Living in a Snow Globe

Ahead of me, out the picture window at my daughter and son-in-law's home in the Catskills, I can see  the nearby mountain. It has a grey look about it, with its leafless maples, ash, aspens and oaks. Each day however,  I notice a little more color on the red maples, their red buds are starting to show us that spring is here, just a glimpse of the glorious display of reds, oranges, yellows and purples that I've been told so much about.

Yesterday, April 21st, it started to snow! I could see the wind blowing flakes across the front of the mountain, and behind the stand of trees that runs down to a creek below. Snow starts to stick to the screens on the porch and on its red roof, and on the branches of the few pines. I was the only one excited about this, since everyone here has already experienced enough for this year. That's what happens when you're a "snowbird".... one who chases the sun, leaving Palm Springs when it's too hot, and arriving in Tahoe only for the last snow.

I, for one, was mesmerized by the flurries swirling around outside. The wind blows across my view and then catches the flakes in the crook of the house, swirling them out in the other direction, giving the effect of living in a snow globe.

I hold my very tiny, new grandbaby, and stand, rocking her in my arms, swaying back and forth in front of the window, telling her about all that was going on outside that she might observe for herself some day. There's even a pond, complete with newts and frogs, that her sister will be happy to explain and explore more fully with her. Big sister is just the one to train her in making forts from fallen branches. 

For now, she's not interested in looking out the window.....it's too bright. "But it's your first snow!", I say. She squints and turns her eyes from the light, preferring to peck around on my neck hoping to find something more appealing there. She's fussy, and I resort to a song I sang to her mom, "For Baby". "I walk in the rain by your side, I cling to the warmth of your tiny hand...." Like magic, she calms and closes her eyes, seeming to enjoy hearing my voice as it rumbles in my chest when I hit the low notes. My chin touches the top of her head and I feel her soft hair. Life is good.

The next day, the snow continued, and since the temps dropped at night, there were icicles hanging from the eaves of the house. When I reported that to my daughter, she said, "Oh no! We've had enough of that! It's time for Spring!". Trying to make myself useful, I put on my brand new snow boots that I bought specifically for this trip, and took a walk down the hill to fill the bird feeder with seeds. With all the commotion of having a new baby, I thought that maybe the feeder was being neglected. My boots made a crunching noise as I made my way down to the post, where the feeder was hanging. I filled it carefully with the scoop provided in the jar, screwed the top back on the long tube, and hung it back up on the nail. Taa-daa! The walk back up the hill was more difficult, since I could feel it in my knee. Too much sitting, I guess, after all the self-isolating.

Warming up in the house and holding the baby again, I looked up from her sweet sleeping face to see a squirrel going at the bird feeder by hanging upside down. He had knocked off the top of it, and now was trying to eat the seeds from the random holes in the tube! I jumped up to get a closer look, and there was movement out of the corner of my vision....an animal, brown, and about the size of a beaver, but with a different tail. The word "marmot" comes to mind. It walks over the snow-covered grass right below us, chomping on the chilly greens. When I looked it up on Google (of course), I was right, but it's also called a groundhog. I'm thinking that he was disappointed to have snow on the ground again. He looked pretty cute crawling around out there, but when he sat up, he had a surprisingly ferocious looking face. Maybe tomorrow I'll give the bird feeder one more try, screwing the top on more carefully, but right now I can see why some folks are so anti-squirrel.

The snow continues to dust the trees on the hillside, and swirl past my window. I hope the snow doesn't shock the new growth on the trees. I imagine they'll probably just appreciate the moisture and be encouraged to grow even more. 

I sit back down with baby, wrapped up in a warm blanket. The wind is still blowing the snow from right to left in front of the forest of leafless trees. Drifts of snow are blown suddenly from the bows of the big pine tree, and fluffy flakes dance in front of the window.

Yep, we're in a snow globe. We rock and sit near the fire by the wood stove. Grandma reads.

One month later, we're back at our summer home in Tahoe, and on May 20th, it has started to snow, to everyone's surprise. The weather app on our phone kept predicting it, but even that morning, the sky was sunny. After lunch, little hard flakes fell, even though the sun was peeking through a few clouds. I wondered if I should be looking for a rainbow. We drove along, doing errands and watched the flakes aim at our window. Back at home, the snow started building up, covering the bushes and some of the new hollyhocks and pansies I had recently planted. Tulips were weighed down with snow, and the two tomatoes were already coated, so I guess it was too late to save them from frost. I'm hoping all the plants will take it in their stride.

Inside, we opened up our blinds wide, so we could watch the changing landscape. The stairs and railing had accumulated about 3 inches. I didn't want to be a stick in the mud indoors, so I donned my aforementioned snow boots, and went for a little walk. Flakes tried to accumulate in my warm pockets and collected on my hat. I only saw one other person out there, taking a bag of garbage out to the bin. She was so bundled up in her well-worn parka with a hood, and boots on that I didn't recognized my neighbor at first. I smiled and said, "Isn't it glorious?!!", and she just groaned and said something about "I'm just ready for summer." 

I wandered back to our condo, red cheeked, and happy. I have a better relationship with my squirrels in Tahoe. Since I'm running low on nuts and seeds to give the critters outside, I made my specialty for them.....two big peanut butter sandwiches, cut into little squares, and scattered them on the ground to watch the grey squirrels, chickarees, Robins and Stellar Jays come after them. Then I heated some water in our electric tea pot to add to their water bowl I have outside that had become all slushy with snow. 

Delighted with the day, I came inside to watch the show through the window. The American Robin drinking from the bowl, was the biggest I'd ever seen.....I think about to deliver, and the squirrels and even chipmunks seemed to think there was enough to go around. The snow continued to swirl around, some of it heavy enough in the branches of the pines to fall off in great plops, and then blow around in the slight wind. 

