As The Butter Churns

November 23rd My Deer Friend Francine

(the early bird)

    Today was Thanksgiving – well, our Thanksgiving since Tom won’t be with us on Thursday. I roasted a small 12lb turkey, did an apple, cornbread, mushroom, onion and sage stuffing, whipped up some garlic potatoes and steamed some not so traditional but always yummy edamame from Trader Joes™ for good luck.

  (Alexis spearheads the concrete pad project for the soon-to-be-necessary generator)

 (Tom and Henry assist)

(Tom starts the long-awaited painting)

     In the late afternoon, I tented the turkey with aluminum foil and went out to grain the cows as we were expecting a cold night.
(grain and mouse - must remember to snap lid on tightly - had to lower a shovel inside to let him climb out)

   Grain is important in the winter because the cows need the extra calories on cold nights to keep them warm. After feeding the animals in the barn, I walked down to the pasture with a bucket of grain in one hand and the now requisite cougar-deterring air horn in the other. I was just about to climb over the fence and fetch the black flat-bottomed rubber bowls I divide the grain into when I saw her. A doe. She was the same doe from the night of the cougar sighting a couple of weeks ago; the same doe that appeared at the beaver pond unafraid last night. The same doe Quinn and I have seen on occasion. We both thought her so vulnerable all by herself. Was she destined to be Karen’s cougar chow? Quinn and I plotted to round her up and put her in the barn at night to keep her safe. My practical sister’s reaction to this idea was ”Great, Denise, one more mouth to feed.”   And, of course, there was the little detail that she was a wild animal. I am not the sort who would jump in a panda enclosure to get a hug. Or place my child on the back of a buffalo for a picture. So, as much as I worried about the doe, I’d have to accept the situation- Que sera sera.
(All alone)

    Here she was alone. Again. The moment I saw her I was prepared for her to run away, but she didn’t. She walked toward me, ears turning around the way Miracle’s do when she’s listening intently. As she got closer I stood statue still. I was unprepared for what happened next. She copped a squat. Peed right in front of me. Deer urination is a really ridiculous reason to lovingly remember your mother who has passed away, but it was exactly what happened. My mom, the teacher, the woman amused by second grade humor, felt that nature shows omitted wild animals urination and defecation. As a result, she brought back pictures from her safari of cheetahs pooping. Now, here in front of me was a little doe. I never knew they squatted. The cattle just stand and pee. Now, the goats do squat. Interesting. Thinking of my mother I snapped a picture.
  (Like mother, like daughter)

    Abe was making quite a ruckus as I had yet to hand over the grain, while Anna and Andy stood idly by. He about went berserk when he saw me scoop out some of his precious grain and put it on the ground for the doe. Afterward, I went about my business and she walked over beyond some trees.

   After graining the Devons and, inspired by the doe, I walked on toward the beaver pond hoping for a glimpse of Wally. On the way I disturbed two more doe nibbling their dinner. I said, “Good evening ladies, lovely weather we’re having. All this sunshine is wonderful, isn’t it? I hope you’re not afraid; I’m just walking through here. Don’t worry about me.” Once again, I was stunned they didn’t scamper away.

(Light growing dim - one of a pair)

   Perhaps they found my voice friendly, or perhaps I don’t look menacing. Whatever it was they let me walk within 30 feet or so of them as they occasionally looked up at me and continued eating. Wally was not en casa, and the light was fading dramatically, so I began to head back. When, suddenly, my little doe appeared again. She’d been watching me from under a tree. And, as I made my way back, she continued to walk toward me. Closer and closer and closer we came to each other. I kept walking and talking, “Francine, I think your name might be Francine.” I babbled. “Well, Francine, I’m quite happy to make your acquaintance. But I want you to be careful; there are lots of predators around. Do you know Karen? I don’t suppose you do or we wouldn’t be chatting. I wonder, why don’t you meet up with those other two does? Don’t you like them? Or don’t they like you? Are they the mean girls? Little Francine, are you hungry? I’ll get you some deer food at the store so you’re not hungry this winter. I think you would like one of those deer blocks.”  I rambled until she was only about eight feet away. We studied each other. I felt so blessed to be standing there so close to her. I’d idolized Jane Goodall growing up and for a nanosecond I felt the thrill she must have felt for 45 years.  And then it was over and she bounced away.
(Henry's heavenly chocolate)

    Soon after, Alexis came over, chocolate ganache in hand ready for - what else? - “Lethal Weapon 3”.  We skipped the fancy-dancy dinner table, as we’ll do that later in the week. I took a bite of turkey. I had so much to be thankful for. I finally made a new friend I could talk to. And this was the best turkey I’d ever made.

November 22nd Out on a Limb

(The bathroom project drones on - note new coveralls)

(I'm quite the little charmer with a very tolerant Pea)
(Denise behaving better - Tom still tolerant)

    Saturday was a blur. Projects being done everywhere you looked, which is tough because we have a no purchase policy. Meaning we can only do projects for which we have all the supplies on hand. Tom was mudding drywall and working around the house trying to mend things I can’t or haven’t. Henry jumped as chief errand boy. Poor kid made three trips to the chicken coop trying to fetch the correct screwdriver before Tom just did it himself.
  (Henry in the headlights)

    At the close of the day, we were all ready for a little adventure. So, heavily armed with blankets and flashlights, we hopped into Alexis’s jeep and went out to the beaver pond to see what we could see. Which, when Alexis turned off his headlights, was absolutely nothing. Total darkness.

