Boo!

Happy Halloween!

A friend, Kathy V., issued a challenge on FB for friends to post seven days of black-and-white photos of everyday life.  The real challenge was to figure out how to get my camera/phone to do that.  And more, how to get it back to "normal."  As I told Kathy V., back in the day when I was a kid, all there was then was black-and-white film, so this really takes me down memory lane.  I've always taken tons of photographs, starting out with a Kodak Brownie box camera.  Boy, am I enjoying digital!  A sister-in-law and I traveled through Europe in 1985 and when we got back, it cost a fortune to get 24 rolls of film developed.

This is my watch dog watching me.  They say that after a time people start to look like their dogs (or vice versa), and when I look at Bessie Anne, I see that it's true.  Our hair style is much the same, but I don't wear bangs.

I was on Ladder 911 duty yesterday as Camille is still whirling like a dervish trying to finish painting her house.  We figure there are only a couple more days before the rain comes, and a 30-degree drop in temperature.  The dew last night was heavy enough to wet the deck.  I hung around the house waiting for my milk customer, and then, having made sure Cam was safe on the ground, made a quick run to the grocery store.  I had a hankering for crock pot short ribs and a pot roast.  I've eaten so much chicken lately that I'm checking for feathers to sprout.  Milk Guy drove up as I was unloading the groceries from the truck.

I'd had a half-formed plan to bake cookies to replace the Halloween candy I'd eaten, just in case a kid or two showed up to trick or treat.  Since that plan came to naught, I just won't turn on the porch light and hope none show up (they never have).

Camille got a lot more done than I did, for sure.

Goody, Goody!

When my Kids were little, whenever my dad came to see us he would bring a grocery bag full of bags of candy:  orange slices, jelly beans, peppermints, etc.  He did this even if he came several times a week.  Needless to say, the Kids were in seventh heaven; it was like a constant Halloween.  I finally had to tell him, "Daddy, that much candy isn't good for them.  Please don't keep doing this."  "Well, I want to bring them something.  What shall I get?"  "Fruit.  Fruit is good for children."  So he began bringing grocery bags full of fruit, and almost always there was a coconut.  That was a good thing, right?  Pretty soon fruit was coming out our ears.  I would hear his car drive up and run to hide the latest coconut in the oven and the bananas in the bread drawer.

I'm like one of my Kids.  Pete came up yesterday and I almost hopped up and down, clapping my hands, when he opened the trunk and brought out a grocery bag.  Goody, goody!  He brought out two mangoes, an avocado, a bag of Brussels sprouts and apple-cured bacon to go with (saying that if I loved him I would never serve them to him), and some special Calabrese sausages.  One, the local grocery store doesn't carry such specialty items, and two, they wouldn't be in my budget.  I don't ever want Pete to feel he started something and has to bring groceries every time he comes, but it is such a treat, truly.

I made a quick dinner of chicken stroganoff (minus a dreaded green vegetable), and we ate out on the deck.  I told him about eavesdropping on a conversation the crows had held earlier.  They were chatting up a storm and one of them must have told a joke because they started a throaty chuckling sound, different from any I'd heard before.  They really are amazing birds.

Pete (and Dave, also) served in the Navy.  Pete is learning now what I felt then because his son is leaving for Saudi Arabia soon with the Air Force.  Pride and concern are strong, mixed feelings.  It will, we think, be a short deployment.  Technology has advanced so far since my boys were overseas.  It used to take the better part of a month for letters to get back and forth, and now with texting and Skype, etc., it will be so much easier to stay in touch.  That doesn't mean Jake won't be missed, especially because he will be gone over the holidays.

Like vampires in reverse, my Kids need to be out of the hills before the sun goes down.  It was a good visit and a good day.

Futility

Much like trying to empty the ocean with a thimble (or dusting), blowing leaves off the deck is an exercise in futility.  The ocean is safe from me, but I did make a stab at clearing the deck yesterday.  It is a much easier task with the leaf blower than with a rake, but the rewards are only momentary, regardless.  They don't call it fall for nothing.  While I cleared the way ahead, more leaves drifted down behind.  At least for a while it won't sound like walking on potato chips and it might even reduce the detritus Bess brings in.  One tries.

There is a weather app on my phone and I track conditions in Oklahoma, Hawaii, and even down in the valley, which can be so different from here that it is like another planet.  It's a noninvasive way to feel in touch with family.  It's been relatively cold in Oklahoma lately, and I wonder how my grandson is going to cope with the heat in Saudi Arabia when he is deployed there sometime soon.  I talked with Larry the other day.  He's going to grow gills, he spends every possible moment in the sea.  It is a nearly constant low 80s in Hawaii.  The app gives a week's forecast for local conditions, and Cam calls Weather Central (me) to plan her work schedule.  We figure she's got four more days to finish painting her house before the rain comes.  It's a handy app, that.

Blogspot has still not solved its here-and-then-gone problem.  It's hard enough for me to hold on to a thought as it is without having the page disappear midstream.

Ah, well, one tries.

Lineup

Laundry hanging on the line these days gives a pretty good visual of just how whacky the weather has been lately.  There is a tank top next to a turtleneck next to a medium-weight work shirt, and the ubiquitous bibbies, of course.  With the exception of the bibbies, I don't know how to dress from one day to the next.  It could be break-a-sweat hot on Monday and need-a-jacket cold on Tuesday.  It was warm, in the 80s, but pleasant yesterday, and rain and low 50s are predicted for next weekend.  Go figure.

Because it was a nice afternoon yesterday, Arden and I sat out on the deck to chat.  It had been a while since she came to visit and it was good to see her again.  I am fortunate in my friends with whom to talk about books and films and politics and current events, rarely touching on the negative, and briefly, should such a subject come up.  Negativity is like a canker and spreads to discontent.

Bessie Anne considers herself "one of the girls" and joined us on the deck.  When Stan was here, Bess came too, but had a few "senior moments."  She would wander off, but forget which door she'd come out or where we were.  I had to excuse myself more than once to go let Bessie in the front door and we'd start all over again.  Oh well.

