Feast or Famine... no middle ground.

We asked for it. We wanted RAIN. We did dances and said prayers... and feared the summer. Well, someone was listening and someone, possibly Mother Nature, decided that we needed a reprieve from all the worry for a while. But, good grief!! I'm not sure how long this rain will last and it's wonderful, but by about 3:30 p.m. this afternoon, I was going out of my ever lovin' mind. The rain has been non stop since Friday and we needed a break. After all... this is California.
So, this afternoon, I put on my raincoat and my boots, took my camera and told the Prospector that I was goin' crazy, so I was goin' for a walk. I asked the dogs to come too. They were reluctant. They don't like getting wet, pedigree Corgis that they are, but they finally came out with me... only out into the garden to relieve themselves... and then... back up onto the porch again.
The minute I stepped outside I heard the creek at the bottom of the canyon. I stood at the edge of our garden and listened. The creek was roaring.

The rain stopped for a few minutes. I walked out to the driveway and picked three daffodils that had chosen to bloom during the last few days and were suffering from the drenching rain.

Poor lovely flowers. Reminders of Spring. I needed to save them.
The old '38 Chevy was right behind me watching me hold the daffodils and take pictures at the same time.

She has been very neglected since the Prospector bought the RV. Even though we keep her under a tent like plastic cover, she is a mess. I think she has a cold. Her eyelashes don't look good and it looks like she threw up recently.  I know this isn't anyway to treat an old lady. We have talked about selling her this summer. It's very expensive to restore these ladies to their former beauty and the Prospector has lost interest. After all of my jealousy and inappropriate comments about her when she first came here, I feel kind of bad.
I will give her a bath when the sun shines again. She's still a beautiful car, even with all the dirt and rain. She deserves better. She deserves to be restored.
See this post about the day we bought her... here.
And the day we brought her home... here.



It started to rain again, so I decided to not take my camera up to the well and back. Too much moisture. I could walk again, later, without it... or tomorrow. So I headed back to the house.
The dogs were waiting, on the porch, and ran out to great me. I let Cutter smell the flowers.

He can be so adorable. I thought he was going to eat them... but he just nosed them and backed away. When he determined that it wasn't a biscuit... he lost interest.
The rain started getting serious and both dogs went into the house to be dried off by the Prospector. It's a game Carl likes to play. "You dry me off and I try to grab the towel." He loves the tug of war.
I walked around the garden for a few minutes. One of the garden ladies was looking quite Zen in the planter.

I cut the chrysanthemums and the holly hocks back to the ground before Christmas and look at them coming back up. The rest are (I think.) some paper whites and maybe, in the front, some blue hyacinth or Crocus. To be honest, I don't remember what I planted there. Bulbs are always a surprise for me because sometimes I write down what I plant and where... but, not often enough. If they are in there for more than a season or two... then I forget and it's a happy surprise in the Spring.
OK, I probably wrote down what I planted the first year or two that we lived here. That was sixteen years ago. After that... Who knows.
The hummingbird wind chimes are calling the hummers...

 ... but they must be weathering the storm in a sheltered place. Haven't seen any for a week. Yes, a few stay all winter here. It's mild enough and we feed them.
The donkey, like the Tin Man, needs an oil can.

He hasn't moved from this spot for two years. I think he likes the garden. I will make a hat of daffodils for him when there are more of them blooming.
It started raining heavily... so I went inside the house and found something to put the flowers in.

Daffodils brightened up the whole kitchen. They don't have a strong fragrance but they are so beautiful.
Maybe tomorrow I will walk down the road and take some pictures of the roaring creek for you. Should be a wonderful walk and maybe I will run into some other interesting sights as well... like a salamander or something.

These Daffodils are for all of my friends who are neck deep in snow and are tired of being cold.
I know that this has been a long winter for you. Think Spring... it will come.

Finally...

The rattlers have gone back into the earth for a few months.We only had two of them visit us this year. One, found behind the house, overstepped its boundaries, put my dogs in harms way and is now in snake heaven.

 The second one was on the road below the house... a small, but angry little guy, crossing in front of my car when I was driving home. Even the small ones carry quite an attitude. It flipped into a coil and wiggled his rattle-less tail at me. I had to laugh. It was so tiny. I let it pass.
The Prospector says I will regret this act of kindness when it comes back next summer bigger and meaner.
But,I couldn't run over it.
So be it.