    It was so dark that we knew we wouldn't see Wally. We whispered to each other to roll down the windows because we figured gnawing wood had to make a significant sound. We rolled down the windows and waited. Shushing each other. Well, truth be told, I did most of the shushing and the boys did most of the yapping. I simply couldn’t believe three males had so much to say. Generally, it’s like pulling teeth to get them to talk and now, out in the middle of the wilderness on a stakeout, they wouldn’t shut up.
(Peabrain, Henry-boy and giant-sized Costco flashlight)

    Not being able to sit there and do nothing, the men got out the flashlights. Big and bigger. Alexis put his arm out the window and did a police swoop around the pond. Just as he said, “You know, there could be something right by us and we’d never even know it,” his beam hit a doe. She was walking right toward us, undaunted. We all jumped, as she was about 20 feet away. We sat there thinking she could have been Karen, but she wasn’t. And she was a sign that all was calm.
(doe in the dark)
    Alexis and Tom continued their spotlight sweeps lighting the bushes, trees and edges of the pond but we saw nothing. Disappointed, we decided to head home, where we popped open a bottle of wine for the adult explorers. Having just been introduced to Mel Gibson in “Lethal Weapon”, Henry was now prepared for his continuing movie-vernacular education in “Lethal Weapon 2”.

   As Joe Pesci is just about to deliver his infamous line about not getting the correct order at the drive-thru window, Irish starts barking. I excuse myself and go to investigate. Nancy Drew is on the case. Grabbing my puny flashlight, I stand snuggly next to Irish for reassurance and begin scanning the tall grass, apple trees and hillside for gleaming eyes. I see nothing, but I trust Irish to tell the truth so I keep looking as, in the background, Mel Gibson shoots up half of Los Angeles . And then I see a pair of amber eyes looking back at me from a tall pine tree. Is it an owl? Knocking on the window to signal my crew, I motion for them to come outside. The house falls silent as the movie is put on pause. Alexis, Tom and Henry file out with enough flashlights to light up Dodger Stadium. It doesn’t take long to establish the eyes aren’t an owl’s. I light up two more blinking pairs. My flashlight does not compare to the flood of light Tom shines. The beam lights up the field beyond the cow pasture - a;most a`thousand feet away. He aims it up in the tree and there they are - three little masked bandits. Raccoons. They watch us and we happily watch them.
(neighboring family)

November 8th Shadow Of A Doubt

(The Red Baron - Irish wearing protective eyewear)

    I woke up to a wet nose being shoved into my eye socket. Sleepily, I reached my hand out to snuggle the baby giant. This would be Irish’s one and only attempt to wake me before he peed a puddle the size of one of the Great Lakes - infamously known in our house as ”Lake Irie”. Despite the dark morning, this is motivation, as I go through Costco packs of paper towels like other people use milk. I opened one eye and peered at the clock - 5:30AM. Reluctantly, I threw back the covers, slipped my feet into my fuzzy slippers, threw on Pea’s tattered, but warm red robe and shuffled down the stairs. Opened the front door and put Irish on the porch before going back to bed for another hour of sleep.

    Still dark at 7:00AM in the Pacific Northwest. I finally got out of bed and forced myself to go outside and feed the barn animals before taking the time to brew my coffee. I felt selfless, virtuous and proud of myself. As I was about to open the barn door I saw a humongous print.

(paw print by barn)

    I wondered what animal had been so close to the barn. I opened the barn doors and released the geese. Honking and flapping, they made their way outside, only to turn around - as they often do - wondering what’s taking me so long. They all came back inside to watch me let the goats, sheep and Miracle out of their pens, but they lost interest as I went about separating flakes and feeding the four-footed animals.

    I was dutifully filling up the goats' water when I heard the geese begin shrieking. Dropping the hose, I ran across the rocky driveway, struggling to keep my slippers on by curling my toes and holding the red robe up so I wouldn’t trip as I awkwardly tromped.

    Irish was off the porch and chasing the geese. I began calling for help. Screaming over and over, “Henry! Help! Irish! NO! Henry! Help! Irish! NO!” Poor Mabel had been singled out and was flapping and running for her life. I caught up to them as Irish had his mouth around her neck. I don’t think he meant to harm her. I threw my robe over Mabel. It worked, and Irish bounded off in another direction. He cornered the rest of the gaggle as I continued screaming for help, my throat hoarse. I couldn’t keep him away from every goose. He’s unbelievably agile and incredibly fast. I felt very alone and desperate as I screamed for help. Bruno momentarily distracted Irish, so I seized the opportunity and ran up to the door pounding and screaming. No one came. I ran back toward the geese, toes curled, to usher the gaggle to safety in the dog run. Once they were inside, Irish ran around happy as you please with the rat-bat dog, Bruno. Bruno probably couldn’t outrun Irish on a straightaway, but then again, he’s not dumb enough to try. Rather, he darts around like a bullet, making quick turns Irish can’t keep up with. Truly a big baby, Irish just wanted someone to chase and to chase him. Mabel was not as forgiving. 

    About this time, Henry came out and I yelled hoarsely for him to turn off the hose in the barn. I figured it was flooding all over the place. I realized that when I had let Irish out this morning the gate must not have been closed. Wayne had come in late and probably left it open, so all this time Irish had been wandering around enjoying his freedom. It was his footprint by the barn. Obviously, my brush with the cougars had left me paranoid. We did not have large predators coming this close to the house. I went inside and brewed my coffee. I had really earned this pot.

    After that, the day went on quite nicely. I haven’t mentioned it but, sadly, Kristie moved out of my dad’s apartment above the shop and in with her friend, Jena on November 1st. I was very sorry to see her go. We didn’t do all that much together, but the occasional glass of wine and knowing there was another woman around was comforting. However, today my new tenant, Alexis, moved in. He’s a great guy who moved here from just south of San Francisco.

(Alexis bearing gifts of coffee, cookies, pinot grigio and dog biscuits from Trader Joes™)

    Alexis is the kind of guy who jumps right in. His first real day here and he offered to help Henry in the barn while I finally took down the now out-of-place and goose-ravaged graveyard. The moment Alexis produced an impressive Butterfly knife Henry was an immediate Alexis fan. After what seemed to Henry a socially acceptable amount of time, he asked Alexis where he got his unusual name. “After all, it is kinda odd for a boy.” The answer seems to be his mother was French and his father was Greek so they chose a name that would suit both cultures. There’s another version according to his cousin in North Carolina that has to do with a czar, but we’ll leave that for another time.