I have to laugh.  I had hurriedly dusted the living room so it would be ready or at least presentable for company.  Company three days in a row and not once did we sit in there amongst the polished furniture.  All that effort for naught.

It was a good day.

Social Butterfly

A social butterfly, that would be me of late.  I've been going to the Senior Center for lunch once a month or so, and yesterday I couldn't resist the crab cakes that were on the menu.  Since I usually sit like Muhammad and wait for the mountain to come to me, I will admit it is nice once in awhile to get out and see new faces.  A completely balanced meal is served five days a week and the price is so reasonable ($3) that there are many, especially the gentlemen, who are regulars who come every day.  It is a great service to the community.

Note:  Blogspot is having difficulty with its web page and lately it comes and goes in fits and starts while I'm writing an entry.  Fixing the problem is way above my pay grade, but they're working on it.

In the afternoon, I was on Ladder 911 duty while Camille was painting, and decided to watch a movie I hadn't seen in quite awhile.  "Mrs. Henderson Presents" (2005, Judi Dench, Bob Hoskins) is a biographical film about Laura Henderson and the Windmill Theater in London during WWII featuring nudity on stage for the first time in England.  It is a witty, wistful, tasteful movie with wonderful characters, and a most pleasant way to avoid doing housework.

The Center will pack a meal to go, and Camille had asked me to pick one up for her so she wouldn't have to cook after a long, tiring day of going up and down the ladder.  She and Honey stopped by and we had a good visit before it was time to put the kids to bed.

It was a good day, and time for this butterfly to fold her wings for the night.

Surprise!

It showed every sign of being a humdrum day.  Nothing on the agenda beyond milk the goats, clean the barn, wash the bucket...ho hum.  And then the phone rang.  Surprise!  It was my brother-in-law, Stan, Steve's twin.  Stan and his wife Lynne are dear to me, but they live such busy lives that it has been maybe as long as three years since I've seen either of them.  It was nice to get his call, and then he said he'd like to come up and (big AND) bring KFC for lunch.  Hey, think I'm going to turn down a double-banger like that?!  Stan and Lynne live down in the valley, so I had time to dry mop the kitchen, pick up the kids' toys, and (hold on to your hat) dust the living room.

The day had heated up, so when Stan arrived we took everything out to sit on the deck in the shade to eat and catch whatever breeze might blow.  It turned out that Stan had recently retired and thus had the time for a visit.  I felt honored that he chose to spend a day with me.  It was grand to catch up on news of the family. I had talked to his aunt on her 90th birthday the day before, and his mom is turning 93 next week.  He asked about my Kids.  Stan lives not far from Dave and sometimes sees him in the market, but has been out of touch with the others.  Lynne is still working so Stan is becoming the house husband, and a crock-pot is his new best friend.  Exchanging recipes was the last thing I'd expected.  The afternoon flew by and too soon it was time for him to leave.  He asked to be included the next time the Kids organize a work day, and promised to stay in touch.

This is the lilac hedge from a different perspective.  The kitchen is pretty dark until the sun drops low enough to flood the room with light.  If I'd had my druthers, I'd have preferred the kitchen on the east side to avoid the heat in the afternoon, but....

I'd  no more than walked back in the house after Stan left when I got a call from Tinka with a surprise invitation for lunch next week.  Kit is coming up for a visit and I get to share a day with two good friends.

The phone was still warm when my niece in New Hampshire called. We were still talking when Cam phoned.  I had to call her back.

It was anything but a humdrum day!

Here Then Gone

Opening a bale of alfalfa is like opening a box of Cracker Jacks; sometimes there are little treasures between the flakes.  I've found colorful, perfectly pressed wildflowers, dirt clods, and once an unfortunate mouse.  It took me a minute to figure out this find yesterday.  Turns out it was an insect egg case firmly attached to and around an alfalfa stalk.  It was pretty big, about the size of two almonds in the shell, and I have no idea what bug made it, but it was interesting enough to share.

For awhile, I was fighting a losing battle with ants in the kitchen, wiping out long, dark trains on a daily basis, and knocking off stragglers one at a time for what seemed like forever.  And then they were gone and I haven't seen an ant for weeks.

 Turk, the bold breakfast squirrel, hasn't joined the crowd of late, and Stump and her kids have evidently moved on.  I miss them.

The bird populations change with the seasons.  Fall brings the crows, as well as the blackbirds.  The power lines are full to the point of sagging these days.  I don't know where the crows go at night, but the little birds go into the live oak behind the clothesline and their bedtime chatter fills the air.  Woodpeckers are busy jackhammering holes to stuff with acorns.  Titmouses (wouldn't you think it should be titmice?) are making an appearance again, those strange little birds that will go down a tree trunk headfirst.  I keep hoping to find one of those wonderful hanging, woven nests made by the bushtit, but haven't since those several years ago.

I don't know where they come from and I don't know where they go.  I sit back and enjoy the ever-changing wildlife slide show.  They come, and they go.

You Ain't Been Kissed...

I had business with Camille in the morning so went down shortly after barn chores.  It was lovely to be greeted by three grinning faces when I pulled up her long drive and Honey, Bud Man, and Sassy ran to say hello.  Buddy and Sassy are sibling German Shepherds found abandoned on the road, and Honey, as the auntie, has done a great job of socializing and schooling the growing youngsters.  Cam showed me her latest project in the works.  That woman's ambition just plain wears me out; she's an absolute dynamo.  She's also a nutter when it comes to rescuing animals.  I've posted pictures before of Ginger, the "alien" goat with neon-colored tennis balls on her horns.  Ginger would have liked to join the party and hung around on her side of the fence, but she plays a little too rough.  Camille started out with Honey and Shadow, the mini-donkey, and, in addition to the two dogs, multiple cats, and the goat, also has Cricket, the full-size donkey, and a large flock of chickens, also adopted.  Ee-ai, ee-ai-o!

