Re-inventing the Wheel

The raspberry bushes that I planted a couple of years ago are finally big enough to need support to keep them from laying on the ground. Last year I bought t-posts and wire to do the job, but I put off doing the work, week after week, month after month.

I'd never built a fence or even put in a fence post before...I had never even watched anyone do it. That's probably why the procrastination...I just didn't know the proper way to do it. I could have asked someone or looked up the procedure online, but no, I had to re-invent the wheel.

My tools were a shovel, an axe (because I didn't have a sledge hammer), and a 30 lb. pry bar. The soil was way too hard and rocky for the shovel and the pry bar to work. So I hauled the hose over and filled up the small holes I had created with water. After a few minutes the water had softened the soil in the holes a little so I picked up the pry bar again. By applying pressure and twisting and turning the bar I was able to create a little round hole about four inches deep in the mud. I then lifted the pry bar as high as my arms could reach above my head and with all my energy drove it down into the hole. I was standing in the perfect position to then receive a mouthful of mud as well as mud in my eyes, hair, face, clothing and even down my neck. Taking a moment to recover from the shock and spit out some of the mud, I resumed my work and actually had some success. Believe it or not I put in SIX fence posts that way. I figured I was a muddy mess already so why not continue?

The next day I was telling my sister, Rosalin, about my fence post setting and she happened to mention a tool that Jack has called a "post driver." She suggested that I borrow it. I did, and was able to set the next six posts in about 20 minutes...no mud involved!

Where the Deer and the Antelope Play

We were invited to dinner at my sister's house up on Saddle Mountain on Saturday. You can truly stretch your eyes and see for miles on that mountain, and after dinner we were enjoying the beauty of the evening as we gazed out of the south facing windows. There below us on a grassy slope was a doe and her three young offspring. The three little deer, triplets, must have been born last year but they were still small and a little bit frisky!

In all my observations of deer I've never seen them play or act frisky in any way before this. I usually just watch them grazing in the distance or catch them eating my flowers and bushes and then run away startled as I clap my hands and shout at them. I've seen seen them dash across the highway in front of me, nearly causing an accident, and sadly, I've seen many of them laying dead along the highways. Mostly deer have been a nuisance and a danger to me. But last Saturday I saw deer in a new light, in a way that I never imagined.

As we watched the little deer and their mother they began to run around in circles, chasing each other. Around and around they bounded like little ballerinas spreading their legs apart with each leap...and each one leaping over the same imaginary obstacles. At one point when one little deer caught up with another one I witnessed some play fighting! They reared up on their hind legs and pawed at each other with their front hoofs. It was an incredible scene! I had no idea that deer actually play.

Far too soon, play-time was over and the business of grazing was resumed as the four-some moved off into the shadows of the evening. I'm hoping to spend more evenings like that up on Saddle Mountain...up where the deer and the antelope play.

I Could Be A Gun Person

My sister Gayla and I recently went to a friends house to learn about pistols, to practice handling them and to shoot at some targets. Guns are a passion of this friend and he has a large collection of pistols as well as rifles, so we got to shoot several different types: "38 Special Revolver," "9mm Semi-automatic with laser," "Glock," "22 Semi-automatic," "Keltec 380," "357 Magnum Revolver," "45 Semi-automatic," and a couple of others.

The only gun I've ever really used is a shotgun my Dad bought for me when I was about 12 years old that I used for pheasant hunting. It's now a sawed-off shot gun due to an accidental cramming of mud up the barrel by my younger brother just before he fired. But it's still good for raccoons and coyotes, I've found.

I never really had an interest in getting another gun until now. The target practicing was more fun than I thought it would be. I'm actually a pretty good shot...a lot of my bullets hit around the center of the target - our friend even called me, "dead-eye DeAnn." Now, it seems that every day I find myself thinking about guns; mentally comparing the different pistols, how they felt in my hands and the kick or recoil as I pulled each trigger.

I never thought I'd be studying the "Cabela's" ads for firearms and ammunition. But now I am. I think I could be a gun person!

Misery Loves Company and A Sucker For a Sucker

Why is it that when kids get sick they sleep in their parents bed? I asked Roger if that was the case when he was growing up and he said that he NEVER slept in his parents bed. But that WAS the case when I grew up as you can see by this picture of Ruth and I in mom and dad's bed.

I certainly wouldn't want a sick child spending time in my bed. Think of the germs that would be spread by the coughing, sneezing, drooling and possible throwing up or whatever else a kid might do. But could there be some healing power for the kid in the surrounding, enveloping, comforting quilts and pillows of the parents bed?

