It's A Start

For a change, procrastination worked in my favor.  Having delayed during the record-breaking heat for April, yesterday morning was actually cool.  Fu lived up to his name and we bucked and bounced, starting to mow the west field.  I didn't get the angle quite right in this picture, but it gives an idea of how thick and how high the weeds are compared to the mown path on the right.  Because the weeds are so thick and tall, we could only take baby bites, go slowly, and sometimes had to redo a second time.  Fu was valiant.  I'm going to have to rethink my routes.  In the past, we could do most of the yard just going in circles.  As happens, the earth has shifted, leaving hillier sections that tilt Fu, low-slung as he is, calling for a more up-and-down pattern.  After an hour and only about a third of the field done, Fu and I were ready to call it quits for the day.  I tucked him into his shed and limped back to the house.

I didn't go into town, but did make it up to Holiday.  Amazing.  Either people don't watch or believe the news or they just don't give a damn.  I don't get it.  Few were wearing masks (I was).  The store had put down one-way arrows in the aisles...totally ignored.  Social distancing?  You've got to be kidding.  When the body count from the virus in just the U.S. alone is higher than all the casualties in the ten-year Vietnam War, you'd think that would make an impact.  Think again.  I got my cat food and kitty litter and made a quick exit.

Truck had held the warmth from the prior heat and I turned on the A/C.  The fan worked, but blew only hot air.  I've got an appointment next week for him to get juiced up again.  I hope this isn't going to be a yearly event.  At least I found out before summer.

The weather seems to be holding so Fu and I will tackle the field again today.  We got a good start, but there's lots more to do.

Stay safe.  Be well.

In The Meantime

To paraphrase a line from "Ain't We Got Fun" (song from 1920, music written by Richard Whiting)...The grass gets tall and the weeds get taller!  Fu must be wondering why I brought him back and got him all spiffed up if I weren't going to put him to work.  Neighbor Joe came midmorning and rescued Fu Manchu from the hole he'd dropped into.  Joe took a quick spin through the greenery just to make sure nothing more than my pride was damaged.  I really appreciate his help.

Joe drove off, I climbed aboard and fired up the engine, which, thanks to George and Don, now runs like a top.  There was just enough time before the heat of the day to get most of the west field mowed.  Unh uh.  Dave, the Animal Services guy, drove up before I could take my foot off Fu's brake.  I've known Dave for years, mainly in the line of business, but also as a friend.  He's made it a point to stop by when in the area for a chat.  I turned off Fu (I'm sure I heard him sigh) and Dave and I went up to the porch to visit.  Dave's news was that he is retiring after 38 years with Animal Services.  He'll be missed.

Need I say that, in the meantime, the sun had risen high and it was once again too hot to mow.  It was trash day, and that was my big (okay, only) accomplishment for the day.

Stay safe.  Be well.

Maybe Not

I'm doomed, destined for a life of weeds, weeds, and more weeds, and it's not Fu's fault.  I waited for that perfect moment yesterday and when it came, I went out to put Fu to work.  He fired up as if he also was raring to go.  The pattern is this:  one trip clockwise around the perimeter of the west field so as to get close to the fence, then switch to counterclockwise for the rest of the job.  Yeah, well.  We were almost done with the fence line when one of Fu's front tires dropped into a hidden hole, leaving the rear drive wheel spinning in the air.  Couldn't go forward, couldn't back up, and worse, I wasn't strong enough to pull or push him out, try as I might.  Sigh.  As much as I hated to, I abandoned Fu Manchu in the field and headed back to the house to put in a call for help.  Neighbor Joe wasn't home, but I explained my dilemma to Mrs. Joe and she kindly said she'd send him over today.

I also had to put in a call to Bruce, another call I didn't want to make.  While attempting to extricate Fu, I saw that a huge dead branch had fallen across the fence between our properties.  If I couldn't budge the tractor, I sure couldn't move that branch.  He was out of town, but said he'd let Annie know so she wouldn't let her horses into that field.  I'm starting to feel like the neighborhood problem child.

Stay safe.  Be well.

Today! (Maybe)

The day started out well when Missy came up for her breakfast.  The night before I'd been awakened from my pre-bed drowse by a cat screaming in the front garden...twice.  It wasn't a dream and it wasn't a cat fight, I've heard enough of those.  Running to the door, I flipped on the light and banged on the screen door.  With postings of mountain lion sightings in the area, I wasn't about to go outside.  I couldn't hear anything moving and the porch light only showed me the porch.  Missy is so little she could have been taken by an owl.  I worried about her all night and into the morning so my relief at seeing her was indescribable.  I don't know whose cat it was nor what had happened, but it wasn't Missy.

Don came up in midmorning and went right to work on Fu.  As is my wont, I leave a guy to do what he does best, offering help if he needed it (as if he would) and then going away.  I knew he was done when he drove Fu past the door.  Ta da!  I went out and Don explained what he'd done to get the old boy up and running.  I nodded knowingly (I didn't have a clue).  He thought it might have been the solenoid, but it was "just" the connections.  I looked up solenoid and I still don't know where or what it is, but I'm happy I didn't need a new one.  As well as to George and Don, I should express my thanks here to Florence for the loan of her two Helper Dudes, without whom Fu Manchu would still be sitting in the shed gathering rust and dust.  The sun was high when Don left and it was too hot to take Fu for a workout.

Decisions, decisions.  Go to town or wait and mow?  Mowing seemed the order of the day.  When the sun was at just the right place in the afternoon, I dislodged the lap cats and was ready to get started when the phone rang and I answered.

Today's the day!  Or not.

Stay safe.  Be well.

Charge!

