Author: William Douthwaite

Posted in wildlife

Hunting lizards

Posted on by William Douthwaite

After spending the night with us, my eight-year-old grandson couldn’t wait to get up this morning to hunt for lizards in our yard. He put together a small habitat for them by putting soil, rocks, a stick, and a bottle cap full of water into a used plastic cashew container. He punched a few holes in the lid and was ready to start rounding them up.

Plenty of lizards were up early to catch some sun on our fence, garden wall, and backyard trees. But catching them was tough. They are fast. If you happen to get a tail between your fingers, it often breaks off as the lizard escapes.

He had much better luck with a red solo cup. Sneaking up to a green species, he quickly covered it, slid a piece of cardboard between the cup and the fence, and had his first catch of the day. He placed the cup over the opening of the jar and pulled away the cardboard, introducing the reptile to his new home. Once the top was screwed on, it was time to figure out what to feed this guy.

My grandson said, “Now I have to find some bugs to feed him.”

I said, “That’s going to be tough. Maybe he would eat some lettuce. I’ll get you some.”

He snuck a piece of green leaf lettuce into the container, and we sat down to watch. By this time, the lizard, sitting on the soil, had turned brown. “Cool, a chameleon!” I don’t know if this was actually a chameleon, but he was good at blending into his environment.

I cautioned, “Make sure you leave the container in the shade.” It was already a warm day, and I knew direct sunlight would be too warm. We found a shady spot in a planter near the house.

Occasionally, we would go back out and look at him. He would look back at us. We think he took a bite of the lettuce leaf.

After my grandson went home, I took the lid off the container. I don’t know when he’ll be back. I figured if the lizard likes it there, he can stay. Or he can roam around the yard and return home at night. Or he can just go free. We can always catch another one.

Both my grandchildren and my dogs love to hunt lizards. I guess the word hasn’t gotten out that our yard isn’t a safe place to hang out.

Posted in children, toys

Tired of toys, so they played with rocks

Posted on by William Douthwaite
Photo by Ramazan Ilyasov on Unsplash

We had our three granddaughters – ages 5, 3, and one – spend the night with us last Friday. We’ve got enough toys at our house to start a preschool, so I knew they would stay busy.

The most popular toys on our shelves have always been the popular toys. The first bin they open is the pretend food, especially the ice cream cones. In minutes, they are ready to take orders and serve up everything from burgers to eggs to ice cream sundaes. The ring of a small bell is followed by, “Order up!” over and over and over again.

They always pull out the toy power tools, too. They are all about do-it-yourself with a jigsaw, drill, reciprocating saw, and a flashlight. Everything in the house is subject to repair or remodeling.

We’ve got a basket of baby toys for the one-year-old, but everyone else likes to play with these, too. Rattles, plastic stacking donuts, and colorful shaky-things keep all ages busy.

On this occasion, they pulled out the dress-up dolls. I haven’t seen these for a while. Hundreds of clothing combinations magnetically stick to the figures. They also end up all over the floor.

But then the older girls discovered the rocks in the backyard garden. Naturally, they started a rock collection. Most of the 1-1/2 inch white river rocks look the same. But before you know it, their collect filled five small plastic baskets.

Doesn’t everyone collect rocks as a kid? Egg cartons make the perfect display cases. A creek just beyond the backyard was the best place to find rocks when I was growing up. My friends and I were fascinated with the mica and shale we could peel into thin slices. We brought home all shapes and sizes of quartz. Since we learned about the hardness scale in school, we felt quite knowledgable about rocks.

Collecting rocks is more difficult in Florida. The soil is sandy and almost rock-free. So we buy decorative rocks to put in our yards. And for kids to play with.

For some reason, kids love to play with rocks. When we are young we just have to throw them. We toss them up in the air, at each other, or, of course towards a window, until our parents step in to ruin our fun. The grandsons have been taking our landscape rocks and tying them to the end of sticks with some palmetto leaf strips to make hammers and axes. My backyard is littered with the little survivalists’ collection of tools and weapons.

Parents and grandparents spend a lot of money on toys. We could save a few bucks if we watched what the children really play with: a boxes, sticks, and rocks!