    It was past time for me to grain the cows, which made me a little nervous. Gallantly, Alexis offered to join me. We walked down and I showed him where I’d been standing when I’d seen the cougar and where the cougar had been. Not wanting to freak him out, I said that many people had lived on Mosquito Lake Road for twenty years and had never seen a cougar. “In fact, Wayne says I’ll probably never see another one, which is OK by me."

    The evening brought Wayne, Henry, Alexis and me together for a celebration of his first real night on the farm. Naturally, our fare included chili, chocolate-butterscotch cookies and “Journey to The Center of the Earth”. Poor Alexis had every single animal on his lap for a time. A good sport, he hugged, snuggled, petted and accepted kisses from Bruno, Abbey, Luther, Irish, Emmet, Vivian and love-starved Deli – who inexplicably lights up when Alexis walks in the room.

    After the movie, Wayne sleepily climbed the stairs to his attic world while I walked Alexis out to the front porch. We stood there in the bright moonlight talking about the beauty of the place, the pros and cons of living here and whatever else entered our minds. As I was talking to Alexis I noticed a movement behind him in the shadows. Ever paranoid, I doubted myself. Wondering if my eyes or the shadows were playing tricks on me, I asked Alexis to turn and tell me if he saw it too. He looked and, after a moment, said slowly, “Yes, I do. There’s something light-colored there. I can see it moving. I wouldn’t have seen it if you hadn’t pointed it out.”

    “It’s a cougar, isn’t it?”

(taken the next day from the porch - the cougar was on the other side of the driveway between the pine tree on the left and the post on the right)

    “Yes, it is. It’s definitely a cougar. Look at how it moves,” he answered almost inaudibly. As we watched a giant version of Emmett slink casually down the path between the apple trees and along the pasture fence line, I ran inside to get a flashlight. The big one Tom bought me didn’t work. Again. So I grabbed a little one and ran outside, yelling to Henry we had a cougar in the front yard. We held up the flashlight and, sure enough, two green eyes blinked back at us. The cougar had been about eighty feet away from the house.

     “Hey, do you want to hop in my jeep and go see if we can get a closer look?” Cool. A new playmate.

    “Is it a hard top?” I queried hesitantly. Small chuckle.

     “Good question. Yes, it is a hardtop.”

    “Heck Yeah. Let’s go. I’ll grab my camera.” I ran inside and asked Henry if he wanted to go.

    “Uh. NO! I do not. Mom, I don’t think you should go out looking for cougars either. Moms don’t do that when they have children.”

    “This one does. I want to see one, just not standing next to me.”

    As we hoisted ourselves into the jeep, I glanced up to Wayne’s room because I knew he’d want to go too, but it was dark and I didn’t want to wake him to go on what would probably be a wild goose chase (my second today).

    Scanning the pasture, trees and surrounding brush for eyes, we saw raccoon eyes, and a lone doe, but no cat so we returned home from our safari planning our next adventure. We thought we’d do a beaver pond stakeout. We’d need blankets and hot beverages, flashlights.

November 6th As Luck Would Have It

  (The house from a cougar's perspective) 

    This morning started out very dramatically. Henry yelled that Emmet had killed one mouse and had another mouse in his mouth. “It’s not dead!” Great. I couldn’t think about that now, we had to get to school. With a firm grip on his green collar, I walked Irish past the dining room table where Emmet was torturing his most recent victim. Lord, have I changed.

    “Mama, the mouse got away when you took Irish to the bathroom. Now he’s behind the dining room chair in the corner. Emmet doesn’t know where he is.” I glanced over, figuring the poor thing was terminally injured, but no. There he sat looking up at me as cute as anything. Whiskers twitching. He wasn’t going to last long, but late or not, I couldn’t leave the poor thing to be hunted down. After all, he wasn’t a rat. If he had been a rat, there would have been no reprieve. I’d have walked out the door without looking back.

    A mom on a mission, I didn’t have time for squeamish. I put Emmet in the laundry room and the little rat dog as well as all the other dogs in my room, except for Luther. What’s Luther going to do, but make friends with it? I instructed Henry to go get a bucket. He came back with an old kitty litter bucket. We blocked the little guy with the screen Scarlett had popped off the window. He ran into the bucket. I yelled for Henry to lift the handle and voila! Our makeshift mousetrap worked pretty well.

   “You are one lucky mouse,” I told him. Henry took him outside and he scurried away as we sped off to school, hoping not to be late for the before-school band percussion practice.

    When I got home, I divided my time between looking for jobs and cleaning the house, adroitly avoiding the pile of laundry. The house was so quiet, the only sounds I was aware of were Luther’s snores and my shoes on the wooden floor. The entire menagerie was all snug in bed.
(Bruno yawns as Vivian snuggles)

    I was excited when the phone rang because Wayne had just given me a headset to wear around the house like an operator. I always laughed at my old neighbor Steven DiMarco who wore one. Now, I was thrilled to be wearing one.

    “Hello?”

    “Hi, it’s Tob,” The tone of Toby’s voice sent off alarm bells. It was harried and secretive.

    “What’s wrong?”

    “Well, just about everything. Starting with six policemen who were just searching the house.”

    “What? Who are these people? Is it the drunk?” Toby’s been staying with a woman, Fran, who is really very nice. Although she is an enabler. She divorced her drug-addicted abusive husband, but now allows him to live with her because he’s no longer using drugs. He’s just a falling-down sloppy drunk.

    “No. That’s what I thought. I thought Ricky had finally killed himself or someone else. But no, it’s the daughter. She moved in recently with her boyfriend. And, actually she’s really nice and sweet. Always doing thoughtful things like helping Dean or buying flowers. She’s been looking on craigslist and tipping me off when she sees some job I might be right for.”

    “So what was it for? Drugs?” I was fairly sure.

    “Well, yes, and, apparently, fraud. You know how I told you she’s been on craigslist? It turns out she and her boyfriend have been conning people into believing they have a rental. She asks them for a $2,500.00 deposit and they give everyone a different move in date.”