Shadow is a particular friend of mine, and it was a pleasure when he came strolling up to the truck as I was leaving.  I rolled down the window and reached out to give him a pat.  That wasn't enough for this boy.  Mini-donkeys are short and rotund, and look like barrels on sticks.  Shadow is so little he had to crane his neck to rest his head on the window frame and I leaned over to him...and got a kiss.  Trust me, you ain't been kissed until you've been kissed by a donkey!  He looked up at me with those huge, liquid brown eyes so of course I returned the gesture, about forty times on his soft-as-velvet muzzle.  Satisfied with our mutual greeting, he ambled off.

I can't think of a better way to start the day.

Get A Clue

Bessie Anne has her "senior moments" these days.  I can see the wheels turning when she walks into a room, stands there, and tries to remember why she came in there in the first place.  I know that feeling well.  She's nearly if not completely deaf.  She doesn't hear trucks pull up in the driveway anymore and I can stand directly behind her and yell my loudest and she doesn't even turn her head.

While her eyesight is fading, she's not yet blind and I find it fascinating how she watches me for clues.  It's a good thing that, when she was a puppy, I taught her hand signals as well as voice commands.  She knows "stop" and "come," but they only work if she's looking at me.  It's the everyday things that she watches me for.  For instance, Bess is usually up on the bed behind me while I'm at the computer.  I go nowhere alone, but when I'm done in the morning and head out to start the day, she waits until I actually turn off the hall light to jump down.  She knows that I'm infamous for leaving the room, forget something I need and head back (sometimes several times).  Not one to waste energy, she stays on the bed until she gets that clue.  She watches to see how fast I walk through the house.  My usual slow pace gets little reaction, but if quickly, something exciting might happen and she wouldn't want to miss out and she follows.  These are just a few examples.  Bess is a pretty smart cookie, infirmities notwithstanding.

This the same lilac hedge I posted just a few days ago, now almost bare.  It's another clue that fall is here.  In addition, the crows are starting to arrive.  I'm always amazed at the range of their vocabulary.  It's not that I listen in on their conversations, but they don't know the meaning of quiet talk and I can't help overhearing.  (It's a little like people on cellphones in the store.)  Even though I no longer see ground squirrels in the barn, I know they are there and getting ready for winter because they're stealing wipes from the bucket to line their burrows.

I am so not looking forward to the time change coming soon.  I'm already putting the girls to bed by six o'clock now instead of nearly nine in the summer, and it won't be long until it's four-thirty.  It makes for such a long, long evening.  I'm like the goats; dark means bedtime.  Sigh.

Sharing

Sharing one's life with house pets is tremendously comforting.  They are funny, capricious, and, in the case of the dog, grateful, steadfast and loyal.  I'm not so sure about the cats.  Cats are more aloof and demanding.  We train dogs, cats train us.  Cats do not recognize personal space.  All space is their space, and if they want to lie on your lap, they will be on your lap, period.  If you object, their attitude is, "Get over yourself."  Dogs are grateful for the food in their dish.  Trust me, you don't want to see the baleful looks from the cats if the food in their bowl even gets low.  If they can see the bottom of the dish, you're in deep trouble.  If they could dial the phone, they'd report me to the SPCA.  If I've been gone, Bess Anne is happy to see me come home.  If the cats even notice, their attitude is, "Oh, it's you again."

Sharing one's bed with the animals can be a pleasure and a pain.  Single as I am, it's nice to hear breathing in the night to let me know I'm not alone.  Warm bodies in winter are cozy.  And then there are the other nights.  With the weather spiking up and down as it is right now, I've not yet changed to fleece sheets so wearing socks to bed minimizes the cold shock of cotton sheets.  It is said that body heat escapes through the head.  If that is so, heat must be trapped in the feet; in my feet, for sure.  Ralph and Celeste took turns crawling into the cat cave last night, and Bess snuggled up close.  Then the cats moved down on top of the blanket to trap my feet under their bodies.  It was fine at first, but later I was so hot it woke me up.  Cats mysteriously put on weight after dark and they must have weighed fifty pounds each and it was like trying to move boulders to push off my socks to cool off.  Bessie had moved over to share my pillow, but it wasn't just right so she was scratching at it to fix it to her liking, and then kept poking me with her paw to get me to move over (I was on the edge of the bed as it was).  I can't say it was a restful night for me, but the animals are full of vim and vigor this morning.

Ah, well.  I wouldn't change a thing.

She's Slow

Nature is slow in moving the seasons up to the hill country.  Flowers bloom and gardens produce earlier down in the valley than here.  Even the grape harvest is much later this year.  I had thought I might have missed the event, not having seen the pickers in the vineyards or heard the rumble of crushers from the winery next door and those across the hills, but yesterday there were the familiar trucks in Robert's parking lot and the forklift busily carrying the big bins up and down the rows and back to the processing shed.  The girls are hanging out by the fence line in the big pen.  They know it won't be long until the guys start pitching those sweet stems left from the crush over to them.  It's the goats' favorite time of year.

As reluctant as I might be to leave home anymore, I have to say that these country roads are a delight for the eyes in the fall.  The grape vines nearest the top of the hill are still green, but even down by the big road, some varieties have turned red just in the last week.  Japanese maples here and there are ablaze with color, and whatever-they-are trees are like spotlights of bright gold along the roads.  I imagine the pistach along the one stretch of road through Placerville are already dressed in their fall finery.  It would almost be worth a trip to town just to admire their beauty.  Almost.

That overnight rain we had was enough to soak the ground and wash the truck.  Cool enough for a jacket all day yesterday, temperatures back in the 80s are predicted for next week.  It seems Nature isn't ready to let go of summer just yet.

Welcome Back

As soon as I wrote the title, I thought of and could hear the theme music from a 1975-79 TV sit-com, "Welcome Back, Kotter," the show that launched a young John Travolta's career.

What I meant to say was how welcome it was to hear a good downpour in the middle of the night (and how nice that it is over and done this morning).  The sky did a lot of prep work yesterday, building up grey clouds and then letting them blow over.  Evidently they organized after dark.  Hopefully, the rain settled the dust and made it worthwhile to swipe a rag around today.

