tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28381015474961588792024-03-13T12:47:50.164-07:00Frogpond ChroniclesOur life in the foothills of Calaveras County, California. The pond is at the center of everything. In case we should forget, the bullfrogs yell it out all summer long. A noisy place, but home.Lesliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07343313551217575070noreply@blogger.comBlogger765125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2838101547496158879.post-87769631041624863762017-09-08T14:08:00.000-07:002017-09-08T14:08:05.024-07:00Back in the Saddle Again<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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And I don't mean the occasional lazy saunter around the pond (with or without glass of wine), but the kind of riding that involves dust, sweat and sore muscles and our trainer, Mary, barking orders at us from the center of the arena. This woman is tough, patient and very good, but she has her work cut out for herself as she roots out our bad habits.<br />
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For Cornelius, this means learning to hold himself upright, driving his body forward through his haunches. His plowhorse DNA has him programmed to lean on his shoulders and move off slowly and heavily as though he's pulling a load behind him -- it's the Percheron draft horse half of him. When he moves this way with a rider on top, he's inclined to drag his front feet and stumble. <br />
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My main problem is a compulsion to lean forward in saddle, especially when I'm nervous. It's something that I do so habitually that I don't even realize I'm doing it -- when Mary tells me to lean back, I'll say back that I am and she'll inform me that, no, I'm not. So I'll shift my weight and tilt backwards at what seems like an impossible angle (feeling like I'm looking up at the sky and only a few inches from lying on top of my big guy's rump). And only then is Mary satisfied. <br />
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The unfortunate thing about our horse and human problems is that in conjunction they cause both of us to spiral downward together and everything gets progressively worse: when Corny trips, I'm startled and lurch forward and my added weight makes him even heavier in front. And this leads to more stumbles from him as I battle not to crouch into a fetal position over his neck. I'm finally learning to control this impulse and it's empowering to realize that both Corny and I are getting our bodies working together at last. I finally feel more like a real rider as a push his body forward and with my seat and nudges of my heels. Corny stands up straighter, arches his neck and lifts up those big feet of his, so the stumbles decrease. Being ridden must surely be more comfortable for him without the threat of tripping and possibly falling.<br />
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We're not there yet, but after years of not being able to get my body to give up its fear reaction, I'm elated to feel all the pieces coming together at last. Dear Mary is pretty happy too -- she never gave up on either one of us.<br />
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<br />Lesliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07343313551217575070noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2838101547496158879.post-88359284323791735482017-09-01T12:00:00.002-07:002017-09-01T12:00:49.643-07:00Oasis<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="text-align: start;">We're into the third (and, hopefully, last) heatwave of the summer. Today's forecast is for 112 degrees and this is set to continue for the next several days. This year, we strung a mister hose through the tupelo trees behind the house. We originally installed it during the first heat wave in hopes of making the potted lilies more comfortable (it definitely made the voles more comfortable as they chomped down most of the lilies). However, we now turn it on when the weather is hot because it cools the west side of the house and is an oasis for heat-stressed birds. All through the long afternoons when the sun is beating down on everything, birds arrive to refresh themselves in the fine spray. Assorted oak titmice, scrub jays, finches and sparrows come to sip from the nozzles and preen the water that sparkles from their feathers. A family of seven rowdy acorn woodpeckers doesn't even bother to leave -- they set up a noisy camp in the trees and spend the hours blustering, playing and cooling off. I stand at the kitchen sink and watch through the window -- washing dishes has never been so entertaining.</span></div>
Lesliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07343313551217575070noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2838101547496158879.post-2608036172676188602017-08-30T12:39:00.004-07:002017-08-30T12:39:56.051-07:00A Walk Around the Pond<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Bruce came home a little early the other evening, so we had time for a walk around the pond before the sun went down. Cornelius came along (he was a pretty good sport about being pulled away from his dinner).<br />
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Corny is fun to walk with as he's calm and interested in looking around at the scenery. The pace suits him as his favorite speed is "slow." He also just seems to genuinely enjoy being part of a social group with humans - he's a bit like a dog in that way.<br />
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We practiced a few small obstacles, but not for too long.<br />
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Then we meandered up the hill. Yes, that's a glass of wine in my hand. <br />
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When we got to the top of the dam, Bruce held my wine glass (empty) and gave me a leg up. Corny does very well being ridden bareback with only a halter. In some ways I think he's better behaved than with a saddle and bridle. I know that he's happier going along this way.<br />
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He really is a very sweet horse -- I'm lucky to have him.<br />
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<br />Lesliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07343313551217575070noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2838101547496158879.post-4572187032193288562017-08-27T07:43:00.000-07:002017-08-27T07:43:11.428-07:00Shattered <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Hecuba found a new place to sleep. Unfortunately, the space was already occupied by a very large, very old, very valuable Chinese vase. Young as she is, Hecuba is already an accomplished problem solver.<br />
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I'm going to miss that vase...Lesliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07343313551217575070noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2838101547496158879.post-55551362792686154422017-08-22T17:48:00.000-07:002017-08-22T17:48:26.497-07:00The Amazing, Shrinking Horse!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Bless my honest farrier and her bluntness. When she last came to trim Cornelius' hooves and she looked him up and down and told me he was fat, I was a bit taken aback. But not exactly surprised. I knew he was plump (even for him) and I knew I should be feeding him less and exercising him more (actually, I wasn't exercising him at all). I'd grown so used to not making the time to attend to him that I'd grown comfortable with it. But when Raleigh told me that he was fat, I knew she was right -- and that same day began to change that. <br />
