July 26, 2007
Two bedrooms painted and new flooring. Started putting stuff back. There is a trick about interior painting. The focus is on the paint: Color, texture, coordination, brand, and so on. One goes to one or two stores, looks a color charts. A store might even be able to download your room(s) and simulate different colors to see what looks best. But that is not what it really is all about. It is all about moving furniture, clothes, finding room elsewhere in the house for these things, cleaning up under the furniture that is now moved, removing hardware from the walls and doors, wall plugs, seeing repairs that are needed, seeing clothes that no longer fit, need repair, out of fashion. One paints. Then it all has to be moved back. Curtain brackets rehung, pictures rehung, door knobs fitted, wall plug covers reattached. If the curtains were not clean before, maybe now? Interior painting is not about painting. It is about home ecosystems. Even if one chooses to paint the same colors, this is all about radical change. If one does it, say, every five years, then it is usual and customary maintenance, but it is not ‘just painting.’
Watered trees above the creek this morning. The dawn redwood is feeling stress. I gave it about 5 gallons of water. I also watered the lower pasture. Looked good. Saw a couple of hens with young chicks -- about midway in size between a robin and a duck. Sharon said she also saw hens and chicks -- about a dozen. She said Cappy saw them, was curiously inquisitive, but a hen confronted him. He fled.
Also saw a doe and young buck. The drops from the apple tree seem to be attracting deer. The word is out. We have Fiona. Then we have an older, pregnant doe. There is a doe with a fawn, speckled with nubbin horns. Then, this morning, there is a doe with a yearling buck -- a spike. They come and go. Most of the time, none are here.
When I watered above the creek this morning, on the trail were places where deer had cleared the leaves and brush -- spots to lay down. The turkeys do it. Annie, the rabbit does it. Our cats do it. I have seen buffalo wallows in Montana. What is different is the site and materials. Our cats like to dust themselves on garage floors or drive ways -- a hard base. The turkeys prefer really soft ground -- under trees, for example. They create nest size wallows, but often don’t sit like a chicken. They stretch out, leaning against the side, one leg outstretched, wings akimbo. Annie digs troughs and tunnels. When hot she prefers fine powdery dirt to bathe in. It is all about bathing, powdering and scrubbing. One of the early armies -- Greeks, Romans, one of them -- didn’t use water to bath. They were same as the above.
7/30/07
Marine air the last two mornings. Lows in the fifties and highs in the eighties. Lots and lots of green tomatoes. The doe with the spike fawn has a three-point boyfriend. He has a fine bold rack, just coming out of velvet.
Cappy had a tear on right hind quarter. Sharon and I took him to the vet. He was there all day. The vet (she) sewed him up. He also got a crew cut. Tonight he is still dopey, afraid of us (which hurts) and still wanting balance. $ 220+. He ahs freaked out his brother, Manny.
August 1, 2007
Cappy had an off day. We have been keeping him in. Last night he decided he was well and wanted out of the laundry room. Have I mentioned Cappy’s meow? He shrieks. Kept me awake. Up at four. I couldn’t get him to slow down. Finally put him in the sun room. Mr. Manners is still freaked out by his brother. Hisses at him. Don’t know how brotherly love is going to be affected.
100 degrees today. Summer. Hot and dry. When we have clouds, the weatherman says, Dry clouds.
Sharon has plastic liter bottles she fills with water and freezes. When the temperature hits 90 we take one out to Annie. She has learned to cuddle right up to it.
Nubbin’s spots continue to fade. When he bounds across the lawn, he is emphatic, bounding apostrophe-cute.
August 3, 2007
We have had salad tomatoes for about a month. Harvested our first real thing today. They were supposed to be Brandywines. They don’t look like Brandywines...
August 5, 2007
I received a late birthday present on Friday. It was and I read The Deathly Hallows Friday and Saturday. And Sharon read it today. She’s fast!
We have had a couple of mornings in the mid-forties. When I watered trees this morning, they seemed to be doing okay. Some stress, but it looks like those in the lower pasture and near the Dawn Redwood will all make it.
I was running around on my tractor. We’ve had it may nine years. It is 12 horsepower. It is kind of a starting model. It equivalent now is about 17 horsepower. I remember, when we moved onto this property, I was going to be really organic. No need for a lawn tractor. I would do it all manually. Yep. That was good for about maybe six months. Now I am lusting for a 10 horsepower chipper.
Annie, the engineer, has dug below the workbench (and possibly under the foundation of the garage), about 18 inches. Wouldn’t be surprised to see the garage start sinking into the ground.
New water for Brat today.
Cappy’s wound is doing better -- only about a half inch spot to heal. I am not sure the brothers are getting along any better.
Sunday, August 12, 2007
Landed in Oregon IV
July 21, 2007
Too much this week.
Roberta was here until Friday. We had about a half day of rain. We were preparing to paint two bedrooms. Started one today. Had people delivering flooring. Had people tearing out old carpeting and preparing the floor for a red oak flooring.
A new doe and fawn showed up this week. Would have been a spring birth. The fawn was still spotted, small, and had nubbins for horns. They were checking out the apple tree. My guess is that they are able to smell apples that have fallen from the tree.
We determined that the evening prim rose by the kitchen window does in fact bloom during the night. It leaves curl about 6 a.m. into much like a yellow rose.
The phantom rooter has rooted one more night.
The gopher in the garden is starting to work on the tomatoes. Are tomato roots poisonous? Hope so. Stay tuned. Sharon says we will invest in a gopher trap.
Weather in the 80’s. Hints of rain. Great for working.
In the garden I have in one bed what is called The Sculpture. It is a lot of old not used tomato cages, wired, soldered and taped together. Today, saw a red dragon fly. It is in the summer that the carnivore yellow jackets appear. Also, dragon flies. Dragon flies are more like swallows -- they get their prey on the fly. As the sun goes down, one can see them high in the sky, catching those insects that follow the sun’s rays as it sets.
July 21st & 22nd. Painting. Morning, noon and night.
July 23rd. The show started at 8 a.m. We painted some closet doors before they arrived. Flooring going in. Out-of-sight. Stay tuned.
Sharon & Marc
Too much this week.
Roberta was here until Friday. We had about a half day of rain. We were preparing to paint two bedrooms. Started one today. Had people delivering flooring. Had people tearing out old carpeting and preparing the floor for a red oak flooring.
A new doe and fawn showed up this week. Would have been a spring birth. The fawn was still spotted, small, and had nubbins for horns. They were checking out the apple tree. My guess is that they are able to smell apples that have fallen from the tree.
