Born to be Wild

Kids love bikes. I still love bikes, though it's been a long while since I was a kid.

There were a couple of weird things I learned about Robin when we met;

She never learned to swim in the ocean.

She never really learned to ride a bike.

Now I understand that up here in the hills there's not a lot of salt water, but I couldn't quite fathom the fear of bikes. She'd rather break an angry horse than ride a bike on a marked trail or paved road.

So when we moved up here, I reminded myself about the kids, the bike thing, and set myself on the mission of ensuring that they did not inherit their mother's fear of two-wheeled conveyance.

To her credit, Robin takes the kids out to ride their bikes almost weekly, and they love it.

Having removed myself from the fear of their fear of wheels...I must confess to my new fear;

They'll learn to ride away.

Homage to my friend Richard

I got caught smoking. It'd been a long LONG time since I was enslaved last to the demon weed, but alas...and again.

Having been caught, and then caught, I had to think...so I thought.

All the times, all the smokes...all the cigarettes, cigars, and pipes of my past.

They are numerous, and the number is vast.

And there's this box. It came from Richard.

Now I must say Richard and I knew each other when I was a kid, so he NEVER gave me anything to smoke. But I got this box, and later found my own things to fill it with.

What Richard did give me was a fearlessness about expression and visual art that has served me (rather well or poorly depending on whom you ask) for a lifetime. I don't know what I would have become had I not known Richard. He showed me how to be gleeful about colors.

I still have a wonderful broken briar-wood pipe that's almost as old as some of Richard's oldest paintings. I got lot of great and quiet time from that pipe before I broke it.

I still have the pieces...perhaps for another time.

Or not.

I might get caught.

Light Bright...Making Things With Light

Brendan, Francine, Josh and I were Saturday morning TV junkies. We lived for cartoons. My personal favorite was Johnny Quest, though we all zoned out to the Road Runner.

The odd thing is that what's stuck the firmest in my memory banks are not the cartoons themselves, but the jingles and commercials. Of course this was all by design. These things were meant to be etched permanently. Good job.

On occasion (OK just about every day) I entertain my friends at Starbucks by breaking into spontaneous and exuberant song; it's not uncommon for these jingles to find me and inspire me in this way. I know I am loved in the workplace for this. It is my gift to the world.

Thank me later, oh dear partners.

Lately though, I've begun to entertain myself by singing when alone. Certainly my repertoire is mostly real songs, but for some reason I punctuate moments in my life with the jingles and commercial tunes. I seem to be particularly fond of this activity at night while driving. Luckily for me I'm all alone out in the countryside, else I'd likely have had some fellow traveler call 911 on me.

The other night I again found myself hypnotized by the night sky. I've posted in the past about this, and shot and shared pictures. I don't seem to be able to stop.

I think a good deal of my persistence in this is the technical challenge of shooting in the dark. Part of it is that it's just beautiful and always changing, and then part of it is because it's just fun. It's also a bit odd. I did have a highway patrolman pull over as I was reviewing my images on the side of the road once last month. He seemed baffled.

Oh yes...and I usually sing while I shoot. I didn't sing for the cop.

So far the cows don't seem to mind. I sing for them all the time.

"...I don't believe it! I don't believe it! The things I can do with my Spirograph!"

Sing along if you know the tune...

Here's a couple I did lately. One here in Calaveras County out back of the house, and the other at Brendan's old house in Seattle the night we were moving his stuff. He's the ghost on the porch.

He came upon me as I was lying on the ground across the street to get the shot. I'm sure he thought I was hammered or insane or both. I don't remember if I was singing at the time. Either way, he's used to me by now. So are my friends at work. Local law enforcement may well have a bulletin out...I don't know. I think the cows are only just beginning to understand.

Salsa or Catch Up?

Yippee...finally a free day to get back to the blog, back to the kitchen, back to the backyard with the kids.

I've been working so much between the town job and the photo gigs that my virtual fans have been agitating...and yes I do see it's been more than a month since I posted.
So here you are. As I've not been entirely idle, I do have a backlog of illustration to post, so I'll go easy on the prose here and just let you look at the pictures.

These are mostly fun snapshots of stuff around the house/farm/compound/whatever. Here's our new addition to the compound....our very own gingerbread house!

This is clearly a sign of colder weather on the way, though most of our days have been unseasonably warm.

Speaking of heat...here's the last batch of tomatoes becoming salsa.

This one is just a nice night sky...and I'm always looking at the sky. Bright moon makes a groovy sky.

And of course there's Ellie. Whenever Robin and I are convinced we've seen it all, she comes up with something new and beautiful. Today she's decided that plants are clothes.