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So, for the past seven weeks Corny's been on a strict diet/exercise regimen: 1 1/2 flakes of grass hay a day (down from 2) and walk/trot/canter work at least five times a week. The results have been impressive.<br />
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Here is my rotund Corny on July 5<br />
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Corny on August 21. He hardly looks like the same horse -- there's so much less of him.<br />
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Here is the other side of him on July 5th. Just look at how big his butt is -- not to mention his belly. <br />
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Corny on August 21. <br />
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Until I looked at these photos right next to each other, I hadn't realized how much Corny had changed in seven weeks. When we started, he was so out of shape that he slipped and tripped and tired very quickly - all that extra fat to haul around and no muscle tone at all. Riding him was scary because he stumbled so often. I'll admit that it also was scary because my own muscles were in need of strengthening. Now that both of us have been at it for awhile, my guy trots and canters with energy and, although he grumbles, I think that he's enjoying his new, more svelte body.<br />
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And, may I add, I've lost 5 pounds. I love Raleigh!<br />
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<br />Lesliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07343313551217575070noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2838101547496158879.post-52488619887703848482017-08-21T16:34:00.001-07:002017-08-21T19:17:23.867-07:00Eclipse Day<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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In our neck of the woods, all we got was a partial solar eclipse -- 76.5% to be exact. That didn't seem like much to get excited about, but I'm a stickler for doing things the right way, even if the results can only be a C+ average.<br />
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The dogs and I went to the hillside across the pond from the house. I set up shop on a log surrounded by vole burrows, rabbit droppings and lots and lots of dry grass. I unpacked my iPad, phone, solar binoculars, and eclipse glasses while Chance and Murphy went off to swim in the pond.<br />
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I will admit that sitting there on that log, waiting for 76.5% was rather like watching paint dry...until I picked up the binoculars and trained them to the sun. The moon had begun to slide down in front of the sun. Right then and there I realized that sometimes 76.5% is not a C+ and definitely not average. These little baby blue binoculars cost $30 and my opinion had been that we had gone overboard in ordering them. That was before I saw the crisp black outline of the moon take a bite out of the sun. WowWowWow!<br />
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At 76.5%, the sky did not become dark. There were no stars and no confused crickets chirped. The dogs played in the water, oblivious to anything celestial going on overhead. But every time I raised those binoculars to my eyes, I could see the spectacular sight of the pip-squeak of a moon doing its damned best to blot out that Goliath of a sun. Even at 76.5%, it was doing a very good job of it -- as long as I watched through the binoculars. Without them, I don't think I ever would have noticed that there was an eclipse. Yes, the sky was dimmer and had the yellowy tinge of late afternoon, but nowadays with all the summer fires, we're used to that overlay. <br />
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I was all by my lonesome, but felt as connected to the universe as I've ever been. Not bad for 76.5%.<br />
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I snapped this picture of the sun without looking. This was near the maximum amount of coverage by the moon. The sun is so bright that there's no evidence of the moon at all.<br />
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The light was...different, though. The algae on the pond was such a virulent green that it seemed to be marching up the hillside.<br />
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After our little bit of the eclipse was over, I went back inside and watched some of the coverage on the NASA TV network. I'll admit that I really, really wish I could have seen the total 100% eclipse. But 76.5% will do nicely.<br />
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<br />Lesliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07343313551217575070noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2838101547496158879.post-88948936776111650312017-08-17T09:57:00.000-07:002017-08-17T09:57:06.392-07:00MinutiaThese days, as I blog, I find myself wondering at why I'm making the effort to notice the minutia of life here at Frogpond when it appears that the entire planet seems to be launched into a dreadful downward spiral. I write about voles, kittens, weaving and cleaning out the barn against a backdrop of such awful national and world news that I can't help but feel ridiculous. <br />
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Once upon a time, a long time ago, I used to consult the Tarot for insight into my existence. Those days are long over, but the detailed illustrations on certain of the cards became a part of my thought process. These cards come to mind, unbidden, when events match their meanings (my hippy roots run deep). Here's the one that has come burbling to the surface:<br />
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What I like about Tarot illustrations is that they're self-explanatory -- it's a relief not having to construct a long-winded essay. Definitely a case of a picture being worth a thousand words. </div>
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With that out of the way, I'll add that I also believe that when things appear to be devolving into chaos, observing and celebrating minutia takes on increased importance and relevance (earlier this week I was rereading parts of Ann Frank's diary and this realization jumped out at me). So....</div>
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Some Minutia: Update on the Rodent Wars</div>
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As we'd hoped, the natural predators of rodents have discovered that Frogpond is a wonderful place to come for an easy dinner. An assortment of various hawks, snakes, owls and coyotes (thankfully these last have stayed away from the house stayed in the surrounding hillsides) have descended upon us and the vole, gopher and mouse populations have dramatically decreased. </div>
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The bird in this blurry photo, taken from the kitchen window, is a Swainson's Hawk. It's been concentrating on hunting the voles that took up residence in holes all around the house and decimated my flower and vegetable gardens. It's gorging on the easy pickings and I'm seeing fewer and fewer voles scurrying around when I go outside. </div>
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Perhaps the most surprising help has come from the kittens. I never expected that TimTom and Hecuba would turn into such efficient hunters so quickly. Between the two of them, they catch two to three rodents a day. Little kittens to the rescue!</div>
