Macro Monday-- Flower Stills

A lovely purple zinnia, and two equally lovely flowers whose name has flown from my brain like a witch on her broom.  Aaagh.    And I only just turned 50 a week ago!    Can I plead Halloween candy overload? 

Everything looks just a little past its prime, doesn't it?     Days like today, I know the feeling.    Still have most of my petals, if they are a little scuffed! 

My Name is Randy, and I'm a Plantaholic

It's the time of the great migration around here.   Except this year, somehow I've got two houses worth of tender plantlings to bring inside for the winter.   The ones that made the cut, I mean.    I just don't have room for all of them, but I feel guilty consigning some to a frosty death.  How could I have brought them up with no thought for their future?    I am a bad plant-mom.     I am a backyard plant breeder!   EEK!!

Saturday Serenity-- Come for a Walk With Me

Fall colors are just kicking into high gear, and my Wonderful Husband Scott ( who, I think, will hereafter be referred to just as "WHS" ) and I decided to go for a leisurely stroll.  Most of the Eastern Seaboard is preparing for its first winter storm, but here in Eastwood the Rice Crispies rustle of autumn leaves is still perfectly undisturbed. Of course, Daisy the Super Dog made sure we didn't get lost.





Are you coming?

Goodbye to the fall....

How a Hard Working Dog Takes Her Rest

                         Daisy: I believe I'll just put my feet up here for a bit.

Back in the Black and White Days...

Okay, here's a blast from the distant past of 1975, my bestest friend since first grade Toni and me on my 2nd horse, Tonka.  Tonka was a grade Quarter Horse my dad bought from a neighbor for $250, up $100 from the cost of my first horse.

How carefree we were back then, relaxing bareback on the porch 

yes, on the porch

at my house.  Hard hats were for lessons or shows, as were boots and long pants.   Late June shows our summer uniform.  We spent countless nights racing our ponies up and down the local golf courses--- we thought they were just perfect for moonlight gallops!   We swam our ponies in the golf course "cement ponds".... funny how horses seem to like to leave their floating poops in deep water!    I guess ignorance was bliss, but we ran wild for quite a while before somehow being caught. 

The best times of my life!

Wordless Wednesday

Daisy the Super Dog

Daisy is our Farm Manager and Security Supervisor, in charge of protecting each and every one of us from dangers we don't even know about.

  Daisy sees all and knows all.  She feels a deep sense of responsibility toward all the farm animals as well as her humans.  She even protects, and when the time comes, mourns the ones she doesn't like.

 The first time we lost a dog after acquiring Daisy, she jumped into the grave we dug, and had to be forcibly removed.  Once extracted, she stood over the blanket-wrapped body and let out a howl I've never heard before or since.  It was a heart-wrenching, desolate sound that seemed to go on and on.  And this was a dog she only seemed to tolerate as one of her minions.  But one of her family was gone.   That's when we knew Daisy was something truly very special, even for a dog.

Sunday Stills-- Berries and Foam

This is "Hearts a Bustin", or Strawberry Bush, but I think Heart's a Bustin is more evocative. It does look like it might make a suitably gory Halloween accessory, pinned to the chest of the doll who has everything, doesn't it? What are crazy aunts for, if not to scar little children for life?   ** evil grin **

The foam accumulates below our old wooden dam, in eddies and inlets where the overflow from the grist mill used to fall. The pattern just entranced me.

More on Josie-- the Mule Queen of Shadowlake

I feel a little bit like some medieval European nation, primping for a prospective bride/queen!  How silly is that?  Too many medieval mysteries, evidently!  Here's more on Josie, or as she shall be referred to, the Queen of Shadowlake.

Josie is just 14.1 1/2 hands tall, and I expect that's with shoes, so say probably 14.1 barefoot, which is certainly the way I plan to keep her, conditions and her feet allowing.  She's stout, as you can see, and I'm short, so that should be fine. It's funny how as I age, my desire for a tall horse seems to decrease proportionately!  She's 9 years old, which is just early prime, I believe for a mule.  She's been extensively trail ridden, camped and packed with, picket lined, and trailered.  She even neck reins, lopes, ponys, and is traffic safe.