Today it's beautiful. Sunny, clear and there's a fragrance of Fall in the air. This morning we worked on the hillside below the house cutting bushes and clearing debris from under them. The Prospector and I don't know when to stop and we worked way too long. We will probably regret this tonight.
The rain arrived a few days ago.  RAIN... glorious RAIN,  and it was cold, by California standards.
After a night of rain, I woke up with a desire for hot cereal. So I cooked some Cream of Wheat with some blueberries in it.

One of my favorite "cold weather" breakfasts.

 Then I went for a walk up to the orchard and our well. It's safe to walk into the grass now while it's wet, but I still watch were I'm walking just to be sure that an arrant Rattler hasn't decided to hibernate yet. I wear boots and long pants as well. You can't be too careful.

You never know what lurks in the grass. 

The hillside was glistening with raindrops. 

I took the low road because it is still a better road to walk on and I can see what's coming. The upper road continues up to the top of the hill and on to a distant farm. This was our escape route in last summer's fire.
The road to the right stops at the orchard and burn barrel. There is a turn around at the end.  It's just a utility road for us. Maybe some day we will have a storage barn there, even though it's quite a distance from the house. The road is good and we can drive it with any of our vehicles... even the "other women", (the 38' Chevy) can make it up there.

The sun was trying to break though the clouds. I felt like I was under a dome of  backlit cotton.

The fence gate had rows of raindrops lining the wire.

Many of the barbs on the fence had drops of water dripping from them.

This one had a complete miniature, upside down, reflection of its surroundings.

And, on the fence gate, I found a cocoon. I wonder what wonderful life force is developing inside that amazing little work of art.

I found a tiny bird egg lying on the ground. The ants had found it too.

I walked back toward the house thinking about the long hot summer that I dread so. I thought about the way that each season comes, with unique gifts, and leaves quietly, with the promise of their habitual return.
I will miss the flowers of summer, the vegetables... the smell of dry oaks and Toyon. I will miss sitting in the middle of the Mokelumne River with a gold pan. I will even miss the snakes. Yes... even the snakes.
But...I will not miss summer now... for a while. I was ready for this day... the cool wind, the cloudy sky and the changing leaves crunching under my feet. The berries of the Toyon are darkening and will soon be my outdoor decorations for Christmas.

   This is what I have been waiting for. This is when all fears leave and my soul remembers why we chose to live in this beautiful place.
I think I will make soup tonight...

Rain, Morning Thoughts and Lemon Bars

"Hidden, oh hidden
in the high fog
the house we live in,
beneath the magnetic rock,
rain-, rainbow-ridden,
where blood-black
bromelias, lichens,
owls, and the lint
of the waterfalls cling,
familiar, unbidden."

by Elizabeth Bishop

This morning was a wild one. Strong wind and steady rain lashed the garden and hills beyond. The wind railed against the house making Cutter nervous...

and sending Carl under the bed.

Watching through the window, I enjoyed the view of the storm from the safety of our living room.

 Within an hour or so, the rain let up and the sun came through the clouds for a short time.

 I stepped outside for a few minutes. The air was cold. The wind wild.

The daffodils bent and swayed on their delicate, yielding stems...

 I could hear the creek, through the wind, as it swelled again and overflowed its rocky edges. And then the wind picked up, drowning out the creekwater sounds and my sweater wasn't enough warmth anymore. I went back inside.

I cleaned up the kitchen, thought about finishing the new scarf I have been working on, and wrote a few emails. I went back into the kitchen and as I grabbed a banana, I saw this lemon.

This lemon was with a few others in the bottom of the fruit bowl. There it was, staring at me, covered with mildew and mold... and looking rather annoyed. I took it out and set it on the sink.

The other lemons were fine. It was then that I remembered  purchasing a bag of them at Wall Mart last week, thinking that I would make some lemon bars for my family at Easter. The lemon bars didn't happen... apple crisp happened instead. So I had all these lemons and now this one was going south really fast. There were four more in a bag, in the refrigerator. Lots of lemons... what should I do? 

Well, it was still raining outside. (YES, that's a Halloween pumpkin on the porch. I just can't throw it away. It's still pretty and it hasn't rotted out yet.)

The laundry was caught up. The house was fairly clean. The knitting could wait. I was still suffering from withdrawals over my Nuno felting disaster and  the lemons were waiting for redemption.

So, clearly, there was only one thing to do. Make some Lemon Bars.

First I "zested" the lemons, them I squeezed them.