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Lesliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07343313551217575070noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2838101547496158879.post-37980690637537488192017-08-13T08:24:00.000-07:002017-08-14T12:38:47.039-07:00Barn CleaningThe resident rodents, a lot of junk and layers of filth are being evicted from the barn. I'd like to say that the process is complete, but it's a work in progress. We're at the stage where, at first (and second) glance, things actually look worse than they did before we started because of the pile of stuff that's been lugged out and is now in plain sight all over the drive. I'm fighting an impulse to just dump it all in the trailer so we can haul it all off to the landfill. But that would be wrong, lazy, wasteful and self-defeating. So, instead, we got busy with brooms, pitchforks, rags, buckets of water, cleaner and the hose. Oh, and two kittens.<br />
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I'll be the first to admit that we spent way too much time watching them play. <br />
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Their job was to catch the mice that ran as we forked out hay and hauled out junk, but they were too busy hunting each other and taking naps.<br />
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Despite the lack of effort on their part, we got the feed room and one stall completely cleaned out and hosed down and a good start on the tack room. The stall where the geese sleep needs washing down and the mats removed, but is junk free (thanks to the movie shoot of several weeks ago). The third stall -- stuffed with a filthy assortment of troughs, a bicycle, cat carriers, cages, bird houses, garden tools, fertilizer, heat lamps, chick feeders, etc -- still awaits its turn. I also believe that all of the voles and mice have migrated over to that one as there's nowhere left to hide. <br />
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This is what the drive looks like when the barn's nice and empty.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Evidence of feline supervision</td></tr>
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Once that last stall's been cleared out, we'll order a load of decomposed granite to replace what's left of the layer we put in years ago. After we've compacted it, we'll return the rubber mats and get everything put away. At least, that's the plan. I'm determined not to lose momentum on this -- projects (especially the ones involving cleaning) have a habit of stopping somewhere around the halfway mark. <br />
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Actually, getting the barn in shape is only a prelude to the REAL cleaning project that awaits: the garage.<br />
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God give us strength.<br />
<br />Lesliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07343313551217575070noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2838101547496158879.post-30334360990167269112017-08-08T14:25:00.000-07:002017-08-08T23:37:45.035-07:00The Sampler<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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The sampler's been woven, taken off the loom, ends knotted and trimmed, then washed and ironed. I've got to admit that this is one <b>very</b> busy piece of weaving -- all that pattern going on and so many color changes! It's rather dizzying to the eye and perhaps I should have limited the number of variations I tried. But it was irresistible playing with the treadling patterns and seeing what the ten colors in various combinations looked like. So there we are.<br />
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About the colors: I gravitate to the same colors and color combinations from project to project and am working to break free of this. At one of the Weaver's Guild meetings this summer, a member shared a runner she'd woven and showed a photograph of the desert landscape that guided her color choices. I was intrigued by this way of working with color. <br />
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This will be my first attempt using her method These are some of the pictures borrowed from the internet that guided me.<br />
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To my surprise, I already had all of these colors, so I didn't have to buy anything (that's a first, I believe): two greens -- one darker and the other a bright chartreuse, brown, and off-white. There also is a touch a touch of russet red. <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Undulating Twill and Rosepath</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Rosepath</td></tr>
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These stripes are very bold compared to the more subdued colors of the photographs. Too much bright green! Too much russet!<br />
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I'll admit that I'm delighted with all of these color combinations. Settling on only a few is going to be a challenge because there is a part of me that loves the over-abundance of color and pattern. Only touches of the bright green and russet...I'll edit and simplify and do my best to stay true to the original inspiration. We'll see how that goes.<br />
<br />Lesliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07343313551217575070noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2838101547496158879.post-27418970609251841492017-08-06T13:57:00.002-07:002017-08-06T13:57:50.897-07:00AnniversariesThis is the summer where all my roads seem to lead to the little town of Knight's Ferry. Yesterday we celebrated/observed a double anniversary: our marriage of 17 years and the second year since the suicide of our daughter, Becky. Knight's Ferry was there, waiting for us.<br />
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We started at the cemetery on the hill above town. I showed Bruce the tombstone of Mary Dennis, the Englishwoman who had died in 1866 and whose epitaph had so struck me. This time, I remembered to get a picture of the poem at the bottom of her stone. <br />
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I don't believe that Mary Dennis would have minded if I extended the sentiment of this verse to my own Rebecca. <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Rebecca Kim Dong 1984 - 2015</td></tr>
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"From cares & pains may all be free<br />
Surround the whole with joy,<br />
Sublimity alone can mould<br />
And elevate the Soul.<br />
Begone vain joys, begone vain doubts<br />
Arise with minds set free.<br />
And learn the language of the soul<br />
That you may learn to see."<br />
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Afterwards, we drove the half mile down the winding road to have lunch at The River's Edge. </div>
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Our first toast was to our 17 year partnership and the love we share, and the second was to the memory of our dear Becky. We then had a memorable lunch as the river flowed through the soft, cool day. And we were happy.<br />
