Drop by Drop

 

This was the pond last evening.  We had a bit more rain and the pond is a bit larger.  Friday looks like it will be the next opportunity for a storm.  Keep 'em coming!

Trapped

Sunday morning was spent working on coloring the borders of our homemade Corny Christmas cards.  Comforting work, that -- the patterns are embossed, so all I have to do is embellish them with my red and green Sharpies.  This is followed up by dabs of silver dots all around the frame (my favorite part, of course).

As usual, I'm about two weeks late in all of this, but I've grown so used to always being behind with my Christmas cards that this has become part of the tradition.

In the afternoon we drove down to Manteca under gray skies and picked up the Corny photos from Costco and did some other shopping.  By the time we were done, it was almost four o'clock.  In our hurry to get home before dark, we decided to skip grocery shopping at our favorite market in Modesto and stop at a smaller one that was on the way home.  It was a noble plan, but was quickly doomed to failure when we ran into a former neighbor whom we hadn't seen in about ten years -- a nice man, but one who obviously felt that he needed to catch up on the entire ten years.  It took about 45 minutes before for Bruce and I to finally gracefully (I hope) escape.  You can imagine my horrow when I ran to into him again in the cheese section.  Fifteen long minutes later (in which I uttered about 10 words to his 10,000), we finally made it to the checkout line.  He cheerfully followed us, talking the entire way.  When we'd paid the cashier we got in a final "Merry Christmas!" and then swiftly pushed our cart out to the parking lot.  Our not-so-laudable goal was to be gone before he came out.  Not exactly the Christmas spirit, I know.  But the man is cheerful, happily married and simply loves to talk (listen -- not so much).  

Neither one of us said a word as we drove home in the dark, but it was lovely listening to Christmas music.

Gray Saturday

Bruce and I stayed home today and practiced coughing together.  Being sick together on a damp, gloomy Saturday had at least one plus-point -- we got through the entire stack of mail that's been accumulating since last April.  Two trash bags later, the wooden mail carrier is now holding two thin catalogs and one magazine.  Everything else was sorted through and then either dumped or filed. 

Yesterday's school shooting in Connecticut has left our school staff shaken and sad. Our principal stopped by every classroom yesterday morning, called each teacher outside and told what had happened.  He made the decision (a wise one, I think) to say nothing of it to the students -- it was a Friday and it seemed better to let the parents talk this over with their children.  However, it wasn't easy to go through the day as though nothing had happened.

It will be interesting to see what Monday brings.

Meteors

It took awhile, but Bruce finally caught the cold that I've been throwing at him for the past two weeks.  He gave it up and came home before noon yesterday and has been sniffling and hacking ever since.

However, that didn't stop us from trotting out in the frozen air last night to view meteor showers.  Actually, the first time he told me that he was doing this I never moved off the chair in front of my computer.  No way was I leaving the nice warm house to search for tiny streaks of light in the sky.  So, off he went and here I sat.  When he came in 10 minutes later, though, to get his camera and told me that he'd seen about seven meteors shoot past, I changed my mind.  I wore my slippers, though.

So there we stood in the circular drive in front of the house, craning our heads back to look at a brilliant winter sky.  The beauty of the moment was somewhat marred by our intermittent breaks to loudly cough and blow noses.  I'm sure it was during these times that the majority of meteors flashed by.

It was an uncomfortable and rather silly thing to do, especially when sick, but we had a good time.  As there was nothing to do but stand and look up (between nose-blows), we talked together and had the most complete conversation we've had together all week.  We both also saw the same brilliant meteor -- one of the largest I've ever seen -- that silently arced right overhead. 

After a few more minutes, I gave it up and my soggy slippers and I went back inside to be with the cats.  Bruce braved the cold for awhile longer on his own and then he came in too.

The evening was, in a word, splendid.

Green!

The recent rains have banished the last traces of summer -- it's good to see the hills turning green again.  The neighbor cows approve!

Corny Christmas Photo-Shoot 2012

I've been moping around with a cold since last Thursday.  It's not too bad, as colds go, but I stayed home Friday (*OK, here I must go off on a bit of a tangent:  I dislike going to staff parties.  This year, I was honest and admitted that, although I love everyone at our school, I just don't enjoy parties so wouldn't be going to this one.  After a few tries to get me to change my mind, there were shrugs but it was accepted that I wasn't going.  Except I then felt so guilty about letting down the team that I changed my mind on Wednesday and said that Bruce and I would be there after all.  So on Thursday afternoon when I asked our secretary to call a substitute to take my class on Friday because I was sick, everyone laughed and teased that I was faking sick so I wouldn't have to go to the party.  Our principal even felt my forehead and joked that I didn't seem to have a fever.  So, on Friday, after staying home all day with the sniffles, I got dressed up and Bruce and I went to the party to prove that I hadn't stayed home to get out of having to go.  I do marvel at the complex struggles I force myself to have.)

It was a quiet weekend and I didn't do much other than read and correct papers.  But today I gathered together my energy because I'd put off THE most important pre-Christmas tradition of all long enough: The Cornelius Christmas Card Photo-Shoot. 

Cornelius was his typical Christmas photo-shoot self:  obnoxious and willful, with a bit of brattyness thrown in for good measure.  I had to take of a thick layer of crusted mud that caked his flanks, face and mane, then hose the mud from his hooves and sponge dirt off his face. Then I got the clippers and trimmed his bridlepath and brushed out his mane and tail.  When I was almost finished, I briefly thought I was going to become a pancake when a helicopter suddenly was chopping right overhead and Corny woke up enough to try to jump into my arms in a panic.  It's not easy when a 3,000 pound horse thinks he's your baby.

