Waiting for the Prospector

I was kind of nervous and antsy last night.
I don't usually get this way when The Prospector is gone. I'm not afraid of being here by myself and I certainly don't worry about critters.. the animal kind anyway. I'm not afraid of the dark and I don't scare easily.
But , for some reason, I felt unsettled.  The moon was moving in and out of clouds, casting light on the surrounding hills and then disappearing... bringing darkness and quiet.

The dogs needed to go outside, so I decided to go with them.  It was a little after eight. I got a sweater out of the closet. It had been a little colder the last few nights.

I was taking some indoor "night" shots, earlier, because I love to photograph in this kind of light to see how well I can take pictures in lamp light and how my camera works in darker situations. I saw the lampshade reflected in the painting on the wall and realized that I wasn't really at the right angle to catch this reflection.
So I got closer and higher.
This time I got the right reflection of the lamp where it needed to be... in the picture.I think this is an interesting photo.

Kind of like a double exposure. I'm in there too. It's not clear, but it looks like a bird is pecking at the edge of my shirt. Interesting shot.
Anyway... the dogs were waiting. I took the phone, my hand gun and the camera... the three things that I take with me everywhere I go around this place. If something or someone is determined to do me harm they will have to come over an iron fence and probably get shot. That's their choice. That would happen before I called 911.
The Prospector has been gone since Monday. He will be here in a hour or so. I'm usually fine with this, but last night I had one of those moments when I wasn't.
I went outside with the dogs to prove to myself how brave I can be. I do this when I'm unsure of things. I walk right into whatever it is that I'm worried or unsure about. It's an old behavior.
 I had the huge light over the garage on so I could see quite a distance out into and past the driveway. I took some pictures while the dogs did their thing. I put the camera in its auto mode that takes pictures in low light. I forgot that the shutter would be delayed and I moved the camera a little bit. The photo was still interesting.

And then, under the photinia... where a small light was back lighting the bush.

This is the front side of the garage. That BIG light washed everything out at the top of the photo but I liked the Photinia blossoms against the garage wall.

So today, I redid this photo.

I cropped the photo, lightening it and added some shadow.  Then I used a new Picasa 3 process called HDRish (which means High Dynamic Range) and brought out the details, almost like a drawing. It's fun to experiment with Picasa's photo editors. It's like Photoshop only it's user friendly, easier AND FREE.
If I had used a tripod and was not holding the camera strap in my teeth, and the cell phone in my other hand, I could have gotten a much sharper picture. I like the effect but not the blurriness.
This one was looking back into the house through the front door.

There's that lamp in the painting again, on the far wall. I like looking in from the outside.
I also took a photo of the gun sitting on the porch step. It was cool... but I thought someone might be offended if I posted it. You never know.

The dogs were starting to bark at the "critters of the night" below the vegetable garden, so I called them in. It was probably a deer, but who knows.
We went back into the house and shut the door. I turned the outside lights off and went back to my knitting, taking one more photo of my favorite chair before I settled in for my last evening as a single woman, alone on her mountain top.

I felt save and secure. Before I went to bed I set my phone on 911 speed dial and put the gun nearby.
The doors were locked and bolted. The dogs were safe in their crates and as I crawled into bed, I heard an owl hooting in the distance. Then, the coyote started their singing on the next knoll. What wonderful night songs. What beautiful lullabies.
It's Thursday afternoon now. The Prospector just got home. I'm so glad he has returned safely.
I made some potato salad and chicken for dinner.
The nervous feeling is gone. He is home and all is well...

May Day Morning

"I grow plants for many reasons: to please my eye or to please my soul, to challenge the elements or to challenge my patience, for novelty or for nostalgia, but mostly for the joy in seeing them grow."~David Hobson

The tiny grapes on this vine are just starting their journey.

  The magical process of becoming.

The hothouse rose, a gift from my sister, that I transplanted this morning has one flower left from many... but with nurturing and some good soil. it will grow its beautiful pink, peony-like flowers again and again this summer and remind me of my sister's visit all summer.
Gardens are so wabi sabi in their growth. I like formal gardens, but it is the comfortable, country gardens that are my favorites with their rambling nature and irreverent attitude.

 All the flowers seem to get along and each is tolerant of being with the others.

The sage sits next to the chrysanthemum.

And  the succulent shares a bed with the sweet alyssum and a wise Buddha.

There is mystery at work here.

A small viola that grow in the rocks where they were not planted. 

I'm not the only gardener in this garden.

Someone else is rearranging my initial choices to plant a flower in a certain place. The critters and birds that share this garden with me have decided that one of the yellow pansies would look better in the rocks and so it is.

I might call this "my" garden... but it really belongs to many others... The multitude of creatures that surround me while I weed and plant. The saying " It takes a village..." is true.
It takes the pollinating bees, the worms and  the spiders to make this garden healthy. It would be presumptuous of me to take the credit and say that I do all of the work in this place. There are birds that would disagree. There are many helpers here.
I weed, hoe, plant and compost. I plan and create structures... add some garden art.

