Let’s face it, sometimes you just can’t win no matter how hard you try. I’m not sure if it’s just my husband and I who seem to experience this more as we age or if it’s just that we have less patience now. Regardless, it often seems that whenever we take on an endeavour of sorts around here, something, if not many things, go wrong. And sometimes, the things that go wrong go right sideways.
Since this past weekend was forecasted to be nice and sunny, we decided to stay home instead of heading out to our lake lot. Now, you might be thinking, “Sue, why on earth would you choose to stay at home if it was so nice out? Summer in Canada is so short. You should be taking advantage.” Believe you me, that is EXACTLY what ran through my mind as well, but (because there’s often a but) we had a lot of yardwork and things to catch up on since it’s been so rainy here. Thus, Saturday morning we wasted no time in digging right into our list of things to do and sure enough, it was shaping up to be a beauty of a day. Right on mark for the first day of summer actually. It felt like it was going to be a good day full of accomplishments and all in all we did manage to get a lot of things done, except that we had our usual set of misfortunes along the way.
As I did some much needed hand-trimming at the back of the property, images from a scene of my all-time favourite sitcom popped into my head. In the one particular episode of Three’s Company that I was reminded of, the roommates, Jack, Janet and Chrissy, were coerced into cleaning up their landlord’s long overgrown garden. While I was making my way through our ever-intertwined mess of cedar fronds (are they called fronds?!), I thought of the three characters who were always good for a laugh. Nearby, my husband was throwing out cushions from our downstairs sunroom. A couple of weeks prior, he’d vacuumed up evidence of mouse activity that we thought had been from last fall/winter. In the process of cleaning that day, he noted that several of our cushions had been torn apart and were going to have to be thrown out. After no further signs of a mouse that we could see, he went into the room on Saturday to finish the clean-up. Just as my husband began bagging up the items to be thrown out, I heard him make a noise (a slight ‘manly-type’ of scream, well more like an exclamation really); of course, it was the mysterious mouse that we thought no longer existed. Naturally, I dropped what I was doing and joined him to investigate further.
Sure enough, inside our reading bench, the rather fat mouse had built a nest out of the cotton stuffing from *our* cushions. Clearly, it was getting ready to house some babies there. One mouse was bad enough. Mice, as in plural? No thanks! Can you imagine the mess?! The problem is that if you have ever tried catching or trapping a mouse, you know how difficult of a task it can be. In hindsight, it is a little humourous in that every time my husband tried poking around at the mouse with a stick, it ran out through the hole that it had been using to get in. Aha! At least we discovered the route it was taking. Similar to my round robin episode the other day however, the mouse had the two of us going back and forth as it cleverly peeked in and out of its little hole as one or the other of us tried to chase it out. At one point, she (the mouse was clearly pregnant) was all the way out of its little tunnel, but I couldn’t get to the outside hole fast enough before it ran right back inside. After playing that game a few times, we relented for the time being, got some old traps baited, ditched the nest and got the rest of our clean cushions and things out of the room. Not quite the plan we had in mind for the rest of the morning, but what are you going to do? Then, as luck would have it, my husband sought after some foam spray that we had in our shop to fill the hole only to discover that the dispenser wasn’t working which in turn meant an unplanned trip to the store. So much for all of the yardwork that needed doing.
While my husband made a trip to the dump to unload all of the ‘mousified’ cushions that he had bundled up, I tried to get back to some yard clean-up only to discover a huge moose steps away from our garden that I had planned on working in. Needless to say, I thought it best if I gave the giant animal plenty of space. So… no garden work either. Hmmm… Once the moose disappeared into our ravine, where we think it’s living given that the next morning we heard a bunch of loud moaning noises coming from the green wall of trees, I went about some more trimming around the other side of the house hoping and watching carefully to ensure that the moose and I did NOT meet. We are better friends from afar, I’m guessing. That being said, I’m sure that our outdoor cat is well-acquainted with the moose since she is always hunting back there which left me to wonder if they are on friendly terms at all. For all we know, maybe they curl up together at night or maybe she rides its back?! Okay, well the latter thought might be born out of fiction or fairy tales, but you never know. I’m thinking that our ravine is a lot like Las Vegas–what happens in the ravine, stays in the ravine.
When my husband returned home from his impromptu errands, I told him about the moose. What next? he wondered. Sometimes, you just can’t make this stuff up even if you tried. Luckily, the moose did not emerge from the ravine again and we did manage to get a few more things crossed off of our to-do’s. On the positive side of things (because you have to try to look for the good), we now have a few stories to tell from our misfortunes of the day. Just another day on the farm–a mouse in the morning and a moose in the afternoon.
(Re-posted from yesterday. I thought it was business as usual when I hit the publish button, however something clearly went wrong, so I will try again today. I apologize if you have already seen this post, as it was on my site briefly and then up and disappeared.)