Flashback/Forward

My walls are filled with family photos.  They've hung there for so long that I almost don't see them anymore.  Yesterday this one caught my eye and I looked at it a long time.  This is my Wild Bunch and was taken 30 years ago.  The photograph is beautifully framed and was a wedding gift from the group to Steve and me.  It touched me then as it touches me now.  At that point in the ceremony when the man officiating asked, "Who gives this woman...?," the Kids stood as one and said, "We do."  (Possibly because they were glad to have someone else in charge of the wild woman.  I'm not sure.)  For clarification, Deb is in front and in the back row, left to right, are Dave, Larry, and Pete.  Dem'z my Kids.

In the afternoon I heard a thunk on the big window in the living room.  Looking out, sure enough there was a hummingbird on the deck.  Hoping it was just stunned, I went out and picked up the tiny thing.  I know they're susceptible to cold and cold it was in the shade.  Holding the brilliantly colored male cupped in my hand, I huffed warm breath over him until he slowly began to move, then placed him on the deck railing in the sun and waited.  Finally, to my (and his) delight, he flew off with a whir of wings and flash of green and red.  It was a special moment.

Flash forward.  My little red wagon is so old it has faded to pink and has bald rusting spots.  In fact, the bottom had rusted out and Dave welded a plate underneath to give it continued life.  It certainly got a workout yesterday as the rack was almost completely empty and we (wagon and I) brought load after load of firewood to the porch.  Bess gets excited when I pull on the thick leather gloves because she knows what we're going to do.  There are good sniffs when I pull back the protective tarp from the wood pile as ground squirrels make nests in there.  I did find the remnants of one yesterday, a mound of finely shredded bark.  When my grandson Jake was in grade school, I once sent him an intact squirrel nest, thinking he could take it for show-and-tell and wouldn't that be neat, forgetting completely that he was a city kid.  He probably thought his grandma had lost her marbles.  His dad and siblings grew up in Chino when it was very rural and they were always bringing home treasures found in the hills:  jawbones from some deceased creatures, dead birds, pretty rocks, etc.  That was then....

My timing was good for the woodpile, as the rain started last night.  Unfortunately, it brought the strong winds I'd hoped we'd avoid and they're battering the house this morning.  Bessie needed to go out for a piddle, but wouldn't go out the bedroom door.  "Can't you see what's going on out there, Mom?"  When her whining became desperate, I took her to the door leading to the covered deck.  Since she came back with dry fur, I can only imagine she went just around the corner for quick relief in a leaf pile and didn't make it to the back yard.


Stove says, "Feed me!"  It's going to be one of those days.

Missing

Have you seen this pig?  Actually, not this particular pig.  This pig was given to me by Dave Christmas before last, and it lives in the kitchen on the handle of a wooden spoon.  This year he gave me the rest of the litter, five identical piglets.  While I was trying to decide where they should live, the klepto cats made off with the whole bunch and I cannot find even one.  No ransom note has been received as yet, so I fear for their safety.  They are tiny little things, only about two inches in height.  The perpetrators are not squealing on each other.  If located, please notify me immediately.

I lost an entire day of sunshine in a most pleasant way.  I did give the barn a thorough cleaning before unexpected guests and a long long-distance phone call came.  Beau and his daughter Hailey stopped by in the morning, my niece in New Hampshire called, and Arden arrived in the afternoon for a chat.  Reportedly, today should be dry so I must get wood to the porch or do it in the pouring rain.  World news takes second place to the weather reports, and they're saying this storm is going to be a doozy.  Down in the valley, sand bags are being given out.  Up here, those who live in the nearby tiny hamlet of Outingdale, which is on the east bank of the Cosumnes River, are preparing for the worst.  They've been flooded out before.  In her capricious way, Nature has dropped the temperature to 30 this morning, but the storm is predicted to be a warm one.  I'm just hoping she leaves out the wind this time.  Saturated ground and wind are a tree's worst enemies.

In the meantime, I shall continue to hunt for five missing pigs.