I wish the girls would play nice together, but Sheila and Tessie continue to pick on Inga.  Maybe it is because she's the oldest and probably the weakest, but it may be because Inga is a whiner and gets on their nerves.  Alpines are usually a quiet breed, unlike La Manchas and Nubians.  Inga hangs around the barn in the morning and never shuts up until the others come out from their turn in the milking room.  I will admit that I want to yell at her, but that's no excuse in the evening when Sheila bashes poor Inga into the barn wall when she tries to get past to go to her room.  She took a particularly hard hit last evening.  I'm just glad it was from Sheila and not one-horned Tessie.

I was right about the cauliflower and agrodolce.  It was delicious.

Bessie Anne is thirteen years old, going on fourteen, and is pretty sedentary these days.  She takes more naps than I do and, like me, she walks instead of running.  Therefore it was almost shocking when we both woke up from our before-bed snooze last night and she grabbed one of the cats' toys and wanted to play "chase me."  Keep-away used to be a favorite game and she would run around the dining room table, down the hall, and in and out of rooms, teasing me while I tried to take the toy away.  Maybe she'd been dreaming about her puppy days and wanted to relive the good times.  It's been a long while since she's gotten down on bended knees in the play-with-me pose.  Who am I to disappoint my girl, so we both acted silly.  The game didn't last long (thank goodness) and she headed back to the couch for another nap.

On A Roll

Where did that come from?  Maybe it was a change in the atmosphere, but I was hit with one of those rare bursts of ambition yesterday.  Trust me, they are few and far between, and it's imperative that I take advantage when they do come.  I was on a roll and about the only thing I didn't do was dust (I have my limits), even though there's a fine layer over that nicely polished furniture yet again.  I swear there's a dust fairy who comes in the night like Tinker Bell to sprinkle my house with her darned stuff.  What did I ever do to her?  Anyhow, I did get a lot done.

I've got agrodolce on the brain.  There's a cauliflower in the fridge that I think would be grand if steamed and then drizzled with that tart-sweet sauce.  I think it would be good hot or cold.  If I had Brussels sprouts, I'd add them to the mix.  I'm sure this kick will run its course soon.

I am calendar challenged.  I carefully transfer important dates from one year's calendar to the next, and then forget to look at the calendar.  I am forever missing birthdays and anniversaries.  I should invest in "belated" cards.  And there's the reverse.  I was gearing up to go to the Senior Center for lunch tomorrow, and then realized they won't be serving crab cakes until next week.  (They send home a calendar with planned menus every month.)  I can't win.

Who knew that turkeys and squirrels would develop a taste for banana peels?  Since Pete's contribution, I've been buying bananas.  I carefully pull the peels into manageable strips for the critters (yes, I spoil them) before throwing the peels down with the bird seed.  You'd think I'd put down cinnamon buns for breakfast.

I wish there was a pause button on the weather.  Fall isn't as pretty as spring, but we're having perfect days right now, weatherwise.  Not too hot nor cold, not too windy, and the rain hasn't come yet.  Ah, well, were it not for bad weather, we might not appreciate the good when it's here.

It was a good day.

Addiction

Addiction:  the state of being enslaved to a habit or practice....  I'll admit it, I'm addicted to the sky.  I can't help myself when I see a particularly beautiful sunrise or sunset, or even a flotilla of puffy white clouds sailing overhead and I reach for the camera.  It may be a holdover from when Steve was alive and we would call to each other to, "Come see!"  I still have this need to share.

Addiction comes in many forms, and I may be developing an over-fondness for agrodolce, that Italian sweet-sour sauce.  Having tried it on Pete just a couple of days ago, when Clay came up yesterday I couldn't help myself and made it again.  I did put it over butternut squash as before, but it went wonderfully with pork chops and Clay gave the sauce a thumbs up of approval, too.

The weather has been so goofy this year.  It seems too early for the lilac leaves to turn color, but they sure are pretty.  I started this hedge, such as it is, from rootless, bare twig cuttings, and now it's above the eaves.  I never planned to have anything block the view from my kitchen windows, but what I didn't realize at first is that the summer sun beats in and the room becomes stifling.  It's the one room in the house without a ceiling fan and has poor cross ventilation, so the shade provided by the lilacs is most welcome.  There's the added bonus of having little birds right there at eye level.  The branches go bare in winter and let in plenty of light.

Clay had come up to see what, if anything, could be done about the log splitter.  The last time Helper Dude was going to work on the mound of oak rounds, the splitter would not start.  I had nightmares about having to replace the darned thing, and I was getting worried because I sure don't have enough firewood to get through the winter.  We're due for rain and dropping temperatures by the end of this week.  With no thermostat in the house, one must plan ahead for heat in cold weather.  Clay fiddled with this or that, gave the machine a shot of starter fluid, and ta da! that sucker fired right up.  Instead of nightmares, I'm having visions of a cozy wood stove.  Of course, there are all those rounds to be split first.

As much as I appreciate Clay's help, his real gift was his time and that's never to be taken for granted.  My Kids are my joy.

It was a good day.

Delaying Tactics

Shortly after barn chores, a propane truck drove up.  I knew right away it was the new guy, the one who had gotten himself so lost last week.  My driveway has three "branches" to the house, and this guy had picked the narrowest, most winding one that goes under the low-hanging live oak.  While making introductions, I surreptitiously slipped him a milk bone, explaining that Bess looks forward to deliverymen because most of them give her cookies and I keep one in my pocket just in case a newbie hasn't learned that trick to keep farm dogs friendly.  I'm not on a set schedule for propane delivery and I so appreciate that the guys stop by when they're in the neighborhood because it keeps my bill low(er).  Propane is pretty expensive.  I hope this guy can find his way back again.

Later, there I was, dreading a trip to town (again), and Cam called, asking if I was going to be home until about 3.  She was going to be up on a ladder painting (again) and wanted someone to be aware.  "Well, I have to go into town, but I can wait until then.  No problem."  It turned out to be no hardship at all.  Two of my favorite movies played back to back.  I've watched "Finding Neverland" (2004, Johnny Depp, Kate Winslet,  Julie Christie, Dustin Hoffman) numerous times.  It's a touching story about James M. Barrie and the inspiration for "Peter Pan."  It's Freddie Highmore, the little boy who was Peter, who sends me to tears every time.