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Lesliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07343313551217575070noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2838101547496158879.post-68964910257973207462017-08-04T10:52:00.001-07:002017-08-04T10:53:20.676-07:00Heatwave, Voles and Placemats (Cont.)For now, the heatwave that we've been stuck in appears to be over -- temperatures over the next week are forecast to be in the mid to upper 90's. Amazing how just five degrees can make such a difference.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The marshy area below the dam</td></tr>
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The voles, mice and gopher numbers continue their slow decline, but we're not letting up on hunting them. On Wednesday I saw a vole scamper under a small, moveable deck we have behind the house. I had a strong suspicion that this was the one chewing down the stalks of my potted lilies. When Bruce got home, he got the pellet gun and we worked together to lift the deck to expose the vole that hopefully was still underneath. The vole was there, all right -- but only as a bulge in the middle of the rattlesnake that had killed it for us. The dear thing was preoccupied with digesting its hearty meal, so lay still and never so much as rattled. In a quick change of plan, I ran for the snake tongs and a covered lard bucket while Bruce kept watch. With the tongs, Bruce gently lifted the snake into the lard bucket, put on the lid and off we went to release it. Usually we take rattlers to a place several miles away where there is a source of water but very few people. However, we decided that this snake had earned the right to stay at Frogpond. We carried it down to the wild blackberry bramble that sprawls in the marshy area below the dam and let it out. There are plenty of voles there and they should keep him/her well fed.<br />
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The weaving goes well. To my pleased surprise, there appear to be no flaws in my threading (this is a bit of a miracle, considering my tangled mess of warp). I'm about halfway through weaving the color sampler -- I've got stripes of the various colors I'm considering plus am treadling them in two different ways (rosepath and undulating twill). I like many of the color combinations and the hard part is going to be settling on only one or two. A pleasant sort of problem!<br />
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I'm learning a lot about the design process with this piece. In my desire to break free from the "stuck" place I was in, I chose to not plan out my design on graph paper. The placement of the stripes is counted out and regular, but the individual threads do not pick up the patterns in perfect symmetry. <br />
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It's not easy to explain, so here are closeups of the four orange stripes: <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-vayYLZ-IZE8/WYSvvXZKgBI/AAAAAAAAJ3I/NQ39oLLfw8UQhu57LUBnaapSVDGvSvOowCEwYBhgL/s1600/IMG_1130.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1147" height="320" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-vayYLZ-IZE8/WYSvvXZKgBI/AAAAAAAAJ3I/NQ39oLLfw8UQhu57LUBnaapSVDGvSvOowCEwYBhgL/s320/IMG_1130.JPG" width="229" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">First Stripe</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Second Stripe</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Third Stripe </td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Fourth Stripe</td></tr>
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Each of the stripes is composed of four orange threads that are following the same threading pattern. But because I didn't plan on them landing in exactly the same place in the pattern, the stripes look different. I greatly prefer the look of the first stripe and don't really like the messiness of the third and fourth ones at all. However, I'm also drawn to the element of randomness this gives the overall look. The variations give it a naturalness and interest that absolute symmetry cannot.<br />
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Either way, I'm enjoying the process of watching the weaving reveal itself to me as I throw the shuttle and step on the treadles. It's a kind of magic.Lesliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07343313551217575070noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2838101547496158879.post-35245542332487371632017-08-02T10:26:00.001-07:002017-08-03T14:14:06.501-07:00Heatwave, Voles and PlacematsThis seemingly endless heatwave continues. Every day is very hot, but yesterday was exceptionally so -- 108 degrees by late afternoon. I turn on the misters in the chicken coop and behind the house to provide some relief to the birds. The chickens very quickly learned where to stand to get the maximum amount of spray. Out back, the wild birds -- scrub jays, woodpeckers, hummingbirds, titmice, finches -- come and go all day long to cool off. They flit about the mister strung through the trees and shake their feathers and preen the droplets drifting onto their feathers.<br />
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The battle against the voles continues. I read in our local newspaper that this rodent explosion that we are suffering from is going on all throughout the county. The article (front page) corroborated what I'd heard that this is a direct result of our exceptionally wet winter that produced a super abundance of grass. The irony isn't lost on me -- what a price to pay for finally getting relief from our drought. These days it does seem like we are being hit by extremes of everything: deluge of rain in the winter, unrelenting heat in the summer, huge populations of voles and gophers and the perfect conditions for catastrophic fires on a regular basis. Is this what climate change looks like in our little spot on the planet?<br />
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In between occasionally killing voles with a shovel and running outside at regular intervals to move the hose from one surviving shrub or tree to the other, I've been working on a weaving project. Actually, it's taken me over a month to get to the point of actually getting the project on the loom. I was a mass of paralyzing indecision at every step along the way: what I wanted to make (a shawl? a throw? A runner? I finally settled on placemats); the colors; the type of yarn; the pattern... Even after I'd decided on something, I'd go back later, undecide it and then have to plan everything all over again. It was an endless loop.<br />
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In the end, what "unstuck" me was attending my first meeting with a small group of weavers I'd been invited to join. After a potluck by the river, each of us brought out a piece of work or finished product that we wanted to share. I brought my patterns, a basket of yarn possibilities, and a ruler wrapped with the sequence of stripes I was planning on using (or not using). The ladies gave me the exact kind of support I needed and my fixation on achieving perfection dropped away. Such a relief. My marching orders were to be ready to bring what I'd made to next month's meeting. Somehow, through them, I've regained my ability to accept shortcomings and mistakes.<br />
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The planning stage: after endless calculations, I still got the width wrong and had to remove two stripes. <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The kittens sleeping below the loom</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I think my two "helpers" were busy</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hecuba holding things down</td></tr>