My Name Is In The Hat

I thought the days when I was up for the Mean Mother Of The Year Award were put behind me when the Kids grew up and I could stop telling them "no" and "you have to."  However, it seems the goats have submitted my name for nomination and they think I have a strong chance of winning.  After all, who but a very mean mother would force her girls outside on a rainy day?  I do feel bad for them and I wouldn't do it if I had any options.  No one hesitates to dash under cover in the milking room, but once inside and they are up on the stand, even the ones who usually scarf down their chow like a vacuum cleaner dawdle over their bowl, eating slowly and picking up every kernel, trying to extend their time inside.  The one I feel the worst for is Cindy.  She readily comes in for breakfast as do the others, but instead of accepting the inevitable and going out the door, she turns to me and puts her forehead against my side.  "Please, Mom.  Please don't make me do this."  I explain and I apologize.  Oh, man, do I apologize.  Finally, she heaves a sigh and goes outside.  I think I may win the Award this year, too.

The girls do have places to get in out of the rain.  It's not my fault if they choose not to.  At bedtime, I can tell which ones are sensible (usually Esther and Tessie) by their at least semi-dry coats, and which ones are making a bid for sympathy.  Dripping or dry, they all head into their stalls for the night and we've put another day behind us.

It rained all day long, but without the wind of the day before.  I found a number of smaller branches down, but so far, so good with the trees, my biggest worry in a high wind.  This storm has been warmer than the week before, but dampness seeps into the house and Stove must still be fed.  Supposedly we're due for a short break today and I'll be able to replenish his supply of fuel.  Some may make hay while the sun shines, me, I haul firewood.

Be Careful What You Ask For

Californians have been asking, praying, begging for rain and now, guess what...there are flood warnings in the mountains, the valleys, and here in the foothills.  I, here in the house at the top of the hill, am in no danger of flooding.  However, the barn easily could be.  After a night of rain, we caught a break around noon and my milk customer came, as well as Patrick with a delivery of alfalfa and a bag of goat chow.  (I try to time a load of hay when I need feed, as Patrick slings the bags that I find so difficult as if they were marshmallows.)  Taking advantage of the dry spell, I brought up a couple more wagons of wood and then decided to make a quick run to the local market.  Nature had been lurking and no more had I hit the big road than she opened her bag of tricks and poured rain again.

I am not yet in the practice of having to take bags into a store, California having banned free plastic bags.  Oh, they'll sell you a bag (plastic) for a dime each.  I have yet to find the logic in that.  I do keep a supply of bags in the truck (I have a lifetime stock saved); I just don't remember to take them in with me.  "No, thanks.  Just put everything back in the cart."  Inconvenient, but not so bad on a sunny day, having to bag up wet groceries in the parking lot while it's raining is not my idea of fun.

Not content with just rain, Nature decided to throw in a hellacious wind.  I could have taken the trash down to the road on my way to the store, but Bessie Anne gets so excited when I get the bag(s) ready that I hate to disappoint her.  I don't think she likes riding in the truck as much as she looks forward to the treat when we get home.  Consequently, after bringing in soggy groceries, I loaded the soon soggy trash bags and one damp dog and we went down to put the stuff in the barrel.  The things I do for this girl.

Unfortunately, the wind came out of the east, blowing rain into what should have been the sheltered play yard, so two of the dominant goats took possession of the little attached shed while the other three huddled in the lee of the barn.  There was a bit of a free-for-all at bedtime, everyone crying, "Me first!"  Closing doors was all that was necessary in the chicken coop.  "What took you so long?"

Stove continued to gobble up firewood and the rain beat against the windows, driven by the howling wind all night.  It has not yet stopped.  Be careful what you ask for.

Snow Day

Although it snowed almost all day yesterday, this is about all that stuck.  One wouldn't think it would be enough to wipe out the satellite dishes, but it did...for hours.  Cold?  Oh, yes, it was cold.  I talk about bringing wagons of firewood up to the porch; yesterday Stove burned a full wagon load between get-up and go-to-bed.  (I never think about my wagon without hearing my mother's bit of doggerel, "Little red wagon, tongue is draggin'.  Second verse, same as the first."  And repeat.)

I was deeply touched yesterday by an act of kindness from one of my Kids who shall remain nameless for fear of embarrassing said Kid.  Kid realized I had not posted in a timely fashion and called to ask if I were okay.  It's a good thing I wasn't down with the goats because Kid was going to head up the hill, weather be damned, if I hadn't answered the phone.  No need to ask why I love my Kids.

