Typical shot of the mountain. I only took 3 pictures this time, though. This was Tuesday morning. I spent a couple of nights in the boat house this week--it was really, really hot, like 70 at 9:00. I took Tues. off as a dock day. Every summer I allow myself one personal day as a dock day. I pick a day that's predicted to be hot and sunny and I sit on the dock with my dogs. They sit on the end of the dock and when I swim Tess swims with me. This year my cousin came at the end of the afternoon and wanted to have a long, long conversation. His son threw a stick and Chances lept of the end of the dock--a flying leap. In all the years I've had her I've never seen her do that before. She did it a whole lot more times and it was a joy to watch. Then the kid started throwing big rocks, as people who like to tease dogs do.
Friday, June 29, 2007
Molly sunrise
Here's Molly's shoreline at sunrise. No matter how many times you take this picture, the light is always a little different.
Monday, June 25, 2007
Snowberry
It sure looked right to me, but I was way off. The tiny flowers I saw in the bog are not, apparently, alpine azalea, but instead are creeping snowberry. The picture I saw in the Audubon guide looked just like my blossoms, but the USDA site and all the other sites say alpine azalea is more a shrub than creeping, and snowberry is definitely creeping. It has berries, which I'll have to watch for later on, but I vaguely remember.
It sure looked right to me, but I was way off. The tiny flowers I saw in the bog are not, apparently, alpine azalea, but instead are creeping snowberry. The picture I saw in the Audubon guide looked just like my blossoms, but the USDA site and all the other sites say alpine azalea is more a shrub than creeping, and snowberry is definitely creeping. It has berries, which I'll have to watch for later on, but I vaguely remember.
Was there a weekend in there somewhere?
Slightly productive, I could describe the last two days as being. I did (AMAZ-O) paint the final coat on the trim of the big window and the first coat on the smaller window in the bedroom. I put some of the bedroom stuff back together. I hung 3 pictures, stealing my favorites from other rooms and measuring exactly from the ceiling and sides of the room so they look vaguely centered and have some sort of relationship to each other. It now looks very strange, 3 pictures nestled on one wall and 2 bare walls, but it looks like a work in progress and there's not quite the echo in the room there used to be. I planted almost all of the plants and seedlings I have. All that's left are the zinnias I started from seed. I copped out completely and put everything in containers, including the big aster plants I bought. My solution to their size, pinch them back to make them look ok in the planter. I certainly am resourceful. I mowed my lawn, including half of the portion I'd decided I wasn't going to mow this year. That took a long time but I didn't have an asthma attack afterward, which is huge progress. I vacuumed the living room and tidied up and DUSTED. I used my long-buried Swiffer, which made me laugh a lot, but which picked up the dog hair dust bunnies like nothing else. I organized some of my clothes, figuring out which pants actually fit me, so now I have more than 3 pairs of pants I can wear to work. Wonder if anyone will notice? I'm wearing a different pair of pants today. Probably no one but me cares. I sat in the sun and read Country of the pointed firs, the book-of-the-month for our book group. I talked to Linda about the dinner for 15 she cooked Sat. night and lots of other things. I stopped to see Ken Friday night (that's hardly worth reporting, that's just a regular old event). I visited with Jenica, Drew and their friends for a minute or two at camp, then returned to retrieve my retriever shortly after visit #1. Tess was thrilled to have someone in camp she could drop in on.
I cleared the hallway of all the stuff accumulated from the bedroom--stuff I am NOT returning to the bedroom. Someday my second floor will collapse from the weight of the crap I'm storing up there. I'll be sitting in the living room, watching Dirty Jobs, or Deadliest Catch, and KA-BOOM! down will come Christmas wrapping paper, clothes that are too big, clothes are are too small, books I don't want, comforters I don't use, half-caned chairs, Jamie's bureau he refuses to come for (which I'd love to be using), the blanket chest I love having, named for a distant cousin from long ago (where could I put that downstairs?)--and oh, so many more things.
It was a good weekend, and I was cheerful and felt good about things. Felt good about my house, but wished I were a bit more motivated. Realized I was more motivated than I have been in months past. Kept Tess under control with her new cable, until she bolted so hard she disconnected her collar, after wrapping my sweet Cicely plant so tightly it was an incredibly amazing 3' high bundle, like harvested wheat. Anyway she didn't walk the bog with strangers--a huge victory. I'm enjoying the Firs book. It was written long ago in the style of another time altogether, which means I have to concentrate, and some phrases I don't understand altogether, but it's a lovely read and I've been meaning to read it for years. I wouldn't have continued to read it if the group hadn't chosen it so I'm extremely happy we're reading it. Mary Lou, the precipitator of this, is in Alaska as I write this, visiting her new granddaughter (named for a fish). I'm sure she's having a wonderful time and that's a lucky baby.
This week I'll get to see some of my favorite friends, who were due in last night. At least I hope I will. They're here for Workfest 2007. Next weekend the neighborhood fills up. If it were a boat it would be up to the gunwales in the water. Linda, Ken's nephew Joe, the women from Baltimore, Sally from Baltimore, probably the people from Cambridge, probably the Gray's, my relatives for Work Weekend--and more I can't think of right now. Lots of them will stay a week to celebrate the 4th of July. The lake will be fully of boats (remember, Leroy is opening it to the public like it's never been opened before. Or is that just the way he used to have it opened...).