Just like Teddy Roosevelt, George came charging up the Fair Play hills, armed with a new battery instead of a saber, to save poor old Fu yesterday morning.  Hope surged as he installed the new equipment, climbed aboard and...same performance as the day before...a roar of the engine and then nothing.  I could hear Jim McKay announcing, "The agony of defeat," on ABCs Wide World Of Sports in the '70s.  Except that George was not about to accept defeat.  George knows about engines and he fiddled, tightened, turned this and that, sadly all to no avail.  Okay, time to call in the big guns.  Using his cellphone like a Gatling, he attempted to find a repair shop.  With grass growing like weeds and people at home with time on their hands, the one shop that answered said they had an eight-week wait time.  Others did not answer at all.

George had another ace up his sleeve and called up reinforcements.  Don, a knowledgeable friend, also came charging to the rescue.  Between the two of them and considerable time (these guys blew their whole day), they finally found that it was a loose connection between the thingamajiggy and the whatsit that allowed the engine to start and stay running.  I could hear a bugle playing whatever it is that signals a successful mission to the troops.

Since Fu was up and running, the fellas asked if I wanted to go mowing.  I had spent my stay-out-of-the-way time pulling weeds and, quite frankly, hips and knees weren't up for a bull ride just then.  They explained that, given Fu's advanced age, all of the rusty, dusty wire connections would need to be cleaned and that Don would be back today to do that deed.  I've got to learn to stop gushing gratitude like an out-of-control fountain and learn to just say thank you.  It doesn't seem enough.

No, I didn't get to town and, yes, it just didn't matter.

Stay safe.  Be well.

Oh Well

Any excuse is a good one to put off going to town (or any other onerous task).  I've perfected the technique and have even been known to provide excuses to other people who didn't want to do something.  Delay was the "reason" yesterday.  Mow, then go to town; that was the plan.  I dawdled, Michael dawdled (he's on my side), and pretty soon it was too hot to mow.  Okay, what's on the shopping list that I can't do without for another day?  Hmmm.  Not much, so scratch going to town.  (See how easy it is?)

Michael led me to the deck on our second walk, but we didn't stay long.  Nature could change her mind again, but it was hot!

When the sun had dropped far enough in the afternoon, I went out to mow.  "Please start, please start, please start," I pleaded on my way to the shed.  I climbed aboard Fu, set the gears, checked the gas, and turned the key.  Varoom!  Wahoo!  And then nothing.  He quit.  Click, click, click...nothing.  "Oh, Fu, why do you hate me?"  It's very hard not to take such an event (or lack thereof) personally.  Dejected, I gave his new horn a last defiant squeeze and went back to the house.  Oh well.  It seems that Fu has opted for retirement.  At least Florence got her yard mowed.  Dratted turncoat machine.  Maybe he was daunted by the huge task at hand.

Ralph and Celeste are in charge in the house.  Missy has claimed the outside as her own.  She comes and goes at will.  I've noticed that she is not emptying her food bowl as she had, but is certainly not losing weight.  I believe she may be supplementing her diet with squirrel(s), to which I have no objection.  I'm just glad she doesn't bring home trophy parts.  Yesterday afternoon she made herself quite at home on one of the chairs close to the open door on the porch, driving the "innies" to distraction.

I'm out of excuses for today.  Oh well.

Stay safe.  Be well.

Welcome Home, Fu!

Song for the day, "Johnny, I Hardly Knew Ye," The Clancy Brothers and Tommy Makem, 1961.

It was hard to recognize the new Fu when he came rolling down the ramp, driven (driven, I say!) by Florence.  I stood by Dan and almost applauded.  Fu was bright and shiny clean and his falling-to-pieces seat had been repaired.  As if that was not enough to make me smile, he now has a bright yellow squeaky wheekie-wheekie horn attached.  "Out of my way, squirrels!"  It turned out that Fu did not need a new battery, he needed Donald's mechanical magic touch.  I know nothing about engines.  Humongous sincere gratitude to all involved.  It's good to have the old boy home and to have such kind friends.

I know what I'll be doing this morning.  That overgrown west field is calling Fu's name.  Nature flipped a switch and it's summer.  Two nights ago I took the heated beanbag to bed because of the cold and today I'll be taking the comforter off.  Somewhere in the 80s is predicted here for today and 90s in the valley.

I had made a quick trip to Mt. Aukum in the morning.  Again I was the only one wearing protective gear.  I simply cannot understand this.  If I can move after mowing (Fu Manchu is a rough ride), Michael and I will have to go to town.  If it were proven that animals could catch the virus, Michael would have a mask, too.  No, he'd stay home.  I wish I could.

Stay safe.  Be well.

Just Ask

I had mentioned to Florence and Dan, and George, and anyone else who'd listen, that I really missed and needed a new Helper Dude, particularly one with a weed eater.  My mother used to say that thoughts go out into the cosmos and come back as action, another way of saying ask and you shall receive.  (She also said, "Be careful what you ask for.")  All this by way of saying that I was scrolling through FB yesterday morning and came across a post from a guy looking for weed-eating work at a reasonable price.  Well, I wasn't going to look in that gift horse's mouth and immediately responded.  He called right back, said he was local, and would be here in an hour.  Truth!!  He arrived when he said he would, a youngish guy in a nice truck.  (Anyone 50 and under is a kid to me.)  It's a shame that handshaking is verboten; you can tell a lot from a handshake.  I walked him around and explained what I needed done, particularly those dratted weeds under the oak.  I had thought this was to be an introductory visit and was a bit surprised when he opened the tailgate, pulled out the weed eater and went to work.  Ta da!  New Helper Dude got an amazing amount of work done.  I told him how much I appreciated that he had recognized and gone around the emerging Naked Lady plants.  He had cut down that entire section of yard, more than I had expected, and it sure looks nice.  HD said he would also be available for regular handyman work.  Yay!  (I refrained from doing a Happy Dance then and there.)  He said he had a couple more jobs lined up, but would be in contact soon.  What a relief.

