In Which a Bird is Identified and Sherbet is Eaten

Well, I think our little hummingbird at work is a black-chinned hummingbird. Friday I caught her turning her eggs over, and a little sun was dappling her back.

And just in time for the holiday weekend--rainbow sherbet! With the first spoonful, I was transformed into an 8-year-old Nerdy Scientist To Be, catching fireflies in the dusk and listening to my folks and the neighbors voices floating, laughing and chatting, disembodied and surreal, while we tingled with excitement at being allowed to play outside so late.

In Which Carnage Is Averted

The dogs, half the cat population of the household, and I were out on the patio yesterday in the late afternoon. The sun was sinking behind the aleppo pines, but the northern mockingbirds that nest in my grapefruit tree were still zipping around, cackling away. When suddenly, the brown tabby blur streaked in front of me, racing faster that I've ever seen her in our 5 years of joint habitation. In front of her was something small and brown and scuttling as fast as little legs would let it. I shrieked.

She was immediately followed by two large white blurs, not moving at top speed and clearly disturbed that she had spotted something they had not. I dropped the phone in my hand and raced after them. Tabby Girl had it corned in the patio, but it managed to get around her and race along the side of the house, passing in front of Mr. Big and me and finding sanctuary--through the door into my house.

I grabbed Mr. Big's ruff to keep him from following, slammed the door shut, and then squeezed myself in. I was a little nervous, not sure what I'd find. A rat? A mouse? A packrat? Something bigger and scarier?

Cowering against the wall of my dining room was this little guy. His little heart was pumping and his little chest was heaving. After 5 minutes and the help of a piece of cardboard, I was able to gently shoo him out the side door and back into freedom. Probably completely discombobulated by going in one door, out another; in from the backyard and out into the driveway; out of the jaws of death to having this big, scary human chasing him with a piece of cardboard to freedom. But carnage was averted.

Tabby Girl was praised for her hunting instincts (which happily are not well honed), dogs were praised for not jumping onto top of Tabby Girl to get at her prize, and I patted myself on the back for saving the life of one lost wanderer, probably startled while out hunting for his dinner. I hope he sticks around and eats the mosquitoes.

In Which I Build a Pavlova

I admit it--I am easily swayed by magazine covers. Oh, never fear, Gentle Reader, I don't have the budget to pursue those covers. No quaint Parisian hideaway vacations or brand spanking new, near professional level kitchens for me. But I do sigh and get wistful and wonder why my Living Beautifully on a Budget new year's resolution (and this is the second year for that particular resolution) never even gets close to the serene perfection of those magazine covers. I know an entire team assembled that photo, and that it took hours to make everything perfect, and cost tens of thousands of dollars, but while I have great will power when it comes to resisting advertising when it tries to insidiously make me spend money/feel inferior/crave something I probably don't even want, part of me still wishes my kitchen or garden or bedroom looked like that cover.

So, when I saw a dessert on the cover of a recent Victoria magazine, I thought "Aha! A do-able cover! I can make that!" It was a strawberry pavlova. I had an overabundance of strawberries, having been to Costco the week before, that I had to use before they turned. I had an overabundance of eggs, having been unable to pass the sale price of 77 cents for a dozen at the grocery store the weekend before, and I had a mixer. So I dove in.

It wasn't as difficult to construct as I thought (or feared), but my oven, which runs a tad hot and normally incinerates things in half the time the recipe calls for something to slowly brown, didn't dry out the meringue in two hours. It took two and a half, and I didn't realize the center wasn't completely done until I took the pastry out of the oven the next morning and tried to take it off the parchment paper. It stuck in the middle. Being foolhardy, I decided to risk food poisoning, pop it back in the oven for a few hours, and trust my immune system was up to dealing with the fallout of less-than-completely-cooked egg whites. I thought the meringue had whipped up nice and stiff, but it spread out a little during the baking, so it was squat and lopsided, rather than tall and majestic. But the strawberries were perfectly sweet, no food poisoning resulted, and it was delicious if not magazine-cover beautiful.

But, Living Beautifully on a Budget means enjoying what life brings, not fussing over shortcomings. Herewith, my first Strawberry Pavlova. And one lesson learned--the magazine may not tell you how to cut into the pavlova, which means you make a bit of a mess when you do try to cut, but a messy dessert is still delicious. It's not how you slice it, it's how it tastes that's important.

In Which My Cactus Flowers

Opuntia englemannii, the prickly pear cactus. My cactus had about 3 dozen buds this year and bloomed over the past two weeks.

In Which a Mossy Nest Enthralls Us

This little hummingbird mama built her nest this past weekend right next to the sidewalk at work. My coworker used his Brunton compass to see into the nest, in which there are 2 eggs. If all goes well, I think they'll hatch in another 2 weeks or so. We're not sure what kind of hummingbird she is. I brought in my hummingbird feeder from home to augment the garden next door, where she's probably feeding. I am amazed that she is completely unfazed by the human traffic on the sidewalk just two feet from her nest. Granted, we're a small company, but most of us are stopping every time we pass to see how everything is proceeding and to be amazed by her tiny power and beauty.

In Which a Baby Fledges

Yesterday I found a sweet little northern mockingbird fledgling in my Texas ranger bush out front. Mama and Papa Bird were flitting about, screaming at me to keep away. It had disappeared when I went to church, and when I returned I let the dogs out in the backyard, as usual. She, who had been Bird Killer just a few days before, started barking and prancing around the rose arbor. Guess who was sitting atop the arbor, with Mama and Papa sitting in my nearby desert acacia? Within the hour, as the sun sank beneath the trees, it was gone, hopefully to its own snug nest for the night. Herewith, Baby Bird:

In Which It Seems I am Alone in the Universe

Well, this place certainly made me feel humbled, a small mote of dust in the universe.

The Sulphur Springs Valley from 10,022 feet above sea level. My highest peak/hike to date.