One of Lyman's funniest trials keeping a tomato garden is squirrels stealing his string. For many years, he would keep a roll of jute twine on a nail on a post handy for tying up indeterminate tomato plants (not a bush variety).

Then the squirrels started taking off with his string to build nests. We found one roll next to a pine tree, with the string going up as far as we could see.

Look at this baby owl from Glenn Reynolds. Isn't it a hoot?

(Yeah, yeah.)

So, Lyman's dad shows up at one o'clock yesterday afternoon and says, "I have a job for you."

Lyman said, "I have a job."

Dad says, "You don't have this one yet."

Lyman says, "OK, what is it?"

Dad says, "Herbert's in the hospital, and people will be taking food to his house this afternoon at about 5. I thought you could smoke a ham for me to take."

"Daddy, I can't smoke a ham in that time. I can bake one. Do you have the ham?"

"No, you can pick one out better than I can. I'll pay for it. What will you need, $20?"

"Do you want a whole ham, or half?"

"A whole one."

"That might make a good down payment. There aren't many hams around at this time of the year."

So Lyman went to the local market and found a whole ham, 18-1/2 pounds, for $50, brought it home and baked it, with mustard, honey and black pepper.

The family liked it.

Big Daddy nearly dropped in his tracks. 50 dollars!?

So, Lyman spent more time talking to more women this weekend, and found two more board members who don't have copies of bylaws for the association.

Pray tell, who does?

You know, friends, this is remarkable. I can move today.

Not like the other day when I planted with Lucy. 30 bulbs that day. That was almost as bad as riding a horse for the first time since I was 16.

100 caladium bulbs and 102 impatiens plants in the ground. That will do for the front yard.

There's a lot of trimming to do. The English Ivy still has an accent, and the azaleas go out of control even if you trim them to the ground. The box hedge has new growth, and the Japanese yew needs to be cut back, and somebody needs to paint again.

Somebody at my house's name starts with a "J".

Lucy is, if you have not gathered, Lyman's baby girl.

She had a shipment of food from Ducote's Parrot Place today. Ducote's had a computer glitch after Lyman's order, which meant they called us for our street address. Lucy's food came Fed-Ex with an extra bag of something Lyman didn't order. We call that lagniappe. What nice people.

I just gave her a bite of Sesame Soy Crunchies. They blast all over the place.

We have been out planting caladium bulbs. Lucy was on my back. The garbage truck came by and honked. She steals every show.

I am, at heart, a fairly laconic Texan. I like to be quiet, watch a lot, and perhaps have something pithy (not pissy, I don't lisp) to say when all is done.

So I keep myself a tad apart from Southern women, because they will talk your ears off. Spend a half hour in conversation with a southern woman and you will know more than you ever needed to know about her family, circumstances, and general outlook on life.

I've just spent 3/4 hour talking to one of the women Lyman will talk to today.

That boy needs some fine treatin'.

UPDATE: Maybe that's why Lucy doesn't talk much.

The garden club lady brought my caladium bulbs yesterday. They were to be Aarons, but they are White Queens. I like them better anyway. Ooops. Shouldn't they change that name?

A feeding at 6:38 PDT this morning. Gracie was wondering, but ultimately fine.

George cannot sit this rowdy crowd much longer. He jes' ain't big enough.

Eight women Lyman has talked to today and counting ...

If it pleases you to tell me, explain why the numbers of votes cast for various candidates for a board position in a condo association should be kept secret from the membership, including the president of the board?

This comes from an unsigned e-mail from the pres.

If that ain't broke, I don't know what is.

The fourth falcon hatched sometime during the night of April 12-13. Reliable times to watch feeding, which is about the extent of activity in the nest right now, are about 6:30 a.m. PDT and 7 p.m. PDT. Those might change as light comes earlier and stays later.

I watched this morning. At 6:30 (8:30 here) almost to the second, George brought Gracie a hunk of something. She fed the chicks until about 6:47, then took off with leftovers, and George took over brooding the chicks.