I got a strange call in the afternoon with nothing but very loud static on the line.  Wait, could it be an engine?  It was!  Florence called back and said that was Fu Manchu up and running!  Don't get too excited...George texted back that the battery would not hold a charge, some defect or another, and that I needed a new battery.  Hey, I'd envisioned all kinds of involved, expensive electrical or engine work.  A new battery...piece of cake.  George even said he'd go get one and that Fu should be home by this afternoon.

My angels are hard at work.

Stay safe.  Be well.

Grand Central Station

Farview has been fairly buzzing with guests the last few days.  Florence and Dan, longtime friends, came yesterday.  Keeping a safe distance (more about that later), we sat for a visit on the porch.  Michael was in seventh heaven to have them here.  It was Florence who brought him to me in the first place.  He had done so well with George that I didn't put a leash on my wandering minstrel.  He sat by Florence, he sat by Dan, he came back to sit by me...and then he took off.  Dagnabit!  I didn't get too worried because he headed over toward my woods and not down the road.  He would come back, put in an appearance, and then take off again.

We continued our visit.  We had lost touch for a period of time and I can't say enough how good it is to reconnect.  Then it was time to load Fu Manchu onto their trailer.  Talk about a comedy of errors.  I had wondered how we would accomplish the deed since none of us is in our prime anymore and, while not as big as John Not-So-Dear, Fu isn't exactly a lightweight.  It's also been years since I've driven him and it took a bit of jiggling this and shifting that to get him out of gear and rolling.  Florence was prepared with a come along to pull him up the ramp.  Yeah, well.  It took the come along and the three of us to accomplish that.  At one point, being the graceful type, I lost my footing and went tumbling.  Regardless, we, in the words of Larry The Cable Guy, got 'er done!  There was time and need for a sit-down after that.  Michael was also weary and actually asked to go back in the house, company or no, so he wasn't with me to wave goodbye to friends and Fu.

In the morning, I had had to make a run to the corner (about three miles) store.  I geared up with mask and gloves.  Of all the customers and clerk, I was the only one so protected and the six-foot rule did not seem to register.  I truly do not understand this.  In words I heard recently, what do you have to lose?  Only your life, people!  This pandemic is no joke and nothing to ignore.  I conducted my business and got the heck out of Dodge.

It was trash day.  Michael had been so good about staying in range and I knew he was tired, so I trusted him to load up without a leash.  My mistake.  That little booger headed toward the truck with me, did an about-face, ignored me completely, and headed down to the road.  Aarrgh!  I yelled, I pleaded.  Nope!  Well, he'll surely come right back.  I got quite a bit of weeding done, kept company by Missy...no Michael.  Finally I had to get the trash down to the road and left.  Coming home, there he was, waiting by the drive.  I roared at him and he headed toward the house.  By this time he really was dragging, and I followed slowly in the truck.  He knew he was in hot water and stayed well out of sight the rest of the night.

It was quite a day.

Stay safe.  Be well.

Momentum

I really surprised me.  Veering away from my usual one-day-on, one-day-off routine, I actually got a lot done yesterday, too.  Must be the weather or maybe something in the water.  I hear the auctioneer now, "I've got two, two, two!  Can I get three?"  (Don't push it.)

George is also on a roll.  He had told me he had something (okay, pate) for me and he'd be by on Monday.  I told Michael his friend was coming and he wagged at the name.  When we went out to meet George, he had two heavy grocery bags in hand.  "That looks like a lot for one package of pate."  "Wait, my dear, I've got two more," and sure enough, he did, as well as a pocketful of treats for Michael.  We three sat on the porch for a pleasant visit that I wished could have lasted longer.  Back in the house, I started unloading the bags.  George is going to be my downfall with this bounty.  Salads (plural), fresh vegetables, fruit, and eggs.  Having little to none to begin with, I lost all self-control.  A bite of this, a sample of that, plans for a frittata dancing in my head...and then I came to the pate, black truffle pate, no less, in a loaf the size of a bread loaf.  "I'll just have a small taste, a little slice," and that deserved a plate to take and sit down.  If you love pate, you'll understand, and if you're not a fan, there's no way to explain that smooth, unctuous texture and rich flavor.  Okay, I went back for a second, larger, helping.  Today, I promise, I will divide and package the pate for freezing...well, almost all the loaf.

I have angels in my life.  George is one.  During our visit, he told me Florence and Dan would be by today to pick up a piece of lumber Mike had left.  "Don't you want to take it with you," I asked.  "No, because they're also going to get your tractor and take it to someone who could get it running."  What?!  Wouldn't it be grand to have Fu rolling again?  Angels abound.

Stay safe.  Be well.

Get A Clue

The tree crews are here for the duration.  How do I know?  Because they have installed a PortaPotty on the corner across the road from me.  Oh well, it's better than the alternative, but it does give a hint that they'll be here for quite awhile.  It's still too early today for the Beep-beep Boys.  Them, I could do without.

I am enamored of Canadian cop shows like "Murdoch Mysteries" and "The Listener."  Like the Australian "Dr. Blake Mysteries" and the British "Father Brown," they are, if there is such a thing, gentle murder mysteries, well written and acted, and not gory in the least.  There is a continuing story line, but each episode is complete in itself, making for great binge watching.  Lest anyone think I'm prejudiced, I also watch American "The Blacklist," which is anything but gentle and definitely bloody, and I wouldn't advise watching more than one or two episodes at a time.

For lack of a better term, Michael hums.  It's not a whine and nowhere near a bark, but he will hum when he's watching or smelling something he finds interesting or wants to head in a different direction on our walks.  Yesterday was a bonanza for him as there were three cars in the winery parking lot and a tractor in the vineyard...yay!

I finally overcame CVD inertia and got something done.  There's more to do (there's always more to do), but it was a start.

Stay safe.  Be well.