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Two days later: Despite a tangled warp (how on earth did it get that way?), incorrect yarn calculations, a broken warp thread, and a skipped heddle, everything was sorted out.<br />
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Today I start to weave. This is the part of the process that always has me biting my fingernails -- all flaws will be revealed.<br />
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I'll start with a sampler to check for threading errors. After I've fixed what needs fixing, I'll go on to experimenting with the color(s) to weave as my weft. <br />
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<br />Lesliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07343313551217575070noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2838101547496158879.post-27096413142972536622017-07-31T17:40:00.000-07:002017-07-31T17:40:00.712-07:00Saturday Morning at Frogpond<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
With another hectic workweek behind him, Bruce relaxed outside. </div>
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Coffee -- check </div>
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Cat companion -- check</div>
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Picnic table with shade -- check</div>
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Llama munching hay and supervising -- check</div>
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Pellet gun for murdering voles -- check</div>
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Wife dancing around with glee every time she hears the gun go "Crack!" -- check</div>
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More and more, I wonder if maybe we've lived out in the country too long. I can hear the banjos twanging.</div>
<br />Lesliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07343313551217575070noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2838101547496158879.post-17115426471371525122017-07-29T18:46:00.001-07:002017-07-29T18:46:10.140-07:00Hecuba Zonked<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-V4ezhgwvFvA/WX021hV3_CI/AAAAAAAAJ0k/pRnyEgYCYsw0ELGEADbtwahYm4XW23RXACLcBGAs/s1600/IMG_1066.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-V4ezhgwvFvA/WX021hV3_CI/AAAAAAAAJ0k/pRnyEgYCYsw0ELGEADbtwahYm4XW23RXACLcBGAs/s320/IMG_1066.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
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What can I say? This little kitty knows how to abandon herself to sleep.<br />
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<a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-jvqZo2j92QU/WX02yCLCtuI/AAAAAAAAJ0g/uACn5n9GY0AYAZf9p_EbrkHQRorDwdjrACLcBGAs/s1600/IMG_1067.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-jvqZo2j92QU/WX02yCLCtuI/AAAAAAAAJ0g/uACn5n9GY0AYAZf9p_EbrkHQRorDwdjrACLcBGAs/s320/IMG_1067.JPG" width="320" /></a><br />
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The two kittens joining our family has definitely made life around here more complicated. Logically speaking, adding two cats to the four we already have is so going in the wrong direction. That said, they have brought such joy and spark into our lives that I can't imagine not having them. We are smitten by kittens.<br />
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Lesliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07343313551217575070noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2838101547496158879.post-72141756866291259912017-07-28T12:07:00.000-07:002017-08-02T14:49:40.473-07:00Discovering the Compost Playground<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-vPHxaDu4FEw/WXtZIm6TXgI/AAAAAAAAJzc/BSW5RGHNDawZP8OWfallF2yuZTopb5psgCLcBGAs/s1600/IMG_2966.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="934" height="400" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-vPHxaDu4FEw/WXtZIm6TXgI/AAAAAAAAJzc/BSW5RGHNDawZP8OWfallF2yuZTopb5psgCLcBGAs/s400/IMG_2966.JPG" width="232" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hecuba and her Magical Lightning Bolt</td></tr>
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We've been letting the kittens go outside for about two weeks now. I would have preferred keeping them inside until they were full-size cats. However, living in a small house with a cat door and four other cats, this grew more and more difficult as they grew older and more active. I keep them under my eye as much as possible when they're outdoors and soon they'll be at a size where they won't be snack-sized for a hungry owl or hawk. They do seem to have an innate sense to stay near cover and are aware and vigilant. Perhaps this comes from having a feral or semi-feral mama.<br />
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-7gu65sxJ4Rk/WXuEdbzhZKI/AAAAAAAAJ0E/jBvi7F1d778vFPmnvUe95DyT91h2I3Y1QCLcBGAs/s1600/IMG_2979.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1453" data-original-width="1600" height="290" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-7gu65sxJ4Rk/WXuEdbzhZKI/AAAAAAAAJ0E/jBvi7F1d778vFPmnvUe95DyT91h2I3Y1QCLcBGAs/s320/IMG_2979.JPG" width="320" /></a><br />
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The compost heap exerted its charms on a new generation of Frogpondians. <br />
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Both the hens and the kittens ogled each other for a short time, no doubt each wondering if the creature they were looking at might be edible. "Too big," seems to have been the joint conclusion.<br />
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The hens have accepted the kittens as part of their universe and now everyone mostly ignores each other as they forage. There's more than enough compost heap to go around.<br />
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<br />Lesliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07343313551217575070noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2838101547496158879.post-61082624705535331932017-07-27T11:36:00.000-07:002017-07-27T11:36:40.175-07:00The Battle for Tomatoes<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ydnCQuUzL5c/WXn4cEkPnYI/AAAAAAAAJyw/_6vGDX_EO-YBp8C4rnV7f8eQ4fyrkZnvwCLcBGAs/s1600/IMG_1040.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ydnCQuUzL5c/WXn4cEkPnYI/AAAAAAAAJyw/_6vGDX_EO-YBp8C4rnV7f8eQ4fyrkZnvwCLcBGAs/s400/IMG_1040.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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This is the second summer that cherry tomatoes have self-sown in the packed earth next to the carport. Surprisingly, they bore more fruit than the store-bought plants in the raised beds. I built on last year's success by preparing more of a bed for them and adding several loads of compost, a ring of rocks and fencing to keep the chickens out. In the spring, seedlings again sprouted and the four I kept did splendidly (they are as tall as I am) until the rodent army descended. After the voles and gophers had destroyed everything else farther from the house, this bed has become the last battleground. It's easier to guard because it's got the concrete pad of the carport on one side plus the back door is glass and looks right to it. However, the enemy is sneaky and patient...<br />
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Voles adore almost-ripe tomatoes. They scamper up, down and through the plants as they search for the largest fruit -- the same fruit that I've been keeping my own eyes on because I also adore tomatoes. They also break and bend branches as they fill their bellies. <br />
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
