The Last Day of January

Today was yet another cold, foggy day, and the sun only made a brief appearance towards afternoon.  I managed to get home before dark, but the fog had already descended again and everything was muted and grey again when the dogs and I took our walk on the serpentine trail.
But there were two cool things that happened.  The first was that the early darkness called out the resident Great Horned Owl.  These owls have the most hauntingly beautiful cry.  It's a low, melodic "Hoo...Hoo...Hooooo..."  Very dignified.  Very restrained.  Ancient and sorrowful.  As the sound weaves through the dark oak trees, I'm transported back to all the dark fairy tales of my childhood -- especially "Hansel and Gretel".  Great Horned Owl hoots were made for fairy tales!  I love them for that.

The second cool thing was that as I was finishing up the serpentine trail, the setting sun briefly shone through the fog and turned the entire western sky crimson.  Those five minutes of brilliant color after a day of grey were amazing and very much appreciated.

To be blunt, I've been in a severe funk these past few days.  OK, more than a funk.  I've been feeling downright gloomy.  Angry.  Pessimistic.  Pissed off at the world in general.  Did I say angry?  I can't really put my finger on why.  But today I'm finally managing to get past it.  This afternoon I was tutoring a small group of students after school and the power very briefly went out.  No lights.  The eight students instantly turned anxious eyes to look at me in the dimness of the classroom.  I laughed and said, "Why are you looking at me?  Do you think that I'm God and can turn the lights on again?"  They relaxed and laughed too and, suddenly, I felt better than I have in days.  I don't really know why this would be so, other than I've been trying so hard (and failing) to be in control of things. 

Today I was finally able to just accept that I'm not in charge.  What a relief.  Right after that, the lights came on again. 

Max Gets a Reality Check

Well, the other shoe has hit the floor with a thud.  Saturday was such a good one as far as Max settling in to life inside the house.  So good, in fact, that he didn't want to go out and we let him sleep on the mat by the front door where he'd curled up. 

At around eleven that night, as I was tucked in bed doing the NYT crossword puzzle on my iPad and gradually falling asleep,  I was catapulted awake by a cat fight taking place under my very nose.  Dear Max, deciding that he wanted to sleep on the bed, had nonchalantly hopped up.  Unfortunately, Mulligan and Arby were already ensconced and they, as already stated, do not share well.  Arby, bless his round furry head never knew what was happening, but Mulligan, who was at the foot of the bed and was almost leaped upon by the completely ignorant Max, went into full-out banshee mode.  She lit into Max, spiky claws flying, like the little six-pound she-devil she is.  Max never knew what hit him and completely freaked out -- the next moment he was flying across the room with a furious Mully hot on his tail, both of them yowling up a blue streak. 

No fool, Max hurriedly left the house and spent the night in the garage.  Within the house, things gradually quieted down.  It took awhile for Mully and Arby to decide climb back into bed.  I was asleep before either one of them came back.  But, by morning, Arby had claimed my pillow, between my head and the headboard, as his own.  I think that he felt safer with my face between himself and any danger.  Meanwhile, Mully was sprawled out, as long as she could make her small body go, over as much bed real estate as she could manage.  Staking her claim.






I'm glad to say that Max appears to have quickly recovered from all of this.  He came inside this morning for breakfast and a bowl of milk.  He appears to be resigned to the fact that becoming an inside cat may take a bit longer than originally anticipated.  He's willing to wait.  Everything will come up right in the end!

Max Moving In

This week has been one of stunning achievements for Max -- he's rapidly inching his way into being an inside cat.  What started as a few tentative forays into the house...

...has developed into into his very gradually easing his way into being the 5th Frogpond cat.

Arby and the other cats haven't been especially enthusiastic (to put it mildly) about this turn of events, but seem to have become resigned to the fact that Max is here to stay.  Max is so mellow and unflappable that this attitude has definitely helped in this process.

This morning, Max decided to give the bed a try.  I don't know where this cat has come from, but he definitely was a house cat at some point in his life.  He's so at ease and comfortable.  I wish that I knew his story.

