Phooey!

That bright sunrise and blue sky yesterday didn't last long.  Nature pulled one of her quick-change tricks.  In the time it took me to dress and get going on chores, the sky was grey, a light mist was falling, and it was bloody cold.  Phooey.  I'd bought a new pair of double fleece gloves, but can't wear them while washing udders or milking and so had to apologize to the girls for frosty fingers to start their day.

I've learned from experience not to leave the room until the wood stove gets up to temperature and the top vent is closed lest a chimney fire occur.  Therefore, I don't light the logs until after chores and can spend a little time in the living room.  "Gaslight" with Ingrid Bergman, Charles Boyer, and Joseph Cotten was just starting.  It's a movie I've seen more than thirty times and never tire of watching again.  Nominated for seven Academy Awards and winning four, it's an exercise in perfection.  Nineteen-year-old Angela Lansbury made her American film debut in "Gaslight."  Needless to say, the room was warm by the time the movie was over.

The sun made a few brief appearances during the afternoon, but sundown was again overcast and cold.  Phooey.

Dawn's Early Light

It may not compare with some of the spectacular sunrise photos, but after days of rain and wind it's very nice to see any sunrise.  Up until yesterday, it had been a pretty warm storm, and then the temperature dropped.  Snow levels crept down the mountain and it took forever to get the house warmed up.  It's in the mid 30s this morning.  My neighbor's vineyard and my south pasture are covered in a low ground fog, but I don't see a cloud in the sky.

I'll be playing catch up today.  Anticipating a power outage, I'd set aside some chores that could be done in daylight without electricity.  They're still waiting.  Oh well, as the saying goes, it'll keep me out of the pool hall.

A couple of days in the chair, artfully draped in warm furry friends, and I've seen more TV ads than anyone should have to watch.  Some of them make me nutso.  There is a wristband sort of thing for kids to wear that gives "points" or some other reward for exercising a minute or so.  How did we come to this?  Back in the day, being stuck in the house was a punishment and rainy days were pure hell.  Kids couldn't wait to get outside to play, ride bikes, hike the hills (we lived in a rural area), walk to a friend's house, climb trees.  At school, when the bell rang for recess, children boiled out of the classrooms in a flood of running and screaming to clamber over the jungle gym, the swings on long chains, the monkey bars, and the teeter-totters, all on asphalt.  Individual jump ropes were the training ground for the long ropes, and learning to do Double-Dutch was real success.  Bruises and scraped knees were a given.  Kids learned to get better at whatever it was.  Games of dodge-ball and tag-you're-it were played without adult supervision.  There were winners and losers and hurt feelings and grins of triumph.  Whiners got laughed at.  Kids were great at "no quarter asked, no quarter given."  Bullies were shunned by the entire play yard.  Kids had fun without an app to tell them to get off their butts.  I'm a fine one to talk; it was me in the chair like a couch potato for two days.  I'm ready for recess!

It's burning daylight and I've got things to do.  It's going to be a fine day.

Still Here

There was a scary moment yesterday morning when lightning struck close by and thunder was so loud the barn walls shook.  That big dead oak hanging over the roof would be a perfect lightning rod and I wasted no time getting the last goat milked and all of us out and away.  After the fact (of course), back in the house I unplugged computer and TVs.  Of course (again), there were no more strikes, just a lot of rain.  FB is showing a number of downed trees in nearby roads, but so far, so good here on the property.  The wind that had been blowing hard before chores died down and it was a day and night of steady rain.  The only blip in the power happened this morning as I sat down to write the blog.  Of course.

It was a day to keep the fire stoked and a cat on my lap.  Celeste is very obliging in that regard.  Bessie Anne gets her nose a little out of joint and crowds in, sometimes pushing Celeste up on the arm of the chair, reminding me that she was my girl first and should have priority treatment.  Baking got put on hold as I really expected the electricity to fail.  I've lived up here long enough now to know that we're not yet out of those woods.  The ground is saturated and trees can fall from their own weight.  My mantra is "So far, so good."  Still here.

It's Here

This is what "It's coming" looks like.  Without benefit of newscasts or internet, the animals know when weather is headed our way.  The girls couldn't wait to get into the barn last evening.  Even Poppy, with her dulcet tones, was bellowing, "Let me in!"  And that was while it was still calm; the calm before the storm.

I was particularly grateful for electricity and water yesterday.  Bessie Anne, just at bedtime the night before, had yarked up all over the living room and again on the comforter on the bed.  I was able to wash and dry the bedding and clean up and vacuum the carpet.  The day was again spent getting ready for what is purported to be the worst storm in any number of years.  Oil lamps have been filled and wicks trimmed.  I did more baking, making sure everything was washed up afterward.  My friend Linda suggested making a pot of coffee and keeping it in the fridge, and I took her advice.  Our dependence on electricity these days is mind-boggling.  There is instant coffee in the cupboard, but "real" coffee has no substitute.  Bessie and I spent some time on the deck and I looked at my surroundings, wondering if they will look the same when this blows over.  The trees, always the trees, are my biggest worry.  Bess felt a lot better after losing what it was that had made her sick, and she enjoyed being out in the weak sunshine.  Flocks of blackbirds shot by like missiles overhead, propelled by a brisk tailwind.