This is the very old Betty Crocker's Cookbook that I love and use all the time. I've had this cookbook since I was first married and that, my friends, was a long, long time ago.

 This is the recipe, on page 270.

I follow this recipe exactly... except for putting maybe a teaspoon of lemon zest into the flour/butter mixture that bakes first. Other than this addition, which I think is a good idea, I make them just like it reads. Oh, I don't cut them up either, unless we have company.

I love Lemon Bars. What I really mean is... I LOVE LEMON BARS. 

This, for me, is what Weight Watcher's calls a "red light" food. So this is a very dangerous dessert to have sitting around the house. Do I sound like I care? It was raining and I had lemons. Some times "fate steps in and sees you through".

 We don't cut them up into bars. We just cut them as we eat them. It's easier this way.

 We already taste tested them for lunch.

The Prospector said that they were really good. I had to have another piece before I could make a definitive decision. Yea, I know. It's all about quality control. Actually, it's all about control... sort of. It's about eating only quality products, with enjoyment, and savoring every bite. It's about the logic of eating well and having control over one's environment. Yes, That's it. That sounds about right. 

I'm the mistress of my kitchen and I like to make sure that my Lemon Bars are the same good quality every time. 

Sounds like a rationalization doesn't it? Yea... it is. I simply LOVE Lemon Bars. That's the truth.

But it all has to do with habit and control. It's kind of like marking my store bought eggs with H.B. when I hard boil them. 

Even though I only hard boil ''store bought" eggs and they're the only WHITE eggs in the fridge.

What can I say. It's a control issue. I don't need to do it...all the other eggs are from the coop and they are colored. Our chicken eggs don't hard boil well and the shells stick to the egg ( even with ice cubes), so when I want to hard boil eggs or a deviled egg holiday comes 'round , I buy the "store" eggs. And when I hard boil them, I mark them H.B. Don't make this into an issue. It's just the way I roll. It's who I am.

The empty lemon rinds go into a bag and into the freezer.

 I use them with some salt and vinegar to clean the sink, the grout between the tile and to cut up and throw down the disposal, which I never use but has to be cleaned out once in a while... just because.

It makes the kitchen smell great.

I would invite you all over for dessert but... there won't be that much left by dinnertime.

Sorry... but, the recipe is easy and I won't say a word to anyone if you aren't having company. 

Lemon Bars are a guilty pleasure.... better savored alone... or with a special someone.

Enjoy!

***************************

Owl update:

He flew to the Mock Orange, from his perch in the eaves, last night just before dark. I went out and took this photo of him. He stayed there and let me get close enough to take a great picture. 

 This morning he didn't return. Where does he go and what places does he stay in when the weather is like this? I wish I could follow him and find out.

Wind-words

The weather changed drastically overnight. We have had beautiful sunny warm weather for days and today it's cold, rainy and very windy.
The goats don't like bad weather... especially wind. They get strange and  move around a lot.  I went out front to take some pictures of the storm moving through our river valley. It's always a beautiful thing to experience, a gift for our mild winter... rain for the spring wildflowers....
And I thought about the folks in West Liberty, KY again. I said another silent prayer for the people of that town .
 The clouds that I see are dark, filled with rain and moving fast. I want them to let loose of their moisture. There is no fear of these clouds. They are life giving.
But in a town in Kentucky, the same size as ours, gone in the rubble of a Tornado, they fear clouds and wait for the ones they call "bad"...and the sirens.

Then, my thoughts were interrupted... I heard the goats making this yelling and crying sound.
I ran back into the house and out the back door.
"What's wrong?" I asked, as I went to the fence.
Yes, I always talk to my animals.
They were both standing in the doorway looking at me.

There was Brownie, my one horned darling. Giving me a half grin and looking like he had not a care in the world.
"Brownie. What was all that noise about. I thought you were being attacked."
He just looked at me and continued to munch on his mouth full of hay.
"Well?", I asked.
He just grinned.
"Murphy! Come over here, please."

"Hi, Farmlady."
"What's going on out here? It sounded like you were being attacked."
"No, we are fine. But we don't like this wind."
"Does it scare you?... It does, doesn't it? "
" Well, we don't understand why we can't see the wind. There is this sound  that comes and everything moves... the trees, the leaves and everything goes from one place to another. Why is this, Farmlady?"
" Wind is very complicated Murph'. It's about air pressure and things that happen way up in the sky. But, it won't hurt you. You are safe here in your house. I promise."
" I still don't like it."
"You know what? There is a really huge wind called a Tornado. We don't have them here but in the Midwest and in the East and South East they have wind that comes out of the sky and circles down with such force that it damages houses, people and animals. We don't have storms like that here. We are very lucky."
"Are you sure, Farmlady?"
"Yes Murph', I'm sure."

