Awesome, Fleeting Life

Before I write this post I want to send some good wishes and strength to all the folks on the east coast that just went through that horrible hurricane.
The flooding, the swollen rivers, the damage that was done... What we are seeing on TV is awful.
Mother Nature sure went on a rampage for a few days.
I wish all of you well and hope the electricity comes on soon.
******************************


Do you ever get up early just so you can be up when the sun rises? I did this morning.

It's been so hot everyday here and I wanted to clean out some planters and put bedding plants in for Fall.
So I had planned on getting up early. We let the dogs out of their crates and they played on the bed with us for a while.
You've got to love retirement.
The Prospector got up and made coffee.
Gotta have that coffee.
It's one of my guilty pleasures.
It was a beautiful California Foothill morning....

Earlier, I heard the coyote yipping and howling across the canyon and, because we sleep under a low window toward the east.
I could still see stars and the little dipper in the southeastern sky.
I've always wondered about the stars.
When I was a kid, I use to look up into that vast endless space and wonder if it wasn't really a ceiling...some kind of  huge dome and we were really on the inside. As a child, this made me feel more secure to think that we were surrounded by a beautiful protective dome.
This morning the stars slowly disappeared and the world took on a glow. Oh how I love to see this happen. It's like the day is beginning again and all things are possible.

The first cup of coffee is ritually drunk on the couch with a dog on each side of me.
The second cup usually moves out to the front yard.
The dogs look ( and smell) for anything that might have trespassed during the night. They do their business and them they want to be fed, so we all come back in for breakfast.
The Prospector had plans to help our neighbor pick something up in town at his aunt's house, so we ate a quick breakfast and I returned to the yard to plant flowers. The dogs followed me.
Carl went berserk at the fence and I realized that a young buck was standing outside the fence looking at Carl.
The buck looked at me as if to say, "That little dog needs to chill out or I'm going to kick his A$$."
The buck just stood there, watched us for a while and then moved on down the road. Carl settled down.

A wild turkey mom and two of her babies were drinking at the water bucket.

We always keep water out for the wild animals in the summer. It's so dry and hot. We fill it every day.
The turkey don't seem to elicit the same reaction from Carl as the deer. I think Carl and Cutter are  intimidated by the size of the deer so they act tough to compensate.
The turkey are like our chickens... they even hang around together.  The dogs will bark at them if they come too close to the fence.
Crazy dogs.... they want to herd and control everything.
So, the rest of the morning was spent planting, pulling some weeds and watering. It was delightful.

The Prospector came back and went to work on the the potting shed.
He's putting the roof on this week.

How many of you know what roof sheeting clips are? "What?"..... Yep! That's what the guy said when I tried to buy some at Lowe's yesterday. It took three people to finally tell me that they only had 1/2 in. roof sheeting clips and that was not the size that I needed.

When I was wet behind the ears (as my Dad used to say) and just married. I worked for a hardware store. It was called Kelleway Hardware in Walnut Creek, CA. I managed the housewares dept. and worked the cash register. It was really fun.
Oh, what a long time ago that was. I wore mini shirts and pantyhose.... and an apron.... and I knew what  roof sheeting clips were and where they were in the store. I knew the size of nails and how to cut glass.
I loved that store and the guys that worked there.
We would party on Saturday nights, get up and go to work on Sunday... hungover or not.
Seems like a million years ago.
How life moves... like a river. Yes it does...

So the little shed is getting a roof.

and then we will start the finishing work.

My early morning planting made the wine barrels look nice, I think.

and the color is ready for Fall...

for pumpkins on the porch...
and leaves falling...
For cold weather... and Halloween.
I'm waiting...
The last of the butterfly bush blooms are in a vase .

The fragrance is so wonderful, so Summer, but I'm ready to say goodbye to the heat and the dryness.
I'm waiting for the stillness and cold of Winter.