Once again I'm in a snow globe. Inside this one though, my husband and I judiciously work on a new jigsaw puzzle and have a cup of tea, while the fireplace glows in the corner....cozy and warm while the snow whirls outside.

Tahoe Wildlife

This title could be a little misleading. It's not about the wild life that we lead here at  South Lake Tahoe. No, we're actually pretty calm and predictable. The story is just about the critters that we come across right outside our front door.

There's been talk of a big bear that comes around many times a week, that folks are starting to call "Bob". We haven't seen Bob ourselves, but we hear he's pretty large, and lumbers along. He seems to know when garbage day is, since he makes sure to check out the garbage enclosures the night before, opens the gate with the handle and then lifts the heavy lid on the bin with ease.

Our most exciting story, was when a black bear probably drank all the water from a bowl we have outside our front door two nights in a row. The missing water was first noted one morning when our neighbor's fence had been knocked down the night before, and the next day, it was reported that a bear had torn off a plank from the garbage enclosure. He must have worked up a thirst after all that work, and knew he could come by for a drink afterward. When I told my husband about all this, he said, "What?? I've been coming in and sitting in my recliner chair right by the door the last few nights. He was about 6 feet from my head! I think you'd better get rid of that water bowl, or at least move it!"

I opted for moving it, since I've been providing water for all the smaller critters for the last 5 or 6 years, and I think they depend on me.

The blue glass bowl was repositioned farther away, over behind a bush, and I placed a stone next to it so that the birds and chipmunks would have something to hop up on to get a drink. I watched and worried every day to see if anyone noticed the change. I sat and read quietly in my zero-gravity chair, looking around the edge of my book to see if I had any takers. I even put extra bird seed close by, which would get eaten, but there were no takers for a drink afterward. For a few days, the water level never went down, and finally Doug told me it would be okay if I put the bowl a little more out in the open. Soon after, it was discovered again, not only for refreshment, but for lovely baths!

The bathers, are the occasional American Robin, but two or three Brewer's Blackbirds from the flock that frequents our yard are appreciating a dip at the same time. One gets in and flaps around while the other two politely sit on the edge awaiting their turn.

Every morning, I go out with a copper cup that's meant for a Moscow Mule cocktail, filled 2/3 full with birdseed, and then topped off with shelled sunflower seeds and peanuts. I don't want a bunch of shells littering our forest floor, and I think the little animals appreciate the little effort they have to put out to get a nice buffet. Later on, I'll add a few grapes that have past their prime or some crusts of bread. I think they'll all be missing me when we go back down to Palm Springs in the end of October. A neighbor says that she fills the water bowl during the winter if she sees it getting low.

The squirrels are knocking down an abundant amount of pine cones from the Ponderosa pines lately. Someone told us that this means that we'll have an early winter or a big one. One of the two. They chew them off from way up high, and the immature cones drop down like bombs, with a big "thud" making you wonder if you should be wearing a bicycle helmet along with your mask. Then, the squirrel runs down the tree and very conscientiously chews off bits that are called scales, leaving them in a mess all over the ground, and eating up the seeds that are underneath. Only something like a corn cob is left on the ground. The more mature pine cones, that are all opened up, with their scales all flailed out,  are left alone by the squirrels. I just noticed the difference this year, since I have so much time on my hands, I suppose. 

Doug laughs that I identify the squirrels as babies, teenagers, and adults. But I keep watching. These brown squirrels, called Douglas, or Chickarees, seem to first appear as small as chipmunks, squealing like birds, and mostly brown, with golden bellies. As they age, to the "teenage" years, they start getting darker strips on their sides, and grow larger. The babies are fearless, and don't mind coming close to me, but the teenagers seem to grow more skittish, undoubtedly having had some experiences with danger. 

I used to think that the smaller brown squirrels were the younger grey squirrels, but no.

The Grey Squirrels are much larger, with deer-like faces, longer ears, and have huge, fluffy tails. As they grow older, they grow more salt and pepper grey. They climb down the trees in the morning to see what I've provided for breakfast. 

Right now, in the beginning of September, I'm starting to think that both of the species don't appreciate my thoughtfulness so much, since they have been digging around many of the plants that I have planted recently. I always say that they think that there's a new squirrel in town that has hidden a nut, but a friend told me that they just like to chew on the roots of my plants. Still though, I'm just glad that they aren't voles, like we had a few years ago, tunneling around and killing the plants. Some may hate them, but I still love watching my squirrels.

The chipmunks have been just darling lately, baby ones I'm sure, coming around in pairs of two, just like "Chip and Dale" from the old cartoons. They skitter around so quickly, from a bush, across the path, and under the steps, that I can hardly point them out to Doug in time, before they are gone again. Even the older ones, with their striped backs, (they all have them from birth), are so quick and wary, jump up to take a drink from my blue bowl. I'm delighted to provide for them.

The species of birds are many, from the big flock of Brewer's Blackbirds that I mentioned, to the Stellar Jays and their cacophony that we hear telling their friends that breakfast is served each morning. Later on in the day, a couple of mourning doves will show themselves, sometimes defending what they believe is their territory, making us think that their reputation for being so peaceful is in jeopardy. A few American Robins hang around, not necessarily interested in my bird seeds, but I think more concentrating on the worms that might be attracted to our automatic watering system. Most of them have orangish-red breasts, and some have speckled ones. I thought those were maybe the females, not being as flashy, but I've read that they are the juveniles.

Notably louder, we have huge crows, that swoop over our heads near the pool so low that we can hear their wings flap. Then they go up high in the pines and caw to each other or make a strange gurgling sound, we think is to attract a mate. There are even a few even larger ravens, that march around on the ground, almost as big as turkeys.