All in a Muddle

When I was a kid we lived near the beach. My Grandmere and Grandpere lived a block from the beach. So we swam and swam, played in the sand, and then we ran back to their house and were STOPPED in the yard so we could get hosed off before a proper shower.

There was giggling, wiggling, showering, and then usually something cold to drink. Fresca was popular at the time.

Today my little family lives nowhere near the beach, but the kids make do as kids always have. Summer water fun is far away, but near to home we have the winter wonderland of the pasture outside our door.

And the first storm of the year brings the mud. Do we have mud! Oceans of mud. Piles and piles of mud in puddles; and since we have kids we have kids in puddles.

Now of course you can't just splash a bit, you have to splash a long while. This is not nearly as much fun to do alone as with your sister or brother. Certainly mud applications involve far more than just the boots and clothing. Hair is a fine target, and as indigenous populations around the world will attest, skin applications are of primary importance. Urgent in fact. Opportunity to bond with one's fellow mud lingerers should not be passed by.

When we lived in more temperate climes, we used to have the kids construct mud puddles with a shovel and a hose. The front yard was fine with us, just build a bridge so mom and dad don't fall in. The neighbors were aghast. Perfect lawns and all.

Perhaps the reason I really found Robin to be my soul mate was her reaction to the mud puddle Aliana had made. She didn't shriek or scream about the hole in the yard...she just asked Aliana which plastic animals were best suited to the swamp. I believe hippos were chosen. Well done.

Now we have two little ones again, and while we can't really excavate around here, neither do we have to. Mud abounds. Winter has taken over for summer, the mountains for the beach and the more things are different the more they seem to be the same...

And then there is the hose, the squealing, the dancing around ...and something nice to drink. We'll skip the Fresca though. Being a cold wet day I think we'll go with some hot spiced milk. Cinnamon sounds just about right.

Harvest and Hunker Down

Home school, stay at home, home bound, home round, home hound, home rule, home on the range.

We're in the last little bubble of warm weather here in Calaveras County, trying to get our minds around the notion of long-johns and wood burning stoves. While all this is looming, the day is quite warm and sunny and everyone is still in shorts and sandals.

We did however, have our first good frost, and the local wisdom is that good hard cold is coming soon. We've got out the long coats, I'm having to put away my summer suits (wedding season is later here but is also winding to a close...hooray for holiday family portraits!) and get out the mud boots.

Robin's got the kids' loft in great shape, and our room and the rest of the house are finally in a state where she's happy and comfortable. This is pretty important as our place is small and during winter it's where we spend our time.

This time of year is a bit odd, as there's still quite a bit of food left in the garden, but we know it'll all die soon if we don't bring it in. Our tomatoes were fantastic this year, and my Bulgarian Carrots (very hot orange peppers) were magnificent. So we had salsa of course. Corn was not so great and the kids had fantastic luck with the squash and pumpkins. We grew a few odd varieties and a couple that were just fun because they get so huge.

I had a great conflict about the bees this year. I had hoped to harvest some honey, and this year was going to be the first when we'd have enough. But I decided that I'd let the bees keep their honey another year. We've only got the one hive and I really really want the colony to get well established here.

I'm not sure harvesting would hurt. I'm actually pretty sure it's totally benign. But something just felt right about letting the girls have their feast. Our orchard is coming along nicely, despite the deer visits from time to time. Between our bee colony and our irrigation system it's thriving, so giving back the honey just seems proper.

Next year, there'll be jars and jars.

Tuolumne County Journey

Calaveras County is adjacent to both Amador and Tuolumne Counties. Having lived here about a year now, it's finally come time to explore a little more. I still have not even begun to touch all the parts of Calaveras, and have much exploring to do right here, but I could not resist the urge to go across the bridge, wander, and shoot. I poked around a while in Sonora, then got an invitation to get away for a day. Way way far, up and away.

Long Barn is high in the hills above Sonora...mostly surrounded by National Forest Service land. Very rustic and lovely...if you like trees. I had the honor of being introduced to a sweet family who've got a place up there. It reminds me a lot of our little homestead. It's primitive as regards amenities, but worth all that for the beauty of it all. It really did feel like home right away.

The matriarch of the family is Sandy, and she's got a soft spot for abandoned and neglected horses. She's become something of a little rescue project all by herself. These animals are very happy to have found a nice home. About once a week they're REALLY happy. That's when they get to go out and run loose until they tire out.

Adjacent to Sandy's place is a huge meadow. Approx 50-60 acres. Wild flowers, a little creek, lots of grass and lots of room to run loose. I know next to nothing about horses, but I'm learning a little. What I learned this day is that they're a lot like dogs. They are social, have complicated relationships within their herd, complex personalities as individuals, and they like to play.

I do too. It was a really really nice was to spend a morning. Thanks Sandy.