And now the most amazing things await my cataloging skill: Chatting cheetahs & jumping jellyfish, Big band patrol (CD), Raggedy Ann & Andy: all that we love. That's not even beginning to address the videos from our local collection--like the Town of Plattsburgh's Bicentennial 1985 celebration. There's a whole bunch from Lake Placid I have to watch before I can catalog. And people think cataloging is dull--
Slightly productive, I could describe the last two days as being. I did (AMAZ-O) paint the final coat on the trim of the big window and the first coat on the smaller window in the bedroom. I put some of the bedroom stuff back together. I hung 3 pictures, stealing my favorites from other rooms and measuring exactly from the ceiling and sides of the room so they look vaguely centered and have some sort of relationship to each other. It now looks very strange, 3 pictures nestled on one wall and 2 bare walls, but it looks like a work in progress and there's not quite the echo in the room there used to be. I planted almost all of the plants and seedlings I have. All that's left are the zinnias I started from seed. I copped out completely and put everything in containers, including the big aster plants I bought. My solution to their size, pinch them back to make them look ok in the planter. I certainly am resourceful. I mowed my lawn, including half of the portion I'd decided I wasn't going to mow this year. That took a long time but I didn't have an asthma attack afterward, which is huge progress. I vacuumed the living room and tidied up and DUSTED. I used my long-buried Swiffer, which made me laugh a lot, but which picked up the dog hair dust bunnies like nothing else. I organized some of my clothes, figuring out which pants actually fit me, so now I have more than 3 pairs of pants I can wear to work. Wonder if anyone will notice? I'm wearing a different pair of pants today. Probably no one but me cares. I sat in the sun and read Country of the pointed firs, the book-of-the-month for our book group. I talked to Linda about the dinner for 15 she cooked Sat. night and lots of other things. I stopped to see Ken Friday night (that's hardly worth reporting, that's just a regular old event). I visited with Jenica, Drew and their friends for a minute or two at camp, then returned to retrieve my retriever shortly after visit #1. Tess was thrilled to have someone in camp she could drop in on.
I cleared the hallway of all the stuff accumulated from the bedroom--stuff I am NOT returning to the bedroom. Someday my second floor will collapse from the weight of the crap I'm storing up there. I'll be sitting in the living room, watching Dirty Jobs, or Deadliest Catch, and KA-BOOM! down will come Christmas wrapping paper, clothes that are too big, clothes are are too small, books I don't want, comforters I don't use, half-caned chairs, Jamie's bureau he refuses to come for (which I'd love to be using), the blanket chest I love having, named for a distant cousin from long ago (where could I put that downstairs?)--and oh, so many more things.
It was a good weekend, and I was cheerful and felt good about things. Felt good about my house, but wished I were a bit more motivated. Realized I was more motivated than I have been in months past. Kept Tess under control with her new cable, until she bolted so hard she disconnected her collar, after wrapping my sweet Cicely plant so tightly it was an incredibly amazing 3' high bundle, like harvested wheat. Anyway she didn't walk the bog with strangers--a huge victory. I'm enjoying the Firs book. It was written long ago in the style of another time altogether, which means I have to concentrate, and some phrases I don't understand altogether, but it's a lovely read and I've been meaning to read it for years. I wouldn't have continued to read it if the group hadn't chosen it so I'm extremely happy we're reading it. Mary Lou, the precipitator of this, is in Alaska as I write this, visiting her new granddaughter (named for a fish). I'm sure she's having a wonderful time and that's a lucky baby.
This week I'll get to see some of my favorite friends, who were due in last night. At least I hope I will. They're here for Workfest 2007. Next weekend the neighborhood fills up. If it were a boat it would be up to the gunwales in the water. Linda, Ken's nephew Joe, the women from Baltimore, Sally from Baltimore, probably the people from Cambridge, probably the Gray's, my relatives for Work Weekend--and more I can't think of right now. Lots of them will stay a week to celebrate the 4th of July. The lake will be fully of boats (remember, Leroy is opening it to the public like it's never been opened before. Or is that just the way he used to have it opened...).
And now the most amazing things await my cataloging skill: Chatting cheetahs & jumping jellyfish, Big band patrol (CD), Raggedy Ann & Andy: all that we love. That's not even beginning to address the videos from our local collection--like the Town of Plattsburgh's Bicentennial 1985 celebration. There's a whole bunch from Lake Placid I have to watch before I can catalog. And people think cataloging is dull--
Thursday, June 21, 2007
Most polite request
I didn't get tagged, I was politely asked if I want to play. If I were tagged it would be like this:
If tagged, and you accept, these are the rules:
1. I have to post these rules before I give you the facts.
2. Each player starts with eight random facts/habits about themselves.
3. People who are tagged need to write their own blog about their eight things and post these rules.
4. At the end of your blog, you need to choose eight people to get tagged and list their names.
5. Don’t forget to leave them a comment telling them they’re tagged, and to read your blog.
Since I don't know 8 people who blog--except for the people I'm sure have already been tagged, I'll admit to breaking 2 rules before I start. That pretty much makes this a post that describes 8 random facts about myself. As if I haven't done that over & over. But here goes:
1. I live where I should live. It's not that I believe in fate (though I think I put a fair share of faith in it's force) but my home in Hawkeye is the perfect place for me, and it's more or less where I always hoped I would end up. I'm not sure I thought I'd live there by myself, but I think that's the perfect state for me. People think it's some sort of magic or incredible source of strength that keeps me there, but really it's just my life. There's nothing particularly amazing about it. My sister takes public transportation all the time--to me, that's amazing and takes great strength. She shares a city with millions of people who speak a language that's not English. To me that's an incredible accomplishment. I struggle with mundane things that are all part of life in my neighborhood--we all do that, it's just a matter of what things we struggle with. I like the things I have to deal with. OK, maybe not so much an empty well or power outage at -20, but I can handle those with grace and aplomb (a plum?). Those are temporary facts of life.