"Neverland" was followed by "The Girl With A Pearl Earring" (2003, Scarlett Johansson, Colin Firth, Tom Wilkinson) about the painting of the same name by Johannes Vermeer.  This movie is a low-key drama and probably not to everyone's taste, but I'm fascinated by the filming technique that gives the chiaroscuro effect used by Vermeer in his art.  I've actually watched the film without sound, just because of the beauty of each scene.

"Girl" came to an end at the same time Camille called to say she was done with ladder work for the day; perfect timing.  Without any further delaying tactics at hand, there was nothing for it but to make a hit-and-run trip to town.  Sigh.  I rewarded myself with fried eggplant for dinner.

It was a good day.

Rock Star

Like a big-name celebrity, I have my entourage.  I go nowhere alone.  It's the next best thing to a parade.  The numbers drop when the cats are napping, but Bessie Anne is a constant.  Indoors or out, she is by my side.  It's useless trying to sneak a little privacy in the bathroom.  Closing the door is no good, what with the scratching and calling.  The cats consider the bathroom to be communal potty time whenever I go in there.  They go to their respective litter boxes and we all go together while Bess keeps watch in the doorway.  There is always the prospect of a treat in the kitchen, so there's no chance of being alone there.  Bessie Anne will wake from a deep sleep to wander in to see what's cookin'.  We all troop down the hall at night to go to sleep in what I used to think of as my bed.

It's no different in the goat pen.  In the morning, the girls cluster about until I'm finished in the barn and then we all go up the hill together.  I'd say I feel like the Pied Piper, but the girls push and shove to take the lead.  In the evening, they meet me at the gate and we trek down the well-worn path.

Yep, in my house, I'm a rock star.

Make My Day

(Apologies to Clint Eastwood, "Dirty Harry")

I was having a losing argument with the vacuum cleaner (a story for another day) when the phone rang.  It was Pete.  "Hey, Mom, if you're not busy, I thought I'd come up and maybe I can talk you into sharing a steak with me."  "I'm not, and you can."  Whoop whoop!  Make my day!  I put the balky vacuum cleaner away and sat down to watch Lidia, one of my favorite TV chefs, for a minute.  This segment was all about agrodolce, a multipurpose Italian sweet and sour sauce.  One recipe had the sauce over butternut squash, and I thought, "I've got plenty of butternut squash (thanks, Beau), the sauce looks easy and quick, and the dish would go well with steak," and I started putting it together.  I didn't have to worry about timing because the dish is served at room temperature.  As long as it isn't a green vegetable, Pete is pretty adventurous in trying something new.

When Pete came in, he not only brought steak, in his magic bag he had Anaheim chilis, sliced mushrooms, a package of strawberries (to be frozen for his next visit), and two avocados just for me.  Pete puts frozen strawberries in his water instead of ice cubes, and I'd run out.  Working together, he sauteed mushrooms and I tried a couple of ways to batter dip and fry the mild chilis (he'd bought the chilis because of the name; he'd been raised in Anaheim) and marinate baked and caramelized squash in the agrodulce.  Pete and only Pete can grill the steak, and I'm not the one to argue with success.  I kid you not, it was a veritable feast!

We had time to talk and enjoy a leisurely meal together.  What could be better?  It was a good day.

In The Dark

I'm in the dark about so many things, it should come as no surprise to me that things are happening at night.  Some berserk hairdresser came while I was asleep and gave me the worst case of bed head ever yesterday, and no matter what I did I couldn't tame it.  It looked like Edward Scissorhands' work and I could have scared small children.

Owls are working the neighborhood in the predawn hours, hunting for what?  I'd think all the ground squirrels and mice would be tucked deep in their burrows.  I can never figure out why owls can fly so silently, and then announce they're on the hunt by constantly hooting.

Unless the rats have gone vegetarian, some other animal has been coming at night and breaking into the alfalfa bales.  This really ticks me off; I am not the soup kitchen for the animal world!  Isn't bird seed and goat chow enough?!  Alfalfa is a big-ticket item and besides, whatever it is is making a big mess.  The square wire gate is meant to keep out deer, so whatever the vandal is, it is smaller than a bread box.

Years ago I was given a novelty bottle opener.  I drink beer from a can and most sodas come in cans or plastic bottles, so I've never used the opener.  Camille drinks a specialty beer (she brings her own) that does come in glass bottles.  The other evening (not quite dark), she rummaged in the drawer and came up with the aforementioned opener, used it, and then tossed it back.  Suddenly there was music, Hank Williams, Jr., singing "All My Rowdy Friends Are Coming Over Tonight."  I thought Camille had put a unique ringtone on her cellphone, but she looked at me, opened the drawer, and the bottle opener was playing a recording.  Weird.

While I didn't go overboard, I did give a decorative nod to Halloween.  Boo!

Decorations

I had been feeling pretty good about taking on a long overdue chore yesterday and sweeping down cobwebs, many, many cobwebs in both the barn and the house.  Some people are phobic about spiders; I like 'em (with the exception of Black Widows).  I appreciate that the traps they set for food also get rid of pesky flies, gnats, and mosquitoes for me.  When the webs are fresh, the gossamer threads are almost invisible and I leave them be.  At the end of summer when the insect population dwindles and the spiders abandon their hunting grounds (where do they go?), the webs become heavy with dust (what a surprise!) and it's time to take them down.  It occurred to me this morning that, if I'd left the cobwebs up for another couple of weeks, I'd already be decorated for Halloween.  People pay good money for fake cobwebs to make their houses scary for the holiday.  Mine were free and didn't cost a dime.  Sigh.

