Spotlight On...

It may seem strange to start with the end of the day, but when one has been reading all day and doing a little laundry (less than 200 pages left in the book) there's not much else to say.  The cloud cover was moving in by late afternoon, precursor for the rain predicted today.  I was surprised to see this much of a sunset on my way back from the goat pen, but then...

finished with the chickens, Bessie and I headed to the house, the house that blazed in a momentary golden spotlight.  Talk about a grand finale!

It was a good day.

Runaway

I had to do something, even if it meant making a trip to town (and that is my favorite thing to do, not!).  The Boss is relentless, so I ran away before she could think up some new chore for me.  I started stocking up on non-perishables for Thanksgiving and bought an obligatory bag of candy for Halloween.  I buy a small bag of a candy that I like because in all the years I've lived here, not one trick-or-treater has ever walked up the drive.  Of course I end up eating the whole thing, but tradition is tradition and far be it from me to break one.  I hate to admit it, but the trip along country roads at this time of year is quite pleasant.  Trees in the hills are dressing in fall colors that simply pop.  The stretch of Hwy. 50 through Placerville is especially beautiful, lined with flame-colored pistache.

Bessie Anne knows, and expects, that she will get a small treat whenever I've left her alone, and so is always happy to see me come back and leads me directly to the kitchen; the fact that I ran away is forgiven.  As a treat for myself, I started a new book, but only had time for a couple of hundred pages before sundown.  An avid if not voracious reader all my life, I've been going through a dry spell and it's been months since I've turned a page.  I can appreciate the convenience of a Kindle, but I like the heft of a book and the feel of paper.  It's like shaking the hand of a new friend.  This new adventure is 1,000 pages, a big book, and Celeste had a bit of difficulty finding room on my lap, but she and I made accommodations and settled in together.  It was hard to put down book and cat, but Bess informed me that it was time to put the kids to bed.  She's still cracking the whip.

Just when I thought dawn this morning couldn't get any prettier, in a matter of minutes it absolutely exploded.  Made me think of Rudyard Kipling's "Road to Mandalay," "...and the dawn comes up like thunder outer China 'crost the Bay."

I don't know what Bessie has planned for me, but it's going to be a good day.

Cats and Dog

Ralph had been pestering Celeste since o'dark-thirty, pouncing on her while she was still asleep on the bed, chasing her up and down the hall, and wrestling in the bathroom.  When she'd had it up to here, she turned the tables, held him down and bit him hard!  Hard enough to make him cry.  And then they both got quiet.  Just as when my Kids were small, I worry when the "children" get quiet and wonder what they're up to now.  (When the Kids were little and I didn't hear any action, I'd yell up the stairs, "Whatever you're doing, stop it NOW!," and I'd hear whispering, "How does she know?")  There the cats were at the bathroom window, intent together on something outside on the deck, both tails twitching.

Nearly every pot on the deck has licorice mint that spreads on its own every year, and every stalk of mint now has dried seeds where there had been lovely purple flowers.  What the cats were watching were dozens and dozens of tiny goldfinches bobbing up and down on the long stems while breakfasting on the mint seeds.  Surprisingly, all these birdies were silent as they congregated.  The goldfinches wear finery when they go out to eat, dressed in bright yellow satin waistcoats and formal grey and black jackets with cuffs trimmed in white.  Much smaller than canaries, they're almost unnoticed when I walk out until they take off flying.  For the cats, they're better than TV.

I was able to start and finish a book yesterday in spite of The Boss.  A couple of times I had to forcibly boot her out on her own, telling her I'd earned a day off.  When she saw that yipping wasn't working, she fell back on old reliable whining.  Lying by the door, head on paws, she began a campaign of incessant, high-pitched crying.  "Pleeease.  You never take me out.  I really, really, really want you to come with me."  Unable to concentrate and certainly unable to shut her up, I gave up and we went outside.  And the first thing she did?  She pointed me toward the raggedy wild grass clumps in the path across the front of the house and "suggested" I dig them out.  Okay, the path does look better now.  Bess would have made a good drill sergeant.

It was a good day.

Crack The Whip

It's all becoming clear to me now.  Bessie Anne has ulterior motives when she talks me into going outside.  She's been lulling me into thinking it was just for a little R&R and fresh air, but now she says, "Well, as long as you're out here, you might as well do something productive."  The day before, she gave me an easy start with a little weeding in the lavender bed; no big deal and we weren't at it long.  Yesterday the gloves came off.  "You know, Mom, big rain is predicted for the weekend.  Just look at all the leaves in the walkway.  They're going to get slick and somebody could fall and hurt themselves."  (This photo was taken after I'd cleared the path and got the pile around the corner.)
 

 A pretty good breeze had kicked up so it was best not to leave the leaves where they were, or they certainly wouldn't stay where they were and what I'd done would have been for naught.  In case I didn't get the point, my taskmaster shuffled through, scattering the pile.  Fine.  The problem then was that twice as many leaves were in the way over to the south slope and must be moved before I could attack the first pile.  I was working away under Bessie's watchful eye, and then the rake fell off the handle.  I was ready to quit, but the boss was right there, so I found a mismatched screw, fixed the danged thing and kept working.  Bess, in the herb garden, pointed out that I'd missed a "few," and I explained that those leaves were going to be left as a cover for the winter.  I got The Look, but she said okay.

