Somewhat Sidetracked

We've been sidetracked by socializing and out-of-town guests. It's the season to invite friends over for solstice dinner, to talk around the dinner table about the state of our nation (among other things, but we do know what's foremost on our minds).

It's also the season when college kids hit the road before they head home for their family celebrations. We have a couple of vagabonds (my twin brother's godson and his sweetheart) from Humboldt State University staying with us for two nights. We offered them the guest house, so they could enjoy their privacy, and we ours. Today, they came into the main house and said, "We saw your coyote. It was walking along the fence. " Ah, so that explains the cat's reticence to go outside. We figured as much, it's nice to have it confirmed.
But our conversations keep coming back to the troubling state of our nation. A president with unchecked powers and a less-than-trustworthy voting system. How did we get to this hell so quickly? We're barreling down a dangerous road, and while there are voices now rising out of the usual complacent din, we're not sure it's enough, or if it's already too late. Does it feel like they're destroying democracy in order to save it?

We are now wondering how we will know when we cast our ballots if our vote will count? We had started to feel that we could exhale a bit with the president's poll numbers in the 30s and 40s, but with the latest revelations of domestic spying, and the Diebold tests, we see that we can't trust the most basic element of our democracy. What have we become?

There are a lot of voices asking these questions. We're asking them for us, for our wonderful houseguests, for everyone we've ever loved. Here in paradise at the end of a beautiful day.

The Yard Tells a Story

We've been photographing the Sharp-shinned and Cooper's Hawks for months now. They sweep through the yard regularly, sometimes two or three times a day. We often find them perched in the willow, on the branches of one of the alders, even on the bird-feeder in a brazen display. The other day I saw one standing on the rocks around one of our rose and flower beds. It was camouflaged by some weeds.

Then it was gone.

We have often remarked to each other how the hawks don't manage to find a meal here. It's been miss every time. Only once, months ago, did we find a pile of feathers right next to the fence on the eastern edge of our property. Just above we could see where the hawk had stood on the 4 x 4 fence post, to have its meal.

So the birds feed freely on the feeder and on the ground. The little ones wait their turn in the flower bed by the roses. They seem to have found a hierarchical harmony out there. The jays scatter the chickadees and finches; the quail scatter the jays. They all scatter to safety when the hawk shows. Yesterday, while I was kneading bread in that dreamy moment when the bread board has just enough flour, the dough in its perfect elasticity yields to the folding without sticking at all, the smell of yeast and honey on my hands and in the air, I looked up and glanced out the window.
Maybe it was the hawk that caught my attention and drew my eyes to the window. There it was in a flash it hit the frozen ground with its talons extended -- between the two rose bushes. It slammed hard and fast and was airborne again before I could even blink. It had scored a meal and was out of the yard with a stunning speed. If I didn't have flour all over and bread to set to rise, I might have gone to the far corner of the fence to look for a new pile of feathers.

Quotidian

I stand in the frosted field, hardly dressed for the 30 degree temps. I'm freezing, and photographing Wednesday's foggy sunrise.
We found a new trail to walk.
It takes us deeper into the trees.


I stand in the frozen field on Thursday morning pulled again by the sun, not yet risen above the horizon. Thirty degrees cold, and absolutely vivid.

The Greenhouse Project--Part 1

one of the plusses of the property we bought here in washington is a green house. it is an uninspired and less than optimal design, and is oriented less than ideally, but is still a substantial building and plainly useful. as built, the lower half of the walls were plywood, the upper half and the roof covered with corrugated, clear fiberglass or poly-something. i improved the design by extending the fiberglass down another two feet on two sides. it works quite well from just before spring equinox to just after fall equinox, but is pretty much in shade the rest of the year. that's because it is sited so poorly. too close to trees directly south of it. we had hoped that enough sun would reach it to keep greens growing all year. last winter dashed that idea.

the greenhouse is built around ten 6 " by 6 " posts sunk i don't know how far into the ground. i was loathe to consider moving it. i overcame my resistance. a mere 120' feet north, slightly east, and about 4 feet higher of its present location, when there is sun, it shines unimpeded by trees all year. here's the plan. cut the posts at ground level. slide 2" by 10" planks under the long sides and fasten them to the frame and posts. brace everything. lift it up enough to put sections of pipe, to serve as rollers, under the planks. tie off a come-along (hand winch) to a convenient tree and winch the thing along. when a roller (the pipe) comes out the back, move it to the front. did i mention that the building is 14' by 24'? i'll be relying on pictures to convey what i can't seem to quite get in text.

the first part of the project, bracing and cutting loose, is close to completion. i have successfully jacked up each long side in turn to slide planks under the severed posts. a bit more bracing and i'll be ready for phase two: moving. i almost waited till i had actually moved it at least a bit before posting here, but i am so encouraged by my progress so far that i'll ask any of you interested enough to read this far to share, in a small way, my anxiety about the moving part.

first, here's a picture of our yard at 9 am today. all that white frost out there cuts into my zeal for diving into this early.


the picture below was taken on dec 8. i am standing in sunlight, facing south, to take the picture. the greenhouse is completly shaded by the trees beyond. cut down those trees you say. we don't own them all, and we do like a bit of untended woods, even if not optimally placed.
here i am cutting one of the corner posts. the first. nine to go. that was last week.

the journey of the greenhouse to be continued...................
___________________________________________________________
later---one side of the greenhouse is up on rollers. took a break and a walk. we found a new creekside trail. oh, you'll hear about it. and see pix. bonus hawk pic from our walk.

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In the Mist

We go for an early walk. The winter sun rises at 8:00 here on the 49th parallel. When we hit the trail the sun has been above the horizon for two hours. It shines through the conifers and mist like a scripted set design for the holiday season. A perfectly filtered sun shines on a country road.

We walk these trails as a balance to everything else in the world. We ask a lot of these trees, this sun, that mist. We ask that they allay our grief, assuage our fears, alleviate our angers.

We walk together holding gloved hands. We can go for quite a long time without talking. Sometimes DPR walks ahead, while I snap another photo for the zillionth time.

Varied Thrush

One of the first birdwatching books we bought was this Sibley Guide. We picked it up our local Wild Birds Unlimited store, which is about 20 miles away. It's been a pretty helpful guide, at least for confirming what species of bird we are trying to identify.

I really liked this book for its cover-- a picture of the Varied Thrush. Such a striking and wildly colorful bird. That picture definitely made me want to see one. Last month when JSK was here, she looked out at the pond and said, "Hey, check out that bird." Oh yeah. There it was, a Varied Thrush taking a lovely bath. I grabbed the camera and tried a few shots, but everything came out blurry and indistinct. I was disappointed.

Monday morning, there was a bird in one of our border trees, silhouetted against the heavy grey northwest sky. It was easy enough to dismiss as a common robin, but there was just something distinct about it that made me grab the binoculars. There it was again: a Varied Thrush. It flew from the bare branches of the Alder onto our Golden Delicious apple tree. While it quietly pecked at these yellow, dew-covered apples, I was able to click a few shots.
As pretty as a picture.

Tell Us A Story

This is the road to the Dharma Bums' house

We've been reading the very fine blog Yllstonewolf. She posted a question last week that was challenging and interesting. She invited comments about an entirely fictional encounter with her. We liked it so much we thought we'd ask that of you: What is your memory of a time you spent with the Dharma Bums? It can be anything you want, good or bad, but has to be utterly fabricated.

Tell us a story about us.