April Storm

What a difference a day makes.  Yesterday morning, I took this shot of Corny standing in the shade, thinking deep thoughts.  The grass in the pasture is already going yellow from the heat and dismal lack of water.

This morning a decent-sized storm rolled in and we're being blessed with a day of rain.  It's not enough to change the big picture of severe drought, but the short term effect will be to prolong our springtime by a week or so.  At this point, I'm grateful for any sort of reprieve.

One of the things I wanted to do over my break this week is make strawberry jam.  Yesterday I finally believed that this storm was actually going to materialize, so I drove down into the Valley to our favorite fruit stand to buy a flat of strawberries.  Rain damages the ripening fruit, so it made sense to get them before the storm came.

I hauled in the canner and spent the afternoon hulling, mashing, stirring and ladling strawberries.  Some people might say that this seems like an awful lot of effort for something that can be bought from the shelf of any market.  But those poor, ignorant souls couldn't have had jam made from field-grown, just-picked strawberries.






I'm glad I did this yesterday, because today's storm started gently enough, but ended with torrents of rain, flashes of lightning, booming of thunder, flickering of lights and a deluge of pea-sized hail.  I loved every minute of it.

Nothing ever by halves around here.





Oh, and in the midst of all of this, Raleigh, the farrier, arrived to trim Corny's hooves.  We got caught up on all the news while she rasped away and the rain pounded on the metal roof.  Corny doesn't even have to have a lead rope on anymore when she does his feet.  He just stands there and does as he's told -- such a good boy.  I gave Raleigh a jar of jam and a carton of eggs as she left.

Very glad for this storm, but I hope that the strawberry field wasn't hit too hard.

Easter

Our Easter Table

After almost a month of very warm days and no rain, today arrived with gray clouds and a few sprinkles to settle the dust.  This is what the weather is supposed to be like in April.

Mama and Ian came up and we lunched on Salade Nicoise (made by Mama), steamed asparagus with homemade Dijon mayonnaise (me), deviled eggs (me again) and fresh strawberry shortcake for desert.  A perfect spring feast.


I have next week off from school.  This break is most welcome -- I'm looking forward to spending it staying home and seeing a lot less of humanity.  A little peace and quiet for the soul.






Speaking of souls, our dear elder dog, Seal, visited the vet last week and the news is that she's losing weight because her kidneys are failing.  There isn't anything that can be done to reverse the damage, but we can try to keep her going by managing her diet.  On Friday we'd decided it was time to put her down because she's gone downhill so quickly and we don't want her to suffer.  But the last couple of days she's seemed happier and Bruce is thinking that maybe she wants to stay with us a little while longer.  So I think we'll be canceling tomorrow's vet appointment.  Loving animals is simple but complicated.

Seal has never been an in-your-lap affectionate sort of dog.  She clearly loves us, but in a sweetly reserved way.  Very British, one might say.

So yesterday I was surprised when she walked up to me gently wagging her tail as I sat on the porch step drinking tea.  I was even more surprised when she stiffly settled her front half onto my lap.  We enjoyed the sun together and Murphy joined us (he was a little jealous, I think).  Maybe she was saying goodby.  Or was she showing me that she still enjoys life.

Complicated.  But we'll figure it out.

The Rule of Three

The rule of three is a writing principle that suggests that things that come in threes are inherently funnier, more satisfying, or more effective than other numbers of things.

"omne trium perfectum" (everything that comes in threes is perfect)

I found these nine eggs equally divided between three nestboxes.



Who knew that our hens were so wise and literary (not to mention mathematical)?  

Still Life with Toad and Pansy

A helpful pansy sheltering a large and rather lumpy toad under its leaves in the front garden.  I've never seen toads about so early in the spring -- by Friday it's supposed to reach the low 80's.

The Stockade

It's been years since we've made any real attempt at clearing out the dead branches and trees that litter our two properties.  With the drought taking its toll, there are more of them than ever.  A modest amount of deadwood can make an area look woodsy and natural.  Jumbled heaps of them everywhere are just depressing (as well as being a fire hazard).