It won't be long until they're too big for him to be of much help. Remember, he weighs about 650 grams to Gracie's 950 grams.

The letter in this post from Greg Hlatky ticked me off so badly I went out and fired up our outdated, gas guzzling, lawn tractor and mowed the front yard myself.

"Family cars," "tract houses," "discount boxes in cornfields."

I guess it's fine that your favorite entertainers have 10,000 square foot houses on private beaches in coastal areas and fly when they leave.

I'd do the back yard tomorrow, but Jimmy -- black, uneducated, my age -- needs the work. He's paid $10 an hour. I made $6.60 doing paste-up at the Natchez Democrat in 1993.

Just watch it when I bring out the bypass pruners.

I guess I won't be lynched if I print a post from the Yahoo group watching the peregrines. Here we go:

My office is in 101 California directly across from the nest vent in the PG & E building. Last year I watched from my window as the two
youngsters left the vent and took their first flight. I was terrified
as each chick, one at a time took that first step off the ledge. I was astounded as George and Gracie dived under the plummeting, albeit madly flapping chicks. From my vantage point, it looked as if the parents
were "lifting" the chicks up into the air to the top of the building!
Once on the top the chicks marched importantly back and forth on the top ledge. (Emphasis Janis.) It wasn't long before I spied the chicks flapping around and eventually finding their way back into the vent at least once.

Are all youngsters alike?

There are some new things with Lucy this week, too.

Just a few minutes ago, she was perched on top of her cage saying "Want some apple?" She has been using "apple" for some time now, but that's the first time I've heard her use the whole phrase.

She also has a new physical move that relates to her dance. She opens her beak a ways, and vibrates it against the branch above her on the playtree. Now what does that signify?

George finally gets a cigar. At least two of peregrines' eggs have hatched today.

Another of the observers and I think we saw Gracie take one of the chicks (called "eyases") from the nest and dispose of it, as though it were dead. I haven't seen any confirmation of that from anyone else. I suppose it could have been leftovers from a meal.

The nest will remain a quiet place for a while, as the adults keep the young'uns warm and hatch the remaining eggs.

UPDATE: At about 12:35 PDT, George popped in with a morsel that Gracie fed to the chicks. I think there were three heads bobbing there. Other observers say two. There's a little pig in the bunch.

You can watch by clicking on the "Peregrine Nest Cam" over there on the left.

UPDATE: Must have been a leftover earlier. Another egg hatched near 2:30 p.m. PDT and all three kiddos were fed at about 5 p.m. PDT. One egg remains.

My Land's End sleeveless V-neck tees came today, and I couldn't be happier.

They are cut to cover bra straps with a concealing underarm cut, and don't cling excessively. The fabric is sweetly soft and the colors are brilliant.

I've popped them into a cold wash to see how the colors will do and check shrinkage.

I'm still a slender woman -- though not like Jane Fonda at 52 -- but I am edging up to 50, and these seem to be quite appropriate summer garments for a woman my age. They'll look great under an overshirt, too.

UPDATE: Fine on color and shrinkage. Could do with a softener sheet or touch-up with an iron. Hah. An iron? Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha.

As if life weren't boring enough spending Saturday with the baseball boys at the Elks lodge, I spent yesterday watching the tail of the Master's golf tournament.

That Fritz Schranck is a dubious influence.

Not all his fault. One of Lyman's best friends was an avid golfer. When he retired as paymaster of the local International Paper plant he was often off to Monroe or other near cities for golf tournaments.

He was about 6'6". When we were working on the great room we kept him in mind, making sure that he wouldn't knock his noggin on light fixtures and such.

He died of a massive heart attack stepping into the shower about four years ago. 65. A congenital weakness. It was his grandson we ordered the skateboard for at Christmas.

Charlie took golfing magazines and ordered books from clubs. I borrowed his books from time to time, so I've read about Lee Trevino lifting his club in a thunderstorm, declaiming "Even God can't hit a one iron!" I've read about Dan Jenkins clinking balls from one end of Fort Worth to another. But I can't remember who writes the Eddie Caminetti novels.

Mr. Schranck?