What's in the Canon?

I have a Canon Power Shot sx130 camera that I use for backup with my Nikon D40. I use it when I want to carry something light and easy or when I forget to charge my Nikon's batteries and the big camera just dies on me, unexpectedly. The Canon is one of the best point and shoot cameras I have ever had. I don't use it all the time. It's usually in a little felted bag tucked into my purse. It's my "discreet" camera... my "not so obvious" camera.
Every once in a while I remember that I took a picture, but I can't find it. That's when I say to myself, "Oh, maybe it's in the Canon." and, low and behold, there is the picture I've been looking for... trapped in a memory card inside the Canon.
So, this time, I was looking for the "Vulture" shots that I took recently and decided to check the little Canon. They were there, but so were a few others that I had completely forgotten about.  Like the day Cutter walked into the living room sporting a new look.

I don't have any idea how he did this, but both of his huge, corgi ears were tucked back in nice, neat folds. He must have been rolling on the rug and the ears just got stuck. Too funny. I grabbed the Canon and got one fairly clear photo of this phenomena.
And then there was the day that I decided to brush Annie because she was starting to look like a motley farm cat. I brushed her and used an animal comb on the fur balls that were matted on her back. She looked so good when I was done but her hair was everywhere.

It looked like some animal had lost its life.
I brushed a ton of hair out of Miss Annabel. She loves to be brushed. She gets kind of wild and crazy about it. Then she wanted to thank me and rubbed against me to show her affection.

But. "Annie! What did you do? I had you all brushed and you looked beautiful."

She rolled over again and laid down in all the leaves and dirt. She didn't stay beautiful for long. She may not care about how she looks, but she will thank me on these afternoons when it's so blessed hot and she has half that hair on her little cat body.
I also found buzzard photos. There were two of them flying overhead the other day.

And when I walked back toward the house, there was one that had landed on the power line.

He just sat there and watched me take pictures of him. He even moved around as if he was posing for me.

I took some quick pictures  and he kept watching me. Both Annie and I kept moving. You want them to know that you're ALIVE.
 I find these huge birds fascinating. These Turkey Vultures are the scavengers of the bird world. They find and eat dead things. This one never flew away. He just sat there being majestic.

I also had photos  of the last SCAT meeting in the camera. That's a new art group that we created for local artists... any art. Not just gourd art. We share our talents and what we are working on. This is going to be one of our projects.

It's a Jack in the gourd... or, in this case, a 'bird in the gourd' pop up toy for kids and adults. This one is made with an upside down gourd that has been cleaned out and a dowel has been used inside to move the gourd chick up and down. The fabric is sewn to both gourds to cover up all the inside. This could be a puppet, or anything that you want to emerge from the bigger gourd. "J" did a great job on this Easter gourd pop up. The chick is a small gourd with twigs for legs. This photo above, is in the "up" position.
This photo, below, is the toy in the "down" position.

Up, down, up, down.... It's such a great idea. I think I will make a scary, black one for Halloween, for my sister. She loves Halloween art. We can call it Spooky, in the Box.
And last... one final photo of Lake Tahoe. One of the prettiest that I took. Not sure why there was only one picture (on the Canon) of the Lake on the small camera, but there it was.

I could be IN that water right now. It would be so nice to swim around in it. But, I heard, this morning, that they are having thunder and lightening storms this week so...
 Dear Cuz.... "Stay out of the water until the storms pass."

The Canon is empty and back in my purse. I found the photos I was looking for. It's always like a little surprise to see what pictures I took with this camera.
Please don't forget about that memory card. You may have someone trapped in there.
What's in YOUR camera?

Heat Wave

The hot weather has struck again. In four days it will have been a year since THE FIRE. It is an ominous, overwhelming fear that doesn't pay heed to the old adage... lightening doesn't strike in the same place twice. I know that the odds of a fire happening again, near us, is slim but still....A fire did finally happen and it only takes one carelessly tossed cigarette, a simple act of stupidity, to spark a wildfire. Only one crazy person tossing one match, from a car window. It could happen again... in this same place.
Yesterday morning I woke up at about 5:45 a.m. The rooster was just starting to make a few attempts at crowing but he wasn't being very energetic about it. I could feel the coolness from the open window over my head. I knew that I wasn't going to fall back to sleep, so I quietly got up and closed the bedroom door behind me. The Prospector appeared to be a dead man sleeping so I left him to his dreams, slipped my tennies on, grabbed the camera and went out the door. I heard Carl say something from his crate, but it was a quiet remark like, "What are you doing up so early and where are you going?" He was content to put his head back down and wait for The Prospector. Carl was still in his sleep mode.
I went out the back door, let the cat out of the garage, went through the side gate and walked up the hill to the old orchard. It was beautiful. I watched for Rattlers, just in case one had decided to spend the warm night on the dirt trail. None had.
The sun was giving some distant hills to the east a lovely greeting.

