A Hobbit’s Compost Bin and the Happy Hens

I’m so in love with my passion fruit vine. Like, more than like, like. Love!

Not only does it give me bucketfuls of tantalizing and delicious fruit, but it also is always lush with bright green healthy leaves all year round. It is drought-proof as well it seems and the most vigorous grower of any of my plants.  It is the fastest, prettiest, and tastiest way to provide privacy as well!

[urlpreviewbox url=”https://mindyourdirt.com/2014/10/05/passion-fruit-vine-as-a-natural-privacy-fence/”/]

Not to mention the mesmerizingly beautiful blooms that last for all the warm months here in San Diego.

Passion fruit flower.
Did I mention the passion fruit? So good!

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Donald Trump’s Hair Lives in my Backyard!

I’ll bet you didn’t know that once Donald Trump is done after a busy day of being the nations Orange Hitler, he likes to come home and relax. Let his hair down if you will.

Orange Hitler and his escaping hair creature.
Orange Hitler and his escaping hair creature.

The problem is, once his hair is down, it leaps off his skull and meanders its way to my backyard. Once it’s here, I like to call it Piper the silkie hen. One of my prized chickens. And I feed her and love her more than any other chicken/douchebag hair piece I’ve ever known.

I try oh so hard to not get political on this gardening blog. Mostly because you didn’t come here to hear the rants that I typically reserve for the poor saps that are around me all day long. I try to keep Mind Your Dirt and James Gielow ever so slightly separated. Sometimes things slip through the cracks. Like today when I caught Piper taking the most adorable dirt bath ever. She was just happy as a pig in shit to be digging and scratching and slathering filth all up in her fuzzy britches. It’s what chickens do to get any mites or critters out of their feathers.

When Piper does it, she likes to make little purring sounds like Gizmo from the movie Gremlins. And then my heart turns to jelly. But today I could’t help but see her as a sentient Donald Trump Hair-Beast and I began giggling. And then crying. Both for slandering my innocent little cutie pie fuzzy butt, as well as the current state of the nation where we have a choice between Orange Hitler and Grandma Nixon for president. But as Jefferson said, “We are given the government that we deserve” and this current situation is a reflection on what “we the people” have allowed to happen.

Now as we stand upon the threshold of The End Times©, I can’t help but wonder what part I’ve played to bring us here. I try so hard to live a decent and honest life full of honor and virtue as well as be a strong steward for all creatures great and small. When I think about it too much, I get a giant headache. Then I go outside and look at something beautiful. Something like this:

So imagine my dismay when Trump’s hair visions began creeping into my head. I feel molested, pooped and demoralized. My only solution is to watch the above video over and over again until the evil vision leaves me be. I recommend you do the same. Just listen to that cute purring and cooing. UGH! My heart is jelly again.

Post Script:

I’m sorry that I have been less than present here on Mind Your Dirt the last few weeks. You see I was actually hospitalized from a dog bite two weekends ago. Nothing too major but my dominant hand has been out of commission and my dominant brain has been hopped up on goofballs for the pain. I’ll bring you a note from my doctor. Dr. Huy Ho. I shit thee not. My doctor is a song from a Disney cartoon. Jealous? He is the best doctor I’ve ever had by the by. I digress.


Sasha the mighty husky lab got into a fight with Noe the cow dog beast over the matter of ownership of a stuffed husky cuddle monster. I tried to intervene as I have health insurance and my dog does not. A matter of economics. Well, Noe wasn’t too keen on my getting in the middle and proceeded to sink her back teeth into and through my right ring finger. Fantastically powerful pain and suffering ensued and I’m still not able to do much with my right hand. No stitches were applied as the finger meat was far too tore up for anything to sew to anything else. Want to see photos? I didn’t think so.

I never lost my cool during the entire episode, however, and even spent time to comfort Noe and make sure that she and Sasha were wound free. They were thank goodness. I then played a game of Wits and Wagers with my house guests, built a roaring fire for the making of S’Mores and waited until all guests left. When I tried to go to bed I finally admitted that to fall asleep with the loss of so much blood and the presence of so much pain would be extremely stupid. A sentiment my wise girlfriend and her sister echoed hours before. So what, I’m a stupid man. Big deal.

At 11:30 p.m. Nury and I visited the hospital for a lovely six and a half hour visit of waiting, poking and scrubbing. Good times!! Oh yes, and a healthy $100 copay. Here’s me in the throws of pain and suffering. Feel free to have this enlarged and framed with a caption underneath reading “Lesser Mustachioed Douchbag”.


Regardless, I have a slew of unwritten posts up inside my drug-addled  melon, I just need to get them all down as well as take the subsequent associated photographs to bring you added visual delights. Please bear with my recovery and endeavor to do your best to not be around me for the next full moon! I get…bitey.

Meet Bernie and Hen Solo

The results are in for the Official MYD Name my Hens Contest™ and it was a close one folks! In the end, the hens decided on their favorite names. I had absolutely nothing to do with the decision making here and am but a slave to the whims of tiny dinosaurs.

Congratulations to Miscellinnie and Nury for the name of Bernie for my plucky Rhode Island Red and to Jack Burton for the name of Hen Solo for the adventurous Black Sex Link.

They took their sweet time in deciding too and when I placed the dry-erase board in the coop for their brainstorming sessions, they tended to poop all over it. But, then again, they tend to poop all over everything. However, after much deliberation, they finally have selected their favorites.

Ronald Reagan was the next runner up for the Rhode Island Red so kudos to the husband of Jenny from Bulldog Travels for that brilliant name!

Sasha was finally able to meet the hens face to face too. I wanted to make sure that my training methods still applied to new additions to the flock. They did in spades!

Bernie and Hen Solo 02_Sasha meets the girls face to face

We then did a nice photo session to help celebrate their new names. I’ve photographed a lot of subjects in my life and can safely say that chickens are one of the hardest things to shoot. The only thing harder was when I shot Buffalo Sabers games back in college. So much movement and with a shallow depth of field, damn near impossible to get the eyes in focus. So, out of the 150 photos I took, here are 14 that turned out decent. Enjoy!

And for those of you that are not sick and tired of looking at chicken videos, here’s the girls playing around in the adult section of the chicken run for a supervised play-date with the big mean girls.

I love watching them jump around with excitement like the little kids that they are. Especially in the beginning where Hen Solo tries to eat citrus leaves from the satsuma tree. Silly Solo, the scruffy looking nerf-herder.

Thanks again to all those that helped with your amazing submissions!