2. I don't like asking for help. I always used to, especially from my husband and, at different times in my life from my mother. My mother just offered to send me money. Even $100 would have helped, but I'm not taking money from anyone. I hate to ask for help from people who offer, even. I've learned to pay people to help me--a plumber, someone to plow. I know that these things won't get done unless you find someone to pay, and in this area sometimes they're doing you a favor by serving you if you live at Silver Lake ("all the way out there?"). But my system works. People offer to help me all the time but I am uncomfortable accepting it. Sometimes, when I'm really stuck I'll ask. Like the times I get my car stuck in the snow and I can't wait for the AAA tow truck to come from Jay, I've called Ken and we've had fun pulling the car out. He likes to make fun of me and I like to offer him a way to pay me back for all the things I do for him. I've only ever had him rescue me twice a season, though--beyond that I'm on my own. Last year I spent a WHOLE lot of time shoveling my car out. It was miserable and I vowed not to spend another year like that. This year I spent $500 I didn't have on good snow tires. I didn't get stuck ever. I like solving my own problems--it's really important to me.
3. I've spent a lot of my life being sad. I was a sad little blonde girl and a sad teenager, but I found the sorts of friends who made me feel good in college. College was full of bad relationships and unrequited love as well. Anyway, once I figured out what was making me sad and addressed the issues, I discovered what it's like to be happy. A milestone in my life (no shit, Sherlock). Although I still get sad, I'm now a happy person.
4. I'm terribly disappointed in my country. Not the leaders--the citizens elected them, after all, so voters are responsible for giving them power. I'm upset that we're basically a racist society made up of greedy people. We want the best for ourselves (people pretend they want the best for their children, but of course they'll get to share the best, too) and we're willing to get it at the cost of the rights of other people, the environment, animals, you name it. I never liked the free enterprise system and my dislike for it has grown as I've aged. I have benefited from it, that's true, I can choose from so many different models of cars--but why do we need so many models in so many colors? Why am I so lucky because I'm white? Americans really don't like people whose culture is different, non-Christian, let's face it--non-American. I feel betrayed by my country, but I'm very patriotic anyway. I don't want to live in another country.
5. My greatest fear throughout my life was the fear of abandonment. Everyone feels that way, but mine was a phobia. We moved constantly when I was a child and I was convinced I would be left behind. One time my mother told me to go back to my bedroom to check the closet and make sure I hadn't left anything there. I wouldn't do it unless she went with me because I was sure it was a ploy to drive off without me. I can remember living in Turkey, being left with a maid who spoke no English while everyone else was off doing whatever it was they were doing (school, jobs), feeling completely alone and--you bet--abandoned. Maybe that's why I have dogs--they love you unconditionally and the only time they leave is when they die. Then you just get another one. Imagine how it was for me when my husband announced he didn't want to be with me anymore.
6. I always felt I wasn't good enough to be a member of my family. This is part of #5--they would leave me behind because I wasn't good enough to be with them. My family consists of intelligent, creative people--and I love them dearly. I used to aspire to be their equal, but then I gave up and settled for being funny and cute. I became part of a group of wonderful, giggly, FUN friends in high school (there are 18 of us who get together in various places every couple of years 40 years later). We did things like throw toilet paper in trees at each other's houses and play tackle football--this was the kind of good, clean fun girls had in Rockford, Illinois. My brother's friends were drinking, smoking and playing Vietcong, shooting each other with BB guns. I once read a letter my mother wrote to her mother that said Henry and Molly were doing well and she knew she'd never have to worry about me because I was cute. Duh. Stupid but cute, was how I read that one. My mother told me recently she had to separate me from my father to keep him from hitting me. Feel worthless, much? Anyway, we took IQ tests in school and mine was very high, a huge boost for my morale. I still didn't do well in school, but at least I knew I wasn't retarded.
7. I thought the greatest tragedy in my life was that I couldn't have children. Then my brother died.
8. I have no faith in relationships. I don't long for a relationship with a man. I've had my share and they haven't turned out well. My marriage was a good one in some ways (we had a lot of fun and I learned a whole lot about a whole lot of things--lots of practical information) and a bad one in some ways (no need to go into that). It was a revelation that a man who fell in love with me when he was 17 ended up not wanting to have a lifelong relationship with me. I'm sure the abandonment thing figures in here, although there have been times when I ended the relationship (one of which may have been the biggest mistake I ever made). Anyway, there are just too many bad or mediocre relationships causing hurt or dissatisfied or bored or miserable people who don't know how to end them. I'm afraid I will be one of those people, and my relationship with myself is a good one.
Looking these over I'm afraid there are too many negative things. Well, heck, all these years of introspection and self-examination have come up with discovery of sources of my problems. Now I'm learning what makes me happy--there are a whole lot of things, trust me. I just like looking at the things that made me unhappy because I've put lots of them behind me--my life is good, it's what I want it to be. Only with more money.
I didn't get tagged, I was politely asked if I want to play. If I were tagged it would be like this:
If tagged, and you accept, these are the rules:
1. I have to post these rules before I give you the facts.
2. Each player starts with eight random facts/habits about themselves.
3. People who are tagged need to write their own blog about their eight things and post these rules.
4. At the end of your blog, you need to choose eight people to get tagged and list their names.
5. Don’t forget to leave them a comment telling them they’re tagged, and to read your blog.
Since I don't know 8 people who blog--except for the people I'm sure have already been tagged, I'll admit to breaking 2 rules before I start. That pretty much makes this a post that describes 8 random facts about myself. As if I haven't done that over & over. But here goes:
1. I live where I should live. It's not that I believe in fate (though I think I put a fair share of faith in it's force) but my home in Hawkeye is the perfect place for me, and it's more or less where I always hoped I would end up. I'm not sure I thought I'd live there by myself, but I think that's the perfect state for me. People think it's some sort of magic or incredible source of strength that keeps me there, but really it's just my life. There's nothing particularly amazing about it. My sister takes public transportation all the time--to me, that's amazing and takes great strength. She shares a city with millions of people who speak a language that's not English. To me that's an incredible accomplishment. I struggle with mundane things that are all part of life in my neighborhood--we all do that, it's just a matter of what things we struggle with. I like the things I have to deal with. OK, maybe not so much an empty well or power outage at -20, but I can handle those with grace and aplomb (a plum?). Those are temporary facts of life.