Did I mention I'm buying her sight-unseen?  10 years ago, all my life in fact, you could not have convinced me that I would accept, never mind buy an equine sight unseen.  However, I've come to realize it comes down to who you're dealing with and their sense of honor and fair play.  I bought Willow from Saddlebred Rescue in New Jersey, and have never regretted it for a minute.  No rescue goes farther, or is more thorough in matching horses to their people, and doing it all on the level, warts and all, and they accept their treasures back if it doesn't work out.  Josie comes from the joint ownership of Painted Qh Farm and Double Creek Farm.  Both have excellent reputations, and have patiently talked and emailed with me for much of this year, as I dithered and shopped.  There were several mules I considered seriously, but Josie was the one that 'spoke' to me, loud and clearly.  The farms allow time for me to vet her, if I wish, after she arrives.  That, with the enthusiastic references, and repeat buyers gives me great confidence.

 My first hand mule experience is pretty much limited to  sitting on one from the rim of the Grand Canyon, down to Phantom Ranch at the bottom, and back to the top the following day.  I' ve read every book I could find on mule lore.  When I was a child my uncle had a huge old white Percheron mule named Bertie May that he logged with.  I was totally in awe of that mule whose head was bigger than my body, and one of my earliest horsey memories is being carried around by Bert, legs only stretching halfway down her sides,  gripping with even my toes for all I was worth!   My mother's mother was born in about 1890 and raised on an isolated farm, as an only child. When I was small and a rapt audience for all things animal, she told me stories of her pet baby mule, Goldie, whom her father brought home to her as a present.  For a lonely, animal loving child, Goldie was a perfect companion. She and Grandma went everywhere on their large farm, almost seeming to speak the same language, and Goldie trusted little Flossie completely.  Somehow, my grandmother even managed to get her up the steep, narrow stairs of their 1820-era home, and onto her big bed upstairs.  I can imagine my proper great-grandmother's horror at finding a dusty little long eared baby sharing her daughter's bed, for all the world like a big dog.  I never did find out how Flossie got Goldie DOWN those stairs!  (I can picture great-grandma wishing she could pitch her out the window!)  Now, I'd never, in my 'adult' life try something like that, but I have been known to bring Woody into my mother's house, which had no stairs.  He followed me in trustingly, just like that wonderful Tonk followed his mistress onto David Letterman's alien stage.  You could see how uncertain Tonk was about that whole deal, but he kept his eyes on his mom, and tried his best to do what she asked him to.

I already want to know what size bit Josie wears, (although at some point I'll probably try a side-pull), where's the best place to get a crupper, and what size blanket she would wear.  Yes, I know a mule is hardy enough not to need a blanket here in NC, especially having the option of shelter, but don't you think she should have a pretty one anyway?  I wouldn't want her to be jealous of Willow's!

It's Official! I'm Owned by a Mule!!!

I  tried to wait until she arrived, I really did, but I am so terminally over-excited I'm nearly levitating!

 Meet Josie--- my new mule!  Just getting any new equine is a huge deal for me, as I only keep 2 at a time, and I tend to keep them all their lives.  I've had Willow, my ASB for 5 years (he's 8), and I had Woody for 22, until he passed away this spring, at 28.

 I've never owned a mule  before, but I decided about a year ago that I wanted one for my next (and possibly last) riding partner.  Mules are supposed to have a longer working life than horses, and since I turned 50 yesterday  --thank you, thank you-- with luck Josie may carry me through the rest of my riding years.

  I will have to board her with her owners, the wonderful Double Creek Farm, and Painted QH Farm until I return from my annual Thanksgiving in Arizona trip, the end of November.

Isn't she Adorable?  I love her coloring.  I know how weird and out-there this is going to sound, but when I had an excellent animal communicator working with Willow  back in the Spring, I asked him to ask Willow how he felt about me getting a mule.

 Willow: Let me get back to you on that.

At the end of the 'conversation' Willow allowed as how a mule would be alright, but he'd prefer a dark colored one.

Huh.  Well, I  bore it in mind, but only as an incidental.  It is important to me that my horses get along, and hopefully like each other, but I'm not going to make any decision based on his whim.  However, technically Josie fits that bill as well!

 She just has such a kind eye.  On the Farm's websites, there is a 14 minute video that I've watched about 8 times showing her trail riding with aplomb, doing the exact kinds of things I want to ask her to do, competently and willingly traversing all kinds of terrain with ease.