He came up to the fence... and we touched noses.
"It's really OK." I whispered.
He went back into the goathouse.
Brownie came out and looked at me.

The backdoor screen slammed shut in the wind. It startled Brownie.

He panicked and turned around to look as the wind picked up. The sky was clearing and the sun was shinning but the wind was blowing hard.
Brownie turned and looked at me again.

"Maybe the sky is falling, Farmlady."
"No, Brownie. The sky fell in Kentucky, Ohio and Illinois a few days ago. It's not going to fall here. It's just a strong wind."
"Well, I don't like it." and he walked back into the goathouse with Murphy.
I heard voices coming from the goats inside their house. I think I heard Murphy say something like,
"Dwi ddim yn hoffi gwynt."
Then I heard Brownie say, "I don't like the wind either, Murph' " 
They will probably stay in their house all day today.

Around the Rain Drenched Farm

The Ladies started laying again this week. They must have taken my threats seriously. I could have used the "magic monkey" curse, since it worked so well with Blogger, but I didn't have to. My chickens have "magic" of their own. Look at those blue eggs. The Araucana hens really know how to lay an egg don't they?

So, yesterday, with these fresh eggs, and taking the whole afternoon off from dealing with computers, I BAKED COOKIES.
We love Snickerdoodles around here. I put some orange zest into the batter in honor of my mother, I put orange zest in just about everything. So did she. It's one of those sweet aromas that remind me so much of her. The house was filled with this wonderful fragrance for the rest of the day.

This is the view of our front yard from the chicken house. It rained all day yesterday. Everything sparkled..., except the goats, of course. They were inside their house grumbling.
Brownie has had a frown on his face for days. I don't' even want to have a discussion about the weather with him. He's in a foul mood and it wouldn't be pretty. We need this rain so badly here. He just doesn't understand. GOATS!!

I want to wish my dear "childhood" friend, Dawn, a very happy Birthday. I will tell you the wonderful story of how she found me and where we came from, soon. It's a wonderful story of friendship; lost and regained. Stay tuned...

The Rain has Come, Again

Last night the clouds moved in and by midnight we heard the sound of rain on the leaves outside our windows. This morning the sun tried very hard to shine but the clouds finally won and semi- darkness prevailed. This is my favorite time to go for a walk. I had forgotten how hard it is to balance a camera and an umbrella at the same time but I did it and these photos are the results.
The rain darkens everything and makes the garden richer and more beautiful than it really is. The end of summer heat left all the bushes and plants, especially the roses, in a very bad state. Leaves curled and flowers wilted..., but this morning it's as if hand lotion has been sprayed over everything; shiny, moisturized, and dripping with rain . Even the plants that lost their battle with the summer heat look like they have been given a second life. It's a rebirth of liquid "gold" here in the Mother Lode. The 49er's knew that without water they didn't stand a chance of finding gold in this arid country..., or surviving. Their ghosts are standing on the clifts above our house with their hands in the air, smiling and then laughing at the soaked hills around them.

I let Carl out to roam free in the fenced area this morning. He loves this freedom. He's so full of self importance and purpose. When I was ready to go back to the house I called him. The picture on the bottom right was his response. He sat very still and thought he was hiding from me. "Carl, it's time to go back into the house. We'll dry off and have a biscuit." NO ANSWER. "Come on Carl. We will come out later. Be a good boy. Let's go." HE DIDN'T MOVE.
Then a bird flew by and off he went, running the fence.., ears in the wind, looking like a fox without a tail, a short coyote, a dog on a mission.

Here he is..., a wet, happy dog trying to herd the goats through the fence. Look at him. Winter is almost here. The Rattlers have gone to sleep and the Poison Oak is dormant. Even though I can catch the itchy rash from the bare sticks , there doesn't seem to be any in the fenced area, so we are safe for the rest of the Winter.
This little boy dog is protected from any harm..., so we will let him mark his territory and claim it for his own. What a wonderful world it is for a little dog, with endless energy, to run free and take control of his own universe.
As I write this Carl is sleeping in the Prospector's lap..., it doesn't get much better than this.