2. I don't like asking for help. I always used to, especially from my husband and, at different times in my life from my mother. My mother just offered to send me money. Even $100 would have helped, but I'm not taking money from anyone. I hate to ask for help from people who offer, even. I've learned to pay people to help me--a plumber, someone to plow. I know that these things won't get done unless you find someone to pay, and in this area sometimes they're doing you a favor by serving you if you live at Silver Lake ("all the way out there?"). But my system works. People offer to help me all the time but I am uncomfortable accepting it. Sometimes, when I'm really stuck I'll ask. Like the times I get my car stuck in the snow and I can't wait for the AAA tow truck to come from Jay, I've called Ken and we've had fun pulling the car out. He likes to make fun of me and I like to offer him a way to pay me back for all the things I do for him. I've only ever had him rescue me twice a season, though--beyond that I'm on my own. Last year I spent a WHOLE lot of time shoveling my car out. It was miserable and I vowed not to spend another year like that. This year I spent $500 I didn't have on good snow tires. I didn't get stuck ever. I like solving my own problems--it's really important to me.
3. I've spent a lot of my life being sad. I was a sad little blonde girl and a sad teenager, but I found the sorts of friends who made me feel good in college. College was full of bad relationships and unrequited love as well. Anyway, once I figured out what was making me sad and addressed the issues, I discovered what it's like to be happy. A milestone in my life (no shit, Sherlock). Although I still get sad, I'm now a happy person.
4. I'm terribly disappointed in my country. Not the leaders--the citizens elected them, after all, so voters are responsible for giving them power. I'm upset that we're basically a racist society made up of greedy people. We want the best for ourselves (people pretend they want the best for their children, but of course they'll get to share the best, too) and we're willing to get it at the cost of the rights of other people, the environment, animals, you name it. I never liked the free enterprise system and my dislike for it has grown as I've aged. I have benefited from it, that's true, I can choose from so many different models of cars--but why do we need so many models in so many colors? Why am I so lucky because I'm white? Americans really don't like people whose culture is different, non-Christian, let's face it--non-American. I feel betrayed by my country, but I'm very patriotic anyway. I don't want to live in another country.
5. My greatest fear throughout my life was the fear of abandonment. Everyone feels that way, but mine was a phobia. We moved constantly when I was a child and I was convinced I would be left behind. One time my mother told me to go back to my bedroom to check the closet and make sure I hadn't left anything there. I wouldn't do it unless she went with me because I was sure it was a ploy to drive off without me. I can remember living in Turkey, being left with a maid who spoke no English while everyone else was off doing whatever it was they were doing (school, jobs), feeling completely alone and--you bet--abandoned. Maybe that's why I have dogs--they love you unconditionally and the only time they leave is when they die. Then you just get another one. Imagine how it was for me when my husband announced he didn't want to be with me anymore.
6. I always felt I wasn't good enough to be a member of my family. This is part of #5--they would leave me behind because I wasn't good enough to be with them. My family consists of intelligent, creative people--and I love them dearly. I used to aspire to be their equal, but then I gave up and settled for being funny and cute. I became part of a group of wonderful, giggly, FUN friends in high school (there are 18 of us who get together in various places every couple of years 40 years later). We did things like throw toilet paper in trees at each other's houses and play tackle football--this was the kind of good, clean fun girls had in Rockford, Illinois. My brother's friends were drinking, smoking and playing Vietcong, shooting each other with BB guns. I once read a letter my mother wrote to her mother that said Henry and Molly were doing well and she knew she'd never have to worry about me because I was cute. Duh. Stupid but cute, was how I read that one. My mother told me recently she had to separate me from my father to keep him from hitting me. Feel worthless, much? Anyway, we took IQ tests in school and mine was very high, a huge boost for my morale. I still didn't do well in school, but at least I knew I wasn't retarded.
7. I thought the greatest tragedy in my life was that I couldn't have children. Then my brother died.
8. I have no faith in relationships. I don't long for a relationship with a man. I've had my share and they haven't turned out well. My marriage was a good one in some ways (we had a lot of fun and I learned a whole lot about a whole lot of things--lots of practical information) and a bad one in some ways (no need to go into that). It was a revelation that a man who fell in love with me when he was 17 ended up not wanting to have a lifelong relationship with me. I'm sure the abandonment thing figures in here, although there have been times when I ended the relationship (one of which may have been the biggest mistake I ever made). Anyway, there are just too many bad or mediocre relationships causing hurt or dissatisfied or bored or miserable people who don't know how to end them. I'm afraid I will be one of those people, and my relationship with myself is a good one.
Looking these over I'm afraid there are too many negative things. Well, heck, all these years of introspection and self-examination have come up with discovery of sources of my problems. Now I'm learning what makes me happy--there are a whole lot of things, trust me. I just like looking at the things that made me unhappy because I've put lots of them behind me--my life is good, it's what I want it to be. Only with more money.
Wednesday, June 20, 2007
Will this day never end?
It's almost June 21st, the longest day of the year. One of my favorite days. My friend Mary Frances Cooper, who worked with me in Providence 30 years ago and has a great wit, always said she wanted to take the 21st off so she could say when it finally got dark "I thought this day would never end!"