Posted in Life

The magic of the dawn

Posted on by William Douthwaite

Even the dogs noticed how loudly the birds were singing. The cardinals led today’s chorus, greeting the dawn with such enthusiasm that both dogs looked up with curiosity. I’ll bet they wondered, “Who else is up this early?” A few blocks away, mourning doves called back and forth. Bluebirds chirped from the overhead wires.

The air was still as the neighborhood came alive with sound. The smallest bit of orange tinted the eastern horizon. I saw one light in the sky, a planet. The stars had called it a night.

We left the house about 6 am. Lots of outdoor lights were on, but the insides of most of the houses were still dark. Less than a quarter mile down the road we pass a home that is bathed in blue light. Blue lights are on either side of the front door, line the driveway, and shine up into the trees. Yes, I can tell you support law enforcement.

We’ve walked a mile and a half before the first car passes, doing at least 50 on this long, straight stretch of road. Probably a preacher, anxious to get to church and practice his sermon. The truck that slowly pulls into a driveway is someone getting home from work. It’s tough to work an overnight shift.

Some people still have cans lying on the front lawn two days after trash collection. There are seven cars parked in a circular driveway in front of another home. They must have a lot of guests for the weekend. A pile of wood from a discarded fence is still piled on the curb. I wonder when someone will haul that away.

About forty minutes into our walk, we notice the squirrels and bunnies. I notice the blue, cloudless sky. When did daytime get here? When did the night sneak away? That moment is part of the magic of the dawn.

Posted in grandfather, grandparenting, gratitude

The blessing of overnight grandchildren

Posted on by William Douthwaite
Photo by Edson Saldaña on Unsplash

“We have the girls Friday night.”

The “girls” are three granddaughters, ages five, three, and one. We’ve had the older two for a sleepover before. This is the first time for all three.

But we raised three children. Along with three dogs. Come on, how hard could it be? We’ve got bunk beds. We’ve got a port-a-crib for the little one. Tons of toys. And snacks. Oh, boy, do we have snacks! Three girls? Overnight? Bring it!

We met at our usual rendezvous spot, a Dunkin’ parking lot half-way between our homes. The handoff included a double-wide stroller, a backpack full of clothes, and essential stuffed animals.

So far, so good.

By the way, we also have some dogs. One big dog, a five month old Great Dane and a smaller dog, a West Highland white terrier. The girls are used to a big Florida brown dog at home. But they aren’t used to ours, a Great Dane puppy and a overly-friendly West Highland white terrier. This is going to be a challenge.

The older two immediately got to work on pretend food, magnetic dress up dolls, and a basket full of baby toys. For some reason, older kids are still fascinated by plastic donuts, rattles, and small stuffed animals. Number three? Her scream was pretty clear: “How about some food?”

After some back yard swinging, it was time for supper. Unicorn-shaped Kraft macaroni and cheese, sliced strawberries, and a fewraspberries kept everyone happy. Unlike the grandsons, there were no desperate pleas for post-supper popcorn. After brushing teeth, we read a few stories, and the three were off to bed. They all must have been tired, because I didn’t hear a peep from any of them.

I got up early Saturday morning to feed and walk the dogs as quietly as I could. I was amazed: no one woke up until about 7 am. Impressive.

“What do you want for breakfast?” All three agreed on pancakes. I cooked up a batch and each girl ate three drizzled with syrup. The one-year-old also ate a breakfast bar, a handful of Rice Krispies, and raspberries. The dogs did their job well, eating everything that fell to the floor.

Somehow, we got out the door by ten and headed to the Jacksonville zoo before we safely delivered them to their parents in the afternoon.

In the past few years, I’ve met couples who had no children. Which means no grandchildren. They would never experience a weekend like this. I’m thankful that we do. What a gift to hear the laughter ands screams, the requests and demands, and the prayers and the tears of these little ones.

Posted in waste

A wonderful (misdirected) stream of water

Posted on by William Douthwaite

Twice in two weeks I’ve come across a water sprinkler doing nothing more than spouting water onto a driveway in my neighborhood.

The first time was in the predawn hours of a Sunday morning. On those days I take the dogs out before sunrise and getting ready for church. I heard the sound before I saw it. The dogs’ ears perked up as we came around the corner and heard water pounding on a driveway. Since the outside lights were on, I got a good shot of the stream arching onto concrete.