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Yesterday afternoon when I returned home from visiting Dorothea, the plants looked fine. When I came back outside a few hours later, the plants had been ravaged -- branches bent down, bare stems where larger tomatoes had been and a scattering of small green ones thrown about the carport. <br />
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I stood there and felt the same helplessness and resignation that always comes over me when confronted by this destruction. Then I noticed fresh digging at an old gopher hole on the edge of the carport and suddenly something in me snapped. I got a shovel and stuck the hose down that hole and turned on the water. Then I waited above the hole with the shovel head pointed down. When that first vole stuck his wet snout out of the water, he never knew what hit him. Ditto with the second vole that popped up a little farther down. I have always shied away from killing, but yesterday something shifted inside myself -- I had no squeamishness or hesitation with that shovel. And I felt absolutely elated afterwards.<br />
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This morning there was no vole damage. Feeling incredibly competent and proud of myself, I went over to congratulate the tomato plants...and discovered the just hatched baby tomato horn worms.<br />
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The ones I could find have been picked off and dispatched with my foot. <br />
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I'm curious to see what plague the universe has next in store for my last remnant of a garden.<br />
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<br />Lesliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07343313551217575070noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2838101547496158879.post-67467104059992260862017-07-25T10:53:00.001-07:002017-07-25T10:53:06.794-07:00Frogpond Hits the Big Screen<br />
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As promised, here are some pictures of the movie making at Frogpond last Saturday. They really were a lovely group of people. They absolutely loved what they were doing and had fun, but were totally focused on their craft. This movie short is in the dystopian science fictiongenre and will be shown at a competition in San Francisco this fall. Although the entire movie is only going to be about twelve minutes long, it took them six hours just to nail down this one scene (I think there are to be three or maybe four scenes in the entire thing). <br />
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I wish them great success!Lesliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07343313551217575070noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2838101547496158879.post-2520179317592499392017-07-24T06:30:00.001-07:002017-07-24T06:30:52.194-07:00Drip-Drip-DripThis godawful heat wave that has hit our little section of the planet has now lasted for about a month. Although summer rain here is a rare thing, that doesn't stop me from wishing, longing and praying for a bit of rain to come our way and cool things down. <br />
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Yesterday my prayers were answered, as we had our very own tiny (but significant) precipitation event: water was dripping from the light fixture in the hallway. It appears that the air conditioner fan up in the attic sprung a leak from one of the pipes that drains the condensed water out of the house. We climbed up there to see if we could fix this ourselves, but can't figure out where the water is coming from. So a call will go to the nice air conditioner repairman this morning after they open. <br />
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In the meantime, I have the lovely sound of rain to brighten my Monday.<br />
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Lesliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07343313551217575070noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2838101547496158879.post-91543960893985941352017-07-22T20:00:00.004-07:002017-07-22T20:00:57.236-07:00On Location So after Bruce got home from the landfill this morning, the day took a surreal twist: Bruce informed me that a small movie crew was showing up to shoot a few scenes for an amateur science fiction short. Bruce had offered the barn as a location a while back to a coworker who is the producer. He insists that he had told me that they were coming today, and I believe him -- but he never reminded me once last week. He didn't even remind me this morning. He reminded me as we were getting ready to eat lunch that they were coming at three in the afternoon. I went a tiny bit ballistic.<br />
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The stall they wanted to use was the largest one on the end -- the one that the geese sleep and poop in every night. I've been meaning to clean out the straw for an embarrassingly long time. Well, now it's been cleaned. Another thing I haven't done in a very long time is brush down the streamers of cobwebs that festoon the beams, light fixtures and every other surface of the barn. We were asked to leave all of them, as they wanted the stall to look very old and disused. Not exactly something to have me glowing with pride, but I will say that the film crew was very excited by the perfect look they conveyed. So now the cobwebs in my barn have been immortalized and I'm sure the spiders are quite pleased.<br />
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Actually, the seven people who showed up to do this are all very nice (they're still outside finishing up) and I enjoyed watching them at work. It also did me good to hear the praise they heaped on Frogpond. I've been so disenchanted by fire, smoke, gophers and weeds that my own eyes have been focused a lot on failure, disappointment, work that hasn't been done and ugliness. Today was a reality check that Frogpond is an amazing place. I needed the reminder.<br />
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Pictures to come.<br />
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<br />Lesliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07343313551217575070noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2838101547496158879.post-59688176568144172412017-07-22T11:27:00.004-07:002017-07-23T07:10:55.647-07:00Frogpond NewsI just waved goodbye to Bruce, the boys, and the two dogs as they set off for the Milton landfill. The truck bed was filled with trash and they pulled a trailer tightly packed with dry grass and branches. Every load that leaves makes me a little more easy. <br />
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The Detwiler Fire has grown to 75,000 acres and taken 70 homes, but is now 25% contained. People are being allowed to return to the town of Mariposa and the news is that the firefighters have turned the corner in containing this fire. Hopefully they will have it completely out in the next two weeks. Here is a link to a local paper's report on it:<br />
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http://www.sierrastar.com/news/local/article163045583.html<br />