I like the 21st, I really--no, REALLY like daylight. I like getting up early as soon as it gets light. I have a real problem during winter months because it's hard for me to drag myself out of bed when it's dark. Then I stare longingly at my bed from the bathroom and want so much to put myself back under the covers until it's light. My colleagues must know how strange I am because I'm 20 minutes early to work during these months and 10 minutes late to work during the winter months. I wonder if they remember, or if they even pay attention. I love the way we always assume people notice our shortcomings. My Rockford friends and I get together every couple of years or so--these are friends I knew in grade school, junior high school and high school, and it's so funny to me the different things we all remember. I distinctly remember the girls who carpooled with me, but one of the women, who is a very good friend, doesn't remember some of the people at all. "How can you not remember Debbie Feruggia?" Of course, then Priscilla, my friend, got a 1954 Plymouth, a wonderful car, and she and I drove to school together every day, releasing my father from the obligation of driving 4 giggly high school girls the 4 or so miles to school. He probably liked it, he was an incredibly sociable person.
I slept in the boat house last night. We had a very dramatic thunderstorm, which I drove through just before I got home. I wanted more rain--my rain barrels are now half full, far from satisfactory for watering my plants for any period of time. I like the secure feeling of seeing them full to overflowing. There are so many things we can't control, so relax, Girl. I wonder if I'll ever stop obsessing about water.
Anyway, when I got to the b.h. the loons were wailing away and there was a duck hanging around the camp dock. I didn't have my glasses on so I couldn't tell what kind of duck--it looked like a mallard. Apparently I have convinced Tess she really is a bird dog because she ran through the woods to get to the dock so she could flush the bird from it's spot. It flew, indignant and quacking. Tess really is interested in flushing birds now. When we take our walks she plows into the woods to get to a grouse and flushes it. I've been congratulating and praising her, calling her a BIRD DOG, and she's a quick study so I think she may know it's good to chase birds. The other day there was a male grouse standing in the road by my driveway as we were driving out. Tess was at full alert, watching as intently as I watch TV. The grouse got all puffed up (ruffed, as they're aptly named) and finally disappeared into the brush. Even Chances noticed it, with her vision issues. Next we saw a hare, not quite a fascinating to Tess, which Chances missed altogether.
One of the blogs I read had the following chapter in a story about the homeless:
... a woman who was homeless because when she got leukemia she lost her job because she couldn't work, which meant she lost her insurance, and within months, after selling her possessions piecemeal to pay for rent was evicted and moved into the Salvation Army shelter. [whew--Can you say vicious circle?] She was--at the time of her diagnosis--a practicing pharmacist and just about to go to Julliard on a full scholarship.
This is one of my great fears, especially since I am dependent on no one but myself. If I come down with a catastrophic illness and use up my sick leave I'll lose my job, then my health insurance, my house, my land--everything. I'm lucky, though, I can live with my mother--she lives in a wonderful house with enough room, in a wonderful place. But what would come after that? I wouldn't be self-sufficient. There are no jobs available in RI that pay what I'm making now, and I wouldn't have my house, nor would I live here, which is where I've always wanted to be. My mother thinks she wants me to live with her, she's always suggesting it, but truly this is not something that would work well for any period of time.
So that's what I think of when I want to be dark, bleak and think about the slender thread that holds my life together.
My sister writes of the alternating states of wanting to get out of her house and wanting to stay, stay, stay inside of it. I have similar feelings. Sometimes I suffer from great anxiety about being in social situations. I know I have a great capacity for being charming and witty, but sometimes I am so anxious about being with other people--it's very embarrassing to myself. I just want to stay home, but I know I don't want to be the sort of person who does that. Besides, I socialize with the greatest people, truly wonderful friends I feel lucky to have. I like the Hawkeye people tremendously, and I realize these will be my friends for a long, long time (unless, of course I end up living with my mother--joke).
So I know I must leave my house, and of course there are times when I do want to leave my house--get out of it because I want to be somewhere else, I'm looking forward to enjoying the company of my friends. I don't have complicated transportation to deal with, the way my sister does, it's always a simple matter to get from my house to another place. When I go to my mother's I hate to leave my home, but I look forward to being with her and being in her house. It seems I don't go anywhere else: is that healthy? I have a friend who lives near the Rock 'n Roll Hall of Fame--one of my goals in life is to see that, so I want to visit her. She begs me to visit her in every communique, but I always have a reason for not going. Bad girl. I have a friend who lives nearby who invites me to his house every couple of months. In winter he phones me at 7 on Saturday night and wants me to come over because he and his wife have a few friends there and he wants me to be part of that group. I almost always say no. I'm usually nestled in by then, or I just don't feel like being there. I should go, these are my neighbors.
Geez, don't I make myself sound popular? I'm always amazed when people know who I am. I figure I have a reputation for being that odd woman who lives alone in the woods with her dogs. Everyone knows I have dogs, and everyone knows I live alone. Most people think Jamie was the Rogers, but more are learning that I was a Rogers before I married him. This is important to me, but of course it's pretty embarrassing to admit you married your cousin. How Kentucky of me!
ramblerambleramble.
Today it's Lake Placid's CD collection. From Lang Lang live at Carnegie Hall (that's his name: Lang Lang) to The Demonic Liszt (oh that pesky Liszt). How can I keep myself from listening to them as I catalog?
It's almost June 21st, the longest day of the year. One of my favorite days. My friend Mary Frances Cooper, who worked with me in Providence 30 years ago and has a great wit, always said she wanted to take the 21st off so she could say when it finally got dark "I thought this day would never end!"