I don't know how I'm going to wait until the end of November for her to arrive!

Trust me, you can expect to hear about many adventures that we will have.  In fact, one of my trail riding friends refers to my outings as, "ALWAYS an adventure", and I don't think it was meant completely as a compliment, although that's the way I took it.  It's not that I'm foolhardy or anything.  Well, maybe  a little, but I'm slowly growing out of it and learning my limitations.  I just sometimes depart from the trails, and my trails are often not manicured and even like most of the horseback riding trails in our area.

We are very fortunate to be close to the enormous and beautiful Walthour-Moss Foundation which is spider webbed with wonderfully maintained dirt roads and trails, but there's hardly a branch to duck, or a rut to watch out for.  I don't think they're allowed.   It's great in its way, but a lot more homogenized than my usual routes.  I try to keep most of the branches trimmed back, but ruts don't concern me, and some of my trails do bear a certain resemblance to the canyons of the Southwest.

Now, I promise, this will not be completely a mule blog, but I'm sure it's going to be mule-dominated for a while, once Miss Josie arrives!  Hee Haw!

The Family that Bathes Together....?

Well, if it were true that the family that bathes together, stays together, then this enchanting bluebird family would be a shoe-in.  Bluebirds rarely grace my yard, so imagine my delight on looking out my window this afternoon at this!
I don't know if it is one set of parents with their most recent grown babies, or 4 couples, or what.  We don't have enough open space to really attract them, which makes this sight extra-special.  Do all bluebirds bathe in groups?  I rarely see other birds show up to bathe in flocks, so perhaps it is a bluebird thing.  This family of bluebirds has been here before, but I could never catch them with my camera.
I love my HTC Thunderbolt.  The learning curve was ferocious, coming from my familiar Blackberrys, especially since I'm really a hardcore technophobe who prefers everything done on paper. But the  camera on this phone is excellent, and it came with Kindle as a pre-loaded app!  I'd been resisting the Kindle and its kin, but it sure is handy, and less expensive than buying books, when you really feel you need one RIGHT NOW.  I keep my current tome-like Diana Gabaldon book, "The Fiery Cross" on the Kindle, and it's there whenever I have a few minutes to spare.

Shoe Personality Test ---- I'm BARE FEET

You are a true free spirit, and you can't be tied down. Even wearing shoes can be a little too constraining for you at times! You are very comfortable in your own skin. You are one of the most real people around. You don't have anything to hide. Open and accepting, you are willing to discuss or entertain almost any topic. You are a very tolerant person. You are accepting and not judgmental. You should live: Somewhere warm You should work: At your own business, where you can set the rules

You Are Bare Feet

I think that assessment fits me pretty well. Except for the part about living somewhere warm---- I prefer the cold, and will willingly endure frozen tootsies as long as is humanly possible in order to both enjoy the cool and stay shoeless.
I know, I know. I must be nuts, right? No argument here!
Try it yourself!

http://www.blogthings.com/theshoepersonalitytest/

Wow, today is one of those precious gems that you wish could just last forever. The weather here is about 70 degrees, sunny with a nice breeze. The kind of weather that makes you want to lie down on the lawn and just soak up the last of the good summer rays. I've always heard about 'Carolina Blue' skies, but today our sky's in a class all by itself. More of an infinitely deep turquoise.

 If I was the Native American jewelry collector that I wish I was, I'd be able to tell you just what mine the color of turquoise that I'm seeing comes from! While we think of turquoise as being an 'American' gemstone, it was first mined in the Sinai Peninsula, by the ancient Egyptians. Turquoise is usually a by-product of a copper mine, and though there are small deposits in many countries, most stones today come from the Americas. Many people can look at a ring or bracelet and tell you exactly which mine it came from, by the color and matrix, which is the black webbing found in some stones. I can't keep up with that, I just know whether a stone pleases me or not! Some of the prettiest pieces I've seen have been greenish stones set in gold. Too rich for my blood, but a girl can dream! Especially on a day like this.

What do you think of my new header picture? I got it with my phone!

Princess Rosie

You talkin' to me?

                                                                                               Okay, NOW I require your attention.