Steve was an absolute nutter when it came to putting up decorations for the holidays.  Name any holiday on the calendar and I guarantee we'd have a supply of decorations.  We decorated the house even up here where company came only for Easter and Christmas.  He put up lights and banners and the house was filled with appropriate this's and thats.  In all our years here, we never had even one trick-or-treater, but that never mattered; it was Halloween!  The house, porch, and deck  had bats, pumpkins, ghosts, Draculas, witches and black cats.  It took days to put everything in place and longer to take it all down, just for the two of us.  I swear my son-in-law Craig is channeling Steve now.  Deb sent me pictures of the tiny Halloween village they put up, complete with spooky lights.  Craig also loses control when it's Christmas.  Steve would be so pleased.  Me?  I'm lucky if the Christmas tree gets put up, and the one or two ornaments on it are just pitiful.  I should have left the cobwebs in place.

Most of the morning was spent watching the heartbreaking news about the fires farther north.  Total, unimaginable devastation.  Later, after undecorating the house, I made a quick run up to the grocery store.  Pete has obviously had an influence because I bought bananas and an eggplant.  (Totally self-indulgent, I also bought liverwurst and rye bread.)

There was a voicemail waiting when I got home.  Camille and I have a pact and we watch out for each other.  She'd called to say she was getting up on a ladder to paint the house at her other property, and that she'd call again in a half-hour to let me know she hadn't fallen off and was lying on the ground somewhere.  She left a second message to say so far, so good.  A third call later (and I was home) when she was going up the ladder again and we joked about my calling 911 if she didn't call back in 30 minutes.  I take my 911 duty very seriously, and when she hadn't called back in time, I gave her 15 minutes and then called her.  When there was no answer, I said I'd give her another 15 before I called for help.  Happily, she called right back to say all was well.  Another couple of trips up the ladder and accompanying phone calls and she called it quits for the day.  Cam stopped by on her way home and we watched the sad evening news together until it was time to put our critters to bed.

Guilt-ridden, I think I'll pull out a witch and a black cat or two today.  The house could use a few decorations or the ghost of Steve would haunt me.

Gasp!

Air quality yesterday left us gasping and curtailed a lot of activities.  The wind had changed direction in the night, blowing smoke from all the fires in the valley up to ricochet off the mountains and bank over the foothills.  That wasn't clouds or fog that hid the sun in the morning.  There was the taste of smoke in my mouth all day.  (And don't I know how lucky I am that this is my only complaint?)

Ralph is constantly finding new ways to amuse himself.  His latest game is jumping down into the deep empty bathtub in my bathroom.  It gives a satisfying resounding thump and then I don't know if he jumps up and down or races around in there like a rollerdome, but it sounds like thunder.  It wouldn't be so bad if it weren't 3 a.m., night after night.

I was putting the girls to bed last night.  Inga and Sheila had gone to their rooms without problems, and I turned to Tessie.  Her ears were at attention and she sounded the "danger!" snort as she stared intently into the big pen.  I looked to see what had her scared and there it was at the far side...gasp! a cat.  It was just a little house cat, but a goat can't be too careful.  I couldn't coax her into the barn until the big dogs next door started barking.  Poor girl, she was frozen in between the rock and the hard place, lion to the left, wolves to the right (goats tend to exaggerate).  She didn't know which way to turn and I was able to grab her collar and lead her to safety, telling her I'd lock the barn door behind her.

It was quite a day.

Change Of Plan

Normally, my morning routine is:  make coffee, bring a cup back to the computer, check the blog (love to see comments), write the blog, and then spend time on FB.  Today there was a change of plan.  With cousins suffering loss from the devastation from the Tubbs fire, it was more important to check FB first this morning to see how family is faring.  So far, the news is relatively good.  One home completely burned to the ground, and several groups are still evacuated and their home situations yet unknown, but thankfully all are safe.  It is a truly terrible situation.

There was also a change of plan yesterday.  While taking an after-barn break, I received a call from the propane company saying that they'd planned a delivery, but the newly hired driver found he couldn't get here because of the road.  "What road?," thinking that Bucks Bar had collapsed again.  "Gray Rock."  "Oh good grief."  He had started at the wrong end of Gray Rock, which makes a loop ending on two different streets, and he was right, there is a portion of the road that is impassable.  Unfortunately, GPS insists on sending the people to the wrong end.  "Honey, I am just two driveways up at this end," and I gave her explicit directions to pass on to the unfortunate driver.  And I waited.  Um hmmm.  After an hour, I called the office.  Was the poor guy still lost in the hills, decide to take a lunch break, or just give up and go home?  She said, "I'll try to contact him again and get back to you." Turns out he had called it quits.  My delivery has been rescheduled for next week.

Oh well.  As they say, the best laid plans....

It's Our Secret

I wouldn't want it to get out because it would embarrass her, but just between us, Bessie Anne has developed a gas leak.  It's not so noticeable in the house because she usually sleeps on one of the couches on the other side of the room, but out on the porch she lies down close to my feet.  Periodically, she gives a quiet little toot in her sleep and I get a whiff of "aroma."  Hey, it happens.  It's just that she's never had this problem before.

Gillie, a Welsh corgi from another lifetime, now that was a girl with major gas.  Gillie could cut loose with a green cloud (that's an exaggeration) that could make your eyes water (that's not).  Boys, my boys at least, thought passing gas was the funniest thing ever and Gillie would keep them in gales of laughter.  She was also a convenient  patsy to blame if one of them had a problem of his own.

Guilt is a harsh mistress.  Having been caught with my dust down, yesterday I not only dusted, I polished furniture.  Wouldn't you know that not one soul stopped by to sit and admire the gleaming wood with me?

The sun sank last evening behind a bank of smoke across the valley.  There are a number of fires burning in California, the largest being in the heavily inhabited Santa Rosa area where a number of my family members live.  It was frightening to learn that they were evacuated, and worse to find out that one family lost everything and the house they'd lived in for forty years.  Thankfully, they are safe and together.  Hold the good thought for all.

Visiting Central

It's pretty great when it's not even Halloween and the treats come to you, no trick attached.  Yesterday was a NASCAR day and I was happy to take the day off, so it was a nice surprise to get a call in late afternoon from Pete who said he might come up for an hour or two.  He asked if I needed anything and I said no, thanks.  It seems he can't take no for an answer.  He got out of his car with a grocery bag and a treasure trove of fresh produce which he knows is in short supply in my house.  Ohmigosh, I haven't had an artichoke in years!