Arby and Zelda checking
things out while Max is on the bed

Happy Boy



Zelda,Arby, Multipass and Mulligan are doing their feline best to accept the newcomer into the inner circle.  Sharing doesn't come easily for cats.  But we're getting there.

Ruts

A view of the rut from the top of the drive that was carved into our driveway from Sunday's rain.  For my little Honda Fit, it's like crossing the Grand Canyon - the steep sides perfectly cradling its dinky tires.  Getting back out is a scramble as we send gravel flying.

If I was a kid, this new gorge down the drive would be too tempting to pass up.  I'd be out there with a hose, creating plunging mini-rapids, with maybe a dam or two to keep things interesting.

Instead, we've contracted the guys at the local rock and gravel place to come and spread several tons of gravel.  They should be here within the next few weeks and it will cost several thousand dollars .  Until then, the Honda and I will continue to gracefully lurch across our rut.

Speaking of ruts...
at the bottom of our drive, the dogs and I turned right, walked down the road about 1/8 mile, climbed over our lower gate and passed on to the neighbor's serpentine path for our normal walk. 

Same walk; same woods; same rosy winter sunset; same dark-barked lichen covered oaks.  I'm wondering if perhaps this is beginning to sound like a rut.

 For no particular reason that I can think of (OK, there's one angry parent at school who springs to mind), lately I've been feeling tired and disheartened with the whole teaching profession.  This happens to me periodically throughout the year, so I don't get too wound up when this hits.  I know that this feeling will pass and my equilibrium will return.  But when I'm in this dark place, even mustering up the energy to put on my boots and set off for an evening walk is just about at my limit. 

I'm glad I went.  The light in the sky was amazing -- I didn't think that my little camera would capture it, but it did.

Tonight as we walked, a great horned owl called down to us from the treetops.  These owls have the classic melodic, low-toned hoots that sound like, "Whoo-who-who-whoo!  Whoo-who-who-whooo!"  A sad sort of song that matched my mood, yet made me feel better.  Owls will do that.

At the end of our walk, there were the llamas hanging around the path (I think they were waiting for us).  Whenever we come up, they always gaze at us with such startled goofy looks, yet seem to enjoy the interaction. 

OK, so I ask you -- just how much of a rut can you be in if you get to pass this on your nightly walk???

After the Storms

Sunday, while not rainy, the skies were gloomy and gray -- perfect stay-indoors-and-correct-papers sort of weather.  Which is what I did.  I kept at it until the entire massive stack had been taken care of.  It's always such a weight off of me when I've managed to get caught up with my grading.  Every time I complete a correcting marathon, I vow that I'll keep up with the paperwork forever, so help me God.  We'll see how it goes this time.

I took a break from schoolwork and took the dogs for a walk in the late afternoon.  There was just the smallest dribble of water coming from the pipe that collects the watershed water from our hill and funnels it into the pond. Not the sort of deluge that will fill the pond, I'll admit, but we'll take what we can get. 

On our walk we came across several oak trees that were toppled in Friday night's storm.  This was a surprise, as it didn't seem like the wind was all that strong. 


These two trees were on our neighbor's property with the serpentine path.  We also lost one on the slope behind our garage. 

It's in the natural order of things for every tree to eventually give it up and lie down.  But it's always a bit of a shock to walk about after a storm and come across this sort of destruction -- that must have been some fierce wind coming through.


Today I had to go back to work.  There were several strong rain showers throughout the day and the rain gauge measured 1.08" of rain when I got home. But I didn't need to look at the gauge to know that we'd had a downpour or two while I was away -- coming up the drive, the car's left tires slid into a brand-new rut that was so deep that for a moment I feared we might not scramble out.  That's one impressive chasm, newly carved down our driveway.  I'll take a picture tomorrow.

It's supposed to warm up and dry out for the next week or so.  I'm already scanning the horizon for clouds, looking forward to our next bout of wet weather.

Real Rain at Last

It rained gently, but steadily, for most of the night and our weather station rain gauge reads at 0.9". That's pretty good for here.  I'd wake up periodically and kneel on my pillows to look and listen at the high window that's above our bed.  I can't think of a sweeter sound than the pattering of raindrops. By this morning, the sun was off-and-on peeking through the clouds, but we have a good chance for another storm tomorrow.