I like the 21st, I really--no, REALLY like daylight. I like getting up early as soon as it gets light. I have a real problem during winter months because it's hard for me to drag myself out of bed when it's dark. Then I stare longingly at my bed from the bathroom and want so much to put myself back under the covers until it's light. My colleagues must know how strange I am because I'm 20 minutes early to work during these months and 10 minutes late to work during the winter months. I wonder if they remember, or if they even pay attention. I love the way we always assume people notice our shortcomings. My Rockford friends and I get together every couple of years or so--these are friends I knew in grade school, junior high school and high school, and it's so funny to me the different things we all remember. I distinctly remember the girls who carpooled with me, but one of the women, who is a very good friend, doesn't remember some of the people at all. "How can you not remember Debbie Feruggia?" Of course, then Priscilla, my friend, got a 1954 Plymouth, a wonderful car, and she and I drove to school together every day, releasing my father from the obligation of driving 4 giggly high school girls the 4 or so miles to school. He probably liked it, he was an incredibly sociable person.
I slept in the boat house last night. We had a very dramatic thunderstorm, which I drove through just before I got home. I wanted more rain--my rain barrels are now half full, far from satisfactory for watering my plants for any period of time. I like the secure feeling of seeing them full to overflowing. There are so many things we can't control, so relax, Girl. I wonder if I'll ever stop obsessing about water.
Anyway, when I got to the b.h. the loons were wailing away and there was a duck hanging around the camp dock. I didn't have my glasses on so I couldn't tell what kind of duck--it looked like a mallard. Apparently I have convinced Tess she really is a bird dog because she ran through the woods to get to the dock so she could flush the bird from it's spot. It flew, indignant and quacking. Tess really is interested in flushing birds now. When we take our walks she plows into the woods to get to a grouse and flushes it. I've been congratulating and praising her, calling her a BIRD DOG, and she's a quick study so I think she may know it's good to chase birds. The other day there was a male grouse standing in the road by my driveway as we were driving out. Tess was at full alert, watching as intently as I watch TV. The grouse got all puffed up (ruffed, as they're aptly named) and finally disappeared into the brush. Even Chances noticed it, with her vision issues. Next we saw a hare, not quite a fascinating to Tess, which Chances missed altogether.
One of the blogs I read had the following chapter in a story about the homeless:
... a woman who was homeless because when she got leukemia she lost her job because she couldn't work, which meant she lost her insurance, and within months, after selling her possessions piecemeal to pay for rent was evicted and moved into the Salvation Army shelter. [whew--Can you say vicious circle?] She was--at the time of her diagnosis--a practicing pharmacist and just about to go to Julliard on a full scholarship.
This is one of my great fears, especially since I am dependent on no one but myself. If I come down with a catastrophic illness and use up my sick leave I'll lose my job, then my health insurance, my house, my land--everything. I'm lucky, though, I can live with my mother--she lives in a wonderful house with enough room, in a wonderful place. But what would come after that? I wouldn't be self-sufficient. There are no jobs available in RI that pay what I'm making now, and I wouldn't have my house, nor would I live here, which is where I've always wanted to be. My mother thinks she wants me to live with her, she's always suggesting it, but truly this is not something that would work well for any period of time.
So that's what I think of when I want to be dark, bleak and think about the slender thread that holds my life together.
My sister writes of the alternating states of wanting to get out of her house and wanting to stay, stay, stay inside of it. I have similar feelings. Sometimes I suffer from great anxiety about being in social situations. I know I have a great capacity for being charming and witty, but sometimes I am so anxious about being with other people--it's very embarrassing to myself. I just want to stay home, but I know I don't want to be the sort of person who does that. Besides, I socialize with the greatest people, truly wonderful friends I feel lucky to have. I like the Hawkeye people tremendously, and I realize these will be my friends for a long, long time (unless, of course I end up living with my mother--joke).
So I know I must leave my house, and of course there are times when I do want to leave my house--get out of it because I want to be somewhere else, I'm looking forward to enjoying the company of my friends. I don't have complicated transportation to deal with, the way my sister does, it's always a simple matter to get from my house to another place. When I go to my mother's I hate to leave my home, but I look forward to being with her and being in her house. It seems I don't go anywhere else: is that healthy? I have a friend who lives near the Rock 'n Roll Hall of Fame--one of my goals in life is to see that, so I want to visit her. She begs me to visit her in every communique, but I always have a reason for not going. Bad girl. I have a friend who lives nearby who invites me to his house every couple of months. In winter he phones me at 7 on Saturday night and wants me to come over because he and his wife have a few friends there and he wants me to be part of that group. I almost always say no. I'm usually nestled in by then, or I just don't feel like being there. I should go, these are my neighbors.
Geez, don't I make myself sound popular? I'm always amazed when people know who I am. I figure I have a reputation for being that odd woman who lives alone in the woods with her dogs. Everyone knows I have dogs, and everyone knows I live alone. Most people think Jamie was the Rogers, but more are learning that I was a Rogers before I married him. This is important to me, but of course it's pretty embarrassing to admit you married your cousin. How Kentucky of me!
ramblerambleramble.
Today it's Lake Placid's CD collection. From Lang Lang live at Carnegie Hall (that's his name: Lang Lang) to The Demonic Liszt (oh that pesky Liszt). How can I keep myself from listening to them as I catalog?
Tuesday, June 19, 2007
Sheep laurel
Well now I'm all confused. I thought the sheep laurel had already bloomed. It makes sense that it would be blooming now, because the laurel surrounding my mother's house in RI (well does she have another house that's NOT in RI?) blooms at the end of June. This is called sheep laurel (I've read) because it's poisonous to sheep. Why would you name something after the animal it's poisonous to? Do we call it human arsenic?
We planned our wedding around the blooming of the laurel, because when it's a good laurel year it's truly spectacular. The woods are full of huge pom-poms of barely pink-tinged white blossoms. They look like small rhodendrons, since they're members of the same family. Anyway, I wanted to be married in my mother's yard when the laurel was in bloom. Planned the whole thing around it. Didn't want--REALLY didn't want a wedding at all, was humoring Jamie completely on that. So guess what? The laurel was a complete bust that year and there was hardly any. Some years it's like that, there just isn't much in bloom. It was a nice wedding anyway, as weddings go. Who knew we would have to ask people not to stand on the rocks in the woods right in front of us, taking pictures as we were promising the world to each other? How rude they all were, snapping away in our faces. Anyway, Jamie was nervous and got his pronouncement wrong. He said "All my worldly goods I me endow." He sure was right about that.