We determined that the evening prim rose by the kitchen window does in fact bloom during the night. It leaves curl about 6 a.m. into much like a yellow rose.
The phantom rooter has rooted one more night.
The gopher in the garden is starting to work on the tomatoes. Are tomato roots poisonous? Hope so. Stay tuned. Sharon says we will invest in a gopher trap.
Weather in the 80’s. Hints of rain. Great for working.
In the garden I have in one bed what is called The Sculpture. It is a lot of old not used tomato cages, wired, soldered and taped together. Today, saw a red dragon fly. It is in the summer that the carnivore yellow jackets appear. Also, dragon flies. Dragon flies are more like swallows -- they get their prey on the fly. As the sun goes down, one can see them high in the sky, catching those insects that follow the sun’s rays as it sets.
July 21st & 22nd. Painting. Morning, noon and night.
July 23rd. The show started at 8 a.m. We painted some closet doors before they arrived. Flooring going in. Out-of-sight. Stay tuned.
Sharon & Marc
Monday, August 6, 2007
Landed In Oregon III
July 9, 2007
Already the days are getting shorter. It means that temperatures at 7 p.m. a couple of weeks ago would be 95 are now 90. These will be the hottest days but they will be shorter days.
When I was working 8 to 5 I dreaded shorter days. Even before then. Remember when they meant that summer was coming to an end and school would soon be starting. The summer sale catalogs are appearing. When 8 to 5, it meant less daylight, it meant I could look forward to going to work in the dark and coming home in the dark.
I so much wanted to work -- 8 to 5 was fine -- that I did not really, really realize what a person is missing. Flowers, for example. School buses picking up and returning children. All kinds of folks shopping in the grocery store. The bank at 10 a.m. Downtown at 11 a.m. or 2 p.m. Not for a second did I ever consider that I might be giving up some things to work 8 to 5. Kind of like the wind in Landed II. I thought my life was Life. I never considered other alternate lives.
August will be as warm as July but in August -September the mornings will start getting cooler.
Mosquitoes. Pass Creek has mosquitoes. Not a lot. If one watches the water around one’s home, even fewer. They are so small they can hardly be called mosquitoes. With my eyesight, I can barely see them. And they are cowardly. Not in your face bold. Not morning, noon, and night. Rarely in your face or on your arms at all. If wearing slacks one might not be bitten at all. Not during the sunny part of the day. They don’t care for one’s shins or quads. And now, if you have been lulled to not worth being concerned, they do like the backs of one’s legs, particularly at the knee and below. Sneak up behind you. Cowardly.
On the way back from town, on the private road into the Refuge, Sharon saw the first turkey chicks of the season. Two hens and about a dozen chicks -- nearly junior high graduates. One has to ask where the hens have been keeping them all of this time. On the other hand, the hens were pretty nervous and proud.
July 10, 2007
The lettuce has nearly all bolted. (When you visualize that, what do you see?) Queen Anne’s Lace abounds. The bark of the Madrone is peeling. The skin beneath the bark is a yucky green -- like a humungous anaconda --until the new bark forms.
July 11, 2007
Hot. 104. Thunder and lightning starting about 10 p.m. and lasting 4-5 fours. Rain starting at 11p.m. More than expected. In July and August, any rain is a surprise. In the Valley, 2,000 lightning strikes and 20 fires. Little sleep. Woke up dehydrated, hungover.
July 12, 2007
To the coast. Sixty-degree weather. Great. Walked on the beach. A little ice cream. A little sea food. Life is good.
There is more to be said about bees. Each year, it takes awhile for insects to get started. By summer there is lots of green stuff for a insect to eat and lots of insects. Mid-summer comes the insect carnivores. My raised beds are patrolled by yellow jackets. They not only check both sides of the leaves but also crawl into the nooks and crannies of the beds.
We raise sun flowers in the beds. For a few years they would become shredded and we did not know why. The finch love young green sunflower leaves.
The raised beds also draw insect loving grosbeaks.
There was something else I wanted to say about bees, but spaced. Maybe next time.
July 13, 2007
Watered the Upper Pasture. Watered between the pasture and the creek. I have a fir and a sequoia in there. They are doing fine. The Upper Pasture has a long stretch of creek frontage and the creek is pooled there. Each year we have a couple of pair of ducks that arrive early and raise a family. But when I look at the pool I think trout and look. Rarely, I see a fish. Smallish.
In the Lower Pasture I unintentionally jumped Fiona. She was at the upper end, between the fence and the creek, where it was shaded, cool, and she could look down over the property to see if anyone or thing was coming.
The recently planted trees are doing okay.
July 14, 2007
I remember. Outside the study window is the hummingbird feeder. Cappy, our white and deaf Manx, likes to lay on top of the computer tower and watch the hummers and dream. In July, after a few hot days, bees start coming to the feeder. Not a honey bee. A dark bee. Sometimes it seems they are more interested in chasing each other off the feeder than tanking up on sugar water.
July 16, 2007
Fifty-five degrees this morning. Yesterday it was forty-nine. We have been getting marine air to start the day. It burns off about ten a.m. Very nice.
Already the days are getting shorter. It means that temperatures at 7 p.m. a couple of weeks ago would be 95 are now 90. These will be the hottest days but they will be shorter days.
When I was working 8 to 5 I dreaded shorter days. Even before then. Remember when they meant that summer was coming to an end and school would soon be starting. The summer sale catalogs are appearing. When 8 to 5, it meant less daylight, it meant I could look forward to going to work in the dark and coming home in the dark.
I so much wanted to work -- 8 to 5 was fine -- that I did not really, really realize what a person is missing. Flowers, for example. School buses picking up and returning children. All kinds of folks shopping in the grocery store. The bank at 10 a.m. Downtown at 11 a.m. or 2 p.m. Not for a second did I ever consider that I might be giving up some things to work 8 to 5. Kind of like the wind in Landed II. I thought my life was Life. I never considered other alternate lives.
August will be as warm as July but in August -September the mornings will start getting cooler.
Mosquitoes. Pass Creek has mosquitoes. Not a lot. If one watches the water around one’s home, even fewer. They are so small they can hardly be called mosquitoes. With my eyesight, I can barely see them. And they are cowardly. Not in your face bold. Not morning, noon, and night. Rarely in your face or on your arms at all. If wearing slacks one might not be bitten at all. Not during the sunny part of the day. They don’t care for one’s shins or quads. And now, if you have been lulled to not worth being concerned, they do like the backs of one’s legs, particularly at the knee and below. Sneak up behind you. Cowardly.