When I was in my twenties, going to school and and living at home, I had my wisdom teeth out. I remember coming home and spending the afternoon and evening in mom and dad's bed. Being next to the main living area, I guess it was easier for mom to keep an eye on me and to tend to my misery and moaning requests.

Ruth was actually the sick child in this picture, although she doesn't look very sick...she was sitting up and smiling! Not wanting to spend the day alone, she bribed me with a sucker to get my pajamas on and keep her company. What a little kid won't do for a sucker!

Pet Parents

Taking your pet to the veterinarian is always interesting. I've taken all of my kitties to the vet for one reason or another through the years, whether it be for yearly vaccinations, gettin' em fixed, displaced hip joints, a kitten's refusal to eat due to getting his head squished under the rocking chair, red-rimmed allergic eyes, etc., it's always an adventure.

One thing I've always noticed during our visits to the vet is the "mommy/ baby" relationship between the pets and their owners. I see this in myself and other "pet parents" that I observe. Today I stopped by the vet to pick up some 'Low Allergen' cat food for Zeke. His eyes get red and itchy due to food allergies. Anyway, I was standing at the counter paying for the bag of food when out of the examination area came a young lady "pet parent" holding her baby (puppy). She was cuddling the puppy tightly on her chest while it whimpered softly. The cute little floppy-eared, brown puppy had indeed just undergone a traumatic experience (probably shots) and needed all the tenderness it's mommy could give. As she petted and talked to her "baby," once in a while it would lift up it's little head and lick the bottom of her chin. It was a tender moment and I wanted to be holding that baby!

Just spend some time a the pet clinic waiting room and see if you aren't "feeling the love" that permeates the room. You can see it in the face of every pet parent; the way they look at their pets and try to comfort them. That love even extends to the pets of other owners; names are exchanged, (oh, her name is Fe Fe) compliments are given (her coloring is beautiful!) And when a big brown Lab decides go to the restroom right where he's standing, no one is too upset by the aroma of the rapidly spreading yellow liquid. After all, it's some body's pet... some body's innocent baby!

Nuggets

It's so exciting to see "spring" finally arrive. The snow has receded, buds are forming on trees and things are pushing up from the ground. After a long winter of hibernating in the house I've got my hiking shoes out again and I'm hitting the roads and mountain trails.

The most convenient place for me to walk is on the mountainside above our house. The incline is a good workout for my muscles as well as my heart. As I walk I like to look down at the tracks and droppings to see what kind of animals have passed that way. There are a lot of deer tracks and their droppings and even coyote tracks visible in the muddy spots and across the remaining patches of snow.

Yesterday, in a little clearing some distance up the side of the mountain and overlooking the river and highway below, I came upon some moose nuggets. Having quite a history of moose encounters in Alaska, just the sight of them increased my heart rate even more than it already was. Horrifying memories of being chased and treed by angry moose flashed through my mind. I suddenly realize how vulnerable I was...out in the wilds, all alone, without my shotgun. I also suddenly realized that I needed to visit a restroom immediately!

If you've ever had to avail yourself in the wilds you know that logs can be very helpful. And the only log within sight was one on a little outcropping with a great aerial view of the of the highway.

I am still hoping that no binoculars from below were trained upon me during those next few moments. And as I left the scene I made a mental note to always, always, always, carry a Kleenex, a napkin, a rag...ANYTHING! in my pocket.

A Wishin', A Hopin' and A Dreamin'

Right about now I am SO dreaming of summer. The thing I look forward to doing the most, believe it or not, is mowing the lawn. The birds chirping...the warm sun shining down on my skin...and a gentle, cool breeze, as I walk along behind the mower row by row while it cuts and shapes the grass into a work of art.

I know it sounds a little odd, but I get a sort of strange satisfaction from cutting, shaving and mowing. I think it started years ago as I watched my Dad give my younger brother, Alan, his haircuts. It was a family occasion as we all gathered around and watched precious little red clippings of hair fall from Alan's head. I watched carefully how Dad held and angled the clippers; going around the ears and up the neck and back of the head. I knew just how to do it and I knew where the clippers were kept, and it seemed only natural that I try it out myself.

No one was going to let a five-year old with clippers loose on their hair, so I had to resort to practicing on dolls. And having three sisters with dolls, I got a lot of practice! My sister, Rosalin, is still lamenting her beloved dolls...all with buzz haircuts. For Christmas, instead of getting a doll with hair, I began to get dolls with formed and painted hair...nothing that could be cut, shaved or clipped.

I still love to cut and I'm counting the days until I'm out there in the sunshine with the lawnmower and the weedwacker.