Finally released from work detail, a cold drink and a sit-down sounded pretty good.  Bessie Anne, having done all the hard work of supervising, plopped down, exhausted, on the porch beside me and we enjoyed the view together for awhile. Then the boss reminded me that it was Monday and I should get the trash down to the big road.

Bess rode shotgun to the meet-and-greet corner where we ran into Luis Uptheroad (there must be a whole colony), the farrier, and his wife waiting for their kids to get off the school bus, and Camille and Honey. 

Come sundown, the girls are ready to head to bed.  Anyone counting butts and missing one should know that Inga had already made it to the barn.  These kids need no urging to go in at nightfall.

It was a good day.

Goat Art

The girls take turns sculpting the trace mineral-salt block, each one nibbling and licking until it looks (to me) like polished rose marble.  It takes several months for the herd to work its way through a 50-pound block so the artwork is always evolving and emerging, changing with the angle of light.  To me, it is quite beautiful.

Bessie Anne is the official family time-keeper and tells me if I'm running late for barn chores, morning and/or evening.  She also knows what's good for me.  After a day confined in the house because of rain, Bess felt I needed some time outdoors yesterday.  I was immersed in a book until she went to the door and yipped.  "You need to go out?"  I'd get up, open the door, and she'd just stand and look at me.  "Do you have to go out or not?"  She'd sit down.  "Fine, be that way," and I'd pick up the book.  "Yip."  "Don't make me get up for no good reason," and I'd open the door again.  I got the look.  "What?  You want me to go out too?"  Her tail would wag.  So we went out for a walkabout.  Later (same routine) we sat on the deck.  Still later, we sat on the front porch.  In late afternoon, we went out to the front yard so I could pull more weeds in the lavender bed.  Bessie was absolutely right.  It was a gorgeous day, sunny, with big, fluffy white clouds cruising the blue, blue sky, and a breeze making music in the dry leaves.  I could have missed it all with my nose in a book if she'd not urged me outside.

I got the nicest surprise.  Shortly before sundown, Debbie K. (Debbie "Uptheroad") came to my door with a jar of still-warm homemade tomato soup, spicy and laced with ribbons of basil, and a cheese-stuffed bun just out of the oven.  We had a brief, pleasant visit before I had to put the kids to bed.  The tree in silhouette at last light was too pretty to ignore as I turned to go in the house to enjoy a very tasty dinner that I didn't have to cook.

It was a good day.

Wait For It...

 Yesterday we played the waiting game.  Just to switch things up, this was sunrise and it's pretty obvious we were waiting for rain.  Didn't have to wait long, as it started sprinkling as I was letting the chickens out and pouring by the time I'd finished in the barn.  Needless to say, the girls were not happy, but I didn't have to coax anyone to come in to be fed/milked.  They clustered together outside the door, awaiting their turn.

Bess and I waited to see how long Celeste would take Ralph's bopping her on the head before she'd say, "Enough!"  I didn't get a picture of the take-down because she ran him down the hall for the finale.

We got a good, steady rain most of the day and that damp chill crept into the house.  When the quilted jacket was no longer enough, I lit the first fire of the year in the wood stove (thanking the guys as I did so).  After a short wait, warmth filled the room.  Ahh.

Rainy days are conducive to baking.  I'd told Cam I was going to make cookies and she asked why (perhaps thinking there was a bake sale or some such).  "Because I don't have any!"  If you're going to do a thing, do it up right and I made both Triple Chocolate and Oatmeal-Cranberry cookies.  While waiting for them to come out of the oven, Arden came over.  She spoiled her appetite for dinner (cookies were my dinner).

Looking much like the obverse of sunrise, sunset was covered with heavy clouds.  (I know everyone was waiting for the sunset photo.)

It was a good day.

Herrre's Ginger!

Back in the routine last evening, Ginger came running around the feed barn as soon as she heard the cart coming up the drive.  Bessie stood and waited for her and they waited together for me to catch up.  (The hill is always steeper on the way up.)  I'd felt bad in the morning because some night thing had run off with Ginger's mouse; it's not for me to say whether it was a trophy mouse.

Instead of following me, now Ginger leads the way to the gate.  Who's training whom here?

One might ask why there is a sink by the hen house.  That's pretty close to what I asked Steve when he brought it home.  That man was constitutionally unable to pass a pile of trash without gleaning some treasure.  This place is chock-a-block with treasures.  I think I mentioned that he once had sixteen (16!) used wooden garage doors delivered to our house in the valley.  "They were just throwing them out!"  He did find a use for the doors, but the sink has lain out there by the coop for many, many years.  The saying goes, "Everything but the kitchen sink."  Well, I've got the sink.

I'm a fine one to talk.  Steve couldn't pass up "good trash."  I'm not about to miss a sunset.

It was a good day.