I could hear a bird in the distance and  movement in the grass... some little resident going to tell others that a human was in their midst. I imagined this little creature moving through the glass, as quietly as possible, to warn his buddies of my presence. The sound stopped. Maybe he went into a hole of safety.
The sky was becoming... pinker, brighter and making ready for the day. Pretty soon the sun would come up over the Blue Mountains like a force to be reckoned with, bringing the heaviness of a hot day with it.
I  said hello to Maggie, who is buried on the hill and walked back down toward the house. It was still early and I couldn't hear the dogs, so I walked down the road to the switch back, a sharp turn on our lower road..
I heard a "meow."
It was Annie. She had followed me down the road and was making her presence known.

"Come on, Annie. Come kitty. What are you doing down here?" She meowed again and walked toward me.
Just then the sun came over the hills and the dry summer morning turned to gold.

Someone must have called the state of California "golden" because of this sunlight on the dry summer morning and not so much for the discovery of the veins of gold in the ground. Everything turned to gold and then...the shadow of Annie and I stood out against the rock hill.
We look like a petroglyph.  A shadow of life... with  a cat...like the ancient cave paintings.

Annie was nervous and on guard. I don't think she usually comes down this far by herself. She would be a "house" cat if it weren't for the dogs ,who seem to have a vendetta toward her. She is a little "fur person" (May Sarton's cat who prefers people and makes a choice to live with them.) and she loves Farmlady and the Prospector. Annie would be a house cat if it were her choice.
I told Annie to come  and she did... watching the hill above us and looking to me for direction.

We walked back to the house.

  She headed to the chicken coop, where she usually hangs out with "the ladies". I went into the house to find the Prospector making coffee and letting the dogs out of their crates.

Later, in the morning, we picked grapes and made grape juice. Yes, this is a messy, time consuming project but it is worth it.
The Prospector picked a bucket of grapes. We forgot to weigh them so I don't know how many pounds we had. They were Concord and some other varieties, which we can't remember, but they are a beautiful, light purple, almost pink in color. The Concords are the dark blue ones that look like blueberries. All are sweet table grapes.

Then we sat on the porch and removed all the grapes from the stems.
Carl is a grape eater and he's not suppose to eat them. We had to build a small fence to seperate him from the grapes because he would not leave them alone. He's still mad about that.
 He was waiting for a few to fall out of our hands so he could catch them quickly before we did.
 Look at that sly dog.

He had been told "No grapes, Carl." and was not happy about it.
This is his "I don't like that word." look. It's the determined Corgi look.

"I will have a grape if I want it." he is thinking.

We ended up with a large colander filled with grapes. I took the grapes into the kitchen, cleaned them, squished them with a metal potato masher and put them into a large pot. I added some water (not much) and brought them to a boil, skin, seeds and all. Then I simmered them for 10 minutes, stirring frequently.

Then comes the messy part. Do it in the sink.
 This is a Jelly Strainer. This is how you separate the good stuff from the bad.

I use a strainer on top of the juice bag to get the bigger pieces of skin and seeds before they got into the straining bag. I think it drains better without all of the fruit dregs.
If I'm not making jelly, I squeeze the bag to make the juice drip faster into the bowl. It's kind of like milking a cow, if you're into that sort of thing.
 If you do this with juice that is going to become Jelly, you will get more sediment in the juice and the jelly will be cloudy. That's a no no in the jelly making world. Jelly must be CLEAR, so you don't squeeze the bag.
But this is juice and it doesn't really matter if there's some sediment. It still tastes wonderful.

I used a large spoon to squeeze the juice out of the fruit mixture.
This juice was so sweet that it didn't need any sugar. We bottled up almost two quarts of juice in an empty,  cleaned out bottle from Trader Joe's.

I pulled the "Green Plant" wrapper off of the bottle and made my own sign. I hope Trader Joe's is OK with this

Very professional... don't you think?
Go Here: for a complete guide  for making juice. It's easy and it's good for you.

