Is anybody else confused? My head used to be on straight. The world made sense. Things, as in appliances, telephones, cameras, you-name-it, worked simply and consistently. Now, none of it does.
Who did it? Why? What was wrong with what used to be? The little brownie camera that worked with one click; the coffee pot that percolated; the telephone that was attached to the wall and never left with the operator inside asking “number please” and none of them needed to be charged.
At one time we had four or five remotes to control the television set. Then, a family member decided to help me by purchasing a quite expensive one-remote-fits-all device. But it doesn’t; what it does is have a mind of its own. Each night when we are ready to watch the latest news in our weather; our politics or some drama other than politics, we never know how many steps it will take to coax the remote to our choice.
Many years ago would we ever think that we would have telephone calls from all over the country bothering us with unwanted questions or, worse yet, assuming the identities of family members or posing as IRS agents threatening to imprison us if we didn’t send in the money?
To top it all off, our beloved newspaper takes this opportunity to appear in a new form. It seems to be necessary – as all the other changes seemed necessary – but it ends up confusing and irritating. As the world appears upside down and unpredictable, this wasn’t a good moment to take away our local mainstay and put it on that finicky computer. There is so much anger and unease already on the computer as a delivery system, I think that’s why many readers have reacted poorly to having to sit in front of a screen to find their local news and opinions. Or worse, glance at their tiny screens on cell phones.
The past was so comfortable; I had a Thursday deadline and my column appeared on the second and fourth issues per month on page five. It was accompanied by a charming black and white picture that looked like me 25 years ago. By George, it was me 25 years ago.
Now, I am probably getting this story in late because I had a column show up the first week instead of the second and I can’t handle change anymore. Perhaps next month everything will be back to normal if I accept what the new normal is, which it isn’t.
There is an antidote for this haphazard atmosphere and state of mind. It is, for me, to cease following closely the “Further Adventures of Mr. Toad in the White House,” and concentrate on the pest nearby in the orchard, which in a matter of days will be the thrip.
One writer at an online site for pest control information states that there is no such thing as “thrip.” It is always plural – “thrips.” I can relate to this observation as, for example, nobody ever has an ant in their kitchen. “I have ants in the sugar bowl” is the proper description.
Moving forward, thrips are tiny winged sucking and scraping insects that love to deface nectarines and peaches when the fruit is so small the orchard inspector almost needs a magnifying glass. But, my friend, Bryce Austin, who grew up in an orchard (I think he really did) can spy them immediately by carefully opening up the tiny blossom. He even notes that some of the minuscule fruit already needs thinning.
“Look at this. There are three nectarines attached.”
Bryce says I need to spray when this series of storms finishes. If I don’t, the nectarines will be laced with teeth tracks and as the fruit grows the scars grow with it, defacing the skin of the fruit.
You have to admire the mini-brains of the thrips. They have a choice between landing on the blossoms of the peach trees or the nectarines and they actually know that the young peaches are already fuzzy, as opposed to the nectarines which are smooth. Without dental floss in their lives they don’t want to get peach fuzz caught in their little sharp teeth.
Now is that smart or what? If those thrips make intelligent decisions with so little brain, wouldn’t you think Toady …?
Renee Kiff weeds and writes at her family farm in Alexander Valley.
