Fire Ant Flickers (#10)

Welcome to this special regular edition of the fr nt gztt. Vowels are overrated; just ask anyone trying to learn to speak Welsh. JK, of course…the Welsh language actually has two additional vowels — 40% more than English — “w” and “y.” (But then, there’s this: Llanfairpwllgwyngyllgogerychwyrndrobwllllantysiliogogogoch, so draw your own conclusions.)

And thus endeth the educational segment of this post. Moving right along.

But first!

[Why?]

4 People/1 Brain: Welcome to our world

We went to dinner with another couple last night [insert unpaid/unsolicited recommendation for Lakeside Thai in Cottonwood Shores] and as we collectively wracked our memories for the name of a person we all knew when we lived in Midland, I decided it was time to pitch an idea that had been percolating for a while.

Picture this…a Jeopardy tournament featuring contestants over the age of 70 (a number I just picked at random and has no relevance to any actual person, living or deceased, or associated this this blog, as far as you know) in which every question in every category is — wait for it — the same question! Because, really, who can remember anything anymore once they get over a certain age?

And just in case this concept eludes you — let’s say that you’re more of a visual learner — I spent way too much time creating the following actual interactive game for you to try. Good luck!

So…uh…sorry, I forget where I was going with this…

Tech Bro Cowboys: Another sign of the impending apocalypse?

I can see by your outfit that you are a cowboy.
You can see by my outfit I’m a cowboy, too.
You can see by our outfits that we are both cowboys.
Get yourself an outfit and be a cowboy, too.

When the Kingston Trio sang these lyrics in 1961 — a satirization of The Streets of Laredo aka The Dying Cowboy, and probably one reason why folk music purists didn’t like them — I seriously doubt that they envisioned that some of the lyrics would become relevant more than 60 years later.

The April 11th edition of the Wall Street Journal contained an article entitled Why Tech Bros Are Dressing Like Cowboys Now (may be behind a paywall). It documented the phenomenon where Silicon Valley transplants are flocking to Texas (and specifically Austin) and transforming their wardrobes into cowboy chic…Tecova boots and Poncho shirts, both of which are based in Austin (which I think is pretty ironic; IYKYK).

I find this pretty amusing. I’m not a cowboy — pretty far from it, actually — but I was born and raised in Texas, and west of the Pecos for that matter, so my boots (calfskin and ostrich ropers by Justin and Lucchese), stacked boot-cut Wranglers, and pearl-snap shirts (I’ve been wearing Poncho shirts before the crypto cowbros knew they existed) feel natural to me, and they comprise a standard uniform at any legitimate dancehall in the state. The idea of that ensemble being co-opted by a bunch of Austifornia cosplaying coders with skinny jeans tucked into zippered boots amuses me, but not as much as year-round wool beanies and neck beards. So, I guess it could be worse.

Squirrels That Rock [Sorry/Not Sorry]

We’ve got new houses under construction on both side of our house, leaving only one vacant lot on our cul-de-sac. The new houses back up to Pecan Creek, as does ours, and have for years been playgrounds for numerous and varied wildlife. We’re not seeing nearly as many critters now, a sad but inevitable outcome that accompanies development.

That said, I’m happy to report that rock squirrels (Otospermophilus variegatus) continue to reside in the, you know, rocks that line the creek behind our house.

I’ve written about rock squirrels before [here and here] but I’ll never tire of seeing their mix of curiosity and skittishness (the above photo was taken through our dining room window, the best way to get close enough to take a picture). They’re much less ubiquitous and, more importantly, less destructive than tree squirrels; I’ve never heard of one chewing the wiring on a car parked outdoors and they don’t dig through our potted plants looking for pecans they buried last year.

At one time, rock squirrels were though to be a subgenus in the genus that contains prairie dogs and marmots, but with the development of DNA sequencing, the scientific community has agreed that they belong in their own genus. And if you really want to get into the taxonomic weeds, rock squirrels belong to the tribe Marmotini, which is not, in fact, a type of pasta. It does include all types of ground squirrels; fortunately, rock squirrels seemed to have not acquired the tendency to dig holes in one’s lawn, nor do they ever feature prominently in movies starring Bill Murray. These facts will likely give you an advantage at your local bar’s next trivia night.

Hey, Bud!

Four years ago, we lost a significant number of mature shrubs and trees to an arctic cold front that dropped temperatures into the single digits. One of those victims was a beautiful loquat tree which Debbie and I eventually replaced — quite laboriously, I might add — with a couple of magnolia trees.

The trees have survived and are borderline flourishing — they had a few setbacks from branches breaking when squirrels and raccoons jumped from the fence onto the trees — but they haven’t bloomed. That may be about the change.

I’ve touched up the photo shown below to highlight what is a bud that, fingers crossed, will eventually turn into a bloom. Both trees have a few of these scattered through their foliage, and this is the first year for them to appear.

We’ve learned that magnolias are notoriously slow to bloom, sometimes taking as long as ten years before the first flowers appear on newly-planted trees. I’ve been content with the thick green leaves that are beginning to provide additional privacy for our back yard, but Debbie has been rather impatient for blooms to appear. This may be the year that she gets her wish.

Closing Shot