Another special bird is the Northern Flicker. My ears are getting so attuned to the calls of the birds, that I joke that I may have been one once. The other day I was inside, and heard a different birdcall, and looked out to see a big bird on the side of a tree, pecking at it. It didn't have a red head like some of the woodpeckers up here do,  just a little bit on it's cheeks, and it was tan and kind of speckled. When it took off flying it had a beautiful salmon color under it's wings. I ran for my trusty bird book, and found it! A Flicker! Today, I found that online I could hear samples of this bird's call, so I did a funny thing and brought my computer outside and played a couple of them loudly. The other birds looked shocked and took off, but on about the third try, a Flicker swooped over to land on the side of one of the Ponderosa pines! Then he hopped down to the ground and pecked awhile. He didn't seem very interested in hearing any more of my calls, so maybe it was just a coincidence. 

For the last two years, a pair of Chickadees have made their nest in a knot hole in the trim above our condo. They're winning the award for my favorite flock of birds. They fly down to a small pine tree out front, and sometimes come close to me when I'm walking by, or they hop around near by while I'm gardening, seeming rather curious and friendly. Their chirp sounds like a sort of smooching, kissing sound. I try to make that sound when I come out in the morning and every so often one flies down to me.

Their heads look like they're wearing little bicycle helmets, and sometimes the peanuts they try to pick up and fly away with, look half the size of their little round body.

A couple of months some of the neighbors were delighted that a mallard duck had made a nest, but were worried that she made her nest full of feathers in a precarious place, down low in a juniper bush. There were three eggs in there, and we all looked forward to when the little ducklings would be following their mother around the condo complex. Our hopes were dashed one day, when it looked like a coyote had found the nest. All that was left were the shells amongst her soft feathers, and Mama was walking around quacking, looking forlorn.

A few days later, Mama duck had taken to swimming in the pool, which seemed okay, since it was closed to us due to the pandemic. We were entertained by her dramatic landings in the water, and were happy that she had a spa, (or pond), to recover from her loss. She'd hang out at the edge, and eventually surprised us by depositing a large egg right there on the cement.... and leaving it. The neighbors all talked about how to help her, all wearing our masks and socially distancing, of course. We worried that the abandoned egg would get too cold, since the temps were going to drop that night. Finally, the maintenance guy checked it out closer and found it to be cracked. The poor thing was unceremoniously deposited in the garbage bin. Mama never showed up again.

Well, it looks like from my ramblings that I still have a lot of time on my hands. I've told you about everything wild here so far. Guess I'd better go outside again to see what's up.

The Little Creep!

We've been up at South Lake Tahoe since the beginning of May, and I've been having a grand time gardening for the whole condo complex, with the larger stipend of $750. they've given me for plants. I DO like to find the best deals I can, and it's even better when I'm spending someone else's money.
My new saying is "I work for compliments", since I don't get paid for the digging, but I consider gardening my main form of exercise. Besides, one of the owners said that whenever she spots a new flower, she says to herself, "The gardening fairy must have been here!" That's my new moniker, and I like it.

My routine in the morning, after we do a short meditation and prayer, is to go out and feed the birds, squirrels and chipmunks. I fill their water bowl and toss a mixture of birdseed, and peanuts and sunflower seeds without the shell on the ground like I'm feeding chickens. It's delightful for me to watch their movements out the window, but for the last two mornings, I've gone out to find the two most recent plants I've planted in our own little plot, with holes dug next to them. Whenever that happens, I just figure that one of the critters must think that there's a new squirrel in town that has buried a nice juicy nut, so I use the toe of my slipper to fill in the hole, forgiving them.

.

Once again, right next to the Milkweed I planted to provide Monarch butterflies a place to set up housekeeping, and my nice, red Coral Bells plant that I got for Doug for Father's Day, big holes, and the red-leafed one had had it's roots chewed on! Now this morning, everything was fine, until after I fed the little darlings their treats. We dished up breakfast, and then I glanced out the window to find the Coral Bells completely uprooted and lying on its side! Oh no!
"What the.....! Don't you guys know that I'm the one that provides for you every day?" This means war!

Leaving my coffee and turkey bacon and toast with honey and peanut butter on it to get cold, I ran back in to the kitchen to rummage through the spice cupboard to find my stash of hot red peppers like you put on pizza. These were left over from the arsenal I had used to fight off the voles 2 years ago. Doug watched as I whizzed by him to defend my territory. I plopped the poor plant back in to it's hole, filled it in, and sprinkled the hot peppers thickly around it. Take that, you little creep! Then I went in to eat my breakfast.

About an hour later, we were dressed up to finally go to mass, (we had to make reservations), and Doug saw through the window that there was a big fat squirrel standing up holding the Coral Bells and chewing on the roots! Perhaps he enjoyed the extra spicy seasoning! I opened the door and he ran off, leaving the plant looking wilted and missing half of it's roots. I only had time to toss it back in it's hole and give it some water and wish it well.

When we came home, it looked like it needed artificial respiration. I decided to give it more water and then cover it with a big glass bowl, sort of like a terrarium. Then it got overheated in the sun, and the glass was coated in moisture, so I set two ice cubes on top of the bowl. Desperate measures.....

That worked for a little while, but then when I took off the bowl, even though it looked a little perkier, I worried about the plant being attacked again over night, so I put the bowl on again.
After being exposed again in the morning though, some of the leaves were feeling as crispy as potato chips, and I decided to dig it up and put it in a pot, (no less, a ceramic pot I made myself back in the 80's).

The next day, I sat in my zero-gravity lounge chair and read a book, while glancing up intermittently to gaze lovingly at my group of critters as they grazed on their morning buffet. One of the chipmunks, not realizing I was there sat near me on the ground chewing on seeds. A robin skitters to and fro, and I notice that she keeps her head down and forward as she runs along, and then stops, more upright, and looks and listens.