Update

I cringe now when the computer, the boss, tells me it's going to "update."  New, in many cases, does not mean better.  It updated again this morning and it took forever.  I've yet to find what "new and improved" they've thrown at me.  The last time the viewing screen was enlarged bigger than the monitor and the "photos" section was changed from thumbnail-size pictures to a listing by numbers!  I take a lot of pictures; some make it into the blog, many do not.  When I had the time and inclination, I'd go through and discard those that were one-time shots and duplicates.  It's going to be a pain in the patoot to do that now, having to open each one to make a decision.  Aarrgh!

Another thing that was changed is access to editing the blog.  It used to be simple, now it's not.  I can't tell you how many times I edit the daily entry before publishing, and still I'll find an error in spelling or punctuation.  Let's face it, the blog is the first thing I do in the morning and I'm not always as awake as the job demands.

It was still foggy yesterday morning when I heard the beep-beep-beep again.  Oh no!  What are they doing working on a Saturday?!  Fortunately it didn't last long.  There are enough attacks on what I laughingly call my sanity as it is.

Boy, it didn't take long for Michael to adopt the "Let's sit on the porch" routine.  He leads me onto the deck every sunny afternoon now.  I try to get in a little weeding while he noses here and there in the yard.  It's like trying to empty the ocean with a thimble.

It's funny that Kit mentioned "Cheaper By The Dozen."  I just DVRd the original movie (1950, with Clifton Webb, Myrna Loy, Jeanne Crain), but haven't watched it (for the umpteenth time) yet.  It really is one of the feel-good films.  I always remember the time-and-motion expert father as he showed the most efficient way to take a bath.

No beep-beeps this morning.  It's going to be a good day.

Stay safe.  Be well.

Beep Beep

I honestly thought I would go stark staring mad yesterday.  The tree crews were working again, this time with some truck or piece of equipment with a warning device that went beep beep beep incessantly.  I'm not talking Wiley Coyote's roadrunner beep beep.  I'm talking hours of that most irritating, high-pitched, brain-piercing noise.  I had mentioned it to one of the supervisors some time ago, asking if, when not going backwards, the driver might just take the truck out of gear to stop that sound.  He told me that all of their equipment beeps going forward or backward.  I'm doomed.

Another flower has appeared in the fields, a little nondescript purple flower.  Like the ferny plant under the oak, this purple flower has an evil intent.  This is the plant that puts out the auger-like corkscrew seeds.  I have nothing against procreation, but I'm decidedly against pain.  Our walks are going to be limited to the driveway pretty soon so as to avoid said seeds.  That's a shame because Michael really likes to go sit out on the west field.  Well, I guess we'll go there until the whirligigs appear.

I wonder if at some time, perhaps in puppyhood, Michael spent some time in a crate.  I frequently find him under the dining room table, surrounded by chair legs.  Could it be that, like me, he remembers the few times the Kids were here and misses them?  He has a myriad of sofas, dog beds, and people beds to choose from, so why here?  Ah well, whatever makes him happy.

Fog again this morning.  Phooey.

Stay safe.  Be well.

Reality Check

I hope by now everyone has found ways to cope with the new reality in which we find ourselves.  It's different, it's challenging, it's inconvenient, it's frightening.  We're walking a trail for which we have no map.  The thing is, we're all in it together.  People all over the world are going through this dark time together.  I hope you're finding, as I am, that this is an opportunity for niceness and compassion.  I've received welcome phone calls from relatives and friends that I haven't seen or heard from in a long time.  Even up at Gray's Corner, "May I help you to your car with that?"  A small thing, but kind.

I'm not so naive as to ignore the devastating financial impact this has to have on so many.  Having gone through some pretty (okay, really) rough times in my life, I can say that, in a way, it's a time for ingenuity, finding new and different ways to feed, teach, and entertain ourselves.  Sharing will be a big part of survival.  Maybe those people who rushed to fill a cart with toilet paper will share...or not.  Wouldn't it be nice if they did?  It really is a time to "Love your neighbor as yourself."  There are other Georges out there, I know.

Isolation is not a big deal for me now.  I do remember the days when the Kids were little and one would bring home some disease or other from school to share, one at a time, with their siblings (this was back before there was the MMR immunization).  Two weeks, four weeks, make it two months in the house with one sick kid after another.  Yes, I was desperate for adult company.  I know that feeling, and I sympathize with those who are just now finding themselves in a place they never planned for.

This is here.  This is now.  This is real.  I most sincerely hope that, regardless of what is put out there for "getting America going again," we will listen to the Dr. Faucis of the world and put health and safety...and life! ahead of economics.  This dark period will end.  We may emerge to find a different world, but we're resilient.  We'll cope.

Stay safe.  Be well.  (I'll go back to farm talk tomorrow, I promise.)

And Another

In addition to the not-so-welcome squirrels, another returnee is the monarch butterfly.  They come back every year when the lilac blooms.  What a beautiful combination that is.  This enormous hedge began with 12-inch cuttings...nothing but bare sticks...no roots, no leaves, just sticks stuck in the ground.  Honestly, I didn't hold out much hope.  Look at it now, taller than the eaves!  I'm grateful for the shade it provides the kitchen when the summer sun is brutal.

The lilac gets the butterflies, the rosemary gets the bees.  That's another plant that had a fighting start from a tiny pot from the nursery.  Now it's bigger than the juniper that surrounds it and is abuzz with a colony of bees.  Wouldn't that be delicious honey?  I have no doubt that Michael would fight lions and tigers and bears (oh my!) if called on, but we give the rosemary a wide berth on our walks.  I've been told that he was stung on a paw in the past and he's never forgotten that pain.  Let him see or hear a bee and he tucks tail and runs.  Steve was phobic about stinging insects, too, so I'm used to accommodating this fear.