On the way back from town, on the private road into the Refuge, Sharon saw the first turkey chicks of the season. Two hens and about a dozen chicks -- nearly junior high graduates. One has to ask where the hens have been keeping them all of this time. On the other hand, the hens were pretty nervous and proud.
July 10, 2007
The lettuce has nearly all bolted. (When you visualize that, what do you see?) Queen Anne’s Lace abounds. The bark of the Madrone is peeling. The skin beneath the bark is a yucky green -- like a humungous anaconda --until the new bark forms.
July 11, 2007
Hot. 104. Thunder and lightning starting about 10 p.m. and lasting 4-5 fours. Rain starting at 11p.m. More than expected. In July and August, any rain is a surprise. In the Valley, 2,000 lightning strikes and 20 fires. Little sleep. Woke up dehydrated, hungover.
July 12, 2007
To the coast. Sixty-degree weather. Great. Walked on the beach. A little ice cream. A little sea food. Life is good.
There is more to be said about bees. Each year, it takes awhile for insects to get started. By summer there is lots of green stuff for a insect to eat and lots of insects. Mid-summer comes the insect carnivores. My raised beds are patrolled by yellow jackets. They not only check both sides of the leaves but also crawl into the nooks and crannies of the beds.
We raise sun flowers in the beds. For a few years they would become shredded and we did not know why. The finch love young green sunflower leaves.
The raised beds also draw insect loving grosbeaks.
There was something else I wanted to say about bees, but spaced. Maybe next time.
July 13, 2007
Watered the Upper Pasture. Watered between the pasture and the creek. I have a fir and a sequoia in there. They are doing fine. The Upper Pasture has a long stretch of creek frontage and the creek is pooled there. Each year we have a couple of pair of ducks that arrive early and raise a family. But when I look at the pool I think trout and look. Rarely, I see a fish. Smallish.
In the Lower Pasture I unintentionally jumped Fiona. She was at the upper end, between the fence and the creek, where it was shaded, cool, and she could look down over the property to see if anyone or thing was coming.
The recently planted trees are doing okay.
July 14, 2007
I remember. Outside the study window is the hummingbird feeder. Cappy, our white and deaf Manx, likes to lay on top of the computer tower and watch the hummers and dream. In July, after a few hot days, bees start coming to the feeder. Not a honey bee. A dark bee. Sometimes it seems they are more interested in chasing each other off the feeder than tanking up on sugar water.
July 16, 2007
Fifty-five degrees this morning. Yesterday it was forty-nine. We have been getting marine air to start the day. It burns off about ten a.m. Very nice.
Sunday, July 29, 2007
Landed In Oregon II
July 2, 2007
I water the small planted trees until they can make it on their own. This morning I went into the Lower Pasture. Manny was there. He waved me off with his eyes. He signaled that he had a mouse located in a nearby clump of bunch grass, and was waiting for the opportune time to pounce. After I finished watering Manners was still there waiting.
I discovered that the Lower Pasture in rich in minerals. In fact, it might have a corner on the aluminum market. The prior owners saw this land different from us. From southern California, they were going to live on ‘the fat of the land.’ In a very small way (on a small piece of ground), they cleared the ground, planted grass, irrigated from the creek, rented out the upper pasture (one horse), and even built a shelter for the horse.
The shelter proved to aerodynamically adverse: as, the first strong wind flipped it. When we bought the property we bought a flipped shelter. I thought that could only be odd. With the help of one of Heather’s boyfriends, we righted it. The first strong wind flipped it. I dismantled it, saving what I could.
The new mantra: When wrong, recycle what you can.
I have piled lots and lots and lots of aluminum irrigation pipe and sprinkler heads and other assorted irrigation paraphernalia along the upper fence in the Lower Pasture.
They found out that raising young critters -- sheep and goats -- had more long hours and physical effort and heartbreak than they imagined. So, they decided to harvest the rich resource of timber. They cut on both sides of the creek. More than once. Their slash piles are still on the other side of the creek and on some of my old and forgotten to-do checklists.
So, my background is in rehabilitation. I have gone around digging out buried trees and righting them -- sometimes with supporting poles until they can hold themselves upright on their own.
July 3, 2007
Have I mentioned bees? I have never seen so many kinds of bees. This all stems from having a new lesson in life: Flowers. And my eyesight isn’t what it used to be. They deserve far more attention than I have given them. Very few honey bees. A big bumble bee. There is a bee (it must be a wild bee) that builds small hives in the ground. I don’t know if it digs itself or uses mouse or gopher holes. One might not know they are even there. Then, after the fall freeze, something (we think skunks) digs them up and eats the honey. All we see are remnants of honey combs and the excavations. Then there are the wasps that build under the eaves. Their babies are set up on some kind of time-release system. Throughout winter, a few warm days, and one or two are “born.” This continues until the new born survive. Even then, the “hive” still contains unhatched babies. Sometimes, jays come along under the eaves and pull off the hives. We find them dismantled on the ground. The unhatchlings are gone. Protein.
There is a bee. It first appears floating about three feet in front of one’s eyes. It is hard to see clearly because it keeps moving. Should I say “feinting?” (I think it is a bee). I don’t think they sting. I think they bite. It is like they give fair warning. If you back up or turn right or left, they fly off. If you persist in the same direction, they fly into you. It might be a sleeve, arm, hair, face, whatever. They bounce off. You think, “Well, so what!” And then, maybe, sometimes, a half minute later a spot will start aching like a bite. Leaving a small welt. I have never seen a hive. Sometimes they appear to be defending one piece of ground and sometimes another. There is only one spot where they have been all they years we have lived here: Down between the South Forty and The Cliff. I don’t know where they come from or go to. (I wonder if these are the below ground dwellers).
There is a time when young cats and dogs chase anything. Eventually they learn about bees. Here, there are times when even mature cats will be lazily lying on the grass when suddenly (you can see they are suddenly seeing something) they leap up and run about ten feet or so. Then, they might lie down again. I think it might be one of these bees. Never been close enough to really see.
July 4, 2007
Another mystery. Between the house and the pump house we have a mulch pile. Any straw, pile of leaves, pine needles, turkeys cannot resist. They must scratch to see what’s on the other side. So from time to time turkeys deconstruct the mulch pile and from time to time I reconstruct it. So, the last three nights something has been burrowing through the mulch pile. Turkeys are not out at night. What it is has not scratched the mulch. It was churned. Rooted. (Like a pig?) So far it has avoided the volunteer potatoes and pumpkin. It is not scratched like a dog. Or ‘coon. Could it be those little critters that play dead? Possum.