Brownie and the Black Feather

On my walk the other night I went through the back gate. Annie was up on the fence, as I went by. She has  a badly scratched up nose. She has had this sore nose for a week now.

  It's healing but it still looks kind of sore. She won't let me touch it. I think it's getting better on its own.

"Wanna come with me Annie?" She looked mighty comfortable and didn't move, so I left her and continued up the road.

As I walked past the "other woman" I sensed a feeling of unrest.

And I thought I heard a small grumble coming from her hood vent.

I'm really sorry that she has to stay outside now (Really, I am.) but until we build another garage, this is the best we can do. I don't think she's happy about it.

I walked on up the hill to the well and choose the low road to the orchard...

 The road, on the left, goes to the top of the hill where I love to walk. (This was our escape route during the fire last summer.) The road on the right goes down  to the old orchard, (what's left of it) and to our septic leach system... and to the other knoll where all the Manzanitas grow. It's a much shorter walk.
 I always take the lower road in the summer because there is less dry grass. Even though the weather is nice and cool this week, I never walk in the tall grass until late fall when I know that there's less chance of a Rattler lurking in the weeds.
The sky was so beautiful.

The hills to the east, toward the Sierras, were laughing in the overcast, coolness of the day.

I said hello to Maggie who is buried up on the hill near the road. She was our last big dog, a beautiful shepherd mix, before we got the two little Corgis. Actually, Carl, our first corgi, came to live with us while Maggie was still alive.  
When she died, The Prospector buried her up here and asked me to make a sign for the site.

  That was almost four years ago. She was a wild little puppy when we first got her and I always feel like her spirit is bounding around with me up there. I don't walk up to the grave this time of the year (the grass is too long) but I always say something to her. She was a good dog.
I turned around and started back.. When I got about two thirds of the way back to the house, I saw something long and black on the side of the trail. My heart started beating a little faster, but I was quite a distance from it and well... rattlers aren't usually that dark. I just couldn't see it clearly.
I walked down, slowly, and  realized it was a feather, a huge black feather...

 underneath the utility pole. It was a turkey vulture wing feather sitting there moving a little in the wind. It wasn't in the deep grass, so I picked it up. It was huge.  The vultures like to sit up on the top of the pole a lot so I guess one of them dropped this feather. We have found them here before.

I walked down toward the house and the blond hussy (the 38' Chevy). This time she didn't say anything. I think she should be happy that we, at least, cover her. After all, she is going to get a complete overhaul one of these days (money, money, money...) and I can't even get the Prospector to pay for my orthopedic inserts.
Oh, I'm sorry. Now, I'm the one that's venting.

When I got down to the back gate, Annie was still up on her perch. I took the feather and teased her with it.

She humored me for a few minutes and then...

Lost interest.

I went by the goat yard and Brownie gave me a  muted "Hello.", so I walked over to the fence, reached over with the feather and tickled his nose.

That's when he made this face. Hilarious! 

 I pulled the feather away and started to leave... 

So he gave me his cute goat look.

 "Why did you stop?"

 "Farmlady. Please keep doing that."

 And he made that silly toothy smile again...

 What a ham!

So I played "feather" with him for a while

And he got downright silly about it. He tried to eat the feather. We had a great time. He loved all the attention.
This morning I took an old brush out there and gave Brownie a back rub. (Yes, I'm spoiling him.) His hair is growing back and he's looking pretty darn good. He's still too skinny, but he is gaining weight and his body looks so much better. He seems to be thriving in his "last goat standing" status. I was always told that Nubians didn't like to be alone. That they need other goats. Well, this guy is just fine. He's a character. That's for sure.
 I dearly miss Murphy, but Brownie is our survivor... par excellence. He is playing this solitary life for all its worth. He's still our outspoken, show pony. I'm sure there will be more stories to tell.

Visit With a Friend

I had to go down to the valley yesterday for an appointment with the foot doctor, so my friend "C" and I made a plan to have lunch after my appointment.
Another check up for my poor, old feet. The doctor gave me some more little sticky pads, told me to soak my feet every night in Epsom salts and hot water (like that's going to happen) and DIDN'T give me another pain relieving shot between the toes... Maybe in November. He said that I can only have three shots a years and we need to spread them out. OK! The first one, about six weeks ago, worked amazingly well so I'm good to go for a while.
I use to jog, play tennis and run an exercise course at the local Junior College when I was a bit younger.
My feet were "happy feet" then. That was almost 30 years ago.
Now, I do nothing quite like that. But, I hike around our property, garden and hold ladders for my husband.
I pull weeds on the hillside and trip over farm animals.
So far, I'm not a complete invalid. Not yet. The miracle of modern medicine is keeping my feet from giving up on me.  Cortisone and pain killers are good for now.
In a few years I will have to have another operation to have these Neuromas removed.
(So all you youngsters out there... Exercise but don't over do it.
Take care of your feet. Wear really good tennis shoes, running shoes, work boots and hope for some good foot DNA.)