But then I notice a big squirrel that is sniffing around and pawing at the ground across the way, digging little holes, and then stopping to scratch himself. Maybe he has a flea. "This is the guy!", I'm thinking. He repeats the process a few times, and by now I'm calling him "Itchy". Then he comes right over to where the red plant had been, and sniffed around. "Aha!" I wish I had a squirt gun to surprise him with.

Oh well. At least my little plant is safe up on the table. Hmm. Perhaps I should bring it in to the dining room at night.
I know there are other folks who might get out a BB gun at this point....and I AM considering a trip to the Dollar Store later to shop for a Super Soaker, but in this time of self isolating, at least I have some cheap entertainment.

Living in an Aviary

When my family was young, we always had quite a menagerie. My daughter was usually the culprit when it came to adding on to our collection of critters. We prefer furry ones....dogs, cats and bunnies....or feathered ones, shying away from reptiles, especially snakes. At one point we considered having an aviary in our home, since we really didn't like the idea of keeping our birds cramped in cages. We fantasized about a room-sized aviary that we could walk into just off the dining room. It was only a dream and never came to be, and now that I think about it, it would be one huge place to keep up, it could be smelly...... and the birds would still actually be in a cage.

The last few years, since I love to watch birds in the wild so much, I've been feeding them in my yard wherever I'm living. There's never been much interest shown at my bird feeders, though, until this year. There's a huge, fat palm tree in our patio in Palm Springs, sometimes referred to as "the elephant in the room", and this year I took a notion to hang a cage that holds a brick of birdseed on it's stubby, toothy, chopped off frond. I added a sort of suet block as well, only it's made from peanuts and it doesn't melt all over the ground like the beef suet does in the desert heat. Soon after, I had quite an audience. Mostly the crowd consisted of red and orange house finches and white-crowned sparrows, with mourning doves foraging on the ground and hummingbirds sucking on their own feeder. 

On the colored brick wall, next to the Ficus hedge, I set a little ceramic bird feeder that I made years ago and a little flat dish which I keep loaded with already shelled sunflower seeds. It seemed logical that the birds would have an easier time without having to deal with shells, and there would be less mess for us to clean up. 

It's been delightful to watch the little finches work their way down through the bushes to the wall to poke their heads into the holes of the feeder to get the seeds. We must be on some sort of flyway, or at least the word has got out about our bird buffet. If I sit quietly and write, the birds ignore me and go about their business of feeding their families.

Sometimes as I'm writing out on the patio, I have to pause to witness an argument, or bird fight over exactly who's feeders these are. Mostly I just look up to appreciate how up close and personal I am to these beautiful creatures.

Most of them gather in our overgrown bougainvillea on our patio. There is always a cacophony of chirping and chortling and tweeting. There may even be a nest in there, but it's so dense that I can't tell. They joyfully whistle and chirp and call and then they suddenly stop as one. It's as if a grand maestro has raised his arms and said "Stop". There's a startling silence, it's quiet for awhile, until a soloist starts warbling once more.

Those warblers are so amazing! Their songs are so loud and carry such a long way, that I thought they must be pretty big birds. One day though, a bird the size of a hummingbird came down to check out a Lantana plant, and warbled while he was there. I looked him up on Merlin Bird ID on my phone, and found he was a Warbling Vireo. I played his powerful song from the phone and it matched the one that serenades me in the yard!                                       

Speaking of hummingbirds though, they are very curious little guys. I have my potter's wheel out on the patio, and sometimes I'll hear the thrum of their rapidly moving wings close by and look up to see one hovering in front of me and checking me out. One also darted under the awning when we were sitting out there having our first drink since arriving in Palm Springs. "Well Hello", I said, "Yes we are back, and I'll get right on filling your feeder!"

Just a little bit of trivia.... Did you know how hummingbirds hover? They move their wings in a figure 8 about 100 times a second!
Once this season I went to a nursery to buy plants, and one of the workers there asked if I had ever seen a baby hummingbird. She led me over to a lemon tree (that was for sale), and showed me the tiny nest that had four little brown things inside. I thought they looked like little brown capsules with a fuzzy mohawk all around the edge. Their tiny heads must have been tucked under and I just saw the body, since they have to eat somehow! I couldn't get close enough to see.

Anyway, here I am sitting in the most wonderful aviary one could ever want. Sometimes I'm reminded of Cinderella, and all her little bird friends. The Mourning Doves are coo-cooing, the Mockingbird is perched high on a treetop recounting everything that happened to him last night, with many choruses, the hummers are sipping at their nectar, and the finches are climbing through the bush. Even an occasional Verdin hops through with it's bright yellow head, scavenging some of the seeds others have dropped. It's a little bit of heaven for me.....and for them too. No cages are involved.

Company in the Pool

Today I was a "golf widow", I suppose, since my husband went off to play a round and get some exercise. I decided that my exercise would be in the pool outside our condo in Tahoe. Not a soul was around, and I set myself up on a lounge chair with my supplies, a big hat, sunglasses, and my library book that I had 20 pages left to read. It was windy, about 61 degrees, but sunny, so I still felt warm enough. The idea was to lay in the sun for awhile before getting in the pool because the wind probably wouldn't let me afterward.

The book finished, I prolonged my lounge time by finishing a crossword puzzle I found in my pool bag. My mind tried to talk me out of even getting wet, but I pictured Doug coming home after walking the course and I'd feel bad if I hadn't done.... something. I spotted some flotsam floating around on the surface of the pool, so that gave me a sense of purpose. I could pump iron with my foam dumbbells AND clean the pool to make it nice for others.

