Greetings, my fellow port swillers!

If you had told Ol’ Robbo that on July 22 the temperature would only be 76 degrees at 1:00 pm, he’d have asked you what you were drinking (and likely where he could get some of the same). I will certainly take it, though.

A most productive morning laboring in the Port Swiller Manor demesne. For one thing, now that things are starting to simmer down a bit at work, I was able to get out and mow yesterday evening. And here, following up on the great blade-replacement problem of last weekend, I’d like to raise a glass of port to friend of the decanter Captain Ned for recommending the PB Blaster to get the rusted locking nut unstuck. Cheers, Sir! I shot some of that stuff on, waited a while, and the nut came right off. However, my satisfaction was quite fleeting because I discovered that the old blade did not appear to be detachable at all but was firmly welded to the shaft. I could find no other mechanism for getting it off (and wasn’t about to start digging in the guts of the machine to find the other end). Eh. The good news was that as long as I had my wrench set out, I opened up the air intake to inspect the filter, which it turned out needed cleaning pretty badly. The engine sounded a lot happier after I took care of that. So everybody won.

Having got the head-start, Ol’ Robbo was able to spend this morning dealing with other things. I blasted the weeds right and left with Round-Up; I cleared the path in my butterfly garden (where I’ve decided to place a modest statue of St. Francis in the little pet memorial I put in last year and just hope Mrs. Robbo doesn’t notice); I risked life and limb at the top of a ladder whacking back the wisteria that had got a leetle too aggressive at one corner of the porch. Most satisfying.

So here we are in High Summah. One of the markers here is the blooming of Ol’ Robbo’s specimen prairie cup-flower, given me years and years ago by Mrs. Robbo’s brother-in-law, who originally found his in a roadside ditch outside of Boston. Regular friends of the decanter may recall that, after thinking about it for some time, Ol’ Robbo decided last year to divide out about a quarter of the root-ball and plant it on the other side of the garden path. Well, behold:

This is the transplant. The reason you are viewing the underside of the leaves and flowers is that the thing is about nine feet tall, just like its mama. The clusters of yellow set off the lavender of the buddleia very nicely, indeed. And, of course, the butterflies and bees are quite pleased as well. Perhaps I will try this trick again. I hope I have as good luck dividing the peonies this fall. (Stop laughing, I’m going to do it!)

Anyhoo, Ol’ Robbo certainly earned his iced kawfee today. Which reminds me that even to get any I had to wrestle with the ice-maker. The seal on the freezer is starting to get a little loose and, Ol’ Robbo failing to convince people of the need to close the door firmly, the maker is now subject to a series of local thaws and refreezes which invariably clog up the mechanism. Any friends of the decanter know anything about seal-replacement? Or is that something for which Ol’ Robbo needs to call in a pro?

PSA UPDATE: A friendly reminder because Ol’ Robbo is thinking about it. Those friends of the decanter who keep (or who are thinking of keeping) a goldfinch feeder should clean out the nyjer seed every couple of weeks. (Dump it back in the bag, stir around with the fresh, and repour into the feeder.) Also, you should scrub out the feeder itself every, say, six weeks. I understand that the goldfinch are attracted by the sheen of the seed, and if it gets cloudy or hazy, they lose interest.