three-ring circus. One goes, the other stops. One goes left, the other right. One rushes ahead of the other, while the other holds back sniffing. This usually results in tangled leashes, often around my legs. I’m constantly untwisting leashes, or changing hands to get it off my ankle.
This time I decided to take a third leash, one with a big snap used for Beau (my old boxer). I clipped both the little dog’s leashes into the snap, and away we went.
It worked amazingly well. Lucky bounded ahead of Tinker, sniffing and tugging a little. Tinker would hold back a little, sniffing and exploring, then dash ahead. As they wove in and out around each other, their leashes had enough slack to let them do as they wished. It worked out so well, I decided to share it with you by taking a picture.
I recently mentioned as an old widow man, living alone, my housekeeping isn’t quite up to Martha Stewart standards. A reader explained I was definitely not a widow, but a widower.
I was so sure this person wasn’t entirely accurate, I looked it up. I was convinced I’ve heard it used for men in both ways. I probably have, but that didn’t make it right. As most of you already know, my reader was absolutely right, and I was wrong.
Men who’ve lost their wives, are widowers. Women who’ve lost their husband are widows. Ok, so I learned something about the English language.
I repeated my early-morning jaunt to the store this week. I was walking up to the door at 5:50 a.m. fully prepared to wait until 6 when they opened the door. A manager walked out of the dark parking lot, and as he approached the doors, I was startled as they opened automatically. “Oh, you are open?” “We open at 5 a.m. for First Responders, then just leave it unlocked. Come on in.”
I did just that, made my rounds, got what I needed, and was back in the truck by 6:30 a.m. By 8 a.m. I was sitting in my Family Room at my computer.
I like the idea of small crowds, and being able to get on my way home quickly. Of course, since I got up at 4:30 a.m. to have time to eat and shower before I left, I think an early afternoon nap is on my agenda.
Stay safe folks. This too shall pass. Don’t get impatient, and we’ll all get through this together, but separately.