The second time was tonight, on our pre-sunset tour of the neighborhood. It’s a different house, but the scene is the same. Irrigation water arches across the driveway, completely missing anything that might grow.

I know it’s not that big a deal. Each probably has a well, so we aren’t wasting city water. I’m just amazed no one notices – except me and the dogs.

First of all, it’s loud. I can hear the sound of water splashing across the driveway about fifty yards away. No one hears that from inside the house?

Also, nothing in that zone is being watered. No one notices the sad spots in the lawn?

And doesn’t anyone notice the puddles in the driveway?

I don’t have an irrigation system, so I’ve never experienced the challenge of maintaining sprinklers. When the grass looks thirsty, I pray for rain. From what I’ve heard, the sandy Florida soil constantly clogs irrigation systems. This upkeep battle never ends.

Having written this, I feel guilty. I should be the one who lets my neighbor know that his sprinkler heads need attention. If I can, I promise I will.

Posted in helping

Can you get me a bag?

Posted on by William Douthwaite
Photo by Mediamodifier on Unsplash

The Sam’s Club parking lot wasn’t crowded when we stopped for a big box of K-cup coffee pods. As we walked in, I heard a voice, “Sir, could you get me a bag?” We turned and saw a young lady around the corner from the main entrance, standing by a suitcase.

Assuming she was homeless, I turned and said, “A bag of what?”

“No,” she answered, “Just a bag. A Sam’s Club bag.”

“You mean a shopping bag?” I glanced at my wife, we both shrugged, and I said, “Sure. We’ll be back out in a few minutes.”

Of course, you never come out of Sam’s with just one thing. I grabbed the coffee and some peanut butter while my wife found a pack of snack crackers for the grandkids. After glancing around the checkout area, I asked an employee, “Do you have any Sam’s shopping bags?”

She said, “No. We have lots of boxes. But we don’t sell any bags.”

“Okay. Thanks.” I wasn’t surprised. I kind of knew were this was going anyway. She was looking for a handout. We decided to get something she could easily eat, in this case a box of beef jerky strips.

She was still there when we walked out of the store. My wife offered her the food and said, “They don’t have bags here.”

The woman said, “I asked and they said they did.”

“Well, here is some food.”

“No thanks.”

Our grandson likes these, so they wouldn’t go to waste. My wife said, “She probably wanted some money.”

“Yeah, I know. But we’re not doing that.”

The topic came up in bible class. Helping the poor and homeless often comes up. The best way to help isn’t obvious. Someone said, “That guy with a sign on the street corner? He’s not poor. He’s got a cell phone and a big wad of cash in his pocket. My friend gives him rides all the time. He’s doing just fine.”

Another person added, “I was talking to the sheriff and asked him about helping people like that. Never give them money. Instead, support the organizations that feed, house, and help them get jobs.”

We encounter it every day. What’s the best way to help? The answer is rarely obvious.

Posted in dogs, Travel

Dogs are welcome at the Hampton Inn

Posted on by William Douthwaite

When we drive to Dallas to visit my son and his family, we typically spend the night at the Hampton Inn in Richland, Mississippi, a few minutes south of Jackson. It’s about two-thirds of the way there, so it’s a long first day. But day two is a pretty easy drive across Louisiana and east Texas.

On our last trip at the end of March, we stayed in a first-floor room all the way at the end of the hall. Walking back to get things from the car, I did a double take as I passed by the elevator alcove. I saw what looked like a bowl full of dog bones. When I went over to get a closer look, I found a dish filled with Milk-bone dog biscuits in a dish on a small table. They were the good ones, too, the big five-inch large breed variety. A sign on the table announced they couldn’t wait for your dog to spend the night there.

How the world has changed! I vividly remember driving from Iowa to Florida to start my new job there. Michael our chocolate Labrador Retriever rode in the back seat, tranquilized for the long ride. I don’t remember how far I got the first day, but I remember sneaking him up the back stairs after dark to a second-floor motel room. I didn’t ask, so I don’t know if dogs were permitted or not. We left before sunrise the next day so no one would see him. However, I’m sure that he left plenty of dark brown hair on the bed for someone to find.  