Rosie was my little heart dog. An Italian Greyhound who charmed everyone who met her within seconds. We called it 'taking souls', but 'taking hearts' is probably more accurate; the speed with which she captured total strangers was almost spooky. Rosie was a puppy-mill product, an impulse buy from a mall pet store. One of the 'puppies in the window', and when I wrested her from the Italian Greyhound hell she dwelled in, she seemed to know I had rescued her. Unsupervised toddlers are not a good idea around any dog, but they're terrifying to IGs. The enthusiastic pats a Golden may ignore are painful to a dog with little padding, and tea-kettle screams don't help one bit. It takes a lot to make an IG leave home, but Rosie crossed a major 4 lane in the dark on a frigid January Friday night. No dog of mine would have made it in a million years, and she was coal black at that age. Wandering in to a doctor's office, the local vet recommended me to the receptionist, knowing I had IGs. Rosie had so obviously been terrorized, and cringed pitifully. She was also possibly the homeliest Iggy I'd ever seen. So narrow in the chest you wondered how she breathed, elbows like wings, long and scrawny. She never lost that build, but somehow she became beautiful. Outgoing with strangers, to the end of her long life, if you called her name, her first thought was to run the opposite direction.

  I took her home and vowed I'd never let her return to where ever she'd come from. A few days later the vet called to say that her owners had called around and been told where she was. I hid her in the basement for days, until the stalking wore me down and I knew I had to return her. It broke my heart to give her back, and the look on her face told me she'd already bonded with me. I left after telling them if they Ever wanted to sell her, to call me. A few months later they did, and for $150 she was mine. When I went to re-rescue her she was nowhere in sight, but as I sat on the sofa, I felt a tiny touch on the back of my neck, as Rosie crept up behind me. She must've remembered me and seemed to know I'd come for her. From that day she hardly left my side for 14 years.

Never an alpha dog, nevertheless she could get her own way. Many times when the other pups occupied prime spots on the couches, Rosie would get up and run to the door, inciting the others to follow. They never seemed to notice when they met her coming back as she hopped nimbly and a little smugly into the best spot which was now open for her. The first time we saw this we looked at each other in disbelief, but when the trick was repeated we had to accept that Rosie knew exactly what she was doing, and she gently manipulated us with the same little paws. We miss her every day.

FEED ME!

Baby Robin: Just because I'm ankle-deep in meal worms and oatmeal doesn't mean I want to forage for myself!

Sometimes when they're overrun with needy babies I help the local licensed wildlife rehabbers with a few of the older birds. I seem to do much better with the birds than with the mammals for some reason. Also, with birds you don't have to induce pee-ing and pooping, something I'm definitely not comfortable with, that needs doing with the younger mammals until their eyes open!

The baby birds are so funny. Most seem to want to stay 'babies'. At the feeders you'll see half grown offspring perched across from Mom or Dad, bobbing and gaping to be fed. Sometimes they're so fully feathered that it's hard to tell which are the adults, except for the begging. This baby robin seemed to be saying that I was falling down on the job.

 

The Pelican File

When I was in the Galapagos Islands a few years ago, the photographic opportunities seemed endless, and I think I came home with about 500 images! Some of my favorite subjects were the amazing and wildly diverse birds that inhabit the islands. Blue Footed Boobies, Flamingos, storks, seabirds and tiny warblers were just the tip of the iceberg, but I think  this solitary pelican most exemplified that ecosystem for me. Solitary and stoic, but capable of bursting into the most astounding displays of power and opportunism. He captured my imagination with his almost zen-like qualities.

The Horses of my Childhood

 Cleaning out my mother's house, since her passing, my husband opened yet another old suitcase, to find the horse-loving girl's equivalent to a Hot Wheels collection. At least that's how I explained it to him. I was delighted, and transported back, to see my old Breyer horses. Most have names taped to their belly mid-lines, gleaned from books both fiction and real. There was even a baggie of handmade bridles and halters.
Last week a pickup with a large goose-neck pulled into our yard.I knew I'd never seen it before, and just for an instant I was that horse-crazy little girl again, and it was the Christmas morning that never came. Until the pickup door opened and Scott's racehorse breeding buddy from Gainesville stepped out. I knew how crazy an idea it was, even as I was unable to completely squash it.