Birds On A Wire

(Apologies to Bird On A Wire, 1990, Mel Gibson, Goldie Hawn)

First walk of the day.  I've usually got my eyes on the ground on our travels, trying to miss squirrel holes and turkey poop and watching where Michael wants to go next.  He gets to be the leader on these outings, carefully picking the best pit stops and drifting back and forth across the drive.  We were slowly working our way on the uphill slope yesterday and I was waiting for Michael (again) when I looked up.  Wow!  I counted ten vultures on the poles and wires, and there were five or so more on the fence posts and ground, and one having a slurp from the water trough.  These big birds are impressive at rest, but when a group takes off in flight and beat the air with a resounding whump whump of wings, they're jaw dropping.

I know without looking at the vines that the grapes are getting ripe.  Turkeys are enjoying an early harvest.  How do I know?  Because those droppings I mentioned are full of grape seeds and skins now.  From past experience, I know that coyotes also like dessert with their meals.

Arden and I are old friends, comfortable enough that we both dozed off briefly while watching TV after our snack, and no apologies necessary.

It was a good day.

Blank

Not for the first time, I'm half a mug of coffee down and I'm still without a topic for the day and my mind is as blank as the screen.  Even though yesterday was somewhat cooler, we're in the summer doldrums.  When nothing is happening, there's not much to write about.  Oh, I have ideas, but I promised myself when I started this project that I would stay away from politics, religion, and the controversies of the "outside" world.  There is certainly enough of that going on out there.  I've always hoped to share the peace of the farm as best I could.

Ralph is trying to be helpful.  I just felt that oh-so-light touch on my shoulder and swiveled my chair around so he could climb onto my lap.  "I'll just sit right here.  Or maybe sitting on the mouse would be better.  Or better yet, I'll walk back and forth in front of the screen and wave my tail in your face.  Now, isn't that better?"  Thanks, Ralph.  His mission accomplished to his satisfaction, he's off and running again.

I think Michael is warming to me.  It's easy to forget that he went through the trauma of losing his prior owner and then his home.  Dogs are sentient beings and he must have wondered what he'd done wrong to be left here, and missing his familiar life.  I've tried not to push the issue, giving him time to adapt to the new surroundings and rules.  I was used to Bessie Anne, who never let me out of her sight, so it's been strange for me to have Michael, who has slept here and there in the house, but rarely in the same room or close to me (except at night on the bed).  Lately, that's been changing.  He's voluntarily coming to sit by my feet, where he gets ear ruffles, butt scrubs, and belly rubs, and lots of sweet talk.  I call that progress.

Six o'clock now and it's just barely first light, a red glow behind the hills to the east.  It's time to get a grip on the day.  Arden is coming over this afternoon.  Her Friday visits have become a ritual, and a reason for me to spiff up the house a bit (no need to overdo it!).  Michael enjoys her company, too.

Sleepytime Pals

It was early enough in the day that Ralph called dibs on the one little patch of sunlight.  Usually it's Celeste who claims this spot.  I got such a kick out of his pose of surrender, or maybe he's keeping the sun out of his eyes.

My house is littered with sleeping cats.  Later, in the heat of the day, Celeste stretched out in a shady spot, hoping to catch an errant breeze.

I didn't get a photo of Michael.  He goes in the corner behind Stove on a hot day.  I think the walls catch the air from the ceiling fan, and the hearth stones are cool.

I couldn't take a selfie of me sleeping, so take my word that I got lots of shuteye yesterday, too.

Long naps have no effect on bedtime.  It cooled off enough last night that I didn't need the fan on in the bedroom, and it was grand not to wake up again and again, sweating like a horse.  I overslept.

I think there's real hope that today will be at least a few degrees cooler.  One can hope.

Status Quo

What do you say when nothing has changed?  Michael and I took our morning walk, I fed the outside animals, it was hot, we all napped off and on.  Boring, and certainly nothing to write home about.  Did I mention it was hot?  The dog and I got a brief respite with the A/C in the truck when we took the trash down to the big road toward evening.  It was worth the inconvenience.