Back to the Hampton Inn. I didn’t see any details about extra charges for a dog. I saw no size limitations, either. I would just love to check in with my Great Dane. King room? That should work. Breakfast at 6? I hope you’re serving bacon tomorrow morning! I can imagine her catching a whiff of the bone bowl, knocking over the table, and scattering bones across the lobby before eating them. How would you like to ride the elevator with us?

Chihuahuas and poodles stroll the aisles of Home Depot. People lined up in Walmart to take a picture of a guy with a mastiff in the meat section. They enjoy sitting under outdoor tables at restaurants. Pet stores have always welcomed them. I know our dog would enjoy a night at the Hampton Inn.

Posted in noticing, Travel

I should have been paying attention

Posted on by William Douthwaite

“Why am I taking this exit?”

It was too late to change my mind. I was already on the interstate exit ramp. But it was the wrong exit. I wasn’t going to a grandson’s baseball or soccer game. I was on the way to church, two more exits down the road.

It wasn’t a huge deal. I had plenty of time. And my alternate route only took five extra minutes. But why did my autopilot malfunction? I’ve been to these two places so many times I don’t even think about it. I just go. Maybe it was because we had just been to two games in the past week. Maybe I got distracted by conversation with my wife and the two boys in the van with us. Who knows?

I’m usually paying attention to where I’m going. I’m aware of my surroundings and what’s going around me. I hear the weather on the radio, catch the silly chattering of grandkids in the back, and pay attention to every little noise the van makes. I don’t know if I’ve ever gotten so absorbed in work or a project that I lost track of time.

My detour reminded me of a story from some friends in Iowa. They were on their way to some city west of Des Moines on I-80. They chatted about all kinds of things, making the drive seem short. Then they noticed a sign “Omaha – 10 miles.” I know, it doesn’t seem possible, but they drove about one hundred miles too far that day. That’s losing track of time!

How many things do I do each day without thinking about them? I can brush my teeth, tie my shoes, and sign my name without a thought. I can ride a bike, catch a ball, play guitar chords, and eat a donut without engaging my mind. It’s fascinating that my body just knows what to do.

So I remind myself to pay attention. I don’t to be that guy in the middle of the grocery store aisle, oblivious to other shoppers. Or the person ahead of you at the intersection, unaware that the light has turned green. (Although I confess that I have been that guy.) Or the worshiper who says the Lord’s Prayer or the Apostles Creed while thinking about what you want to eat for lunch. (Been there; done that.)

Posted in fitness, neighbor

Bonus benefits from walking around the block

Posted on by William Douthwaite
Photo by Vlad B on Unsplash

As the dogs and I finished up the first of two daily walks, I thought to myself, “I’ll bet some of my neighbors have never walked around the block.”

I’ve always had dogs that needed lots of of exercise. If we don’t want them constantly zooming around the house, we’ve got to put in the miles. I’ll bet we walk every street in our section of the community at least once a week.

But some have never even been around the block. They back out of the garage in the morning and drive off down the street. When they return home, they pause at the mailbox to collect all the daily junk, and pull back into the garage. Once the garage door lowers, that’s it. They’re in for the night. It’s kind of sad.

Some are out there no matter what. There’s Mr. McNulty, one of the few neighbors who has lived here longer than us. He has to use a walker, but he gets in his steps going up and down the street. The man across the street from him is blind. He’s out there once a week sweeping his white cane in front of him. I see many children walking to and from school bus stops in the mornings and evenings. I often pass Morris who always wears a bright orange shirt on his walks.

What do you miss if you never go for a walk?

  • There’s another wave of new roof installations this spring. I had no idea there were so many colors and color combinations of shingles! Some homeowners have waited a year to get new roofs after a tornado passed through. For this, I’m thankful.
  • There’s a new collection of used furniture out on the curb. A lot of folks have been getting rid of old sofas and chairs. I find this entertaining. When I see the fabric colors and patterns, I can’t imagine why anyone would buy something like that for their home!
  • It’s easy to tell who has the good parties. Vacant lots are littered with small liquor bottles. Tuesday’s recycling bins overflow with beer cans.
  • Rental properties have turned over this spring, so I’ve met the new neighbors. I find comfort in knowing which cars belong in our neighborhood – and which ones don’t. When neighbors watch out for each other, it’s a free extra layer of security.

Fresh air? Vitamin D? Get your steps in today? Pet a few dogs? Walking around the block is filled with good stuff.