Today I was required to attend a series of science workshops at our County Office of Education.  I did a pretty good job (I think) of maintaining a good attitude about having to go to school on a Saturday, but I sure didn't want to climb into the car to drive down to Stockton on my day off.  Especially since all I really wanted to do was wander about the pond, hills and garden, admiring all the new lovely mud and puddles.  Instead, I sat inside a mostly windowless building for the entire day, listening to speakers talk about the wonders of the natural world.  Life does have its little ironies.

By the time I got home again, it was almost four o'clock.  As I drove up the drive, I was welcomed by a magnificent mass of clouds over Gopher Ridge, with the sun streaming from behind them.  I ran inside and grabbed my camera and the clouds were kind enough to maintain most of their glory until after I'd clicked their portraits. 

Bruce had a big pot of beef-barley soup on the stove and the house smelled delicious.  So, after the clouds, that was my second big welcome home.



Out in the laundryroom, the four cats were meowing and milling around their food dishes, impatiently waiting to be fed.  Welcome number three.

                                                  Frogpond -- it's wonderful to be home.

Rain

A quarter of an inch.  I'll take it!  The rain has just sort of half-heartedly spattered all day.  Towards evening, the drops turned into real rain. 




It's dark outside now.  When I go outside, I hear the sound of rain falling.  The most beautiful sound in the world.



More, please?

Well.  The word that best describes this first so-called rainstorm is:  anemic. It took the entire day for the clouds to eventually cover the sky.  When, by late afternoon, they finally did, the rain squeezed out of them was barely a drizzle.  They've had snow up in the mountains and a goodly amount of rain about 70 miles north of us -- I'm glad of that.  And hopefully the next band of moisture, slated to stream through Friday night, will drop a bit farther south and finally dump on us too.

For now, I must content myself by leaning over the porch rail and sniffing the tantalizing dampness.  Even with just this spattering, the night air smells delightfully of mushrooms.

Waiting for the Rain

That long-awaited winter storm is getting closer and closer.  There's a 90% chance of rain by tomorrow morning after ten.  Another, much larger, storm is lined up to come in on Friday and more (smaller) storms predicted through next Wednesday.  I take nothing for granted -- I know that a 90% chance of rain means that there's a 10% chance that it won't rain...

This evening the dogs and I took our long walk on the winding trail next door.  Our feet kicked up little clouds of dust with every step, which is a depressing thing to see in January.  A few, high clouds have streamed across the sky and we had a soft, cherry-colored sunset.  Fingers crossed that tomorrow the skies are grey, the rains pour down and turn all that dust into lovely, sloppy mud.                   

Max on his table, with covered wicker basket and heater

Out in the garage, our Max (who I think will be moving into the house very soon) is ready for whatever storms may come.  



A Cold Night -- At Last!

Today was a busy sort of day for a day off.  Our school's principal and his family stopped by for a visit in the morning.  They pass our place on the way to their family cabin about once a month and we had  invited them to come and see the place as they passed -- and today was the day.  Naturally this meant a general cleaning of the house and yard.   Even though the ducks managed to poop on the front stoop at the last minute, the visit was a success.  The dogs adored having the children throw the ball into the water for them to fetch and Arby graciously allowed them to pet him.  And Corny was ecstatic to have more little people feed him apples. 

Hallelujah!  We are at long last getting a change in the dry, warm weather pattern that's been with us since September.  The hills are dry and brown from lack of rain and the days have been unnaturally warm.  But today a cold air mass finally moved in from Canada and today's high was only in the low 40's.  Tonight it's supposed to dip down to 27 degrees, which is positively frigid.  By Thursday we're supposed to receive the first of several rain storms.  Yay! 

Bruce and I spent the afternoon cleaning out the roof gutters of the barn and wrapping the pipes down at the well.  In the garage where Max sleeps, Bruce plugged in a radiant heater so our boy stays warm.

After 4 months of stagnant, unusually warm weather, I'm ready for the wind to blow, the rain to dash down and the mercury to drop.  Bring it on!