545 Days

This is an anniversary of sorts. Two years ago today I started this Blog. My first post was entitled Small Offerings and consisted of 3 photos. That was it. I think I did one the day before but didn't like it and decided to start fresh on the 1st of February.
I don't even remember why I decided to do it. I had looked at some other blogs that I thought were interesting. The first one was Posey Gets Cozy by Alicia Paulson. I loved the photos and what she wrote about; mainly her little dog, her husband and her amazing sewing skills. She even had photo tutorials.
I was not sure where I should go to start a blog but I found Blogger and they gave me very easy instructions on how to get started. At first I wasn't sure what I would write about and couldn't imagine writing a post every day. I knew that I wanted to use my photos. I wanted to write stories, poems, talk about where I came from and leave some record of this for my boys. The rest was a big question mark.
I wasn't sure if this would be a photo blog, a writing blog or a poetry blog. I didn't yet know how to put words around and in between the photos so I started doing each separately. Sometimes two posts a day: One with photos, one with writing. When I think back at how little I knew it's amazing that I even attempted it at all.
I found that I loved writing these posts everyday. I never kept a journal for more than a few months and then I would stop. The fact that someone might read what I wrote gave me more reason to do it well and consistently. I thought that if someone would bother to read my blog it would have to be "entertaining" but have some intelligent purpose. I felt that it should be "classy" and perfectly written. I knew that my spelling would have to improve.
All of this high-minded rhetoric went down the tubes when I got my first comment on February 9, 2008. I had written a story about finding our German Shorthair Pointer, Moke, in a campground, tied to a tree and starving. A poet from Oakland, Ca. calling herself Castlewon wrote:
"Just thought I'd tell you I like your chickens, your gourds, your poems, your dog, and your blog."
Thank you Merita. It was then that I knew what I wanted to write about. My life here on the mountain, the animals that we live with and the blessings of my life. I could still write poems and make up stories. I could still entertain , showcase my photos and " have some "intelligent purpose". But I didn't have to be perfect and charming and have 100 comments everyday. I just had to write about the things I loved. It was all right here. It was my life and someone had just said it all.."I like your chickens, your gourds, your poems, your dog, and your blog." How wonderful is that??
So two years later and 545 posts later I'm still telling folks about the farm on the mountain. Moke is gone and some of the chickens. I won't have to write about the sadness of losing my Mother anymore, but I was able to mourn her with my writing. This was an unexpected gift.
Now, we have four silly Nubian goats, a new puppy and two wonderful grand kids to tell you about. It never ends and I wouldn't give away this opportunity to write almost everyday for anything in the world. I love it. I love reading other blogs and commenting. I have made some good friends; cried with them and laughed with them and, always, wake up in the morning thinking "What can I write about today?" Yep! It's an anniversary, of sorts, and a good one because everyone should have something that they love to do. I'm proud of this blog called Over Good Ground. Someday, my grand kids will read it and the Bean will say... "Wow, remember when we planted the baby gourd plants. Remember the first year that we lived in the old house of her mothers? The first Halloween there? The first Christmas? Look at me when I was 1 year old, 2yrs, 3yrs and I remember that puppy. His name was Carl and we ran around the garden together."
It's a journal for the 21st century. It's a chronicle of our lives, a story I want to remember.
When someone asked me why I have a Blog.., I told them that I'm protecting memories. I'm also doing it for myself, so that in my old age I can sit and read about a time when I was living a wonderful life , sharing it with others and writing the Great American Novel in real time.

I Keep Telling Myself

My brain is feeling a little like the egg I ate this morning..., not completely cooked but a little bit runny and not accompanied with something wonderful like bacon or sausage .
So, after I ate this incomplete breakfast, I went outside and realized that Spring was trying very hard to break through the leaf covered soil of Winter and even though the garden seemed stark, at a glance, something was happening.... something magical where nothing had been before.
There is a green carpet under the dead grass. There are tiny buds on the tree limbs. The New Year is slowly showing itself. Little by little, fragile bud by fragile bud, it shows us that life continues ...,so we pick up the pieces and move ahead into the future where life will be what it will be...., and, like " My little dog,.. a heartbeat at my feet.", on our walk last night ,I will try to look for the great adventure, seeing and listening for something wonderful that is going to happen...., knowing that whatever comes, it will be OK.
I see the Narcissus and the grape hyacinth coming back, even through the tough soil of Winter. I tell myself that this is what I need to understand...,
and I keep hearing a voice say, "Live your life. Live your life...., do you understand?"

A Different Kind of Day

Yesterday I made some strawberry jam....

...and I thought about all the good things in my life.

...and in the evening I went for a walk and had a good cry. Sometimes things are not right and you know why, but you don't know how to make it better. Sometimes life is sweet and bitter at the same time...., and you end up making Jam instead of facing the sadness.

Happy 65th Birthday, my Prospector.

July 1967
Vacation on Russian River
The Prospector and I
He was 23 and I was 22.

(We had been married for 2 years and 1 month)

Happy Birthday to the love of my life. You worked so hard all your life and now you can enjoy everything you have today. Be proud of the things that make you who you are. I am. I love the sureness and determination you show in everything you do. I love the way you can be so sensitive about others and how you carry your heart on your sleeve. I love that you cry watching sad movies and the way you hold Carl and talk to him.

We have had a good life together. We raised two boys and they are something to be proud of. We have two cute grandkids. I hope that you can look at these 65 years and all the places you have lived, the things you have done..., and say "It's been a good ride." I wish you love, happiness and good health. .., and more life together. Look at you, you're still a handsome dude.