We planned our wedding around the blooming of the laurel, because when it's a good laurel year it's truly spectacular. The woods are full of huge pom-poms of barely pink-tinged white blossoms. They look like small rhodendrons, since they're members of the same family. Anyway, I wanted to be married in my mother's yard when the laurel was in bloom. Planned the whole thing around it. Didn't want--REALLY didn't want a wedding at all, was humoring Jamie completely on that. So guess what? The laurel was a complete bust that year and there was hardly any. Some years it's like that, there just isn't much in bloom. It was a nice wedding anyway, as weddings go. Who knew we would have to ask people not to stand on the rocks in the woods right in front of us, taking pictures as we were promising the world to each other? How rude they all were, snapping away in our faces. Anyway, Jamie was nervous and got his pronouncement wrong. He said "All my worldly goods I me endow." He sure was right about that.
indigo
This is really cool. I noticed it along the road, on my property. It's wild indigo. I recognized the leaves--they're similar to my baptisia plant. Baptisia is also called False Indigo. How cool is this? I learned a new flower today. A positive ID. Family motto: you learn something new every day. Wow! I got that knocked off before 7 a.m. I can relax for the rest of the day.
Alpine azalea
I'm not really sure what this is. I'll have to check the brochure for the bog, but what it looks like in the Audubon Society's book is alpine azalea. This is a tentative identification and I sure could be way wrong. It's that creeping stuff with tiny, tiny leaves--the stuff I really like that grows out onto the board walk and would be perfect for our Little Bill Villages.
action shot
No, this isn't a picture I took last year. This is what Tess always looks like at some point during our walk. I love what happens when we reach the end of the boardwalk: I say "OK, time to go back," and start walking back. The wait a little while, then together, like a team of horses they thunder past me on the right. Always on the right. What a pair.
Monday, June 18, 2007
Looking down
Linda had a bunch of huge pine trees cut down by two tree cutters. I didn't get to see them in action, but apparently one of them climbed way up to the very top of these 50' high trees to limb them out as he came down and it was really impressive. Wait until Linda sees this! She'll be very impressed.
Piles of logs
This is what was left behind--lots of piles like this. The big ones make good tables for places like the boat house porch or Linda's campfire. But you can only use so many tables like that...
Giving me the eye
This is what Chances often looks like: pissed off. Or maybe just bored. And this is often what you get from Tess: one eye and a little tongue
Boredom
This is the most interesting thing to do while they wait: smell the amazing scents of a place other than our home. I take Chances to Linda's from time to time, but Tess hardly ever. She bounces too much. I wonder if Chances recognizes Linda's from the scents? They got all excited when I drove in on the bouncy road, but dogs generally get excited when you drive on a bouncy dirt road. Every time I drive Chances to Ken's she starts whining when I turn righ on the hardtop. That's when she and I are alone in the car and I've not put anything like garbage in the car. It's very strange: how does she know we're going to Ken's?
Early morning
No Monday morning post would be complete without a sunrise shot. This was taken at 4:30 a.m. Although I like waking up early, this was ridiculous. I slept a lot during the day on Sat., and since I slept in the boat house (where there's no television, thank goodness) I went to bed early, my body was well rested. I woke, made coffee and did what I used to love doing: sat in bed, read and drank coffee. It was too cold to sit in the cure chair on the porch so I stayed under the covers. The dogs were in an out, their favorite state. Tess loves to go outside, run around a lot, then bound inside, breathless as if she has something exciting to report to me. Like: there was a squirrel in the tree, you should have heard it!
Friday, June 15, 2007
dog for scale
Jenica's and my handiwork continues to thrive. The boys will be here soon to approve or disapprove of our gardening task.
put a little tongue in it
The usual blurry shot of Tess. My dog sticks her tongue out at you. How many dogs do you know that do that?
too tired
Poor Chances. She was humming John Lennon "I'm soooo tired. I wonder should I get up and fix myself a drink. nonono."
This is what she looked like at the end of the walk this morning. I don't really blame her, she had to hang out while I visited with my friends, whom I hadn't seen since last fall. The were in Florida, where theyv'e bought a house on 5 acres near the Georgia border. The live "off the grid," which means they furnish their own power. The combine solar power with a generator. They're very nice and just got a new dog, a cute little thing. I was really happy to see they got a dog--they adoped a dog last year named Mona, and she had a lot of behavior problems. They worked really hard with her, took her to dog school and everything, and then she was hit by a car. This one is named Angel and is very cute.
Anyway, we talked for half an hour, which really threw my morning off. I left the house at 6:00 and didn't get back until nearly 7. oops.
This is what she looked like at the end of the walk this morning. I don't really blame her, she had to hang out while I visited with my friends, whom I hadn't seen since last fall. The were in Florida, where theyv'e bought a house on 5 acres near the Georgia border. The live "off the grid," which means they furnish their own power. The combine solar power with a generator. They're very nice and just got a new dog, a cute little thing. I was really happy to see they got a dog--they adoped a dog last year named Mona, and she had a lot of behavior problems. They worked really hard with her, took her to dog school and everything, and then she was hit by a car. This one is named Angel and is very cute.
Anyway, we talked for half an hour, which really threw my morning off. I left the house at 6:00 and didn't get back until nearly 7. oops.