It was when Michael and I did our last walk of the day that I noticed something different...there were clouds in the sky.  There haven't been clouds since I can't remember when.  Unfortunately this is not necessarily a good thing.  The weather man is predicting possible showers over the Sierras today, accompanied by "dry" lightning strikes.  That could be very bad, even with a slight cool down.

I guess I'd rather settle for the status quo.

Cranky

Grumpy, cranky, just plain not happy...that's me after days of what I consider excessive heat.  I know, I know it could be worse and I'm grateful I'm not wherever that is, but that doesn't stop me from whining.  That's about the only thing I do when it's 95 outside and not too far from it inside.  I want to slap the weather man when he says to crank up the air conditioning, but that would take too much effort.  I think about what needs to be done, and that's as far as it gets.  I feel so bad for the animals, especially Michael with his heavy fur coat.  We all, inside and outside, spend a lot of time sleeping to get through the worst of it.  The sky at sundown looked like a blast furnace.

(Got a text from Clay, who is back to driving truck.  He was up in Redding:  105 degrees at 7 p.m. last night.  Aarrgh.  Yup, it could be worse.)

Between naps, I watched TCM movies.  Dodsworth, 1939, Walter Huston, Ruth Chatterton, Mary Astor, and The Great Lie, 1941, Bette Davis, Mary Astor, George Brent.  I've seen both films so many times I could quote the dialog, but a good movie is a good movie.  Hattie McDaniel had a part in The Great Lie, and was the first African American to win an Oscar in 1940 for her supporting role in Gone With The Wind.

I'm not sure the weather man isn't just dangling hope, but he said today should be the last day of heat before a "slight" cool down.  I'll take it.

Move Over!

Since the dead tree down by the barn fell, parking space for the vultures is pretty limited.  On our walk yesterday morning, Michael and I saw 30-50 of the big birds circling in a vortex overhead and 15 or so more on posts, wires, and on the ground.  This close to September, they're gathering for the big migration.  From my chair I have a view of two power poles and wires and can see the vultures vying for the prime spots.  "Move over!"  "No, I was here first!"  There is some bumping and shoving while they sort things out.  Those who lose their position on the poles do a very awkward balancing act on the wires that would make the Wallendas laugh.  So graceful in the air, vultures are lousy pedestrians.

Florence came over yesterday, bringing some "costumes" Michael's prior owner had left:  St. Patrick's Day doodle bobbers and a green bow tie, a sparkly Santa headband, and a Halloween pointy hat with attached orange wig.  Given Michael's lack of humor, I can only imagine what the look on his face will be when the holidays come around.                  

Florence also brought a bag of Michael treats, the kind he was used to.  I showed her the kitchen counter that has not one, not two, but five different kinds of treats for Michael, and that's not counting the big box of milk bones in the round room.  Okay, I'm not above a little bribery.  (The cat treats are on another counter.)

At bedtime, Michael gets in bed first, inevitably on my side.  "Move over!"  "No, I was here first!"  I squeeze into what space he's left and hope I don't fall off during the night.  So far, so good.

Tried And True

When life throws me a curve ball, I tend to fall back on calming things like comfort food and old TV shows.  I've been watching Golden Girls and Andy Griffith and TCM movies with Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers.  I think I'm about ready to face the world again.

My son rejected my suggestion that he name his not-here-yet baby boy Elmer Thomas.  I think it would be such a hoot when the kid gets older to be told, "ET, phone home!"  Oh well.

Saturdays are usually filled with cooking shows, but once in awhile "they" (whoever "they" are) switch and put a bunch of self-help programs on.  Not my cup of tea.  I had to make do with an early morning "Pioneer Woman" yesterday.

Michael took off on one of his walkabouts last evening.  He's been so good lately that I thought I could trust him to go out on his own.  Not.  He wasn't gone long and he did come back, so there is that, but I sure wish I could break him of that one bad habit.

Well, let's see what today brings....