With love forever, your adoring wife.

Lunch With my Friend

All my woman friends are strong people. My admiration for these wonderful ladies is endless. They are survivors of life. All are in their 50's or 60's and they have all had trials that rival a best selling American novel. I have known most of them for many, many years.

By Sunday of last week my son was doing better and my daughter-in-law was home, so I decided to play hookie and go see my friend C in Sacramento for the day. I had called her and planned a visit a few days before. She lives in a gated complex in what is called The Pocket, near the Sacramento River. It's a beautiful apartment complex with a lake and ducks. She has a small deck that faces the water, lots of trees and the ability to make a small one bedroom apartment into a charming, peaceful and lovely home.
All the shells (in the photos above) are from places that she has lived, mostly the Mendocino Coast, and she always has them tucked on shelves and laying on the edges of her deck railing. To me they are a symbol of my friend "C's" gift of simplicity; the "less is more" quality of her life. She is the master of the beautiful arrangement. She has her own photos(black and white) of places that she has visited, mostly in Europe, that she has elegantly displayed on her walls. Photos of buildings that are old. Amazing architectural forms taken with her focused and visionary eye. Everything is white with shades of serenity and always a touch of blue. I love this home of hers. I envy the simplicity and the "One world at a time" (Thoreau) life that is always wrapped around my friend's existence. She has come from hardship, illness and pain. She lives with determination, bravery and pragmatism. She is a person I can trust to give me hard and honest advise. She is like my "big sister" and we both love good food. So we went to lunch..., a new Japanese Restaurant in downtown Sacramento. Very good food. Came back and sat talking until she had to remind me what time it was.

..., and then there's her new kitten, Maximus(Max for short).

Just so you don't think that C. doesn't have "attachments" I would like you to know that not only does C. have a new cat, but she has a beloved daughter .., and a mother, brother and family who live close by and bring all the concerns that families do to your life.
But back to this new cat. It's still a baby. It's beautiful and it's discovering the world outside. We had so much fun taking pictures of Max, doing his thing. Kittens are so curious and filled with a sense of wonder about everything. Everything they say about cats is true: Independent, transient, "taking a message and calling you back" and totally ignoring you if they choose to. It's all true. But look at this cute creature. C has always had cats. My favorite was Jack, the cat who thought he was a dog, who would follow us through the trails of the Pygmy Forest in Mendocino and discuss politics with us.... Well not really , but you felt like he could.
And now there's Max. Max the little gladiator, the ruler of the deck railing, keeper of the shells and guardian of the realm. Rock on little one. Keep the lions at bay. Keep my friend safe until I see her again.

The Edge, a poem

The Edge

This sky pulls me
From the comfort of shelter
To stand on the edge
Of my garden.

Before me
Darkening clouds move,
as dust storms billow,
completely filled with rivers.

Darker, it comes

Bringing rain closer.

What calls out as wind,
a voice, shouting.
Nature's absolute spirit
swelling the air with drizzle, splash, flow
As I watch from the edge.

~~~

c.c. 2009

Tenacious Life

My Mom has had ivy growing on the front porch as long as I can remember. Mom planted it at each porch post and over the years it has grown up across the whole length of the porch . The house is on a "slab" foundation and I always thought that the porch was just an extention of the slab. But, maybe not.....
A wonderful neighbor comes over every morning and brings the newpaper up onto the porch near the front door, so Mom won't have to walk out to the street to pick it up. This is the same person that takes her garbage cans in and out for her and calls to see if she needs help when someone stands too long at the front door. He is 72 years old and tells really corny jokes: But he has always been there for my parents. He is a truly good person.
So yesterday morning I went out to get the paper and underneath the Sunday Times was this.....
Right were the stucco meets the concrete was this one ivy leaf growing out of the space between the wall and the porch. This spot is at least 6 or 7 feet from the edge of the porch where the rest of the ivy is growing. That little slip of ivy had to wiggle it's way under at least 6ft of concrete and find a crack where it could finally grow up to the surface and find light.
So now I'm thinking that the slab and the concrete porch may have been two separate pieces and that there is a gap just wide enough to let a very small ivy root squeeze through because..., there it is, growing where nothing should be growing. I'm amazed that this ivy had the tenacity to search for and find the "light" that it so badly needed.
When I asked Mom to "Come and look at this, your not going to believe it." She said... "I know what you saw." She said she had seen it a few days before and wondered if I would see it too.

Maybe this is a lesson taught by example; of a life that has been worth living and included a great struggle for identity while always finding beauty in every corner. Mom and this small ivy leaf know what life is. I guess they know each other well.