July 5, 2007.
Hot. Getting the watering done early. Leak in the line between the pump house and the house. I dug it out. The plumber had it fixed in an hour. By doing the grunt work I saved over $ 100 on the bill.
No rooting last night in the mulch pile.
Saw a buck down near the plum tree. Our only bearing plum tree is down on the South Forty. I waved at him, but made in nervous. He headed through the brush down toward the creek.
July 8, 2007
Artichokes about ready for another meal. Watered the Dawn Redwood. It was thirsty.
More names. Origination of the names “pond” and “border.” One must have a garden. That is hard on the back. How about raised beds? Of course. After they are built, where get the dirt? It is a funny question when sitting on seven acres. Why not have it hauled in? But unsure the bridge could handle heavy loads. Dirt from near the creek ought to be okay. Using a riding mower and little cart to haul it, I hauled dirt for a while. What was left was a hole in the ground. Sharon said, That would make a great POND. So “pond” went on the checklist where it still resides. And the hole in the ground is called The Pond. When we got married we invited people to walk fifty feet to and look into the hole in the ground called “Pond.” Few did. Few of those understood.
There was one other place where dirt was dug for the garden. The South Forty is mostly grass bordered by trees. Leaf trees. When the leaves fall they lie unraked. Eventually they are pushed by the wind against the tree border. It is a natural mulch, I thought. So I dug along the border, a swath about six feet wide and ten inches deep. What do you call a barren spot about six feet wide and 75 feet long bordering the trees that border the South Forty. Right.
Eventually Shasta Daisies and Sweet Williams discovered this spot and moved in.
A Problem on Pass Creek. That is what happens when you give two different things the same name. Along side the house to the west Sharon had been experimenting with different flower combinations. We called this spot “The Border.” We have two borders. Can the marriage survive? Can three borders be far behind?
When I was a kid, and I was home and heard the wind blowing outside, I used to believe that when the wind blew it was blowing everywhere. A single wind. Kind of like those pictures of The Wind in kid’s books. A Wind. I never gave it much thought. When nearly through high school, I was sitting out in the forest one day, and I happened to listen to the wind. It was here. It was there. Moving. It is coming, going by ... there. Is it going to hit me? No, it is just to my left. Winds! Later, I watched the same thing on a body of water. One can see many different winds, on the move, scattered, all over the water, some stronger, some lighter.
That wind in the forest, that is how it is here in the Refuge, Sanctuary, Heaven, Farm. Good listening. Mostly soothing. It comes mostly from the west or the south. Days might go by when one is unable to hear it (notice, I didn’t say them) at all.
Pass Creek has another wind. It is here everyday, but can’t be heard. It can be felt and sometimes seen. It is a gentle wind that runs along the creek. In the morning it runs up creek and in the evening it runs down creek. For me, it is more noticeable in the summer.
I water the small planted trees until they can make it on their own. This morning I went into the Lower Pasture. Manny was there. He waved me off with his eyes. He signaled that he had a mouse located in a nearby clump of bunch grass, and was waiting for the opportune time to pounce. After I finished watering Manners was still there waiting.
I discovered that the Lower Pasture in rich in minerals. In fact, it might have a corner on the aluminum market. The prior owners saw this land different from us. From southern California, they were going to live on ‘the fat of the land.’ In a very small way (on a small piece of ground), they cleared the ground, planted grass, irrigated from the creek, rented out the upper pasture (one horse), and even built a shelter for the horse.
The shelter proved to aerodynamically adverse: as, the first strong wind flipped it. When we bought the property we bought a flipped shelter. I thought that could only be odd. With the help of one of Heather’s boyfriends, we righted it. The first strong wind flipped it. I dismantled it, saving what I could.
The new mantra: When wrong, recycle what you can.
I have piled lots and lots and lots of aluminum irrigation pipe and sprinkler heads and other assorted irrigation paraphernalia along the upper fence in the Lower Pasture.
They found out that raising young critters -- sheep and goats -- had more long hours and physical effort and heartbreak than they imagined. So, they decided to harvest the rich resource of timber. They cut on both sides of the creek. More than once. Their slash piles are still on the other side of the creek and on some of my old and forgotten to-do checklists.
So, my background is in rehabilitation. I have gone around digging out buried trees and righting them -- sometimes with supporting poles until they can hold themselves upright on their own.
July 3, 2007
Have I mentioned bees? I have never seen so many kinds of bees. This all stems from having a new lesson in life: Flowers. And my eyesight isn’t what it used to be. They deserve far more attention than I have given them. Very few honey bees. A big bumble bee. There is a bee (it must be a wild bee) that builds small hives in the ground. I don’t know if it digs itself or uses mouse or gopher holes. One might not know they are even there. Then, after the fall freeze, something (we think skunks) digs them up and eats the honey. All we see are remnants of honey combs and the excavations. Then there are the wasps that build under the eaves. Their babies are set up on some kind of time-release system. Throughout winter, a few warm days, and one or two are “born.” This continues until the new born survive. Even then, the “hive” still contains unhatched babies. Sometimes, jays come along under the eaves and pull off the hives. We find them dismantled on the ground. The unhatchlings are gone. Protein.
There is a bee. It first appears floating about three feet in front of one’s eyes. It is hard to see clearly because it keeps moving. Should I say “feinting?” (I think it is a bee). I don’t think they sting. I think they bite. It is like they give fair warning. If you back up or turn right or left, they fly off. If you persist in the same direction, they fly into you. It might be a sleeve, arm, hair, face, whatever. They bounce off. You think, “Well, so what!” And then, maybe, sometimes, a half minute later a spot will start aching like a bite. Leaving a small welt. I have never seen a hive. Sometimes they appear to be defending one piece of ground and sometimes another. There is only one spot where they have been all they years we have lived here: Down between the South Forty and The Cliff. I don’t know where they come from or go to. (I wonder if these are the below ground dwellers).
There is a time when young cats and dogs chase anything. Eventually they learn about bees. Here, there are times when even mature cats will be lazily lying on the grass when suddenly (you can see they are suddenly seeing something) they leap up and run about ten feet or so. Then, they might lie down again. I think it might be one of these bees. Never been close enough to really see.