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Even though the gopher huge population around here has gone down quite a bit (we manage to kill 15-20 a day), they still are wreaking all sorts of destruction on my plants. A ten year old scarlet trumpet vine that climbed the fence and a four year old olive tree (that had just begun bearing olives) are the latest casualties. Gophers also finally discovered my lilies, but at least they were through blooming. I've decided that when the gophers have been defeated, I won't replant in the areas that are farther from the house. For some time I've realized that I've given too much time and effort trying to keep the more distant gardens alive. As long as the trees, roses and vines were doing moderately well, I found it impossible to give up on them, but now that the gophers have had there way I'll pull them up. If I do replant, it will be with California natives that won't require much care from me once they get established. With a less spread out growing area, I can then devote myself to more intensively tending plants close to the house. At least, that's the plan.<br />
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Wildfires, gophers, and a heat wave that just goes on and on -- this is certainly not the most pleasant of summers, but I'm doing my best to keep a positive outlook on things. <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The last lily to bloom</td></tr>
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<br />Lesliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07343313551217575070noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2838101547496158879.post-2848022559636506382017-07-18T08:48:00.000-07:002017-07-18T08:48:07.429-07:00The TimTom Tumbler<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Ikea makes awesome cat toys: not only are they responsible for the most fun wastepaper basket on the planet, but they also put out a carnival-worthy Kitty Tumbler. The flexible wire sides give it a fine bounce and the orange-red color just makes us happy.<br />
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Both kittens are fine acrobats, but TimTom has shown an exceptional talent in the handling of this apparatus. He's learned how to throw himself against the sides to tip it over.<br />
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Once he gets that thing moving, he can erratically bump and lurch it all the way down the hall. <br />
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Thank you Ikea.Lesliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07343313551217575070noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2838101547496158879.post-71732665810823946652017-07-17T14:02:00.000-07:002017-07-18T06:14:48.614-07:00Fire Season <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Last Monday the large house that sits across the street and up the hill caught on fire and I didn't even notice. I came home that afternoon and saw fire trucks, ambulances, and other vehicles in their yard, but there was no fire or damage that I could see. I didn't smell smoke, which one would think would linger. There were a number of people wandering about, some in fire gear, but there was no sense of urgency in the scene. It had the look of an emergency but not the feel of one. I called Bruce and described what I saw and he thought it might have been a medical emergency and perhaps extra personnel came along for training. As we have never met the people in the house, I decided not to go there to find out what had happened. In retrospect, I'm rather amazed by my appalling lack of curiosity. Eventually the fire crews and other people got in their trucks and drove away. The driver of one firetruck saw me in the driveway (I was weeding as I kept an eye on things) and gave me a friendly wave and tootle of his horn as he passed. </div>
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On Friday, when Jonathan and Joseph stopped by, they told us that, yes, there had indeed been a fire at that house. It had started at noon in their attic but the fire crew had it completely out by the time I got home at four. The flames had burnt through places in the roof, but on the opposite side of the house from where I was. When I checked back online, there was information on it, including the fact that a full complement of air and land units was sent due to the extreme dryness of the vegetation and because our residential area backs up to wildland. One spark, blown on the wind, had the potential to set the entire hillside on fire. </div>
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Which is why when Jonathan and Joseph offered to work for us again, we asked if they could come the very next day to help load and haul away more branches and dead grass. They did this, and came again today to finish clearing the dry litter and grass from the pad our house sits on. They'll be back again on Wednesday -- this time to finish clearing dead grass from the sides of our driveway (and also hunt a few gophers while they're at it). </div>
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The threat of fire is with us every day. Coming home from shopping yesterday, we reached the highway that leads to our home, and over the hills a thick plume of smoke drifted upwards. From a distance it was hard to tell where it was coming from, but as we drove closer we determined that it was to the east of us. Now we know that this fire is about 40 miles away, towards Yosemite and has already consumed over 7,000 acres. As of the last report, there is zero containment.</div>
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Today, the wind is blowing the smoke west over our hills and my eyes sting. Every summer seems to be worse than the one before. I'll admit that I'm becoming tired of this worry that hangs over me. I dream of rain and greenness... but rain and greenness will come again. And, lucky us; the reinforcements have arrived!</div>
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<br />Lesliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07343313551217575070noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2838101547496158879.post-8500864035303396932017-07-16T08:58:00.000-07:002017-07-17T19:23:01.557-07:00Fleas and an Unexpected Blessing<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Kitten Symmetry </td></tr>
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In KittenWorld, nothing remains the same for long. They've been spending their nights in the living room, curled in the top level of their cat tree. This sleeping arrangement suited me just fine. However, for the past two nights, they've woken from their perch and come pottering in to be with their Mama. Because I'm a fool for cuteness, I put up with their passionately purring little selves -- one pressed up against my neck and the other deep within the sheets. My forbearance quickly ended with the stings from the fleas they shared with me. I carted them back to their cat tree and went back to bed with the bedroom door firmly closed. I'll be checking with the vet next week to see if they're old enough for a dose of Frontline.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sparring on the duck raft just before they left for two years</td></tr>
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Three years ago we had an unexpected blessing when a family with twin boys moved into a house up the road. Joseph and Jonathan came knocking on our door one afternoon selling raffle tickets for their high school and looking for odd jobs. We gave them a try and we were blessed to have them work for us for the next year. They would take on any job that we pointed them too -- cleaning the chicken coop, weed-eating, raking, loading trash and debris into the trailer, and going with Bruce to the landfill to help him unload. Their work ethic was amazing -- cheerful, energetic, and competent. With them, our concern was never about getting them to get the job done but rather that they might overdo it. Because they had just been accepted into the school's football team they were eager to build up their muscles and we were more than eager to pay them to do this (as long as they stayed safe, hydrated and fed). Win/win. They also loved animals and the dogs adored them. And then, one June day they were gone. The family moved away and we never knew where they went. Two years passed.<br />