We were just sitting down to chat when Beau tootled up on his quad and came in to visit.  I was happy to introduce the guys, as each had heard of the other but had not met.  They were getting acquainted when Pete's phone rang.  It was the far-away brother, Larry, calling from Hawaii.  That was an opportunity not to be missed, so Pete went outside to talk and Beau and I chatted for the better part of an hour until he had.to get home.  It's best to get out of the hills before sundown (deer, etc.) so Pete wasn't going to stick around long.  Before he left, Camille drove up.  If I'd known it was visiting day, I might have dusted, but the shock might have been too much for my guests.

I had a banana for dinner.  It was a good day.

Done And Done

Finis, over, finished, the last of the pears, ta da!  And here's the empty box to prove it.  Well, empty except for the last bowl ready to be bagged up and stuffed in the freezer, and then I happily called it quits. The squirrels and big and little birds won't be so pleased.  They've been enjoying the cores and soft bits on their cereal in the morning.

I did not milk Tessie yesterday.  Her udder was pretty soft, which tells me that she is about ready to be finished with that part of her career.  We'll see how she is today.

Camille called in the morning to tell me that a number of vultures were circling over town and she though it might be the migration.  (Since the hardware store closed, "town" consists of The Pub and a wine-tasting cave.)  The migration has normally taken place somewhere between September 21-28, but the weather has been so off kilter this year, it could be this late.  But no, only about twenty showed up so it must have been dead livestock or a large roadkill.

I celebrated the end of the pear epic with a dinner of caramelized kielbasa and Lyonnaise potatoes.  It was a good day.

If I Never...

If I never see another tomato or pear, it will be too soon.  Another afternoon of trimming, cutting, and filling bag after bag of pears to put in the freezer.  There are still a dozen or so in the box, but Camille came over and I set them aside.  Cam had finished painting the last two walls on her barn (another project that had dragged on and on) and was ready for a break.  I sure wasn't going to say no to that.  The morning had been spent doing laundry and hanging it on the line, and I, too, was ready for a sit down.

I'm going to start Tessie on an every-other-day milking routine.  She's about done, and I am, too.  Poor Sheila, I felt so bad for her yesterday.  The people who live behind me on property adjacent to the goat pen have two very large dogs.  I've only seen them a couple of times, but when they show up, they bark and bark at the goats (and me) in deep, loud, scary voices.  Sheila was up on the stand when the dogs started up.  Inga, the first outside, came racing behind the barn and Sheila started quivering so hard I thought she'd give ready-made milk shakes.  Fortunately, the dogs didn't stick around long.

I can't say one bad thing about the weather lately.  It's been perfect for fall, warm and breezy.  Much of the wind has been coming from the north, over the mountains from the desert, and it's very dry.  That keeps us in a high fire situation so I still can't mow, but, boy, I sure want to.  The property looks so raggle-taggle, it's embarrassing.  Oh well.

New Routines

Barn chores are taking less time each day as Tessie has finally gotten with the drying-up program.  From her all-time high of 500-600 squirts to her standard 350, she's now down to 60, and that will soon come to a stop.  Her udder is less full each morning and she'll soon stop milk production altogether.  It takes the girls only about five minutes to eat their bowl of chow, and Sheila is an easy, quick milker.  It used to take over an hour in the barn every day, now I'm in and out in thirty minutes.  We're set in our ways and I'll keep the routine of bringing each girl to the stand for breakfast.  It is my chance to give them attention, brushing their coat, checking for any injuries, and trimming their hooves as needed.  They are getting ready for winter as their coats are thicker now.

Either I missed the mass vulture migration at the end of September or there are not so many making the journey south anymore.  From the thirty-plus I had seen for awhile in the morning, they're back to the maybe 8-10 maintenance crew.  I'm not the only one in the area that has had a rat problem this year, and I hope people are not putting out poison for them or the ground squirrels.  There is a trickle-down effect with poison; carrion eaters like vultures and the natural predators will take advantage of an easy meal and also die a painful death.

Days are getting shorter and definitely cooler and nights are long.  Even with shorter barn time, I seem to get less and less done.  I'm geared to shut down at sunset; that's the end of my workday, period.

Seeing Daylight

I can't remember the last time I woke up to see daylight instead of pitch-black darkness.  The extra hours of sleep felt good, but I've lost half the day.  Oh well.

Once upon a time there were door-to-door salesmen, itinerant preachers, and circuit-riding judges.  We out here in the boonies are so lucky that Candy, who once had a small salon in Somerset, now does house calls to cut hair.  She lines up her appointments and makes the rounds, and yesterday we were on the list.  "We" was Arden, Camille, and myself.  Unfortunately, Arden had car trouble and couldn't get out of her driveway, but Cam, Candy, and I had a most enjoyable afternoon out on the deck and getting trimmed up.  In addition to being a great hairdresser, Candy is good company.

Today, like it or not, I must finish cutting up pears.  Nearing the bottom of the box, I'm at least beginning to see daylight.  I'm feeling about pears as I felt about tomatoes.  Enough is too much, and I must start showing restraint in these ventures.  Or not.

Could It Be?

I'm not sure that Stump and Raggedy Ann might not be one and the same.  Raggedy comes running from the same spot of ground where Stump hangs out and goes back there when she's finished eating.  Maybe it is Stump who, after the kids left home, decided to go out for breakfast every day.  Never having gotten a close look at Stump's ears, it could be I was mistaken.  I haven't seen Turk for awhile now.  Either he's sleeping in or, perhaps because it's fall, he's busy stocking his larder with the dropping acorns that sound like mini-bombs when they hit the truck.  I've got to get to the feed store today.  There's only enough seed for one more meal in the barrel and I'd hate to disappoint squirrels and turkeys tomorrow.  The little birds I meant to be feeding have to settle for the second seating and leftovers.