This Virus is putting a crimp in my spring cleanup outdoors.  That lovely, lacy fern-like plant is growing rampant under the live oak by the woodpile.  Pretty now, it soon will put out tiny white flowers that, in turn, will put out bijillions of tiny, painful dagger seeds.  I need a helper dude to weed whack it all down right now.  The goats are keeping the grass (and it is grass) down in their pen, but weeds are growing in the pastures and along the driveway and Fu Manchu sits idle in the shed.  I can't ask anyone to take a chance on coming out of isolation in this situation, nor would I want them to.  Oh well, if looking derelict is the worst that happens....

Stay safe.  Be well.

They're Ba-a-ack

I had a feeling when I mentioned the disappearing squirrels that I should have kept my mouth shut.  I should have listened to me.  Yesterday was such a nice day that I left the front door open after our walk so I heard Yip-Yip and Shaddup loud and clear, announcing their return.  I certainly hadn't missed them or their high-pitched, repetitive barking.  Oh well.  Let's just say I'm not going to hang a Welcome Home banner for their return.

It only took the once for my favorite place on the deck to become Michael's favorite place, too.  He led me right up the step on our later walk.  We sat and listened to the breeze soughing in the trees and the ever-changing bird song in season...and then we moved on.

It was Tuesday, trash day.  I decided that if I was going to leave the house, we'd have an outing and go to the little convenience store up the road a piece.  This is my new haute couture to go out in public.  Lacking a "real" mask, this would have to do, but I felt much like an aged Jesse James.  I took Michael with me as they know and like him and I thought he'd be my credentials for entry, just in case.  I was really glad I'd taken this safety measure because no one else in the store had taken any such precautions.  I might have looked silly, but I'm not about to take chances until we get the all clear with this virus going around.

Coming home, the squirrels made their appearance here, there, and everywhere.  One must have been a newcomer, as the truck threw it for a loop and the creature ran ahead and back and forth across the driveway instead of dropping into a hole like the others.  Yup, they're back.

Stay safe.  Be well.  (And wear your mask!)

Am I Blue?

"Am I Blue?" (1929, sung by Ethel Waters, Billie Holiday)

This one's for Kit and the many others who are contending with days and days of bad weather, not to "rub it in," but to share.  It was Michael's choice to go sit on the deck on our second walk, just to enjoy the sunshine, breeze, and the blue, blue sky.  It was my pleasure to join him.

Continuing on our stroll, we found patches of Baby Blue Eyes everywhere, just to continue the theme.  Personally, with the holiday, such as it was, over and done, I was over my own blue funk.  Hey, they come and they go.

I don't intend to go on and on about the unexpected bounty in my fridge, but it's like going to a restaurant and choosing from the menu.  Yesterday was "one from column A and one from column B."  Bagged Caesar salad for lunch and meatballs made by George in a hastily concocted marinara sauce from stuff I had on hand for dinner.  I'm telling you, I'm eating high on the hog, and I've yet to start in on the chicken.  I'm working my way through the fresh vegetables, one, because they are such a treat and, two, because they won't stay fresh long.  I've still got a long way to go.

I wish everyone blue skies and fair winds (Tuskegee Airmen).

Stay safe.  Be Well.

Missing

There is a significant difference between being alone and being lonely, but sometimes they converge as they did for me yesterday.  I miss(ed) my family.  Deb called and I exchanged texts with the boys.  Under the circumstances, it would have to be enough.

Our first walk of the day was weird.  Sundays are always quiet, but yesterday was, except for the birds, completely silent.  No distant voices, no chainsaws, no car engines...nothing.  Even Missy was missing.  Michael sat down on the driveway to listen and ponder.  He looked up at me as if to say, "Do you hear anything?  What's going on?"  Anyone who has read "The Stand" by Stephen King (1978) will understand how creepy it was.  Oddly enough, the culprit in that book was a pandemic, lethal virus.  (Insert shudder and goosebumps here.)

Okay, enough of that.  A good portion of the day was spent being productive on the computer, taking care of business.  By our second walk, there were reassuring sounds of life in the world.  Whew.

Thanks to George, while I might have missed our Easter ham dinner, I certainly didn't go hungry.  Where in the world did he find beautiful, firm fresh strawberries?  I indulged and ate the whole chocolate bunny at one sitting.  If I start to waddle when I walk, blame George.

For the afternoon's entertainment, I watched, for the umpteenth time, "The Unsuspected" (1947, Claude Rains, Joan Caulfield, Audrey Totter).  A murder mystery might seem strange fare for Easter, but it certainly took my mind off myself.

Missy appeared on our last walk of the day and we were back to whatever normal is.

Safe safe.  Be well.

Glad And Sad

Easter is a strange one this year.  As I've said, we've always been big on holiday tradition, mainly centered on the menu, but also a good reason for a family get together.  My Kids lead busy, productive lives and a holiday has been a good reason for them to take a break, come for a visit, and share a communal meal.  I haven't seen The Wild Bunch since Christmas, and they won't be coming up today.  I passed the case in which the poker chips are kept and remembered the good times.  I'm glad they are keeping safe in these uncertain times, but....

Missy is becoming the next best thing to a pest.  As soon as Michael and I step out the door she comes running up the path to do her roll-and-stretch in front of him.  Not just him.  When I go out alone to feed Lonesome Lulu, she comes along, almost tripping me as I walk.  "Okay, what are we gonna do now?  What's in that barrel?  Oh, I'll  help if you'll just let me in with that chicken."  Yeah, I bet you could.  I think she'd like to become a house cat, but given Ralph's attitude, that's not going to happen.

The girls are gorging on the lush green grass in their pen.  This is the time of year when they were producing and the milk was so rich in spring.  I don't miss the work, but I do regret the loss of closeness and satisfaction of those days.  They were really feisty yesterday, running  together and butting heads.  The growth of grass also applies to the weeds on the property.  Fu Manchu sits idle in his shed.  I wish the guys could have come up to get him running before this quarantine shut everything down.  Que sera.