So I decided to repurpose the ones I could use and burn the rest.  And thus began my New Project: The Stockade.  Last summer one or more deer figured out how to leap over the eight-foot fence around our orchard garden.  The temptation that sent them over the fence was the small pear tree that taunted them from behind the wire with its load of sweet, golden fruit.  One late summer morning I discovered that most of the tree's branches had been snapped off and every pear was gone.  Fortunately the tree has survived and is bravely flowering in a lopsided sort of way.  

The deer are just trying to make a living, but they have to be stopped.  I already had some branches wired to several small sections of the fence, so it didn't take much thought to decide that this was the way to go.  I liked the idea of a project that recycled the wood that we already had to haul off the hills anyway.  The downside to this project is that sorting through and preparing the branches for being wired to the fence is slow going.  I work with a saw and pruners to trim down the twigs and trunks.  Wiring them up isn't hard, but fitting the branches together takes thought.  I'll admit to getting more artsy with the look of the fence than is really practical -- sometimes I'll try the same branch in two or three locations before I'm satisfied.  

I'm also a bit worried that the combined weight of all the branches might serve to knock the entire fence inward.  Wouldn't the deer get a laugh out of that.  At this point, however, I'm too far into this to change my mind.

Besides, I love the rustic, twisted look of my slowly spreading fence.  This picture is from the outside looking in.

And this one is from the raised berry beds looking out.  The new height should give a bit of additional shade to the garden when the heat of summer slams down on us again.

The above pictures make it look like this project is almost finished.  It's not -- I'm less than a fourth of the way around the garden  I still have over half of one of the long sides to complete and then almost all of the stretch along our driveway.  But I'm carrying on like a little worker ant emptying a grain sack, one small piece at a time.

The hope of this two-legged ant is to get the stockade completed before the next pear crop ripens.

March

Well, it's March and the rainy season, such as it was, is winding down.  Earlier this week, a weak storm finally broke through our high pressure system and gave us about a quarter of an inch.   I'm grateful for this rain as it means I don't have to water for a few days but it doesn't do much to raise our water table or fill the pond.  I'm still hoping that a monster storm or two or three roars in by the end of the month.  It could happen.

Don't Let's Go to the Dogs Tonight

It was back to school today.  Funny thing - it was such a relief to peel myself away from school for a time, but when I was surrounded by my crowd of nine-year-olds again I was strikingly aware of how much I'd missed them. I'm guessing that this is much like how a released lunatic must miss their asylum.  Yes, indeed...I missed my asylum (but is it Friday yet?).

While in Ashland last week, I visited a most lovely independent bookstore called Bloomsbury Books.  I handed the young woman behind the counter a list of books I was interested in reading.  She carefully checked every one of them out on her computer and I found out that many of them were no longer in print and the bookstore didn't have the other ones.  I was brave and polite about this depressing news because Bloomsbury Books was the kind of bookstore where it's impossible for me not to fall in love with all sorts of books I didn't know existed.  In other words, I wasn't worried about finding something to take away with me. However, the salesclerk continued to study my list of titles and then said, "You know, I think we have something that you might like."  She left for a moment and came back with this:

She was right -- this book is the kind of read that delights, even as it occasionally horrifies.  The author, Alexandra Fuller (who I'd never heard of before) has a lyrical way with words and I can tell that she loves playing with them.  She is sly, clever, humane, human and very funny.  Sometimes all at once.  And the story she tells, of growing up in Zimbabwe/Rhodesia is one that is so new to me that my world has enlarged and altered as I read it.  I love this sort of book most of all.

I'm almost finished with it.  But I'm not sad -- there's a prequel and a sequel.

Catch-Up Post

I'm missing my blog like crazy, but am now in the habit of not keeping up with it.  I'm still taking pictures of the minutia in my life that strikes my fancy and following up by writing witty blog posts to go along with them...in my head.  Not a good way of recording anything.  I've also dropped away from checking other people's blogs on a regular basis.  I think I miss that even more than I do posting my own stuff.