July 4, 2007
Another mystery. Between the house and the pump house we have a mulch pile. Any straw, pile of leaves, pine needles, turkeys cannot resist. They must scratch to see what’s on the other side. So from time to time turkeys deconstruct the mulch pile and from time to time I reconstruct it. So, the last three nights something has been burrowing through the mulch pile. Turkeys are not out at night. What it is has not scratched the mulch. It was churned. Rooted. (Like a pig?) So far it has avoided the volunteer potatoes and pumpkin. It is not scratched like a dog. Or ‘coon. Could it be those little critters that play dead? Possum.
July 5, 2007.
Hot. Getting the watering done early. Leak in the line between the pump house and the house. I dug it out. The plumber had it fixed in an hour. By doing the grunt work I saved over $ 100 on the bill.
No rooting last night in the mulch pile.
Saw a buck down near the plum tree. Our only bearing plum tree is down on the South Forty. I waved at him, but made in nervous. He headed through the brush down toward the creek.
July 8, 2007
Artichokes about ready for another meal. Watered the Dawn Redwood. It was thirsty.
More names. Origination of the names “pond” and “border.” One must have a garden. That is hard on the back. How about raised beds? Of course. After they are built, where get the dirt? It is a funny question when sitting on seven acres. Why not have it hauled in? But unsure the bridge could handle heavy loads. Dirt from near the creek ought to be okay. Using a riding mower and little cart to haul it, I hauled dirt for a while. What was left was a hole in the ground. Sharon said, That would make a great POND. So “pond” went on the checklist where it still resides. And the hole in the ground is called The Pond. When we got married we invited people to walk fifty feet to and look into the hole in the ground called “Pond.” Few did. Few of those understood.
There was one other place where dirt was dug for the garden. The South Forty is mostly grass bordered by trees. Leaf trees. When the leaves fall they lie unraked. Eventually they are pushed by the wind against the tree border. It is a natural mulch, I thought. So I dug along the border, a swath about six feet wide and ten inches deep. What do you call a barren spot about six feet wide and 75 feet long bordering the trees that border the South Forty. Right.
Eventually Shasta Daisies and Sweet Williams discovered this spot and moved in.
A Problem on Pass Creek. That is what happens when you give two different things the same name. Along side the house to the west Sharon had been experimenting with different flower combinations. We called this spot “The Border.” We have two borders. Can the marriage survive? Can three borders be far behind?
When I was a kid, and I was home and heard the wind blowing outside, I used to believe that when the wind blew it was blowing everywhere. A single wind. Kind of like those pictures of The Wind in kid’s books. A Wind. I never gave it much thought. When nearly through high school, I was sitting out in the forest one day, and I happened to listen to the wind. It was here. It was there. Moving. It is coming, going by ... there. Is it going to hit me? No, it is just to my left. Winds! Later, I watched the same thing on a body of water. One can see many different winds, on the move, scattered, all over the water, some stronger, some lighter.
That wind in the forest, that is how it is here in the Refuge, Sanctuary, Heaven, Farm. Good listening. Mostly soothing. It comes mostly from the west or the south. Days might go by when one is unable to hear it (notice, I didn’t say them) at all.
Pass Creek has another wind. It is here everyday, but can’t be heard. It can be felt and sometimes seen. It is a gentle wind that runs along the creek. In the morning it runs up creek and in the evening it runs down creek. For me, it is more noticeable in the summer.
Saturday, July 28, 2007
Landed in Oregon I
June 2007
In the beginning was a word. If I am going to start to write about something then I need to name. Naming. In the beginning was a photo: Sharon might use her camera instead. Later, they called it defining. And if I were cool, I might use a GPS system. In the beginning was GPS. I will name.
Our initial email handle was Markpark. We thought of this land as a refuge or park or something peaceful. We are still trying to figure a name for this chunk of land. By writing I hope to bring alive the property by giving it some history. Maybe we can arrive at a name.
In 1995 Sharon and I bought this land. It included a house, an old barn for small animals, some sheds, a pump house, and some fenced land. (One time we shought another bid for fire insurance. A young agent came out. He thought our pump house was an out house.) There was an electric pump, near the creek, used for irrigation. We had looked for something to buy for at least three years. The Ashland side of the valley was preferred, but the prices for property there kept rapidly climbing and less and less property was available. Of course we were looking beyond a subdivision to a little land and maybe a stream. Our search stretched to the boundaries of the valley, and one day Sharon (clearly excited) said she wanted me to look at a house and land she had found.
It is about seven acres. This area is zoned in five acre parcels. However, for some reason, we have a 2.2 acre parcel also with building rights. You cannot see the neighbors upstream or downstream. A creek runs through the property.
As I said, we have not found a name yet. Primarily, it is The Refuge -- for us and other critters. It came with Barney, the pot belly pig, and Curly, the Angora goat, Andrew, the rooster, and Wilber, the rabbit. So, then it was The Farm. Maybe, Old Folks Farm.
It is eight miles down river (the Rogue River) from Grants Pass, Oregon. It is on Lower Pass Creek Road. Our home is about two miles from the Rogue River. On Pass Creek Road, instead of turning left and driving to Friendly Bend (a renown fishing hole) on the Rogue, turn right and go onto a single lane dirt road across the bridge and through our gate. (We have now replaced the bridge with another bridge and replaced that bridge with a culvert.) From the highway to the gate is about 100 yards. This road is part of the property. If one stays on the highway, it is about three miles to Wild Life Images. At that point there is a “Y.” To the right one goes to Merlin. To the left one crosses the river at Robertson Bridge and then circles back to Redwood Highway on the other side of the river.
We moved from Sharon’s home in Ashland in February of 1996. Lots of people volunteered to help. We had a big rented moving van. I remember Curtis Cooter from the Applegate, my grand nephew Rob Duncan from Talent, my sister and Rob’s grandmother Dolores Duncan from Medford. I helped very little. At the time I was recovering from hernia surgery. I was totally overwhelmed with the beauty of the place. Truly, it was the gift of an angel.
I can remember thinking that one of the first things I was going to do was inventory all the trees on the property. Then I looked and looked and realized it would never happen.
There were all kinds and all numbers of trees. I would have spent all my time inventorying trees. What a crazy thought. Certainly, a feverish thought.
Our neighbors to the north are Bonnie and Jim. They recently moved from California. Bonnie is a nurse. Jim, right now, does maintenance for a property management firm in Grants Pass. He was in Vietnam. Our neighbor to the east (up creek) is Kathy, a retired railroad worker who went to private kennel owner. Our neighbor down stream is Gary. Gary is a native Oregonian. He is a mason.