    “Toby! That’s so evil. How can anyone knowingly prey on innocent people looking for a place to live and clean them out? It's never right, but I can understand some crimes.”

    “I know. You can get the ones where the crime is a nameless, faceless corporation and they don't connect a person with it. And she’s so nice, friendly, and cute doing all these nice things, but remember when Fran stayed with me for that year a while back? Well, I don’t know if you remember, but it was because her daughter caused so many financial problems and drained her grandmother’s bank account, causing the grandmother to have to move out of the home she was living in.”

    “She’s just this side of Ted Bundy if you want my opinion. OK. I know she didn't kill anybody, but you know what I mean.” These were real vermin - rats, not mice.

    “Fran tried to do what was best and bailed her daughter out. But she just kept bailing her out and so she never learned consequences. Recently, they moved in here because they got busted for a check cashing scheme.”

    “What does Fran think now?” I asked, while I mopped the game room. I was riveted, like I was watching TruTV.

    “She just sat in a chair asking what she was doing wrong while the police searched the house, seizing evidence. She was going to try and bail her out again, but the bail is set pretty high. She can’t afford it. Ricky was drunk by 10:00AM and he keeps moaning about bailing out his little girl. Miller, I have to tell you I can barely stand it. But I don’t have the money to leave right now. I was asked by the police over and over what my relationship was to them. They think I’m one of them. Dean just watched TV and talked to the police about his show. He hasn’t asked me any other questions yet.”

    “Wow. Well, now what? You don’t really have any choice right now. You have to stay.”

    “I know. I did get work for this weekend in Big Bear, so Dean and I are going to get away and have some time away from here. Ricky is just a nightmare stumbling around. I keep my door locked. He went to a detox place for a couple of days and had the shakes, vomiting - the whole bit - but he just left there and went to a bar. I memorized his license plate so I can call the police.”

    “How does Fran deal with that?”

    “She says the bar is only two blocks away and he drives really, really slowly,” Toby laughed nervously. “As if that helps. You know we’re surrounded by three schools.”

    “She’s obviously never lost anyone to a drunk driver. I have and she is going to be as responsible as he is when he kills someone. You’re living in a snake pit surrounded by felons. Honestly, I don’t know anyone like that. The daughter is horrible, preying on people. And you're living with them. You know, right now, if it weren't for bad luck you'd have no luck at all.”

    “You're telling me. She obviously has no moral compass. It drives me crazy. They worked so hard devising this scheme. If they'd put that energy toward getting a job, they wouldn't have to do this. She’s so charming. Dean adores her.”

    “That’s scary, but I guess con artists have to be charming. It’s a job requirement. I’m worried. You don’t want Dean thinking bad people are nice. That could be very confusing for Dean,” I worried as I swept up mounds of dog hair.

    “I know. He just doesn’t have the ability to understand this. He thinks bad guys are just bad guys. And he can so easily be led down the wrong path. I told him the police were just doing a check in the neighborhood, because they thought there were bad guys around.”

    “Well, that’s good,”  I sighed as I pushed dog hair into the dustpan.

    “On the upside, the daughter and the boyfriend are going down for sure. And will probably be gone for about six months or more. So there are two less people in the house.” More nervous laughter.

    “That is definitely a benefit.”

    “Well, I’ve got to go. I’ll let ya know if anything else happens.”
(From the driveway)

    I was drained after that. I couldn’t imagine Toby living there with Dean, getting him ready for school every morning and trying to pretend Ricky was just another nice man. Meanwhile, these scheming con artists were bilking people out of money and Fran tolerated all of it. I couldn’t manage to feel sorry for her. She just let it all happen. In fact, she’s responsible. Without her, they couldn’t commit their crimes. No, I didn’t feel sorry for her. I was reminded of the old saying, “The road to hell is paved with good intentions.”
(The pond switching from fall to winter)
    Wayne came home and we took a walk to the pond, enjoying the crisp day. We didn’t take any of the dogs with us, just in case we got a glimpse of Wally, the beaver. We didn’t see him, but we inspected his lodge and tunnels.

(Wally's entrance) (Wayne works on Wally's masterpiece)
(A breakthrough)

We tore down his dam because we’re expecting rain. The forecast says four to eight inches tomorrow. Seeing the pond always lifts my spirits. I felt lucky to be here in this special place. All my troubles and Toby’s troubles drifted away. The beauty of the hills relaxed me.
(some of the last leaves of fire) (water droplets)

    On the way back, we looked at deer trails, inspected cougar paths. It was so quiet we could hear the “whoop, whoop, whoop” as a hawk’s wings pushed the air and a field mouse skittered away through some branches. I wondered if that was our lucky mouse being lucky again.

October 25th Fallin' In Love

     October has been spectacular here. The days are bright and sunny, while the temperatures are steadily dropping. Unlike Southern California, you know it’s time to put on your fall wardrobe because of the weather rather than the calendar. Not that I have a fall wardrobe anymore, but I am putting an undershirt on before my coveralls now. Most people with style are starting to wear scarves with coordinating hats. boots with heels and smart wool coats. Everyone has something different they love about fall. Either it's jack 'o' lanterns, football or hot pumpkin spice lattes – my friend, Laura, says she sucks down as many as she can in a season.
    (One of my neighbors on Mosquito Lake Road)
    For me, it’s the leaves.  I love the buttery browns, buttery golds, tangerines and, of course, the crimsons. I would get a small peek at fall in California because I had a stand of Liquid Amber in my front yard, but the difference here is the scale. You're transported into a virtual “snow globe of leaves.” The color swallows you up.

The mountains are on fire as the sun hits the trees, back-lighting their leaves.

When we drive past a family outside doing something so Saturday Evening Post as raking leaves is when Henry and I miss Tom the most, more than on the holidays. And there is nothing more amazing than driving down the road, the sun peering through the trees, leaves swirling down around you in slow motion. (a few of my favorites)

    Now, I'm not so sure Lisa likes the leaves with the same passion I do at the moment. You see, she had a Gladys Cravitz-type neighbor stop by her house the other day and say, "Oh! Look at all the leaves in your yard; it looks so Fall at your house. I guess you like it natural." That's code for "I guess you don't keep your place nice and neat like mine, you slob."  