As I climbed down the steps into the water, I spotted a pretty cream-colored maple leaf floating at the other end of the pool. As I made my toward it, I captured quite a few pine needles that had blown in, carefully rescued a bee that seemed grateful, since after I flicked him out he flew off in a second. I went backwards toward the maple leaf, kicking my way there, but when I reached the opposite end it was no where to be seen. Hmm. Oh well. It was time to move around a little, I used my Aquabells to do push-ups in the water, and then some shoot-throughs and some jumping jacks. I began to twirl around in the water, (my favorite), when I spotted the maple leaf floating right near my shoulder.

Rather than toss it out of the pool, I decided to look at it more closely. It was totally dry on top and it didn't have a stem. It also had a passenger.....a tiny reddish brown spider was holding completely still on the leaf. I was looking so closely that my breath hit it, and it moved a few steps in shock. "Don't go! Be my company", I pleaded, realizing that I was talking to a spider. He stayed, and happily rode along on his leaf, which  was collecting yellow pollen on its edges. I should take a picture of this, I thought, and planned to get out soon and dry myself off enough to handle my iPhone. I did a sort of bicycle move heading toward the other end, and I think because of the pumping up and down I did behind my back with the aquabells, I moved faster, and the leaf was propelled along side me. It actually passed me, so I tried to do the same movement in the opposite direction to make it follow me again. It didn't. It reached the wall, and turned left, the spider getting the ride of his life as it twirled along the edge. Finally it turned toward me, as I kept up my plunging movement. I thought I had better get out and get that picture while it was so close to the edge, since I was composing a story in my head, and what good is a story without a photo?  As I headed for the stairs to climb out, the creamy colored leaf kept moving in my direction, along the edge of the pool.

And then, to my surprise, SWOOSH! leaf and passenger were sucked in to the pool's drain on the side. It hadn't dawned on me. So no picture....but still a story.

In The Kitchen

We've lived in this old house for 33 years, and have been emptying it out, getting it ready to rent. The kitchen is one of the last rooms to evacuate, since we've still been cooking in it, but today is the day to empty the cupboards of food and pans, but for me, the memories are still there.
There are three of us working in the kitchen. My husband is changing the funky old knobs to cute chrome ones shaped like a cup and saucer and a teapot.

A friend is emptying out the cupboards so he can clean them, and putting the contents around the kitchen for me to sort through. I call my job "search and destroy", but it's not true. For each item, I have to decide if I want to keep it, (does it give me joy?)...... does someone else want or need it?..... Should I put it out in the changing pile of "leavings" that we've left by the curb for passers by to take?..... Can it be recycled?..... or, is it truly garbage?

The hardest part of this sorting for me, is to also consider if the item suits our mobile home in Palm Springs, or the condo at Lake Tahoe, or could we use it in the little "in-law" we're making for ourselves downstairs. Our kitchen there, will consist of a microwave, a crockpot, a coffee maker, a George Foreman Grill and an electric pot to heat tea water......no place for pots or pans. Storage is at a premium, so I have to be brutal, but if I have fond memories of an antique cookie sheet or muffin tin, I'll bring them to Palm Springs to replace things that were already in the kitchen when we bought the place. Things for entertaining go there too, since there are always a lot of pot lucks.

It must look as if I'm moving in slow motion, to my co-workers in the kitchen. I see the clutter on the counter of bowls and utensils and half used cleaning products growing, it's upsetting to me that I can't seem to keep up with the flow. My brain, in the meantime, keeps playing movies of times past. As I get out the muffin tins from a corner of the cupboards, I fondly remember the "apartment" that Tigger, our orange tabby had made in there. We found that he opened the cupboard door with his paw, crawled in and didn't come out. Turns out, he could see the side of the drawer that had dishtowels in it, and he reached into the drawer, and pulled out a few towels with his claw to make himself a nice little nest in the cupboard. I discovered his lair one time when I was suspiciously low on dishtowels. He watched as I cleaned it out, and in a few days, he had refurnished it.
Another time, I caught Tigger rubbing up against Tessa, our dog, and ending up with his head in Tessa's gentle open mouth!

The soon-to-be-replaced kitchen sink brings back a vision of a favorite photo of my kids, Jennie, 5, and Lucas 1-1/2, way back when, standing on chairs, "doing dishes". Lucas especially concentrated on the Tupperware cups that were unbreakable. Both of them had vintage child's aprons on, and Jennie's hair cascaded down to her waist. This has always been one of my favorite photos, and it has been the problem with getting this story done. It has gotten temporarily lost in this huge shuffle we're in the midst of, but when I find it I'll add it in. I promise.
The kitchen sink was also captured when someone got a picture of Polly, our cherry headed conure (one of our menagerie) perched on my back as I washed my hair.

This reminds me of more animal activity in the kitchen, which, when I think about it, was pretty common.

A few cocktail glasses appeared on the counter. Some were Christmas glasses with poinsettias on them, that would probably be sent to Goodwill.....but others were etched glass, ones that had been brought over from Hawaii, when Helen "Tutu" and Wally, "Grandpa" came over on the Lurlene, a cruise ship that brought my kid's Dad, Walt, at 3 years old, laiden with leis, to the mainland.

 I remember in 1998.. ., Wally was gone, Helen lived with me, and when I came home from a days work at Kaiser, I'd find her sitting in the old rocking chair in my kitchen, decked out in a nice Muu-Muu with matching nail polish, and sometimes a silk lei. While I jumped right in to cooking dinner, still in my scrubs, I told her what happened at work that day. She told me what happened at the house, and we had cocktails. We made up our own, one time calling a tequila and apple juice drink a "Juanie Appleseed". Good times.

There were so many other memorable things that happened in this old kitchen. Lucas shot magnetic darts past my back onto a target on the refrigerator as I did the dishes when he was 5, and Jennie practiced her shuffle-ball-change on the linoleum when she was seven. I truly hope that the new family that moves into this home has as many wonderful, wholesome memories in this kitchen and in all the other rooms. God bless them.