Naming the property. On the west side of Pass Creek and to the north is The Upper Pasture. (It crosses the creek and borders Kathy’s dog kennel. Down creek is The Lower Pasture. (It also slightly crosses the creek.) To the west of the Lower Pasture are some pasture, barn, and several pens we together call The Goaty Boys’ Pasture. The lower pasture bordering the creek was scrapped bare. Down stream we then arrive at home and the gazebo which is close to the creek. To the west of the home is the two car garage and chicken pen. To the west of that is land we call The Scar. Our predecessors logged the area and when we arrived not a thing was growing on it. Down stream (south, sort of) from the house, is the Pump House and Madrone (several madrone trees), a few apple, plum and pear trees, we call The South Forty. The creek then turns to the west, making a big “S” and cutting deeply into the bank. We call the cut The Cliff.
The east side of the creek is less defined. Across the creek directly we had the road and the eight or so people who lived up creek came by daily. They could see into our living room. We waved a lot. Then high water washed out the road . It was too expensive for them to repair. We gave them use of the land farther up the hill. Now we have The Washout and Hill Road. What was the Road is now the Path. And with the road further away, our passing neighbors cannot see into our living room. We would probably wave if we could see them, but we no longer can. I am grateful.
The high water also took out that pump used to get irrigation water from the creek. There was/is an underground electrical line from the barn to the old pump’s location, but the pump itself is gone. I do not know if the underground line could still carry electricity.
The Scar is now filled in with trees and flowers and grass, but we still call it The Scar. And the scarred Lower Pasture is filled in with grass and trees and a few graves. See the following.
Wilber and Barney and Andrew and Curly have all passed on. Cuddles, too. Tiger came from Ashland with Cuddles and he would not stay. MIA. Then we got the goaty boys, Brat and Houdini -- free from people a few miles up the highway. Gift Goats. ‘Dini has moved on now. Can Brat be far behind?
The house has been painted twice. A sun room was added on the south side. Also the Gazebo and garden. A wedding. Cement floor in the garage. This past year we replaced the bridge. All kinds of flowers (learning their names seems to be one of my lessons here). Many new trees.
We have the trees I plant and Sharon plants and we have volunteers. There are all kinds of volunteers -- fir, pine, oak, and all kinds of trees along the creek. I am partial to evergreens. (Though this spring I did plant a Dawn Redwood. It is a primitive tree that sheds its needles.) Sharon seems partial to a variety of trees, but wants them all close to the house.
We have chunks of ground that we still have not walked on.
Here, one learns about the seasons. Fast, slow, hot, cold, wet, dry, sweet. Here, the wildlife studies us far more closely than we study it. One can hardly go along the creek and one or more birds silently comes along to see what we are up to. The goats were the same. They were far more entertained by watching us than us watching them.
June 18, 2007
A month ago the Rock Roses started blooming -- in time for our anniversary. On the road the Wild Roses -- white and pink started. Wild Lilac -- slow when compared to the domestic lilac -- started abut the same time. The Wild Lilac is slowing down. Wild Peas are coming on. Meanwhile the Rock Roses and Wild Roses are doing fine.
With some unusually warm weather, the Madrone (Sunset would call it Madrona) have started shedding their leaves. At the start of the hot weather the Madrone sheds some of its leaves. Come August, or thereabouts, the Madrone will start shedding its bark. That’s another story. It does not shed anything when leaf trees are getting ready for winter.
Skunk Cabbage, one of our earliest flowers, has now bloomed and faded. Wild Iris, later, has bloomed. Rose Campion, so vivid it lights up shadows, has started on both sides of the creek. For several weeks now we have had explosions of white blooms on the creek. We think it is Mock Orange.
There is enough Mock Orange and enough Wild Lilac that, walking the property, it perfumes the air.
The border along the Lower Forty has sizeable stands of Shasta Daisies and a variety of Sweet Williams.
At first we had a handful of California poppies down on the South Forty. We tried planting them on the upper pasture. Nada. Then one year a few volunteers showed up around the house. Many now. They sleep in the morning and on cloudy days. Now we have a cluster of volunteer red oriental poppies.
The first time in memory, this year the goats’ have not by now mowed their pasture close to the ground. ‘Dini passed on to that Great Pasture in the Sky this past winter and that has left Brat to do the mowing. He is not up to the job.
June 20, 2007
Chicory. The Wild Peas are deep rooted. They are competitive, even with blackberries. They start early and will produce blossoms throughout the summer. Queen Anne’s Lace also is deep rooted, has yet to start this year and will finish in the summer. Another deep rooted plant is Chicory. It is just starting to bloom. It will continue into the fall. I enjoy the color of Chicory in faded light -- just before the sun rises and after it sets.
June 24, 2007
Thirty-eight degrees this morning. The expected high is in the high seventies. I cut poison oak near the gazebo, put up some tomato cages. We have several tomato plants with fruit. Last week we had our first artichokes and should have another four this week. One raised bed I had in peas and snap peas. (There was also a volunteer potato.) The peas are done. The potato was done. Today I spaded the bed. Last year the bed was in tomatoes. There is time for another crop of something this year. Fiona the doe was in the mulch pile this evening. When I made her nervous, watching her, she shifted to the creek side apple tree. Last week, in the morning, we caught her tipping the bird feeder (sun flower seed) and catching the falling seed in her mouth. We had thought the seed was disappearing rather rapidly. Given a choice of villain, we surely would have guessed the squirrel.
June 25, 2007
Thirty-seven degrees this morning.
June 28, 2007
Mystery solved. About a month ago, a zucchini (the only one we planted because, you know) disappeared. Simply gone. Not even an indentation in the ground. Gone. So, we had been on a trip and our house sitter said a turkey had flown over the fence.... Maybe. So, I bought another one. It was bigger because the season was more advanced. It settled in. It did fine. Yesterday, it was gone. Same as the other. Gone. I couldn’t quite believe it. I looked again today. Gone. had to be a gopher. I got a trowel and poked around. Yes, a gopher. I don’t know what to do about it, but I now know who.
Brat, sometimes, when he stands, has a limp. After he walks a bit, it goes away. I know all about that. Me too.
I’ve started watering Brat’s pasture. Mowed it some. The cut grass will act as mulch and shade for the water.
Been doing a survey of planted evergreens for purposes of determining if I should water them. They are doing okay. Did find one that was parched. More are finding they are losing the competition for light. I did trim some brush and grass away.
The path to the gazebo is over grown. Who would have guessed those little trees would grow? Surveying other locations for a path.