    Out here on the farm, we mostly leave them where they fall.  Or scoop up an armful and feed 'em to the goats. Miracle likes the Sycamore, especially if they're nice and crunchy.

(Alex sneaking one of Miracle's Sycamores)

(Miracle guarding her stash)

October 14th The Trickle Down Theory

(A big 'un)

    Henry and I leashed up Irish and Deli and took all the dogs for a walk to the pond to get a little fresh air. Henry’s been sick and I’ve been sick with worry. Worried about money, worried about our future, worried about what’s going to happen. Worried about whether or not the 750 billion dollar bailout will ever reach the people who need it. So, should we give up on Fort Flashback? Sadly, I think the answer is yes. We, like most people, have got to concentrate on the basics, paying the mortgage, gas and food.
(Deli and Henry in their fall coats)

    In the beginning, I talked to banks until I was blue in the face. Although encouraging, the bankers were mainly helpful only in passing me on to the next banker, who could not loan us the money either. At the time I didn’t know the economy was on the verge of collapsing. Back then I spoke endlessly to venture capitalists who were interested -- if they could have a quick exit strategy. There really isn’t a quick buck to be made in a colonial living-history facility. I was told to try and get grants because my cause was altruistic, but I’m no grant writer and, frankly, the ins and outs of nonprofits elude me. I’d need help. I’ve spoken to potential investors who say the plan is viable, but time marches on and nothing happens. Financial consultants want me to become a Bed & Breakfast. Which I suppose is still a possibility but, honestly, I hate doing my own laundry, never mind other people’s.

    I know I’m not alone. My friend, Doug, told me of a man in Porter Ranch so despondent he killed his whole family because of his financial situation. And the other day I sat next to a teary-eyed woman at gymnastics who was speaking on the phone to a friend about walking away from her house and starting  over completely. It seems they were going to have a big family reunion in Italy this summer, but now no one can make it. She was going to try and sell their computer to buy food. Strange that we’ve come to a place where this doesn’t shock me. Is this peek through time? Is this how it felt in the '30's?
(Henry swings -)

Will we look back and call this the second Depression? As we walk along, I push back my tears. The dogs racing around with tails wagging, the cool crisp air on my face, and Henry’s laughter seem to melt my worries away. 

(Henry swings)
(Vivian dares Henry to play)
(Vivian makes sure Henry knows she's still fast)
(Vivian wins)
(Vivian dives in for kisses)

(Bruno - the rat bat dog)
(Luther being pursued by the rat thing)

     Bruno races around the other dogs like a bat out of hell. He seems to have springs in his legs as he jumps over Luther, dashes around corners and squeezes himself under just about anything. Irish is fascinated with him, watching Bruno’s every move. Anticipating where he’ll be, Irish tries to block him. He loves playing with Bruno, but Irish is still recovering from his July motorcycle injury and must remain leashed until he gets the pins out of his leg. (Bruno leaps) (Irish still recovering)

Deli, on the other hand, is always leashed or she’s gone, gone, gone after some enticing scent. Luther and Vivian are very easy, taking turns racing, rolling and investigating. They come running at just the mention of their names and are never far from sight.
(Vivian and Luther enjoy the day)

    The pond was not as we expected. Wally (the beaver) has completely dammed the pond. Again. This time he has done an unbelievable job. There isn’t even a trickle flowing past his dam. The pond level is high and the water is stagnant. Wally's taken down more trees around the bank, stripped the bark off others and cut some trunks into manageable pieces to move. We inspected his work, amazed at his craftsmanship and diligence. I really need to set up a beaver-cam with night vision.
(Wally's work is never done)

(Always a new project) (Some of Wally's trees, the pavilion & Lu)

    Not quite ready to go home, we circled around the pavilion and walked on. At the end of the path we were surprised again. The barbed wire fence marking our property line was gone. The creek just beyond it had been filled in, with just a tiny stream running through a buried tube. Where trees used to be someone had bulldozed a gash in the forest. Pushed-down trees were strewn about like giant pick-up  sticks. (trees on the sides pushed almost, but not quite, over)

Stunned, we walked on. The path kept going and going until finally we came upon the instrument of destruction. Obviously, this was the noise I’d heard at times in the mornings. I’d thought it was loggers taking down cedar, as we’d been asked if they could selectively log some of our trees.

    “Mom, they annihilated the creek.”

    “ I know. I can’t believe it’s just gone. I can’t believe they had permits to do this. That was a wetland.”

    “You mean they’re sneaking?”

    “That’s exactly what I mean. This place looks like “Over the Hedge” where the men come in and recklessly chop down the forest and fill in the water source without a thought. I really can’t believe it.”

    “Should we tell someone?’

    “Well, it’s a little late.”

    “Yeah, they can’t ever put it back.”

    “It’s easier to ask for forgiveness than it is to ask for permission.”

    “Is that what people think?”

    “Sometimes. You know, I don’t know for sure they didn’t have permits to do this, but it just doesn’t seem right. I am not allowed to have our cows come within a hundred feet of the creek that runs along our property.”

    “You mean the one Wally dammed up?”

    “Yeah.”

    “Are you going to call someone, Mama?”

    "I think I am. I don’t really like tattling, but this just isn’t right and if I don’t say anything, then I’m part of the problem, too. I don’t think anyone can build here because of the wetlands. I think this will just be for hunters.”

    “Just great! More gunshots. Who are you going to call?”

    “The County.” We started walking back, surveying the damage. Deli was on high alert. I wondered what animals were displaced. “Henry, we’ve got to come back with a shovel and open up that stream Wally blocked.”

    “OK, but what’s the big deal?”

    “Well, there isn’t even a trickle getting through.”