The first winds hit about 11 last night (woke me up from my nap in the chair).  Dog and cats escorted me down the hall and huddled around me on the bed as we listened to the wind roar around the house.  The rain has not yet arrived this morning, but the wind is with us still.  It was reassuring to wake and see the red numbers on the bedside clock.  So far, so good.  I'm crossing my fingers for the trees and the barn roof.  It's going to be an interesting day.

The Waiting Game

 It was as if Nature was holding her breath, waiting with the rest of us for the storm to come in.  This is just one of the wires crowded with blackbirds yesterday morning.  They did not fly away as I approached on my way to the barn, but continued to watch the sky, grey after that brilliant sunrise.  And they were quiet, unusually quiet for birds normally chattering to beat the band.

There were things I could have done and things I should have done, and what did I do after barn chores?  I took Bessie Anne and a book and we went out to sit on the deck while we could.  In spite of the overcast, it was warm outside and we decided to take advantage in anticipation of becoming housebound.  Later, I brought one of the Christmas trees and a number of bins of decorations into the house.  Once I get the tree put together (aargh) and the twinky lights on it, I can put the rest of the stuff up and around without electricity.  This is called planning ahead.  The TV and internet are full of warnings about the high winds, heavy rains, and potential for power outages and flooding.  Flooding is not a concern here, but loss of electricity and water are.  I've made pitchers of hummer food to keep in the refrigerator just in case, and keep all waterers topped off.

Others were more ambitious than I.  It was a burn day and smoke wreathed the hill across the way at sundown.  My own burn pile is there in front of the truck.  I won't light it unless someone is here with me.  Even with the ground still damp from the last rain, it's possible for the fire to get away faster than I can move, and I feel better if I've got backup.

Nature is such a tease.  Seeing a sunrise like this today, it's hard to believe the storm that is due to come in tonight.  She's showing off her brightest colors, knowing full well she's going to hide them in the coming days.  And so we wait.

Early Birds

The thing is, I wasn't even running late.  I'm used to hearing turkeys talk as they stroll about the yards or congregate under the oaks, but yesterday morning one turkey sounded particularly close.  Yup, there was a hen standing on the deck rail, looking in the living room window and yelling repeatedly, "We want breakfast!  We want breakfast!"  Gee willikers, now the turkeys are getting bossy.

Three-thirty a.m.  Long, skinny cat arms slide under my face on the pillow.  Cat paws knead the blanket over my chest.  Cat body plops down heavily on my legs.  Ralph is up early.  Once he's sure I'm awake, he leaves the bed to jump up on the desk and start knocking pencils to the floor and move other objects around.  Waiting until I doze off again, he comes to the window sill over my head and rattles the cords to the blinds.  I turn over and try to get back to sleep.  "We'll be having none of that, m'lady!"  Ralph jumps down on the pillow and launches himself to the floor, landing like a ton of bricks with a loud thump.  He enlists Celeste's help and the two of them race across the bed.  Four-thirty a.m.  I give up and get up.  It's going to be a long day.

The feed store was a busy place yesterday, and I passed Patrick coming and going as he delivered hay.  I'm not the only one stocking up before the weather changes for the worse.  The goat barn is battened down as much as I can make it.  There's still that hole in the roof, but now there's a bucket underneath.  Deck furniture has been secured.  The truck is parked out on the point.  Now we play the waiting game. 

Sunset last night was pretty spectacular, but I guess I should thank Ralph for getting me up in time to see this morning's sunrise.  We early birds get the best photos.

Bossy Bessie

This reminded me of that line from Jurassic Park, "Objects may be closer than they appear."  These turkeys were no more than a couple of feet from my feet.  The toms are no gentlemen, as they pushed the ladies out of the way to get to the grain first, but don't they look grand?

Bessie Anne is feeling better these days and we're both happy about that.  There is still one problem, however.  Like any mother with a sick kid, I was catering to her every need while she was feeling punk.  One look from those puppy-dog eyes and I would open doors, boost her up to whatever chair or couch she wished, tempt her with tidbits from my plate.  She liked all that attention and wishes it to continue.  To be honest, she's spoiled rotten and I did it to myself.  Now if I don't rush to do her bidding, she gives an imperious command bark.  "Now!  Open this door right now!"  "Chair!  This chair and I want it now!"  Celeste, curled up and warm on my lap, gets displaced as I try to meet Her Ladyship's demands.  The single bark is tolerable; it's when I don't ask "How high?" when she says jump that she starts to whine.  Bessie Anne has a high-pitched whine that is much like fingernails on a chalkboard and it makes me shudder and my skin crawl.  Just as when my Kids were little, whining gets an immediate "NO!"  That is not acceptable and she needs to learn that, too.  I have my limits.

There are reports of a mega-storm headed this way later this week.  They're saying five to ten inches of rain an hour with strong winds above fifty miles an hour here in the foothills.  I'll be moving the truck out to the point, out from under the oaks.  If I miss a day or two of posting here, it will be because the power has gone out.  We've been lucky so far that way.  I spent most of yesterday catching up on laundry and getting a start on holiday baking (the oven is electric).  I'll go today to replenish the feed supply for the critters.  There is a good stock of firewood on the porch and there is bottled water handy.  I keep the added expense of a land-line phone just for such occasions.  The wireless phones are inoperative during an outage.  I make sure the cell phone is charged every night.  This ain't my first rodeo and I know how to prepare.  In the meantime, one more sunset couldn't hurt.  Even Miss Bossy Bessie agrees.