I know I've mentioned a long-ago friend, Carol, from the days when the Kids were little and we lived in Chino.  Our children (she also had four) were pretty much the same age, and we had many of the same interests, including cooking.  Sundays for Carol were days spent in church, not leaving much time in the kitchen.  I'm sharing one of her recipes, written in my book simply as "Carol's Sunday Chicken."  The directions are simplistic, but they're all that are necessary.  It serves a lot so I probably won't be making it again, but I assure you it's really easy and very good.  (I have this bounty of chicken and recipes have been floating around in my head.)

CAROL'S SUNDAY CHICKEN

2 chickens, cut in pieces

1 can cream of mushroom soup

1 can chicken gumbo soup

1 pkg dry onion soup mix

1 cup of rice

6 cans of water (approximately)

Salt and pepper

Mix all but the chicken together in a large pan (I used a roasting pan). Place chicken on top.  Cover and bake at 350 degrees for 1-1/2 - 2 hours, depending on the size of the chicken pieces.  Lower the temperature if, like Carol, you're going to be gone longer.

Given how simple the recipe is, the hardest part now would be finding soup of any kind in the stores.

I hope that however and wherever you are, that your Easter is fulfilling.

Stay safe.  Be well.

What A Treat!

Yesterday was filled with the best in a "box of chocolates" (Forrest Gump, 1994), starting for Michael with a tractor working in the vineyard to the west.  If there isn't anything going on at the winery, a noisy tractor moving slowly up and down the rows is the next best thing and we watched it quite a while.  Michael is such an undemanding dog, it doesn't take much to please him.

We both got a tremendous treat when George drove up with, what else?, treats!  Treats for both of us.  Mine, of course, was seeing my friend again so soon (but wait, there's more!).  Michael was also happy and it had nothing to do with the pocketful of Michael-sized treats George brought, knowing how the dog had dealt with the big-boy biscuit.  George handed me a grocery bag that was so heavy I almost dropped it...10 pounds of boneless chicken breasts and 10 pounds of fresh mozzarella!  Pounds, I say!  I've been noshing my way through the goodies he'd brought before, gorging on salamis and marinated fresh, crisp green beans and more.  Now visions of Chicken Parmesan flew into my head.  No, wait...I'm out of Parmesan.  That's okay, I can fake it, and there's always Chicken Piccata, and so much more.

While standing in the walkway at the recommended distance (no hugging), I noticed that the lilac bushes were a day away from full bloom.  Their perfume wafting through the kitchen window is a treat all their own.  I wish George could have stayed longer.

I haven't shopped for groceries since before the shutdown began (nor, thanks to George, needed to), but even then only bought the essentials.  Essentials, in this case, means kitty litter and treats for all the four-leggeds.  My life wouldn't be worth a plugged nickel should I run out of those goodies.   They all know exactly when, where, and what they want.  I just go along with the program.

As I've mentioned, the tree crews have been working their way up our road, leaving the fallen trunks to be disposed of later.  I applauded Neighbor Joe, whom we saw on our last walk of the day, picking up a truckload of logs for firewood.  They would just be chipped for disposal anyway, and it certainly saves Joe the hard work of going up into the woods with a chainsaw.

I saw that my disappearing squirrels have moved south to Fiddletown, evidently the Florida of the foothills.  Dare I laugh?

It was a four-star day all around.

Stay safe.  Be well.

Marching On

Regardless of what else is happening in the "real" world, up here Nature just keeps on keeping on.  Thick fog again this morning, a good reason to stay inside.  Yesterday it had dissipated by the time of our first walk.  Either I hadn't been paying attention or the old girl was pulling one of her conjuring tricks again.  Eleven(!) peony plants had magically appeared in the front garden.  ('Garden' is such a misnomer here, wishful thinking at best.)  I am so grateful that peonies are not on the menu for deer or squirrels, especially since when we went out again later, several deer went bounding away in the driveway.  I've seen reports that more and more wildlife are "coming out of the woods," as it were, because of the lack of people out and about.  Michael is disappointed on our walks because there is no activity whatsoever down at the winery.

There is a phenomenon this year that I've never experienced.  Usually by this time my property would be teeming with ground squirrels, and I've yet to see a one.  What's up with that?

Speaking of Michael as I so often do ("That's a joke, son," Foghorn Leghorn) he either succumbed to greed, hunger, or decided the best hiding place for his treat was to eat it.  After moving it around from here to there, he laid down and crunched away.  Take that, cats!

Because the news is sometimes (as in 'every day') more than I can handle, I play a lot of mind-numbing Sudoku and computer solitaire.  Whatever it takes.

Missy just now jumped up on the outside portion of the window air cooler to spy on the house cats and/or drive them bonkers.  I guess she wants her breakfast, another thing that doesn't change.  Time marches on and the sun just broke through.

 

Stay well.  Be safe.

I Spy

So very many Americans are working from home now and, given the circumstances, that's a good thing.  Watching as many news programs as I do is like a virtual tour of homes as newscasters do their job and interviews are held via Skype or whatever newfangled thing is out there.  I see bachelor pads, dining rooms, kitchens, and offices, apartments and mansions, places I never would have been invited to before.  While I'm listening to what is being said, what I find most interesting is what's behind the speaker, especially if there are bookcases.  Some are showcases for pieces of art with a few books for looks.  Others are jam-packed libraries, overflowing with books large and small.  That's when I hit the pause button to try and get a hint of what this person reads, what interests them in the privacy of their home.  It's like a game of real-life I Spy and I'm the one doing the spying.

Michael cracks me up.  That piece of Milk-Bone he tucked into his bed the other day?  Well, he moves it from place to place, sometimes just carrying it around in his mouth.  He has tucked it into the sofa, under his blankets, anywhere he thinks it might be safe from the cats.  Ya just can't trust a cat, you know.  I've tried to tell him they have no interest in his treats, but I can't convince him.  I never know where I'll find his treasure.