Well, didn't mean to go off on a tangent. Sometimes it feels good to complain a bit. I contend that it's OK to complain once in a while. It releases endorphins (my theory) and lets go of pent up aggravations.

So, after my appointment, I drove over to my friend's house.
We just sat and talked. She showed me some old photos of relatives that she has found on Ancestry.com.
She is researching her family history. She's finding some amazing things.
We went to lunch and then returned to her place. I took some photos of her patio and her cat Max, ruler of his domain and alpha cat of the creatures that live in and around the lake.
These are shells that "C" has had ever since she lived in Mendocino, CA.

They are old and bleached from the sea.

They have memories.... from a little house in the Pygmy forest on Little River Rd....

Good memories of a old friend's beautiful home, a little red headed daughter and Queenie, their dog. I was her lucky friend that she shared her life with on many Autumn weekends.
Once with the Prospector, once with my youngest son, many times just by myself.
Across Black Point cutoff to Petaluma... Up highway 101 to Cloverdale and then West to Boonville and through the Navarro River Redwoods.
From highway 101 to Boonville the heat would be so intense and then, as I drove toward the ocean, I could feel the air change. Oh, the coolness, the fog and the fragrance of Eucalyptus. Then, the river would flow into the ocean and, turning north, I would drive the back road from Albion to the Little River Airport, east down Little River Rd. and into the forest of  dwarfed trees called The Pigmy.
A right, a left and straight on through a gate.
Oueenie would greet me and "C' would be waving me into a small parking space.

Do you know how I carry those memories with me, my friend?
It was the sanctuary that I needed  and a friend who always welcomed me with open arms.
No matter what was happening in your life... work, protesting a building in town, a failed septic system, a birthday party for your daughter, Victor's death, all the mad, love affairs of your life.
You always said yes... come.
I thank you for those wonderful long weekends.

We spent two years in high school together wanting to be Vogue models and trying to understand BOYS.  You were my bridesmaid at my wedding. You finished college.
We both married and went our separate ways, finding each other at a class reunion 30 years later.
Sometimes I think it was all meant to be.

Now, we sit and talk.
Two ladies who have grown older and, hopefully, wiser.
Talking about our gray hair and about the vanity of coloring over the gray or letting it show.
Talking about our mom and dads... and that confusing  place called childhood.
Now, we are comfortable with our lives.
Well, kind of.

I know that Max, your amazing and handsome cat...now, the most comfortable "man" in your life, was probably bored to tears with our talking, but he tolerated us until...

 At some point, he slowly shut his eyes.

It was a fine day.
Thank you for being my friend.
We are not, either of us, easy people.
Thank you for what we share.
We have a wonderful understanding.
It's a good friendship.
Max, you take good care of my friend.

 Max?

Max?

Wake up, Max....

I'm a Little Busy...

There's a cat on my guest bed...

Her name is Lucky. She is my oldest son's cat. My son went camping for a week and, as every summer for a few years, I take care of her. She needs special meds morning and night. She's old and very sweet.
The dogs know that there is someone in the extra room because they aren't allowed in there. So .... they pick on each other.

It's all in fun. I think. Carl is very frustrated with not being able to come and go, in HIS house, as he pleases. It's bad enough that there's a cat outside but now there's one IN THE HOUSE and he's worried that they may be multiplying.
****************************
Remember my friend, in town, who lives in the beautiful Victorian?

Mom to Kansas.

and Twister...

Well... she's having a YARD SALE  this Friday and Saturday. Myself and a few others are included. It's a big one and if you're anywhere near Jackson please stop by. We have all kinds of goodies; Antiques, books, garden things, clothing, furniture, household goods, linens, Christmas items and more. Her whole parking area is filled with great and wonderful things that are waiting for someone to take them home.
COME ONE, COME ALL...

It's a beautiful place and we are ready to make you a deal.

It's a rare chance to buy something wonderful and met Farmlady. I may even wear shoes and some makeup.
Got to go... I have more things to take over to the sale.
See you there on the weekend...