    “I know, but he likes it that way; he lives there and he keeps doing it. Why don’t we just let him?”

    “Well, what about all the animals that depend on that stream as it winds to the river? That’s their drinking water. Toads, frogs, raccoons, bear, deer and who knows what else.”

    “Well, they can come to the pond.”

    “Henry, we don’t know how far into the forest it goes before it meets the river. They can’t all come across the road to our pond. Wally has shut down that stream just like the bulldozer.”

    “Why that ..., he didn’t have a permit. Call the County on his beaver butt.”
(Wally's dam)

October 10th I Love The Nightlife

(sunset on MLR)

    As I turn left out of my driveway to pick up Henry in Burlington at gymnastics I notice the scenery is suddenly so different than it was just a short time ago, the light disappearing with the leaves. Autumn is putting on a show. The skies are clear and crisp the leaves crimson and gold. This is no bumper-to-bumper drive to collect my son; rather it is a recharging time to reflect on the beauty around me.

   

(Evelyn and her friends)

    On the way home, Henry and I catch up on the day’s events as we theorize and strategize about our favorite castaways, in anticipation of watching Survivor – our guilty pleasure.

   
   

(More Mosquito Lake Road)

Suddenly interrupted by a screech we couldn’t help but be awe struck as a barred owl flew at a dramatic angle down from a tall pine tree and across the road perhaps fifteen feet in front of us and about fifteen feet above us. My headlights lighted up its wings and we could clearly see its face and talons as it landed in a tree on the other side of the road.

(Mt. Baker aglow from the 9)

    Taken aback we talked about how amazing the sight was, just as a couple of raccoon strolled by the light of the silvery moon.

(neighbor pays a call)

 

August 15th Rolling On De River

    The day had finally arrived to go tubing! To make sure we were there on time, Tom and I made our requisite run to Lowes™ early in the day.  We also had bills to mail, taco fix'ns to buy and so we hurried. The minute we got home, we jumped in our suits, grabbed our tubes and sped down to Acme to wait for the Donaldsons.

    We blew up the tubes, got some snacks and waited. We drove to Strand Road the drop off place for the car and called them. They were going to be even later – they went a different way and got lost. We played games like “Going On a Picnic” It seems there was a miscommunication. We waited for two hours. (Tom, Henry, Sam and Kimona kill time playing games)

    By the time the properly apologetic Donaldsons arrived it was simply too late to go. We couldn’t risk being on the river after dark. And because Lisa was working at the Emergency Clinic and Chris had a business trip to New York, we didn’t think we could go on Sunday. I felt terrible. After all that preparation,  Sam and Kimona were going to miss going.

Like every Hollywood ending - All was darkest before a lady told Chris  there was a short 1/2 mile run we could do. Something was better than nothing. We hopped in. The sun was hot and the water cool. The snowy mountains peered at us from the distance as we bobbed along with the current. (Kimona give it the thumbs up)

(Henry and Sam go head first)

(Quinn trying out the boy's method)

    A few minutes into the float there was a flurry of rescheduling. We’re all going again tomorrow – except Lisa (you just can’t blow off the Emergency Clinic)

(Tired but happy Sam)

(Packing in the Pheeb)

July 31st Whooo Is He?

(Puppy to be named later)

   

    We woke up this morning without power. My first panicked thought was – did I pay the bill? – Yes. Whew. OK, so I called Puget Sound Energy and only six other homes had reported the problem despite the fact that over a 1000 home were without electricity. Apparently, this was a scheduled outage and we’d gotten a notice in the mail.

    I hate the mail. It’s like laundry so I hadn’t opened it yet. I open all the bills at once and pay them. This particular strategy works pretty well most of the time, but not today.

    I found some old coffee in the pot and heat it up on the gas stove. Desperate times.  I looked for my plastic filter holder so I could make some more, but couldn’t find it. I did find my lasagna pan broken in six pieces on the floor courtesy of Luther and friends. Now I haven’t got a lasagna pan, pretty or otherwise. I may have some glass ones I left at Lisa’s I’ll have to ask her. No matter, I went out to feed the goats. I was shocked and disappointed to find they’d left the door open all night. I walked into the dark barn slowly afraid of what I might find. Thankfully, everyone was accounted for, but Miracle was ticked off. She’d been left to wear her fly mask all night and she wasn’t happy about it. This was the kids third attempt and third failure at the barn animals. The first time the boys fed them, but didn’t let them out. The second time, the girls let them out, but didn’t feed them. This time they all went out there and I presume they fed them, but left them vulnerable all night. We were going to have to have a talk about responsibility when they woke up- if they ever woke up.

    The kids slept until noon – they got dressed and we went to town to get those pesky life vests, some air horns to keep about the property and to deliver the puppy pens the geese are no longer using to the Donaldsons. The puppy without a name arrived today.

    Of course, he is soft and sweet and snuggly and very kissy. He came from the Skagit Humane Society and seems quite happy with his new digs.

    We spent some time meeting him when he arrived, but left so Phoebe and Quinn could get to know their new dog. (names - Charlie and Cooper are being bandied about - pictured with Phoebe, Quinn and Winnifred)

    On our way home we talked about caring for the goats. The kids swear on their lives they closed the door tight. They say they're sure. I want to believe, but the door doesn't just open itself. Does it? (It never has before)

    Our local wild life expert, Kimona spotted a raccoon and a Barred Owl as she chatted about the evils of city life. A girl after my own heart. -

July 28th Ready Or Not

  (view as we drove home from gymnastics in the afternoon)

    A spectacular day with bright sunshine and cool shadows, a day to play outside a day for running, screaming, giggling, plotting and planning: Hide & Seek tag was on!

    Quinn and Kimona, the masterminds of the game, certainly had an unfair advantage: they’re a year older and – well, they’re girls. The boys however, aren’t stupid so don’t feel too sorry for them. The rules were simple

1. Each team of two must stay together.

2. Each team must have a noisemaker of some kind. A cowbell or air horn – to give up or in case of trouble.

3. No hiding in the bushes or grass so that you look like easy prey.

4. No large farm equipment such as the tractor may be used.

Team Girl: Quinn (12) and Kimona (13) were the first to seek. They had to wait ten minutes in the house with me while I was getting my lasagna going while Team Boy: Sam (12) and Henry (11) went to hide.

