JOY ALONG THE WAY: REDDING UP FOR SPRING

There are some chores purple martin house-owners must do before the cold days come if they wish to insure the cheerful birds' annual return. The house must be lowered, cleaned out and its insides sulphur dusted. Mites have a way of surviving unless they take on a touch of sulphur. After a few days of airing out, close the doors and then wait until about the first week in April to hear the happy chortles of the martins' return. I always associate the martins' return with the first blooming of the irises. The two go together like wine and roses.

The cleaning is not all that pleasant a chore, unless one chooses a sunny day in October when all the rainbow of colored leaves are fluttering about, busy squirrels are burying acorns and the jays are blue-striping the air, erasing as they go.

I choose such a day and work leisurely, having coached myself to do so. My martin pole is the telescoping kind and certain nuts must be loosened from their bolts before the pole will "telescope." Some years these nuts are stubborn and unless fully prepared for them to turn an eighth of an inch at a time, I can become sweaty and discombobulated.

Such slow procedure may require intermittent work stoppages accompanied by a mug of cider, a doughnut and a stroll around to inspect Sue's marigolds and mums.

As the pole slowly slides down I give it a coat of axle grease to insure its easy elevation in the spring. Axle grease isn't the nicest thing to get on your hands and under your fingernails and most probably a smudge in your hair, but who wants to work with gloves while coaxing slow recalcitrant nuts or a shower cap which keeps the rare autumn air from blowing summer out of your hair?

Once the pole is lowered a pause for soap and water is called for and a nail file. Maybe another nip from the cider jug. But, remember, this is to be a leisurely event, happening only once a year.

This year the cleaning was the easiest it has ever been. Only one sparrow family claimed an apartment. Not that they are getting fewer, but this spring I delayed opening the doors to the house until the full flock of martins had returned-- enough to fight off the sparrows who have deep-seated notions about squatters' rights.

In Griggsville, Illinois, the purple martin capital of the nation, one wonders if so much loving attention is given to this fall cleaning in view of the fact they have one tower alone with enough houses appended to accommodate about five hundred compartments.

Next come the wren houses. The official wren house has a sliding floor which makes it easy to clean out the old nests. They often need a touch of paint though, and this was the year for mine to be painted. Some folks say wrens like red houses better. I've found it doesn't make much difference. I use whatever little dabs of paint I have left over from other multi-colored projects. So, freshly painted multi-colored houses rest on a basement shelf, ready, too, for next spring's and summer's enjoyment.

Now for my own house. I walk from room to room, eye-documenting the things that need to be done, then decide to stroll, leisurely of course, over in the Park to my favorite persimmon tree to see if any late ones have fallen. If so, I eat them, maybe one or two, right on the spot. I loiter under the oak trees to increase the chance of an acorn falling on my head. If one does I count it a Blessing From The Forest. A falling leaf will do if it is partly red. These things are good antidotes for the "dreadies" of putting one's own house in order.

REJOICE!

~Jean Bell Mosley is an author and longtim columnist for the Southeast Missourian.