 The Rockrose that grows all over the hillside with astounding beauty this time of the year...does not bloom because of me. I planted it, but there are other forces at play. I water... but it takes the sun to make it bloom.

 The Pittosporum, near the porch is blooming too. I always confuse this shrub with the Mexican Orange, the Choisya.  I though my mother called this plant a mock orange. I'm still not sure which is which. I only know that it is variegated and  fills the air with a heady aroma.
This garden, that overwhelms the senses in Spring, is not completely of my own doing. I'm more like one component of this orchestra. Without all the various instrumentalist, the sound and the soul of this garden couldn't be played. Every insect, bird and creature is there for a reason. This makes me feel like a grateful part of something amazing and wonderful.

"Everything that slows us down and forces patience, everything that sets us back into the slow circles of nature, is a help. Gardening is an instrument of grace." ~May Sarton

My mother understood this... and her mother before her. 

 As one of my garden signs says.....

"In search of my mother's garden, I found my own. "~ Alice Walker

Lettuce all be happy... even the chickens.

Got the pumpkins planted this morning.

With help from the Prospector, I got the beds ready and sunk those little seeds into the new mixture of soil.

Now, all I have to do is pitch a tent and sleep down there for a month or two so I can ward off the birds and critters that want to steal the seeds and eat the delicate plants as they come through the soil.
Note the absents of a Fig tree at the other end of the planter. We had to pull it out last fall because after the goats trimmed it through the fence, the foxes (here's the story) broke all the branches while eating the figs. I loved that tree and it's gone.
 I think I need a secret garden with a fifteen foot stone wall around my vegetable garden... and a wire mesh cover over the top. It's a constant battle to protect the garden from those critters that think we planted all of this for them. Maybe I need to build a dog house down there and bring home a pitbull mix from the animal shelter to guard my garden. Do pitbulls like vegetables? I don't know. I'm such a softy though, that I would end up sleeping down there anyway, to keep the pup company.
Our other raised bed is doing well. The tomatoes are planted...

 and all the lettuce is coming up.

Even the Irises that I planted, late, are loving the rich soil and growing faster that weeds down there.

One of them is going to bloom. I didn't think, when I planted them, that they would  bloom this year. The smaller plants in between  are romaine lettuce that blew in from the upper bed. I didn't plant them with the Iris. Either the birds rearranged the seeds or the strong winds of last month blew dirt and seeds over into the lower garden. It's all a mystery.
I picked some lettuce and took it back up to the house. I've been thinning it and giving the pickings to the chickens, but now the leaves are bigger and so it is as with all things in life, the higher order of species gets the good stuff. With what the philosopher Friedrich Nietzsche called the Will to Power, I have asserted my."dominant hierarchy" and the lettuce is mine.
I cleaned it.

 Drained it.

 I ate some.

Then I took all the roots and leftovers out to the chickens. They seems OK with what they got. Chickens are hard to read... but I'm trying to understand the subtle differences in their attitudes.
I let them out to free range for the day. They seemed really happy (I guess) about having a day of freedom from the coop. Squeaky was the first through the door.
I went inside to have a salad for lunch...
and enjoy the lettuce of our labor.

Sister Visit

Sis was here for a few days. On Sunday we were dying of unseasonal heat.
She arrived, bringing all kinds of goodies from Trader Joe's and looking for a little relaxation on the mountain top.
We ate dinner, talked, watched Masterpiece Theater... and she just relaxed on the couch, with a dog on each side of her.
In the morning she fixed me some of her unbelievable oatmeal for breakfast.
This sister of mine can really fixed a dish of oatmeal.

She makes the oats with milk. Then she adds cut up apples and dried cranberries while it's cooking.  She tops it with a small amount of brown sugar and pecans, that she buys at Trader Joe's. They are pecans that are baked with honey and sugar. I'm guessing that you could do this with regular pecans but these are already sweetened and packaged this way. Sis breaks them up on top of the oatmeal and OH!  Is it good. You only need a little milk because the fruit and nuts makes it all moist, sweet and delicious without adding a lot of milk or sugar. She even sprinkled some of the brown sugar on the plate, to make it look beautiful enough to take a picture of (which I did) and similar to what you pay big bucks for in the restaurants. It's called "plate-ing" on the Food Network. It was a truly beautiful serving of oatmeal.
So, we ate in the living room... with the dogs... and then we let them lick the dishes. A bad habit that has been reinforced in this household. They are truly spoiled dogs.

Carl always gets to lick first, and Cutter waits patiently, for his uncle to lick part of the dish. Then Cutter gets to lick the rest.

"Oh boy. It's my turn."

After breakfast they got to cuddle with  their auntie.  Cutter still gets a little overwhelmed with too much closeness, but Sis finally won him over.

And, a few days later, when it was time for her to leave, they were both unhappy about saying goodbye.