An Old Cat and Dog Story from 2001

In the last few years, my family's pet population has dwindled from two cats, one dove, one cockatiel, one cherry-headed conure, two parakeets, 19 bunnies (it's true that they are prolific), and 12 goldfish in the pond. The menagerie has declined, due to old age, bunny sales, birds flying the coop or being buried in the side yard, racoons, and no replacements. We are now down to two pets.

Alas, our cat, Tigger, a 14 year old orange striped tabby, has cancer. All of six months ago, he had a surgery which supposedly removed the whole tumor from his abdomen. Because of his age and our fondness of him, I figured the $180. for the surgery was affordable, but I knew I didn't want to invest in chemo. When the tumor returned, the vet said, "Just let him have anything he wants. If he starts to feel bad, let me know and you can 'bring him by'." On the way home, I stopped at the store and bought Tigger some special kitty treats.

That's how my morning ritual started. Tigger directs the scene as it opens from his post outside the kitchen window over the sink. It's 6:30 A.M., and my dog Tessa, and I come down stairs to the kitchen. The rather heavy pit bull/lab scrambles down ahead of me and anxiously waits for me to fill my whistling tea kettle with water for my cup of coffee. She finally makes eye contact with me, and then pushes her way past me down the laundry room stairs, wiggling her whole body impatiently till I get the back door open. She runs in place on the cement like a cartoon dog, before bounding out to pee under the plum tree. She is noisily greeted by the dog next door, but doesn't take time to respond. I close the door just enough that Tessa can push her way back in.

Tigger stands on his hind legs outside the window doing his morning stretch, reaching almost to the top of the second pane, showing me how bad his sore is on his belly. He scrapes his nails luxuriously down the upper window pane. I raise the window and he jumps to the counter and then the floor, where he stops to rub against my leg. Next, he saunters over and sits in front of the little bowl I've placed on the floor in the corner for his morning treat, instructing me to open the cupboard and get out his first course.....salmon-flavored kitty treats. He munches on them and makes a strange guttural sound, as if he's devouring a bird he has just killed.

In the meantime, Tessa has made her entrance through the back door and looks toward the cupboard for her "usual". I toss her one small bone-shaped biscuit, which she handily catches in her mouth and takes to chew on the living room rug. She comes back wagging, happy to find that I've hidden another bone on top of the recycling basket. I'm touched that she remembered from yesterday and the day before.

Tigger's not finished. He meows when I get my milk out of the fridge for my coffee, and sits by his bowl again. I act like I don't notice, and he rubs against my leg and meows a pitiful cry. I say, "Of course I'll give you some."..... but I think to myself that I never used to give him milk very often. The vet did say though, to "give him anything he wants". Now, for the first time in these last few months, this athletic, lanky cat is finally getting some meat on his bones, cancer and all. I wonder if he's noticing the pampering... that I'm honoring him and showing him my love in this little ritual of ours. Whatever he notices, he's got me trained pretty well.

Lucas with Tigger 2001

Butterfly, Oh Flutter By!

Oh Butterfly, thank you for choosing our yard as your own!
I look to the sky on any day, and I see you.
Even when I look down, your shadow floats by
My heart melts at the sight, endearing my closeness to you.

I watch you flutter around the edge of the property like a sentry guarding the perimeter.
Then you pose on a chair till I say, "Look at that there!"...
...but not long enough to snap a picture.

Once more around the yard, and then you tease me,
pausing on a branch of a bush that I'm pruning.
Your yellows and black show off the blue spot on each wing,
like a jewel encased in a setting.

As you sit on the branch, your wings pump slightly for balance,
about to take off again, I'm betting.

Oh sweet Butterfly, do your dance. Flutter by. Fly for me.
Guard our yard if you think you must, from those tiny intruders.
Little moths give you chase,
then you fly like an ace, protecting us from the marauders.

As I sit in my chair, I imagine one day that you'll come to land on my finger.
I'll be patient, and quiet.
I am kind. I can wait.
I have time for you to come sit on my finger...and linger.

Sickroom Supplies

It's been so long since I've been sick with a cold and cough I kind of forgot how far down you can be dragged. Certain things have been known to either take me out of a funk or make me feel better when I'm ill. Last night when I couldn't sleep because of coughing, I found myself wandering around the house at 3:00 a.m., looking for remedies of any sort. Mostly found were daytime cold medicines, expired, and threatening side effects of nervousness and irritability. What I really wanted to find, was an old bottle of spray Chloraseptic that I used when my kids were still living at home. Maybe I never sorted it out and tossed it. Maybe it still had a bit left in it, enough to numb my throat so it wouldn't want to cough and wake me as I finally dozed. No such luck.
In the morning, I would gather together all the supplies I needed to get better.

When this began, a few days ago, I thought all I needed to knock this thing out was to gargle with salt water, and have some tea. Left at home alone in the morning, my husband went off to work by himself and I ventured down to the kitchen for that cup of tea. Peach Ginger tea sounded perfect, and I waited for the teapot to whistle. There came a tapping noise from the living room, and I peered around the corner for signs of life, but none. I went over to the various electronic devices that were humming away, unused. No tapping. Standing in the middle of the room, waiting..... a tapping to my left on the window. The culprit was right there! It was a  bushtittie! Well, a Bushtit, a small round ball of feathers that travels in flocks that have been known a couple of times a year to come to our yard, cover our lemon bush, making cute little noises like a bunch of squeeze toys outside the window. I've always announced with an English accent, "The Bushtitties are here!" to extract a bashful grin from my kids. Never, have I seen one fly right up to a window and peck at it. As I was watching that one, another one did the same at another window, taking a rest on a vine and then throwing itself at the window to peck again! I tried to take a picture, but it doesn't do it justice. This was still going on even after I drank my tea and came down 2 hours later. My sister says it must be mating season, and they are trying to get together with their reflections!