This spring, at Saturday Market, Sharon bought several dozen pussy willows. She put them in water and a couple of dozen sprouted. These I planted in several locations along the creek. The planting difference -- with a willow -- is that at the edge of the creek in the mud using a shovel one simply creates a slit and plants the willow in it. Most have survived and are doing fine.
I think I have a volunteer English Walnut. I need to get Sharon’s opinion.
Our plum tree has leaf curl infestation. It was affected new growth. I trimmed much of it. We might have to spray!!!
This is my first close experience with a rabbit. Annie, like a beaver, is an engineer. Except, she works with dirt. She has tunneled under every object in her cage. She has created random dips and mounds of dirt. She has tunneled out of her cage three times. It is easy to sympathize with her. If she wants freedom that badly, shouldn’t we simply turn her loose? Out here where coyotes and owls and hawks and other carnivores would dine on her? Meanwhile, she keeps digging. What to do?
We are expecting a little rain tomorrow and Saturday. A little cooler. Yesterday, it was in the nineties. The front preceding that rain is now coming through. When the wind hits the Madrone there is a rustling and an explosion of dead dry leaves.
June 29, 2007
It did rain. Off and on. One time 16 ¼ drops. Another 18 ½ drops. I figure, altogether, we received, maybe, 55 drops. The air is fresh. All signs of a rain were gone by ten a.m.
July 1, 2007
We are expecting 100 degree heat on the 4th. I leave you with a mystery. Where are the hen turkeys? Where are the chicks? I have never seen a hen setting. I have never seen an old nest. One of these days one will come by with her kids -- half grown. It is a mystery.
Happy Fourth of July
Sharon & Marc
In the beginning was a word. If I am going to start to write about something then I need to name. Naming. In the beginning was a photo: Sharon might use her camera instead. Later, they called it defining. And if I were cool, I might use a GPS system. In the beginning was GPS. I will name.
Our initial email handle was Markpark. We thought of this land as a refuge or park or something peaceful. We are still trying to figure a name for this chunk of land. By writing I hope to bring alive the property by giving it some history. Maybe we can arrive at a name.
In 1995 Sharon and I bought this land. It included a house, an old barn for small animals, some sheds, a pump house, and some fenced land. (One time we shought another bid for fire insurance. A young agent came out. He thought our pump house was an out house.) There was an electric pump, near the creek, used for irrigation. We had looked for something to buy for at least three years. The Ashland side of the valley was preferred, but the prices for property there kept rapidly climbing and less and less property was available. Of course we were looking beyond a subdivision to a little land and maybe a stream. Our search stretched to the boundaries of the valley, and one day Sharon (clearly excited) said she wanted me to look at a house and land she had found.
It is about seven acres. This area is zoned in five acre parcels. However, for some reason, we have a 2.2 acre parcel also with building rights. You cannot see the neighbors upstream or downstream. A creek runs through the property.
As I said, we have not found a name yet. Primarily, it is The Refuge -- for us and other critters. It came with Barney, the pot belly pig, and Curly, the Angora goat, Andrew, the rooster, and Wilber, the rabbit. So, then it was The Farm. Maybe, Old Folks Farm.
It is eight miles down river (the Rogue River) from Grants Pass, Oregon. It is on Lower Pass Creek Road. Our home is about two miles from the Rogue River. On Pass Creek Road, instead of turning left and driving to Friendly Bend (a renown fishing hole) on the Rogue, turn right and go onto a single lane dirt road across the bridge and through our gate. (We have now replaced the bridge with another bridge and replaced that bridge with a culvert.) From the highway to the gate is about 100 yards. This road is part of the property. If one stays on the highway, it is about three miles to Wild Life Images. At that point there is a “Y.” To the right one goes to Merlin. To the left one crosses the river at Robertson Bridge and then circles back to Redwood Highway on the other side of the river.
We moved from Sharon’s home in Ashland in February of 1996. Lots of people volunteered to help. We had a big rented moving van. I remember Curtis Cooter from the Applegate, my grand nephew Rob Duncan from Talent, my sister and Rob’s grandmother Dolores Duncan from Medford. I helped very little. At the time I was recovering from hernia surgery. I was totally overwhelmed with the beauty of the place. Truly, it was the gift of an angel.
I can remember thinking that one of the first things I was going to do was inventory all the trees on the property. Then I looked and looked and realized it would never happen.
There were all kinds and all numbers of trees. I would have spent all my time inventorying trees. What a crazy thought. Certainly, a feverish thought.
Our neighbors to the north are Bonnie and Jim. They recently moved from California. Bonnie is a nurse. Jim, right now, does maintenance for a property management firm in Grants Pass. He was in Vietnam. Our neighbor to the east (up creek) is Kathy, a retired railroad worker who went to private kennel owner. Our neighbor down stream is Gary. Gary is a native Oregonian. He is a mason.
Naming the property. On the west side of Pass Creek and to the north is The Upper Pasture. (It crosses the creek and borders Kathy’s dog kennel. Down creek is The Lower Pasture. (It also slightly crosses the creek.) To the west of the Lower Pasture are some pasture, barn, and several pens we together call The Goaty Boys’ Pasture. The lower pasture bordering the creek was scrapped bare. Down stream we then arrive at home and the gazebo which is close to the creek. To the west of the home is the two car garage and chicken pen. To the west of that is land we call The Scar. Our predecessors logged the area and when we arrived not a thing was growing on it. Down stream (south, sort of) from the house, is the Pump House and Madrone (several madrone trees), a few apple, plum and pear trees, we call The South Forty. The creek then turns to the west, making a big “S” and cutting deeply into the bank. We call the cut The Cliff.
The east side of the creek is less defined. Across the creek directly we had the road and the eight or so people who lived up creek came by daily. They could see into our living room. We waved a lot. Then high water washed out the road . It was too expensive for them to repair. We gave them use of the land farther up the hill. Now we have The Washout and Hill Road. What was the Road is now the Path. And with the road further away, our passing neighbors cannot see into our living room. We would probably wave if we could see them, but we no longer can. I am grateful.
The high water also took out that pump used to get irrigation water from the creek. There was/is an underground electrical line from the barn to the old pump’s location, but the pump itself is gone. I do not know if the underground line could still carry electricity.
The Scar is now filled in with trees and flowers and grass, but we still call it The Scar. And the scarred Lower Pasture is filled in with grass and trees and a few graves. See the following.