We're socked in with fog again today.  It seems like Nature reaches into her grab bag without looking and throws at us whatever she finds first.  Oh well.  It's that time of year.

A Beautiful Day

Song of the day, "A Beautiful Day In The Neighborhood," Mr. Rogers.  (You'll be hearing that all day now.)

How I wish we'd had yesterday's weather when George was here.  Warm and sunny, all the leaves washed and bright green, the sky that hurt-your-eyes blue punctuated with big, fluffy white clouds.  Michael didn't have to work too hard to talk me into four walks and we logged over a mile.  (Altogether.  Don't be silly, not each!)

On our last walk, after we'd taken the trash down, Missy was lounging on the step up to the deck.  Michael was interested, Missy didn't run, and I wondered how this would turn out.  He moved closer and Missy started doing that, for lack of a better term, seductive roll.  It must have worked because Michael moved up until they were nose to nose.  Neither showed any sign of aggression.  I guess Michael figured, "Oh great.  Mom's gone and got herself another one."  We went on our way and Missy got up to inspect a leaf.  It was a happy ending.

Thanks to George, instead of getting hungry and thinking, "What do I have," I now go in the kitchen and think, "What shall I have."  Believe me, there is a difference.  Last night's choice was pulled pork on Kalamata bread...yum.  I forgot to mention that George's largess includes a chocolate Easter bunny.  I'll save that for the appropriate event.

The cherry on top of a beautiful day was seeing the huge super pink moon rise behind the eastern hills.  Absolutely stunning.

Stay safe.  Be well.

Strange Times

"Hi!  Come on in!"  Isn't that the first thing you say to a most welcome guest?  Sadly, not anymore.

My friend George came by yesterday, laden with groceries, and I couldn't do more than give him a virtual hug and invite him to sit on the porch.  The sun had come out earlier, but then went back into hiding and a cold wind sprang up.  Drat.  I sat a good ten feet from George outside and we talked.  Social distancing is a drag.  Michael was so happy to see his friend and sat by his side.  At least Michael could be a good host in these unusual (and chilly) circumstances.

George is smart, funny, and generous, and I so enjoyed his visit.  It wasn't long enough, but given that neither of us could feel our fingers after a bit, we said goodbye.  Did I mention he brought groceries?  Omigosh!  George is a shopper par excellence, and you can't imagine all the goodies he had gifted me, some homemade and some purchased.  It was like Christmas in my kitchen!  I was a kid in a candy store, nibbling this and that as I put stuff away...fresh vegetables, bananas, meats and cheeses, and two loaves of bread!  Where in the world did he find bread?!  There were even packets of treats for the cats and dog.  Believe me, if you need someone to stock your fridge and cupboard in these apocalyptic times, George is your man.  Lest you fear, knowing him and Florence, everything had been sanitized, even the bananas, I'm sure.

George had given Michael a large milk-bone broken into three pieces.  Florence and Dan have Scottish deer hounds that can handle big treats.  Michael, being Michael, ate one piece then and there.  Later he took another piece and buried it in the front yard for later, then took the third to hide in his bed.  Goofy dog.

Need I say it was a good day?

Stay well.  Be safe.

Timely

I think that the crews dropped all of the trees that might possibly have fallen on the power lines just in time because we had some hellacious winds yesterday, along with some torrential rain.  I mentioned recently that Michael isn't a very demonstrable dog.  When we came in from our walks, absolutely soaked, I used one of those absorbent ShamWows to dry the poor dude off.  Ohmigosh, Michael was absolutely effusive!  I got more kissies than ever before as he twirled around.  "Here!  Get this side!  You missed a spot!"  It was a Michael I'd never seen.  "Who are you and what have you done with my dog?"  One would think that Michael's thick, thick coat would have been protective, but it must be absorbent as well as soft.  He's a walking ShamWow.

I'd brought wood to the porch just in time, also.  The cats stretched out in the luxurious heat from Stove.  I was just happy to feel my cheeks again.

While it is overcast and dreary this morning, the storm, at least the worst of this go-round, seems to have passed.

Stay well.  Be safe.

Pots To Hooves

One would think that a retired person who has no set weekly agenda would not look forward to a weekend, but I do, Saturday especially.  All the cooking shows are such a welcome respite from the depressing daily news.  Yesterday's episode of "Dishing With Julia Child" (which I highly recommend) had guest commentary by Jose Andres and Eric Ripert, renowned chefs.  We should all aspire to be remembered with such love and humor.  Another guest I particularly enjoy is Lidia Bastianich's ninety-plus year old mother, Erminia Matticcio.  She is funny, always hungry, and never misses an opportunity to sing, in Italian, of course.

Moving on from the culinary world, Saturday afternoons are currently filled with horse racing.  I wonder if the horses miss the roar of the crowd in the now-empty stands.  Give me recipes and hoof beats and I'm a happy camper.

Ralph, who has lived his entire life inside, is getting cabin fever.  I made the mistake of putting a stack of papers on the dining room table.  They now decorate the floor.  It's not just paper he knocks off or over.  If I didn't know what he's up to, strange thumps and bumps in unoccupied rooms might alarm me.  He torments his sister mercilessly until she takes him down a peg.  Right now he's racing up and down the hall, brrrp-brrrping as he goes.  Michael thinks Ralph has gone berserk.

The predicted rain started falling yesterday.  Luckily, Michael and I got our walks in beforehand.  I doubt we'll be dawdling outside today.  With no Sunday NASCAR, I wonder what's on TV.  Oh, I have all those episodes of Twilight Zone saved!  It pays to plan ahead.

Stalker

Missy has become the bane of Ralph's life.  Not satisfied with just looking in through the glass doors, she has begun stalking Ralph.  She is so little I don't know how she sees which windowsill he's sitting on, minding his own business, enjoying the scenery and, hopefully, thinking pleasant thoughts.  She creeps along next to the house so Ralph can't see her, and then leaps up and bangs into the window and scares the bejesus out of him every time.  I swear I can hear her snicker while poor Ralph's eyes are big as saucers and his fur is puffed out as he springs off the sill, knocking things every which way in his panic.  I don't know whether she's got it in for him or if she thinks it's some perverse joke.  Ralph doesn't find it funny.