This experience reminded me that one of my favorite things in our room (whether sick or well) is to watch the birds at the bird feeder hanging outside the window. Today is a beautiful, springlike day. The finches, sparrows, and chickadees are all making delightful entertainment for me. I see them take turns sitting on the branches of the plum tree (with new blossoms), to fly over to the feeder to peck at the seeds and throw even more on the ground below. Occasionally I'll get a visit from a local Scrub Jay, that I call Blue Boy. He makes a huge "thump" on the metal hook that holds the feeder, helping us to greet the new day with him. His favorite munchie is the dripless suet made from peanuts and other seeds that you put in a little cage to hang. (If you don't get the dripless variety, the hot sun will melt the suet, or grease, all over the ground underneath.) Blue Boy goes into all sorts of contortions to get at the good stuff and to entertain us.

One thing about this cough, is that if I talk, it makes me cough. My husband might be enjoying this just a little bit too much. Many times I started telling a story that something reminded me of on tv, started coughing and then, waving my hand, said, "Never mind!" since it wasn't worth the telling. We went out to have a nutritious lunch of Shrimp Hot and Sour Soup at our favorite Vietnamese restaurant, Nong Thon, in El Cerrito. Since I was about to cough, I didn't blurt out our order to our server, I more politely waited for Doug to do it. This "condition" of mine has also brought to mind that I have been known to "talk over" someone. Not sure if it was ever worked in to a character on Seinfeld, but in an excited state, without realizing it, I've tried to get out my information about a subject before, or at least louder, than a friend. If I've ever done that to you, I'm sorry, and evidently I'm getting some time to think about it, with laryngitis. We'll see if the lesson sticks. I think it's a darned good Lenten practice.

Anyway, we went to the store for the supplies, the Chloroseptic, (the original disgusting flavor), some daytime and nighttime cold medicine, new menthol cough drops, more birdseed, and some carrots, apples and ginger to make myself some juice in my new Jack Lalanne Power Juicer. The latter is to keep me on the track I've been on to try to detox my body! Could this cold be all the toxins trying to fight their way out? (I've heard people say things like that before : p)
No..... but the words seem to be fighting their way out, and not through my mouth, through my fingers!
So , have some tea. Bottoms up!.....and good health to you all!

Fighting Bumblebees!

Yesterday I got out of my car in Berkeley California, went over to the sidewalk, and noticed a fuzzy sort of ball rolling around on the ground. I realized right away that it was two bumblebees fighting!

As they fought, the big one was on top, and then the smaller one gained the upper hand. But the advantage switched again, and the big one tried to fly off, carrying the small one under him!

I was fascinated by the yellow and black blur, standing close by, watching the action.
The larger bee sank with his victim to the ground as if it was too heavy, but as soon as he dropped it, they rolled about on the sidewalk a couple more times and then he was on top again and grabbed the smaller one and attempted to take off once more! He faltered, dropping his victim, and I swear,....HE .LOOKED AT ME!!!!!

I realized that I was the focus now of this ferocious insect, and I fled in terror to run faster than I ever have,.all the while thinking that I have broken a hip before and should be careful!
All of that was included in the movement that carried me racing along that sidewalk into my husband's store.
After I opened the door I rushed to him, turned my back, and said,"Do you see any bees on my back?!!"
"I don't see anything", he said.

We found later on the Internet that I may have interrupted a couple of male bumblebees vying for the female.   Sorry.

Here birdy

While visiting and communicating with a couple of parrots in a store today, I clucked at them and as they clucked back at me. It reminded me of another day.....
I was waiting for my daughter to come back from a horseback ride in the hills of Sonoma with friends, and got bored waiting in the car. There was a pasture gate, and inside were cows, all grazing way up on a hill.
Getting antsy, I wandered over to the gate, and finding that it opened easily, ventured into the pasture.
These people also raise tropical birds, so there was an arrangement of cages of parrots and cockatoos further inside the fence. When I first approached them, everything was quiet; only a few murmurs. So then I just stood in front of them and said, in my best parrot voice, "Hello!"   About ten birds called back, "Hello!" Startled, but excited, I said, "Pretty Bird!" , and some birds gave me a wolf whistle! I've never been so surprised, but was encouraged, to continue to make contact with animals.
I thought better of that idea, however, when the cattle came bounding over the hill toward me. I made myself scarce, and ran back out the gate.

Current Cats, Chapter 2

The mama cat never has been very friendly. In fact she's downright skittish. You'd think with all the food we give her....... Well, there's another cat that looks alot like her that is either her former beau or her brother, with the same sort of grey and white markings. He showed up soon after "Mommy" was fixed, and he lets me pet him. I started calling him Gimpy. I know it's a rather un-PC name, but he does do a big limp when he's surprised and goes to move fast. Now he's more lovingly called "Gimpers", since he greets me sometimes, rubbing along my legs as I bend down and stroke his soft fur. Mommy won't have anything to do with me, but if Gimpers is around letting himself be petted, she comes over too, purring and rubbing. It's as if to say, "This is my girl, and I let her pet me like this all the time!"
Some folks say we shouldn't feed the feral cats. They think we'll attract racoons and such. We only feed the cats when they come and ask for it. Mommy and sometimes Gimpers are sitting waiting in the driveway for us when we come home from work, and meow till we feed them, thanking us for any handouts.
One time though, I was having a lovely time working in the garden on a hot day. I went over to prune a rosebush, when I saw out of the corner of my eye, one of the cats near their bowl. I naturally started to make some little mewing noise as I turned toward it, and discovered a small skunk eating the cat food! As quietly as  I could, I tried to close the huge sliding garage door, and at the movement, the skunk ran toward the back yard. I saw that the back door of the garage was open, and prayed that the little critter wouldn't run in there! Luckily I saw it turn the other way and run toward the neighbor's under the fence. Closing up the garage, my heart was beating fast, as I realized how quickly things could change. There I was having an idyllic afternoon, watching butterflies and birds, planting things and pruning bushes, and in an instant, I was afraid that I'd be shot at close range by a skunk's spray! The thought went through my head, "how could I even go into work the next day if I smelled of skunk?" As it is I got off easy without any scent. That's when I learned the lesson of only feeding the cats a little bit in their bowl, and only when they're there to eat it.