 Over in the eastern part of the country, the winter without end continues to bring misery to thousands.  Here in my part of the west coast, we're back to above-average temperatures and no rain.  It looks like we're going to have another dry summer and our pond, so newly repopulated with frogs, is going to disappear once again.  However, if I look at the glass as half full (hah!), we do have more water in it right now than we did at the end of the rainy season last year.  With a bit of luck, we'll be getting a bit more rain between now and the end of April.  It could happen...

I had this past week off from school, didn't blog but did a lot of stuff -- most of it not involving school.  A nice break.

Bruce and I drove up to the small town of Yreka up in the far reaches of California to surprise his mom for her birthday.



Mt. Shasta was snow-covered again.  The drought had melted everything down to bare earth, but the last storms got her looking as she should again.

Colleen (sister), Bruce, Ginger and Colleen's husband, Pete

I think that the surprise part of this visit worked magnificently -- Ginger was astounded to see her son walk through the door.  Lots of hugs and some tears too.  It was a great surprise and a lovely visit.

Colleen, Mark (brother), Bruce, and Ward (other brother)

I don't often do family things like this anymore and I had my own surprise of how much I enjoyed visiting and just being a part of this.

Another good thing about suddenly deciding to go on this visit is that I finally had to set down and finish the project of three scarves that had been languishing on my loom since last summer. I had to finish all three of them before I could cut it off the loom.  This is the green one that I gave to Ginger.  The fiber's an alpaca/silk blend and the scarf turned out soft and as light as gossamer.  Happy me!

We had a leisurely drive up to Ashland, Oregon the next day.  It's a charming college town (lots of bookstores) where we spent hours walking through the park, eating, and browsing in shops.  Bruce and I haven't had a day like this in years.









Ashland also puts on a yearly Shakespeare Festival every summer, so there was evidence of the Bard all through the center of town.

This is how I look when I can hardly wait to walk into a bookstore.  Now you know.

To round out the day, when we returned to Yreka, we visited one of the old cemeteries.

Once back home, I finished the fringe on the other two scarves...

...had a sushi lunch with Mama...



   

Lizzy discovered that Bella is happy to ride in a kayak

...and spent a day at home with daughter Lizzy and her two dogs (my grandpups).











Tonight I sit finishing this blog while on the other end of the table looms a raggedy stack of papers I need to enter in my gradebook.  I also have lesson plans to type up.  And my next book study to set up.  And did I mention that I came down with a cold yesterday?

None of this matters -- the work will get done (in time) and my cold will get better.  It was a good week and I'm counting my blessings.  Yup, happy me.

Rain Joy

 Rain at last.  I was just a teeny-tiny bit excited.  Alright, I was more than  a teeny-tiny bit excited.  I was over-the-moon, jumping around in my blue boots holding an umbrella ecstatic.  Photographic evidence of said ecstasy to the left.

The rain came pelting down in waves, from Saturday through Sunday.  We got over two inches, which was great but still not enough.  When the sun broke out today, the hills and noticeably larger pond were lovely but I'm ungrateful enough to long for more grey skies and more sheets of rain.

I'm living in the wrong place.

That said, I'm living in the right place.  I had today off, so began my Monday by falling in love with my slowly-growing pond all over again.

I took a walk around the pond this morning and discovered Max fast asleep in the warm grass.  He was oblivious to the raucous honking and splashing of the geese.

In the afternoon I trundled my kayak down from the barn in the handcart and paddled around for a bit.

Yes; I'm living in the right place.  At least for now.

Another Storm!

After an entire month of no rain (the driest January on record), a juicy weather system has finally settled over most of Northern California, including the bit of the state known as Frogpond Acres.  Saints be praised.

Yesterday afternoon when I got home from school I changed and dashed out the door to get as much walking in before the storm began.  The sky grew darker and darker and the winds gusted through the trees as Murphy and I marched around the pond.  The first drops plooshed down as I was dragging wind-fallen cottonwood branches up to the burn pile.  I love the wet, but it seemed like a good time to go inside.

To people who regularly get rain it must seem mighty strange, this amazement and exultation of mine at the phenomenon of water falling from the sky.