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So last Friday, right after breakfast, the dogs were barking at something and I saw someone walking up the drive towards the house. I went out to see who it was, and it was Joseph. Or rather, Joseph the tall young man as opposed to Joseph the lanky boy. A few minutes later, Jonathan drove up and we got caught up on the news. The family had gone to a small town about thirty miles away but moved back to their old house a few weeks ago. They were very happy that they could have their senior year at their old high school and had come by to say hi and to see if we had any work for them. Oh, miracle of miracles! Any work for them????? <br />
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Yesterday Joseph and Jonathan raked the dry grass from the round pen and loaded up the trailer with grass and brush. They hauled, cut up and laid oak branches on top of the pile in the trailer. Then Jonathan took care of a few gophers with the pellet gun. Bruce, the boys and the dogs all went to the landfill together and I baked oatmeal cookies for everyone. Even if they weren't helping us, it would have been lovely to see them again to know how they are doing. I had no expectation that they might be looking for work now that they were older and busy with school and their lives. But there they were, ready to dig in. Surrounded as we are by acres of dry weeds, their return is a blessing on many levels.<br />
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<br />Lesliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07343313551217575070noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2838101547496158879.post-41240746171172049032017-07-14T10:18:00.001-07:002017-07-14T14:14:06.043-07:00Haunted<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Every so often I have a strong desire to stroll through an old cemetery, reading headstones . I enjoy the melancholy. Generally, get-togethers that involve standing around, getting to know strangers makes me anxious. But in a cemetery it's different. There, it's safe to get to know folks through learning just the most basic of facts about them: name, dates of birth and death, and birthplace. Sometimes there's more information than that; sometimes less. The dead are non-judgmental and have no problem with me pausing for long minutes, studying the few words that summed up their lives. <br />
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Oak Grove Cemetery sits atop a hill above the tiny town of Knight's Ferry and dates from the Gold Rush. I'd been to this one before, but that had been many years ago. In late June, when the urge to visit a cemetery hit, I invited my friend, Sally, to join me here. <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">View from the back of the cemetery<br />
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We chatted as wandered the paths, reading inscriptions -- it's definitely a more social activity when a friend is along. The morning was heating up and we were getting hungry for lunch as we got towards the far end of the cemetery. <br />
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This headstone faces outward towards the rolling hills and this was the first time I'd gone around to read the inscription:<br />
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Sacred to the Memory of<br />
<b>MARY</b><br />
the beloved & devoted Wife of<br />
<b>CAPT'n THO's DENNIS</b><br />
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Born in London, England in 1805 & departed this Life at<br />
Knights Ferry in 1866.<br />
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She died as she lived, peaceably & calmly in a Strange Land<br />
in the arms of a Stranger. Angels will caress the tears of<br />
those few True Friends (for she had some) that loved her for<br />
her real worth.<br />
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{There's also a longish poem on the bottom, but I can't quite read it from my photograph. I'll go back and get that}<br />
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On the back of this stone is another epitaph for her son:<br />
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<b> GEORGE DENNIS</b><br />
Born in London, England 1831<br />
Died at Knights Ferry 1860<br />
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This headstone's two inscriptions, have profoundly affected me and I cannot get them out of my mind. I was astounded when I read Mary's, and the questions I asked myself then continue to tumble around my head. Who was the Stranger who held her when she died? Who were her few True Friends? What were other people saying about her? How did her son die? Why is she at the back of cemetery facing out? Where is her husband buried? In short, what is Mary Dennis' story? She has captured my heart and imagination. <br />
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Since that day, I've been on a sort of quest to learn more about this woman who has, in a strange way, become dear to me. (more to come)<br />
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<br />Lesliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07343313551217575070noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2838101547496158879.post-70213321795700063412017-07-12T18:40:00.003-07:002017-07-12T18:44:27.956-07:00Horrid Kittens<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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These small kittens of mine -- like the little girl with the curl in the Longfellow nursery rhyme, when they are good, they are very, very good and when they are bad, they are horrid. <br />
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Yesterday this mess was waiting for me in the bathroom when I went in to get ready to go to town. I'd wondered what the kittens were up to as I hadn't seen them in awhile. It appears that they'd been quite busy. <br />
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The sanctimonious look on Arby's face as he checked out my reaction makes me smile every time I look at this picture. He hopped up on the counter for a good view.<br />
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An unrepentant Hecuba wandered in after us and showed off her technique by batting the trash around some more.<br />
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Then she climbed back into the waste basket to remove the bits of trash that were still in there. I think that TimTom might have been behind her (sleeping, perhaps?), because suddenly he appeared and had great fun annoying his sister.<br />
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Despite the kittens assistance, I got the garbage back where it belonged without too much difficulty. Then I finally got ready to go to town.<br />
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Now the wastebasket resides on top of the toilet tank where it should be safe for another week or so...if I'm lucky.<br />
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Lesliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07343313551217575070noreply@blogger.com2