    While the girls were waiting, it became clear that the game had already started. It seems the two of them had been lurking in corners eavesdropping while the boys were looking for a pair of walkie-talkies.  They felt certain the boys were headed to the pond and it would be a snap to get them. But just in case they devised a fake list in a notebook they were going to leave on the counter of pretend places they might hide. This way when the boys went looking for them, they’d be safely tucked away somewhere else.
  (OK - they can't spell - but that's not everything.)

    Well, it seemed like a good plan as I listened, nodded and grated the mozzarella. After searching high and low for my good Portmeirion™ lasagna, pan I vaguely remembered my father had accidentally broken it when he used it as a makeshift dog dish. Time was up and I sent them on their way.  I put the sundried tomatoes on top covered the pan with foil and shoved it in the oven, and went outside to find Wayne in the shop with Kristi.
  (Cleveland, Mabel, Clara, Lloyd, Mathilda, Ruthie, Alfred & Quackmire assess Wayne and Kristi's progress)

Wayne has decided he likes the cut of our cloth. Which means he asked if he fix up our attic and move in for a while as he gets back on his feet – he’s getting divorced. Hmm. Let’s see. He cooks, cleans, organizes, drywalls, knows how to do electrical work, paints houses, builds things, dabbles in plumbing is a nice guy, can shoot a gun, brings us fresh crab and spontaneously does things like clears out the brush by the pond so the kids won’t be cougar cookies. Well, ok. Maybe I can suffer through it.

Anyway, Kristi and Wayne were clearing out the shop, so Wayne can build a wood rack and fit his table saw in Tom’s shop. Just then we were approached by two very smug boys.

“We lost them.”

“What?” Kristi inquired.

“The girls. We hid in the boat in the middle of the pond and they couldn’t get us. They even tried to trick us by leaving and changing their clothes so they could come in after us. But it didn’t work. We got away.”

Just as I was introducing Sam to Kristi, two screaming girls came rounding the bend.

“There they are!! Get ‘em!” Bellowed Quinn as both she and Kimona began almost yipping. The boys took a horrified look over their shoulders and raced away with girls in hot pursuit.

    The shop continued to be organized and the lasagna baked. Until a somber group came in the door a long time later. It was Quinn who started talking.

“OK, let me tell you what happened.”

“Is everyone OK. Tell me that first.”

“Yes. Everyone is all right now."

“OK. What happened?”

“Well, we thought the boys were pretty smart using the boat in the pond, so we did the same thing. Only. Henry pretended Sam had ditched him and he went on how the game was over and we started to feel sorry for him.” Quinn rattled off very quickly as only a radio announcer and a middle school girl can.

“Henry’s a pretty good actor, so we believed him.” Interjected Kimona.

At this point, I started wondering what the problem was, were they going to complain about Henry’s playing the game in a “Survivor-like-way"? And where was Henry? He hadn’t come in yet.

“Well, we saw Sam hiding in the bushes and Henry gave us a long explanation how Sam had betrayed him and they weren’t working together anymore and we believed him again.” (Gullible) “Then Henry started swimming out to get us and suddenly he seemed to be having trouble and couldn’t keep his head above the water.”

“What? Where is he?” 

Just then Sam and Henry walked in the door. Henry was in some of Quinn's dry clothes but very shaken up. Quinn continued, “Well we thought he was faking again and he started asking for help. When we realized, he was serious we yelled for Sam, but Sam had already figured it out and was diving in the water. Sam pushed Henry to the dock and rescued him.”

“Mom, I got so cold in the water, I couldn’t move my arms or legs very well.”

“And you’re a terrible swimmer Honey. We’ve got to get you some more lessons. You never want to take swimming seriously, but it’s really important.”

“Sam saved me.”

“Thanks Sam." I said with my whole heart. "I’d really miss him if he were gone. I’ve grown used to this little punk. It’s forty minutes to the hospital, my lasagna would have been ruined.”

“MOMMMM! I was really, really, really scared.” Henry whined almost crying as he wrapped his arms around me. I could feel his cold skin and see the fear in his eyes.

“I’m sure you were Honey. I’m scared just hearing about it. I can’t think about you being seriously hurt. Do you remember the 4th of July four years ago? I can’t think those thoughts. We’re going to have to leave life preservers and some other equipment by the pond if you guys are going to be playing there. But we’re all clear – NO ONE pretends to be hurt or injured."  I could kick myself. I just had all the kids trying on lifejackets for tubing - earlier today in Fred Meyer™. I should have bought them instead of waiting to see if I could get them cheaper somewhere else.

“We just thought he was the-little-boy-who-cried-wolf. When we finally figured out it was real, we yelled to Sam.”

“This isn’t Sam’s first rescue. Remember Mom, he dove in and saved his little sister too.”

“ I remember, that was about two years ago right?”

“Yeah.”

“Hey Sam, I’m a horrible swimmer. Thanks for saving my life. Want a marshmallow? Oh and Quinn, winner picks the movie. And we won.”

(Wearing Pea's t-shirts, the girls plot)
There was some arguing, but the girls conceded almost too easily. As they walked out with Wayne, Abbey and me to close up the barn animals, I heard them whispering about short sheeting bed, putting nail polish and sparkle blush on the boys while they sleep.