I got a call from a seldom-seen neighbor yesterday just to see if I needed anything.  It's not something I dwell on, but it made me realize I'm one of the "elderly" that people are advised to check on.  (If this were a text, this is where I'd insert LOL.)  It was a kind thing to do and I appreciated it.

They talk about early birds and night owls.  Up here it's the turkeys.  They congregate and gossip well before sunrise.  I can't imagine what they're up to in the dark.  They chatter, if all that gobbling can be called chatter, all the while I'm making coffee.

For quite a while Sheila and Tessie seemed to be on the outs, grazing and snoozing apart.  They must have resolved their differences as they're back together again.  I mean they are really together now (I hope I don't have to explain that).

We're due for a stretch of rainy weather starting today.  I brought a couple of wagonloads of firewood to the house yesterday so we're all set for the duration.

Stay well.  Be safe.

He Likes Me

I feel like gushing like Sally Field when she accepted her Oscar in 1985 for Places In The Heart.

Michael is not a demonstrative dog.  I don't know how much of that is training and how much is his personality.  It could be the loss he suffered when Susie died and/or his confusion at landing here.  Lately I've been over the moon when he gives me the slightest kissy on my hand while I pet him.  I am thrilled when he wags his tail just a little bit now.  He has barely lifted his head if I left the house without him, but recently he's been following me from room to room.  I think he likes me!

Michael has worked hard to train me.  He knows I keep a pocketful of tiny milk bones and that he will get three when we come in from our walks.  Those are the appetizer.  He then will go for a snack from his bowl, and come back for dessert, two more treats.  Believe me, he can count.  He knows when I flash the "no more" sign and decides where he's going to lie down for a nap.

Missy also has me trained.  From the time she first appeared in the barn I've put down her food and have given her strokes on her back.  Now that she's dining on the deck, she shows me exactly where to put her kibble, but will not begin to eat until she gets as many pets as she wishes, then dives in.  I am dismissed.

Ralph is sitting on my lap right now.  He reached over from the bed to pat my shoulder, his signal that "It's time."  I swivel my chair around and he climbs on board.  It makes for awkward typing, but what am I to do?

Michael likes to sleep in of a morning.  At least my writing doesn't disturb him.  I think he likes that.

Stay well.  Be safe.

Socked In

It was as if Nature was enforcing the stay-at-home rule yesterday.  She sent us a fog bank so thick I couldn't see even the outline of the surrounding hills.  Michael couldn't snoop on the neighbors on our first walk because the winery had disappeared.  It lasted until about ten and then, poof!, it was gone.  The sun came out, but it never did warm up much.

The song of chainsaws and wood chippers is heard almost daily now.  Those PG&E guys are taking their job seriously.  I wish there was better communication between the supervisors slash inspectors and the crews.  When I was first contacted I was told that one of a stand of three pines would be taken out.  I even went with the inspector so she could show me exactly which tree was doomed.  She said "a couple" of cedars would also go.  Okay, better safe than sorry.  Well, when the crew worked their way up to my place, they went gung ho and dropped all three pines and took out almost all the cedars along the road.  I contacted the supervisor.  "I guess they didn't read my notes."

Heeding my own counsel, I spoke with my niece and a couple of long-time friends.  We are friends who don't need to talk often to stay in touch, but it was nice to hear their voice.  I spooked Arden.  She called while I was speaking long-distance to New Hampshire and didn't want to interrupt.  I have call-waiting, but without my glasses on I couldn't see which button to push.  Drat.  I knew it was Arden and that I could call her back when I was finished.  She called again and again, afraid because I didn't answer.  By the time we connected, she was ready to dial 911.  I appreciate her concern.

The sun came out on time this morning and it looks like it's going to be a lovely day.

Stay well.  Be safe.

In The Zone

There is just so much national news one can watch these days.  I try to catch the local Sacramento news in the morning, but have stopped the MSNBC shows in the afternoon; they're just too depressing.  Doctors, nurses, governors and mayors all begging for supplies that don't seem to be forthcoming.  Even worse, those officials who are turning a blind eye to things that could be done to protect their populace.

As a remedy of sorts, I've been watching feel-good shows like The Andy Griffith Show and Golden Girls.  Yesterday I felt like I'd found the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow when I checked the guide and found they were running nonstop episodes of The Twilight Zone (Rod Serling, 1959-1964).  Ta da!  I probably saw every one of the series when they were new and remembered a lot of them, in particular "Time Enough At Last" (1959) with Burgess Meredith.  He played the near-sighted lone survivor of an apocalyptic event who found himself in a huge library.  All those books and time to read to his heart's content...and then he broke his glasses.  Being a book lover myself, I couldn't imagine anything worse.  It was fun to see well-known actors, very young at the time, and sometimes bit players who went on to become stars.

Something else I've appreciated are the calls I've received.  Cousin Sandy called in the morning.  I love hearing from her.  She's my lifeline to Steve's family as she stays in touch everyone.  It's been years since I've seen any of them, but I care about them all.  Sandy never gossips, but shares how everyone is doing, who's had a baby, etc.  It's heartbreaking to learn that Family Reunion is being cancelled this year due to The Virus.  It has been a much-anticipated annual event for many decades.  I, myself, have had to cancel Easter and birthdays in my family for the same reason.

I also got a call from Go-To Guy and his wife, just wanting to say hi and did I need anything.  Go-To doesn't call me, so it was a grand and most pleasant surprise.  There's a lot of kindness going around out there.

The Twilight Zone streaming was just for one day.  Ha!  I recorded all the episodes so I can watch at my leisure.

Stay well.  Be safe.