"Where are you going Auntie?"

Look at Carl's expression. It was a sad moment.

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While Sis was here we spent a morning down on the river. First we drove to the new river access under the highway 49 bridge.
The drive down to the water was springtime magic.

The whole area from the highway to the river was covered with a daisy like flower that had been planted along the road, with lots of California poppies in between all the beautiful yellow flowers. It was a most beautiful site. 

The river was flowing wide and deep... and clouds were moving in from the west.

It was a perfect spring day in the foothills.

After we tiptoed through the daisies, we drove back toward Jackson ,over the Mokelumne River bridge and north to see the hills of poppies that I posted on  Wordless Wednesday.

It was so beautiful. Nature never fails us here in the foothills.

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On Tuesday we went to Sutter Creek and had lunch.

We went to some of our favorite stores... mostly "just looking", because these are high end stores and things tend to be a bit pricey. But, there is always the possibility of a surprise "bargain". You just never know when something will be on sale that you can't resist.

We introduced the owner of Romancing the Range to the Magnolia Pearl website. She had never seen or heard of this amazing women and her endeavours. The clothes in this store are all "cowboy meets Pearl" kinds of clothing and she went crazy when she saw The website. Check it out. The music is worth the link. It's beautiful. She also has a blog..... My, oh my!  Read a few of the posts on her blog and you'll see why I call her amazing.

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Loved having Sis here. It had been a while since her last visit. It rained most of yesterday but we managed one more lunch downtown before she left for home. 

 Thanks for coming up. We all miss you . Carl and Cutter have been looking for you all day. 

I will see you soon.

Wordless Wednesday: Poppy Splendor

"Out of this nettle, danger, we pluck this flower, safety" ~ Shakespeare~

 Yesterday, I got up early, drank my coffee and downed some Cheerios. I chose a pair of rubber gloves and a long sleeved shirt, and walked down to the vegetable garden... ready for the job at hand.

There, as the morning light filtered through the oak trees and into the garden, was my nemesis... The Stinging Nettle of Shakespearean proportions.
I carefully started pulling the plant out by its roots.

Then I heard the muffled steps of the goats behind me. Brownie and Murph' had come to see what I was doing, which translates to "What do you have for us to eat?"

 "Hi Farmlady."

Hi, Murphy. How are you this morning?" I took a glove off, walked over to the fence and gave my wonderful goat a head rub.
In return, he gave me a goat kiss. That's my hat at the top of the picture.

There is nothing like a goat kiss in the morning.
Then I gave him a back rub. He loves to have his spine rubbed.

Brownie couldn't be bothered with all of this. He was chomping on all the wonderful grass and wildflowers in the pasture.
I threw a handful of nettle over the fence to them. They both ran toward it and then... turned their noses up at it.
They like the sweet grass with flowers. They love Lupine and the Dandelions. I guess even goats are particular if they have a choice.
I decided that I better stop playing around with the goats and get to the task at hand. It was going to be a hot day, again, and I was wasting the cool morning away with goat play.
 Within a half hour, I had cleared the whole bed. It didn't take long. The soil was soft and the nettle came out easily.

After pulling the long pieces out, I raked the surface and got all the left over roots and dead mullein out of the soil. We will add more soil to the bed before I plant the pumpkins. Then we will use Preen and mulch to keep the weeds down.
The Prospector came into the garden with the ladder and un-stapled some of the wire so that it would be easier to get into the pumpkins for watering and weeding etc. I left one section just in case I decide to plant some beans.
Of course, Murph' had to check this out too.

Can you believe that goat reached through the fence this far? It's the reason why we keep the beds away from the fence. This is why we double fence in some areas. He is amazing... and he never gets his ears stuck.
My magical goat is a force to be reckoned with.
 Brownie, on the other hand, gets stuck every time. It's the horn. The only long horn that he has now. If he tries to pull a maneuver like Murphy, we have to go out and help him get unstuck. We have even had to cut the fence to get him untangled... and he cries like a baby. Oh, Brownie boy, it's a good thing that you live with folks that love you and understand you. 
Some goats just need more attention than others. Brownie is one of the needy ones in this life... but, we love him. He is ours, horn or no horn, needy or not.
Before it got too hot I did some pruning and planted the new gold trough that we won at auction. I will take some pictures of the finished planter next time... and of the beautiful Tiger Swallowtail butterfly that came into the front garden this morning. That's the butterfly on my new header. What a beauty.

The Nettle is gone. It's everywhere else in the garden but it's gone in one raised bed... for now.
 This site on Stinging Nettle says that we must have "highly fertile" soil because the Nettle does so well. Wonderful!! ( Can you hear the sarcasm?)
Lets hope that the pumpkins flourish as well as the weeds have.
My sister is coming in a few hours. I'm looking forward to her visit. Maybe we'll make some bread pudding while she's here. It's kind of a tradition.

Oh, and Happy Earth Day!