For years and years in the past, I had only one cat at a time:  Tag Along Too-Loo, Sarah, Annie, then Victor.  I wanted just one so they would bond with me alone, and they certainly did.  It wasn't until I went to get Frank and couldn't leave his sister Pearl behind that I accepted two.  They were supposed to be outside barn cats anyhow.  (Yeah, how'd that work out?)  I found that two could share their affection and then keep each other company.  I could deal with that, so had no problem taking Ralph and Celeste together.  It could be that Celeste would have preferred to be an only child.  Ralph torments his sister.  Celeste will be sleeping in a patch of sunlight on cool days and Ralph gets bored playing alone and will go over and sit on Celeste's head.  If that doesn't get a reaction, he jumps on her body, pulls her tail, or bites her neck.  When she's had enough, she slaps his face and the fight is on.  They tussle and roll on the floor and then race through the house.  She chases him and then he turns and chases her until they're both worn out.  Then they go cuddle together on the bed and take a nap.  I needn't have worried about not getting my share of attention.  They mostly take turns, but sometimes my lap gets pretty full of cats.

A jacket felt good all day, even in bright sunlight.  In the afternoon the sky got dark and a strong wind blew.  It really looked like a storm was brewing, but it came to nothing.  The clouds rolled back, the sun came out, and the wind became a breeze again.  We don't need a calendar to know that fall is here.

Ralph, The Sequel

Update:  Ralph is doing his utmost to strip the guest bed, and he's making progress.  Now it's the blanket, and I don't understand that.  It's a soft velour that I know he likes to knead, but maybe he's tired of the color.  Who knows?

A trip to town took a chunk out of the afternoon.  Oh well.  It's a good thing I keep an eye out for wildlife, as I came around a curve and a doe (another one) and her twins were crossing the road.  As I've told the Kids, if you see one deer, you can count on more to follow.  Like goats, deer are herd animals.  Besides, the bucks are going into rut and traffic is the last thing on their mind.

Wally World is again in the process of changing shelves and relocating departments.  I know it's a marketing ploy, but for someone like me who prefers to spend as little time as possible shopping, it's maddening.  I needed to buy yet another pair of shoes as the old ones bit the dust.  The department was in the same corner, but they'd completely reversed the sections.  I had no interest in cruising up and down aisles past high heels (they don't go well with bibbies and squirrel holes) and baby slippers (long past the need for those!).  It pays to keep a pair ahead so I've got clean go-to-town shoes when the barn shoes give out.  I'd also like to have words with the store buyer.  Why would they have baking soda in the baking department and not stock baking powder?  Hmmm.

I decided when I started writing about the farm and country living to keep that the focus of the blog.  I am well aware of what is happening out in the "real" world, and have strong, passionate opinions.  Reported news can make me furious or bring me to tears (like yesterday), and sometimes make me laugh, but this is not the venue for my reactions.  I don't twit or tweet, whatever.  There's always FB if I need to rant.  I prefer to put my energies where I can hopefully affect a change, unless it's the ground squirrels and I can't do much about them.  I have all the day-to-day drama I can deal with right here.

I'm having a difficult time typing right now as Ralph is on my lap and I have to reach around him.  Oh, that Ralph!

High Tech

I do move with the times, albeit slowly.  Were it not for Deb and Craig, I might not yet have a cell phone.  I love the new flat-screen TVs, but I still have a couple of ancient behemoths in the house, as well.  I have a computer, of course, but no laptop or iPod.  I can relate to the guy living up the hill on the other side of the road:  when we moved up here, he had a television antenna installed up at the very top of a tall pine tree, which I thought was pretty funny.  I see that has been replaced with a satellite dish, so he's moving along, too.  Whenever I get something new, the instruction manual becomes my best friend.  (Remember my trials with John Deere?)

The point of all this is, yesterday was sports day.  The Steelers-Ravens football game was on at the same time as the NASCAR race at Dover.  Thanks to technology, the remote control allowed me to switch back and forth instantly between the two events, slow down or speed up the action, put everything on hold, and replay something I might have missed, all at the touch of a button.  Boy, did I ever feel high tech!  Pretty amazing stuff for somebody who grew up, first without a television at all, and then going to my sister's house to watch Harry Owens and His Royal Hawaiians or Gorgeous George, the wrestler, on a 6" round screen.  I think there were only three channels then, but my brother-in-law was a fanatic channel changer who drove the rest of us batty as he constantly was getting up and flipping through all three.  I didn't get one for a long time, but I thought just having a remote control was a pretty neat innovation, and yesterday I sure made use of mine.

My chair is a great vantage point to see the herb garden and front yard.  Before I went to the barn in the morning, a couple of big dogs traveled through the yard and then came around to check out the deck.  That's when Bessie saw them and went nuts.  I did not let her out.  The dogs had business elsewhere and went on down the driveway.  A little later, I caught movement in the herb garden just off the front porch and thought the dogs had come back.  No, it was a doe and her twin fawns!  There was a time when herds of deer would cruise through the property, now it's rare to see even one or two, so this was pretty special.

The Steelers won big time, and Clint Bowyer came in 6th.  It was a good day.

It's Official

Ralph has been at it again, only more so.  What I thought of as the guest room has now officially become Ralph's room.  When my granddaughter who is autistic would come to visit, she would give Grandma a hug and then disappear into this room and it was then known as Taylor's room.  She preferred the quiet rather than the noise of a family gathering, and I kept a supply of soft stuffed toys in the closet for her.  It was her sanctuary.  Once I had a "real" guest staying when Taylor came up and Tay was told she couldn't go in "her" room.  Desolated, she lay in the hall in front of the door, hoping we'd change our minds, poor girl.

At any rate, Ralph is changing the decor of "his" room to suit his taste.  I used to have a small bowl filled with potpourri in there.  Ralph thought that was too frou-frou for such a manly man as himself and emptied it all over the floor.  I don't know what he has against the small throw rug or the comforter, but obviously they have to go.  If I were to have a "real" guest staying, Ralph would probably throw himself on the floor by the door, a la Taylor.

Yesterday was spent in the kitchen, cutting up pears, pears, and more pears.  I'm about halfway through the box.  What madness overcame me when I took the 25 pounds, I don't know.  One would think I'd learned my lesson when I spent days cutting up tomatoes, but no.  Obviously not.