A far-ranging collection of essays on gardening and life, meant solely to relieve this gardener’s daily frustrations and lamentations over gardening in general and particularly gardening in Kansas. Though I am an old gardener, I am but a young blogger (apologies to Thomas Jefferson).
Since the unseasonably warm temperatures are holding, I spent my Sunday out on the concrete garage pad making a few more of my own North American Bluebird Society-approved bluebird boxes. Five boxes took me 3 hours, including the time it took to haul all the saws and drills out of the basement and into the sun. I did the work outside so I could gain the advantage of the sunlight on my retinas to also ward off any seasonal affective disorder, which I'm not really prone to, but everybody can use some extra Vitamin D in the winter. You might say I was both holding back the blues and preparing for the blue (-birds) at the same time.
Yes, I know that the entry holes on a few of them are a little askew and there may be a crack or two in the fitting of the sides, but hey, I never claimed to be a carpenter. Anything over changing the oil in the lawnmower or reprogramming the garage door opener tests ProfessorRoush's competencies. And I'm paying the price today for my three hours of labor performed standing, sitting, or kneeling on concrete and waving a heavy battery-powered drill around. When I put bone plates on dogs, I rarely need more than 10 screws. Every birdbox here is 17 screws, predrilled and then placed. But, whining aside, they are done and I needed them to replace a few of my older style boxes. And soon, because them Eastern Bluebirds will begin nesting here in a few weeks.