Anyway, eventually I got him more or less decorated (every time he shook his silly face, sparkly stuff went flying).  Then Bruce got his camera and Corny had his usual jolly time being uncooperative, pinning back his ears and making stupid faces.  I have proof:


Corny looking just a tiny bit like Cher

                                                      


 



When the decorations came off and I was leading him back to his pen for dinner, he changed back into my sweet, doofy boy who would do anything for his mommy.

Sigh...

                                      

Draino, anyone?

Bruce worked from home today, so was able to get down to the culvert to take pictures of the branches that the storm left caught against them.

In the light of day, I must admit that the branches don't look nearly as massive as they appeared by flashlight.  What is more striking, though, is seeing how high up they're snagged -- the water almost made it to the top of the road.








It always amazes me how suddenly the creeks here can rise during a downpour.  Twice since we've lived here the water's overtopped the culvert and taken out the road.  Then the people who lived on the other side had to park their cars at the culvert and hike to their houses on foot until the road was repaired.  Considering the glacial rate of road repair around here, I'm more than a little grateful that we live on this side of the creek crossing.

Cornelius appears to have enjoyed overseeing Bruce's picture taking.  He's also looking exceedingly smug -- no doubt proud of how dramatically he's prepared himself for his annual Christmas card photo shoot.  How am I ever going to get all that caked mud out of his fur? 

The Culvert

This evening when I got home there was a message on our answering machine from our unknown neighbors across the road.  Debbie was asking if the culvert passing under the road was on our property or the people who lived on the other side of us.  They wanted to know if they could clear out the area in front of the culvert from debris from the last storm.  I listened to the message and then asked,  "What debris?"  So I went down there with a flashlight to see.  What I found was several massive  tree limbs strewn across the opening of the culvert.  They were wedged high up -- right where the torrent of water stranded them.  Most impressive.  I called back Debbie, introduced myself, and assured her that they were more than welcome to come over any time to haul out the culvert blockage.  She thanked me, and I thanked her. 

The Storm

All last night the wind whistled and moaned around the house and a small rain blew sideways against the windows.  It was a tree-falling sort of wind, and I woke up off and on all through the night, worried by what the morning might bring to light.  When morning arrived, all our trees were still standing and we'd totalled a whopping 0.01" in our rain gauge.  I knew that this was because horizontal rain throws off all measuring tools...but still I was disappointed.

All the weather reports still were talking about this band of rain that was bearing across Northern California and due to dump copious amounts wherever it passed.  The dogs and I took a walk to check out how Frogpond was looking before this storm hit. 

The pipe that drains from the hillside watershed to the pond was modestly trickling.  Meh...

Murphy had fun racing around the pond -- I think that the mixture of rain and wind cranked him up.  He was one wet, happy dog.

The island in the center of the pond has been a peninsula for over a month now. 

Down in the lower pasture, the seasonal creek was at last flowing through the pipes that go under our road. 








It was here that I discovered that my right boot had developed a serious crack. As the rest of me was already pretty much soaked by this time, one additional wet sock hardly made any difference.

Arlo and Seal had gone back up to house to get up on the porch and out of the wet.


Not Murphy -- he was a happy dog in his element...

...and I was a happy human in her element. 

Wind, rain, soaking wet -- bliss!










I came inside and got dried off and soon after the actual storm band came through.  It was cold!  The rain sheeted down.  We wished that we'd finished cleaning out the gutters as the water poured out over the tops. 


And, saints be praised, the pond began to fill.  





The pipe had a robust rush of water flowing out of it.













And soon the peninsula was an island again -- just barely, but we takes what we can get!

By mid-afternoon, the storm band was passed and blue sky shone between the streaming clouds.  It was a lovely, still winter sunset. 

OK, so I'm already pining for the next storm.





Pie and Rain: The Waiting Game

The school's Christmas Craft Bazaar was set to start at 8:00 this morning.  From the first moment I heard of this ungodly early hour for the opening, I couldn't believe that anyone would want to dash out of bed on a Saturday morning in order to gallop off to buy Christmas crafts.  I tentatively brought this up with several of our Parent Club members.  They firmly assured me that our cafeteria doors would open to multitudes of people who would be there early to get the best pick of things.  All right then. 

As I didn't know who else might be showing up that early to get our 4th grade booth open and ready to sell pies, I was there at 8:00 on the dot.  The multitudes of people were not.  Neither were the pies.  As time passed, people did begin to trickle in -- and even though attendance was sparse (at least at the beginning), the mood was convivial and Christmasy. 





Nine o'clock came and went and Sue and I were still waiting for our pies.  We were getting them from a fruit stand just down the road from the school, and, although the man assured us they were on their way, we had nothing in our booth to sell as the minutes ticked along.

The good news (from the perspective of the other booth owners), is that Sue and I took turns wandering among the booths, buying things.  I ended up buying two wreaths, a belt, five necklaces, a scarf, cookies, a perfume stick (don't ask), and one not-yet-delivered pie.  By ten o'clock, after I'd spent almost $200, the pies finally arrived.  Not a moment too soon -- another half hour would have had me in the poorhouse.  After cutting them, setting out the plates and forks, and explaining to the parent helpers how to write the receipts, Sue and I were able to leave with at least a modest sense of success: the pie booth had both pie and the workers to sell it. 

I won't know until Monday if the multitudes ever did show up.  If they did, they would have arrived fresh and well rested.  As for myself, I came home and took a nap.

Tonight it's supposed to dump rain.  So far today, it's been just light drizzle off and on.  This afternoon I went out and cleared dead weeds out of the ditch that runs down the drive, picked the few quinces that are on our tree, threw the porch pumpkins on the compost heap, and generally tidied up.  I now respectfully wait for that first fat raindrop to smack down on Frogpond.

The pies finally came -- surely the rain cannot be far behind?