“How about if we put the little alfalfa goat pellets in their cereal in the morning?” Kimona wondered.
(Kimona and Abbey herd geese while Wayne watches)

July 20th Our Big Backyard

(Craig heads out to the field)

   

More work and more trips to Lowes™ and Wayne back for more made this day seem like any other day except for when the entertainment committee arrived, our neighbors Kristi and Stan. They came roaring up in their big shiny truck with food. For no particular reason, they sat on the edge of their truck as we worked and chatted. NASCAR, drag racing, tubing (down the river) and guns were mainstays of the conversation. We’re talking serious county. I asked Stan if he wanted a beer and he said “No. I have one in the truck.” (Stan)

(Craig gone native)

    These are two are salt of the Earth. The type of people you call in an emergency and you know, no matter what time it is, they’ll be there. Kristi and Stan laugh easily, feel as comfortable as an old pair of work boots and you don’t have to fuss. They’re people who know who they are, in fact they knew each other only eight weeks when they got married. When it’s right it’s right.

   

Unfortunately they had other plans and couldn’t stay for our barbecue out by the pond. Just as they were about to leave, Annie, Quinn, Phoebe and Winifred showed up. Tom whipped up his father’s chicken recipe that’s being handed down through the family and we didn't dally getting our party going -"shee-it"

 after all it's Saturday Night. (Tom, Annie, Craig and Wayne - seated)

Our last but not least important guests didn’t travel far, for our barbecue at the pond. Kristi (another one) and Olie (short for Olerud- Kristi is a baseball fan) her dog a Katrina Rescue walked over from their new home in Grandpa Horn’s old place, which means I finally have a neighbor lady – like on Califa Street when I had Anice and Nona.
(Annie watches the meal being prepared by the menfolk)
    We gorged on chicken, corn, watermelon (ala ‘Big Lu” with Pico de Gallo and lemon), potato salad and fresh crab Wayne caught out of the bay the other day. While the kids fished, the pack of dogs played and we sat enjoying the day turn into evening.
  (Wayne's dog - Abbey showing all the other pups how it's done) (Phoebe & Henry go fishing)
  (Perplexed Henry actually catches a fish as vegetarian Quinn screams "throw it back before you kill it's little trout spirit" and Phoebe shrieks for no real reason other than it seems called for)

    Annie and I noticed smoke. We were all amused to find out it was a campsite. Our pond is close to one of our property lines and there were campers on the adjoining vacant land. It felt absurd to be in your backyard and  see people really camping not just kids pitching a tent in the neighbors yard, but really truly “getting away from it all”.  I feel extremely lucky.

(There is so much stuff and so many dogs - Wayne drives the food back to the house with Craig and Quinn following behind)

July 18th Sunrise - Sunset

(seagull on point)

We all got up early and fed the animals, had coffee and showed Craig around. Instead of jumping right into our usual project mode, we decided we should take a day to just be a family. We stopped at the new café on Mt. Baker Highway (that used to be “Carol’s Coffee Cup” and then “Carol’s Girls”) for lunch, sat out on the patio enjoying the sunshine and Pellegrino™. Afterward we headed into to do some kayaking off Chuckanut Hwy, the PCH.

Lisa and Chris bought a sea kayak and its just a short jaunt from their house to Larrabee State Park where there is a small boat ramp. Craig and Tom donned their life vests on and hoisted the kayak on Chris’s Honda™ Element and in two shakes of a lamb’s tail they were off on their sea adventure. Henry and I too were off - to his eleven-year-old routine physical. I’d waited a month for this appointment and I wasn’t going to give it up for love or money. So we looked on the bright side and thought this would give Tom and Craig to have some father/son time before we returned. Not that they needed it as they drive to and from work together an hour and a half each way every day, but a rationalization is a rationalization and it was working for me. And Henry.

The physical went like most do, a cough here a shot there, but there was one notable exception. A frustrated nurse complained while taking Henry’s blood pressure that the sleeve was too small for his muscle, she’d have to get an adult-sized one. A sly smile crossed Henry’s face and hung there for a long time. He was so proud.

(Self Portrait)

We called when we were on our way back. Tom and Craig were having a great time tooling around the bay watching all the crabbers empty their pots.
(Craig, Henry & Proud Pea)

It was then the brothers went out together while Tom and I sat on the beach enjoying the sand, squirrels, seagulls and constant boat traffic. The boat dock wasn’t empty once while we sat there. Tom said it was busier than SeaTac. The crabbers would pull in set their traps and leave for a while and then come back and pick up their traps. It’s a wonder there is any crab left in Bellingham Bay.

(Henry & Craig) (more brotherly love)

Our next stop was Quinn and Phoebe’s Broadway Extravaganza. A grand finale for the singing camp the girls attended - given by BAAY (Bellingham Arts Academy for Youth) on State Street. We were a little late and Lisa text me there was limited seating so Craig and Henry went on a walk around town headed in the direction of Mallard’s Ice Cream while Tom and I went in expecting to endure the performance. Instead, we were bowled over by some of the performances. Not all were fabulous, but all were wonderful. The very idea the kids had the confidence to get up in front of an audience and sing. I can tell you right now I lip sync in church.

(Quinn -12 and Phoebe 7)

(Quinn & Phoebe with David Post)
The director, David Post is certainly teaching kids confidence and stage presence. Neither Tom nor I could believe seven-year-old Phoebe standing on stage singing a solo. Quinn! Well, she doesn’t look twelve in my old sequin dress leftover from a bazillion years ago. She was frustrated because she didn’t have time to memorize the lyrics to one of her songs, “Hear the Bells” and so she was rushed and didn’t feel she did at all well on that song.  I was frustrated I couldn’t get any good camera angles. (may Caleb Deschanel  forgive me - my camera and editing work film is far below par, but the girls are sweet).

The girls pestered me at intermission about where Henry was and why he was missing their show, but they were happy he was spending time with Craig.

When we finally got home, the evening proved to be just beginning as Craig came prepared with “Talladega Nights”. Henry popped it in the DVD and we all sat down for family movie night. Imagine my surprise when Karen roared on the screen – a wild  cougar.

I may have forgotten to mention but our doorbell has about 50 different “rings” and one of them is a cougar snarl. Henry has found it great fun to “ring” the doorbell when he feels I’m at my most vulnerable.

July 10th The Sounds of Silence

(Henry trying to teach the geese to fly) (Henry explains the finer points of flying - A little "Fly Away Home")