Wilber and Barney and Andrew and Curly have all passed on. Cuddles, too. Tiger came from Ashland with Cuddles and he would not stay. MIA. Then we got the goaty boys, Brat and Houdini -- free from people a few miles up the highway. Gift Goats. ‘Dini has moved on now. Can Brat be far behind?
The house has been painted twice. A sun room was added on the south side. Also the Gazebo and garden. A wedding. Cement floor in the garage. This past year we replaced the bridge. All kinds of flowers (learning their names seems to be one of my lessons here). Many new trees.
We have the trees I plant and Sharon plants and we have volunteers. There are all kinds of volunteers -- fir, pine, oak, and all kinds of trees along the creek. I am partial to evergreens. (Though this spring I did plant a Dawn Redwood. It is a primitive tree that sheds its needles.) Sharon seems partial to a variety of trees, but wants them all close to the house.
We have chunks of ground that we still have not walked on.
Here, one learns about the seasons. Fast, slow, hot, cold, wet, dry, sweet. Here, the wildlife studies us far more closely than we study it. One can hardly go along the creek and one or more birds silently comes along to see what we are up to. The goats were the same. They were far more entertained by watching us than us watching them.
June 18, 2007
A month ago the Rock Roses started blooming -- in time for our anniversary. On the road the Wild Roses -- white and pink started. Wild Lilac -- slow when compared to the domestic lilac -- started abut the same time. The Wild Lilac is slowing down. Wild Peas are coming on. Meanwhile the Rock Roses and Wild Roses are doing fine.
With some unusually warm weather, the Madrone (Sunset would call it Madrona) have started shedding their leaves. At the start of the hot weather the Madrone sheds some of its leaves. Come August, or thereabouts, the Madrone will start shedding its bark. That’s another story. It does not shed anything when leaf trees are getting ready for winter.
Skunk Cabbage, one of our earliest flowers, has now bloomed and faded. Wild Iris, later, has bloomed. Rose Campion, so vivid it lights up shadows, has started on both sides of the creek. For several weeks now we have had explosions of white blooms on the creek. We think it is Mock Orange.
There is enough Mock Orange and enough Wild Lilac that, walking the property, it perfumes the air.
The border along the Lower Forty has sizeable stands of Shasta Daisies and a variety of Sweet Williams.
At first we had a handful of California poppies down on the South Forty. We tried planting them on the upper pasture. Nada. Then one year a few volunteers showed up around the house. Many now. They sleep in the morning and on cloudy days. Now we have a cluster of volunteer red oriental poppies.
The first time in memory, this year the goats’ have not by now mowed their pasture close to the ground. ‘Dini passed on to that Great Pasture in the Sky this past winter and that has left Brat to do the mowing. He is not up to the job.
June 20, 2007
Chicory. The Wild Peas are deep rooted. They are competitive, even with blackberries. They start early and will produce blossoms throughout the summer. Queen Anne’s Lace also is deep rooted, has yet to start this year and will finish in the summer. Another deep rooted plant is Chicory. It is just starting to bloom. It will continue into the fall. I enjoy the color of Chicory in faded light -- just before the sun rises and after it sets.
June 24, 2007
Thirty-eight degrees this morning. The expected high is in the high seventies. I cut poison oak near the gazebo, put up some tomato cages. We have several tomato plants with fruit. Last week we had our first artichokes and should have another four this week. One raised bed I had in peas and snap peas. (There was also a volunteer potato.) The peas are done. The potato was done. Today I spaded the bed. Last year the bed was in tomatoes. There is time for another crop of something this year. Fiona the doe was in the mulch pile this evening. When I made her nervous, watching her, she shifted to the creek side apple tree. Last week, in the morning, we caught her tipping the bird feeder (sun flower seed) and catching the falling seed in her mouth. We had thought the seed was disappearing rather rapidly. Given a choice of villain, we surely would have guessed the squirrel.
June 25, 2007
Thirty-seven degrees this morning.
June 28, 2007
Mystery solved. About a month ago, a zucchini (the only one we planted because, you know) disappeared. Simply gone. Not even an indentation in the ground. Gone. So, we had been on a trip and our house sitter said a turkey had flown over the fence.... Maybe. So, I bought another one. It was bigger because the season was more advanced. It settled in. It did fine. Yesterday, it was gone. Same as the other. Gone. I couldn’t quite believe it. I looked again today. Gone. had to be a gopher. I got a trowel and poked around. Yes, a gopher. I don’t know what to do about it, but I now know who.
Brat, sometimes, when he stands, has a limp. After he walks a bit, it goes away. I know all about that. Me too.
I’ve started watering Brat’s pasture. Mowed it some. The cut grass will act as mulch and shade for the water.
Been doing a survey of planted evergreens for purposes of determining if I should water them. They are doing okay. Did find one that was parched. More are finding they are losing the competition for light. I did trim some brush and grass away.
The path to the gazebo is over grown. Who would have guessed those little trees would grow? Surveying other locations for a path.
This spring, at Saturday Market, Sharon bought several dozen pussy willows. She put them in water and a couple of dozen sprouted. These I planted in several locations along the creek. The planting difference -- with a willow -- is that at the edge of the creek in the mud using a shovel one simply creates a slit and plants the willow in it. Most have survived and are doing fine.
I think I have a volunteer English Walnut. I need to get Sharon’s opinion.
Our plum tree has leaf curl infestation. It was affected new growth. I trimmed much of it. We might have to spray!!!
This is my first close experience with a rabbit. Annie, like a beaver, is an engineer. Except, she works with dirt. She has tunneled under every object in her cage. She has created random dips and mounds of dirt. She has tunneled out of her cage three times. It is easy to sympathize with her. If she wants freedom that badly, shouldn’t we simply turn her loose? Out here where coyotes and owls and hawks and other carnivores would dine on her? Meanwhile, she keeps digging. What to do?
We are expecting a little rain tomorrow and Saturday. A little cooler. Yesterday, it was in the nineties. The front preceding that rain is now coming through. When the wind hits the Madrone there is a rustling and an explosion of dead dry leaves.
June 29, 2007
It did rain. Off and on. One time 16 ¼ drops. Another 18 ½ drops. I figure, altogether, we received, maybe, 55 drops. The air is fresh. All signs of a rain were gone by ten a.m.
July 1, 2007
We are expecting 100 degree heat on the 4th. I leave you with a mystery. Where are the hen turkeys? Where are the chicks? I have never seen a hen setting. I have never seen an old nest. One of these days one will come by with her kids -- half grown. It is a mystery.
Happy Fourth of July
Sharon & Marc
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