There is a difference between no satellite and no power.  As long as we have electricity, I can use the DVR even when there is no real-time television.  I keep a stash of stuff I've recorded and not watched just for such occasions, and yesterday I immersed myself in Shakespeare, "The Hollow Crown," Richard III's story of mayhem, intrigue, and madness.  The production is chock-full of the best of British actors who somehow managed to speak Shakespeare's difficult cadence in a modern, conversational style that made the dialogue so easily understandable.  There are worse ways to spend a day.

Snow turned to rain late in the day and it's raining again/still this morning.  It's freezing cold.  Bessie's trip outside was don't-blink-your-eyes fast.  I'm late for my date with Stove.  We're becoming best friends!

It was a good day.

Coming Attractions

For more than fifty years, sometimes on, sometimes off, I've kept a journal.  It started when the Kids were little because I wanted to be able to look back on memories with some degree of accuracy.  I found it to be therapeutic at the same time, a way to purge when things went south and rejoice on happy occasions.  I've shelves of journals, written documentaries of my life, as it were.  Writing the blog has pretty much supplanted that project, but it has the same effect for me.  Yesterday I took time to bring forward birthdates and anniversaries from the old calendar to the new, a particularly pleasurable chore as I also record who came up on what occasion, surprise visits, alfalfa deliveries, etc.  It's my social calendar of sorts, and it's fun to look back and think, "It really was a good year."  (Or not.)  I look at the new calendar with its blank pages as an opportunity, ready to be filled with "life."

There was an opportunity to fill an empty spot yesterday when Dave texted to say he and some of the Freed Spirits were going to meet at Poor Red's and invited me to join them for lunch.  These guys have to be die-hard bikers to ride out on such a cold, misty-rainy day.  The time element prevented me from going.  As much as I would have loved seeing them all, it seemed more prudent to bring more firewood to the porch before the weather got any worse.  January 1 remained blank.  Sigh.

The temperature kept dropping all day and Stove had his work cut out.  The goats had their play yard to hide out in and the big door to the chicken coop remained closed.  Bessie's trips outside were brief and the cats lazed in front of the fire.

The long-promised (or threatened, depending on whether the Kids were coming up) snow arrived at o'dark-thirty this morning, the first snowfall of the year.  (Pictures tomorrow.)  I don't know what fluff-head moved the Rose Parade to January 2nd; whatever happened to tradition?  It "don't seem fittin'," and some people don't have Monday off.  I had time set aside yesterday...I may or may not watch it today.  Phffft!

I hope everyone's calendar gets filled with wondrous things, joyous times with family and friends.  Think of 2017 as a coming attraction!

It was a good day.

Addendum:  Kit was right...could not post this "issue" due to loss of satellite dishes for computer and TV.  Aarrgh!  It snowed steadily for nearly seven hours, but not much stuck (other than on the dishes).  The girls had to deal with my frigid fingers and the chickens took one look and said, "Oh hell no!  Not going out in that!"  Thanks for hanging in there, everybody.  Joys of country living, and all that.

Bye-bye 2016

The last morning of 2016 is a pretty good depiction of the year, I think.  Plenty of clouds and a struggling bright spot.  I'm betting on the bright spot!  As a matter of fact, as the day went on the sun took over and it was a gorgeous day, finding a dying chicken notwithstanding (another dark cloud, dadrattit).

When we were all younger, I would call each of my Kids at midnight on New Year's Eve.  This year I promised I wouldn't do that.  It wouldn't be kind, no matter how sincere the wish, now that we're more "mature."  I did touch base with a number of friends and family throughout the day, especially those I don't keep in close contact with.  It's a fitting way to end the old year.

Living it up last night, country style, cats, dog and I took our evening nap, woke up and trooped off down the hall to bed, only to be wakened at 12 by the obligatory gunshots echoing through the hills, the noise assuring we're all safe from evil spirits!

Bessie Anne, Ralph, Celeste, Cindy, Esther, Inga, Sheila, Tessie, and the fifteen chickens left, join me in wishing everyone a happy, healthy (emphasis on healthy), hopefully prosperous and peaceful New Year!