Current Cats, Chapter 1

When my kids were home we had, at one point, 1 dog, 2 cats, 2 parakeets, 1 dove, a cherry-headed conure, a dozen goldfish and 4 adult and 19 baby bunnies. The cats, the dog and the birds left their residue throughout the house. Everyone who came to our house left with fur on their black pants, and sometimes a feather on their shoulder.
Over time, the kids moved out, the pets passed on, the bunnies were sold to nice families, and I became pet-free! I discovered it was kind of nice to not have to turn on the light in the hall to be able to navigate over the possible messes on the way to the kitchen in the middle of the night. I could walk into my home without sniffing to check if one of the cats had peed in the heater vent. Friends didn't mention it, but I know they probably appreciated it when they left our house sans fur on their clothes.
Nevertheless, I miss sitting with a kitty on my lap, stroking it's head, or having my darling collie, Lillian, look at me soulfully with her head on my knee. When I'm out and about lately, I am drawn to most animals that I come across.and love to pet them. It's my pet fix, I say, and the dog's owners never mind, in fact they love it! They love sharing their joy!
This wasn't exactly on topic, was it? ....the situation I have now, is no indoor pets. A few years ago, my husband and I decided not to adopt any more pets, since we like to travel. So.....one of the neighborhood feral cats started to come around and we began buying food for it, but didn't let it come in. Actually, one time it sauntered in the door, and when it realized it was inside, it ran around the living room frantically, via the mantel and the drapes. We figured she wasn't a candidate for domestication. A few months later, I discovered a couple of kittens coming from a tiny opening in the side of the garage. She had had a whole litter of kittens in our garage, and we never even knew it! (Well, we hadn't used the garage for much more than storage for a couple of months).
That was the day that we decided we should try to get the mama cat fixed. (Later the kitties were found homes.)
We went on the web and found out how to capture a cat in a "have-a-heart" trap. We bought one, (a huge version of the one for mice), read the instructions and followed them to the letter just to see how it worked. Then we went inside the house. We weren't actually ready to to capture a cat that night, since we were about to leave for the weekend. It suddenly dawned on us that we shouldn't have left the trap set. Looking out the window, we saw the gray and white mama cat sitting in our trap!
It was 4 p.m. on a Friday and we tried calling all the cat rescue places we had gotten advice from, but all of them had rules like "capture the cat on the 3rd Saturday of the month and bring it in for the lottery at 7 a.m. to see if we have time to spay it."
Meanwhile, the cat was howling, backed into the corner of the cage, her fearful eyes accented by the white peak of fur between them.
Finally a vet's office in San Pablo said they were about to close, but they would spay her for $75. if we could bring her now and leave her overnight. They agreed to keep her till Monday when we came home from camping.
After being out of cell phone range for the weekend, we turned on our phone and listened to messages. The vet's office had called several times to tell us that the cat had already been fixed, which they could tell by it's notched ear, and it was a male! We had absconded with someone's cat for the weekend, and almost had it undergo surgery! As we sheepishly appologized to them, they thought it was funny, and didn't even charge us for the room and board.
Darned if that cat didn't look like our mama cat! Well maybe the white peak wasn't quite as big as hers...
When we brought the cage up to the yard and opened it, I never saw a cat run so fast. Mama cat, however, looked up at us from next to her empty bowl and meowed.

Zen Garden/ Litter Box

This story is from what I'll call "The Archives". It was written in 2000.

I've always wanted a Zen Garden. They are flat, rectangular ceramic pots filled with sand. I've seen rocks, a bonzai plant, shells and little animal figures arranged in them, and then the sand is raked into designs around them with a special miniature rake. It looks so peaceful. My plans for simplicity and serenity in 1999 included  one of these, but I decided against one because I have two cats.
These cats have never seen a litter box, but I figure they would at least find time to dig in the sand. They've been showing their years lately and one of them, (no one has ever been caught in the act), has started peeing in the heater duct. I've been advised repeatedly to get a litter box, but I hate the smell and the litter scattered on the floor. After coming into the house on a cold evening and turning on the heater, the odor made me run for the disinfectant and paper towels. One too many times on my knees deodorizing the vents, and I threw in the towel and purchased a litter box, the new clumping litter, pan liners and a scoop.
I filled it and placed it in my upstairs bathroom. To show one cat how interesting it might be, I closed her in the room with me, knelt down, and encouraged her to join me in digging. She sat by the door with her back to me. I lifted her into the box. She sneezed, jumped out, gave me a dirty look, and shook the litter off her paws all over the floor. I swept it up and decided to give it time.
My next time in the bathroom, as I sat gazing across the room at the box, I thought the litter looked kind of hilly. I didn't remember leaving it like that. Turns out one of the cats had figured out what it was for......Now, how did she know? Is there something in kitty litter that encourages them to use it? Have they been unfaithful to me and gone to someone else's house and used their box? Sure enough, it had clumped and I cleaned it out with the scooper.
Then I felt I should arrange the litter nicely so I could tell the next time the cats used it. I dragged the back of the slotted scooper over the litter and it made indefinite lines,.....not unlike the ridges left in the sand at the edge of a stream....
Perhaps I should invest in a little wooden rake. Maybe not. But still, a small rice paper screen and some incense would make that corner of the room more esthetically pleasing, if not for the cats, for me.