Thursday, June 14, 2007
looking up
This is what I see when I pull out of my driveway in the morning on my way to work (well, it's also what I see when I go to the dump, or to Ken's, or to Fred's, or Linda's--you get the picture). The entrance to the bog is at that tiny white dot--that's the Nature Conservancy's sign declaring ownership. Mine, it says, all mine.
Yes, that's a dog in the grass. A brown dog, but I know not which one.
Yes, that's a dog in the grass. A brown dog, but I know not which one.
looking down
Looking down the road from my driveway. That's my driveway on the right. There's a hill there, then the road leads to our camp (on the left) and my friends' camps (on the right).
How lucky am I. No, really, how lucky am I?
How lucky am I. No, really, how lucky am I?
hidden dog
Across the road from my driveway. Can you find the dog in the picture? How about the president's head hidden in the tree? I should send this picture to Highlights for Children, huh.
Used to be great blackberries here but then they logged it and ran over the berry plants with a skidder. The berries have made a pretty good comeback, but now I'm not the only person who knows about the spot so it's a race to get there first.
Used to be great blackberries here but then they logged it and ran over the berry plants with a skidder. The berries have made a pretty good comeback, but now I'm not the only person who knows about the spot so it's a race to get there first.
dianthus
Not wildflowers, just a pretty picture of dianthus growing in one of the pots on my deck. Dianthus are members of the carnation family. They're a stupid choice for containers because they don't bloom again for a really long time after you cut off the spent blossoms. I always get suckered into getting them because they are so very, very pretty.
viburnum
I have to double check by taking a closer look at the leaves but I think this is wild viburnum. It would make sense that it's blooming in the woods now. There are several patches of it on my land. Very pretty blossoms, floating on patches of green. Geez, I sound queer, don't I.
When Jamie and I used to walk (which we did a lot) he would look up and I would look down. I learned the flowers and he studied the state of the forest and noticed the birds. Now I know the birds by their songs (some of them, not as many as I'd like). I'm trying to learn the bird songs but I bought a really queer CD that I listened to as much as I could stand to in the car. This crazy woman made up the queerest stuff she pretended the birds were saying. The white-throated sparrow, which has a very straightforward song and is really easy to identify is saying (according to her) "Who killed Sam Peabody?" As if. I expected her to have one say "ImgoingtothemallIneedanewpairofshoesshoesshoes."
Of course, in the bog and around my house are birds whose calls I recognize from the CD but I can't remember whose calls they are. The CD is organized by type of bird--warbler, flycatcher, etc. Well, really: if you knew what type of bird it was, wouldn't you have a bead on what KIND of bird it was? Sam Peabody my ass.
When Jamie and I used to walk (which we did a lot) he would look up and I would look down. I learned the flowers and he studied the state of the forest and noticed the birds. Now I know the birds by their songs (some of them, not as many as I'd like). I'm trying to learn the bird songs but I bought a really queer CD that I listened to as much as I could stand to in the car. This crazy woman made up the queerest stuff she pretended the birds were saying. The white-throated sparrow, which has a very straightforward song and is really easy to identify is saying (according to her) "Who killed Sam Peabody?" As if. I expected her to have one say "ImgoingtothemallIneedanewpairofshoesshoesshoes."
Of course, in the bog and around my house are birds whose calls I recognize from the CD but I can't remember whose calls they are. The CD is organized by type of bird--warbler, flycatcher, etc. Well, really: if you knew what type of bird it was, wouldn't you have a bead on what KIND of bird it was? Sam Peabody my ass.
twinflower
These are tiny little plants--you have to practically lie down to take their picture. I had to look them up--I can never remember all the spring flowers. These are creepers that are found in bogs--how perfect is that for a description.
I saw lots of bunchberries trailing along into the mossy carpet that extends off of the boardwalk into the woods. I said to myself in a singsong voice "Pretty little bunchberries trailing in the woods." That reminded me of what my father used to say, a remnant of the days when he and my mother had goat farms and small children. When my mother would come in carrying pails of goat milk, after milking, he'd say "Pretty little milkmaid, jiggling her jugs." We had a tray with a hand-painted scene of my mother carrying pails down a path, given to them by a friend who painted it. All part of family lore.
I saw lots of bunchberries trailing along into the mossy carpet that extends off of the boardwalk into the woods. I said to myself in a singsong voice "Pretty little bunchberries trailing in the woods." That reminded me of what my father used to say, a remnant of the days when he and my mother had goat farms and small children. When my mother would come in carrying pails of goat milk, after milking, he'd say "Pretty little milkmaid, jiggling her jugs." We had a tray with a hand-painted scene of my mother carrying pails down a path, given to them by a friend who painted it. All part of family lore.
pitcher
Not a very good representation of a bunch of pitcher plants. They're carnivorous. Here they're in bloom. They're pretty boring when they bloom. When you look inside you can see dead insects, stuck in the hairy-like things that coat the insides of the tubes that are the leaves of the plants. If you're into that sort of thing. I used to be.
primeval
Looking much like the forest primeval. That bracken is starting to take over the whole place.
grazing
It's impossible to take a picture of the dogs that's NOT out of focus. Especially Tess' tail, which is always wagging. Here they're having their morning grass. They look like cows sometimes, chomping away. I asked the vet what it meant that they ate so much grass. He said, "It means they like grass."
Wednesday, June 13, 2007
Roughly translated
From "O globo," a Portuguese newspaper from Rio, from which one of our inmates requested information. If you ask for an Internet translation you get things like this:
South Koreans eat each time little meat of dog. Reporter of the G1 proved the controversial plate and account as it was the experience
At least it wasn't meat of little dog.
From "O globo," a Portuguese newspaper from Rio, from which one of our inmates requested information. If you ask for an Internet translation you get things like this:
South Koreans eat each time little meat of dog. Reporter of the G1 proved the controversial plate and account as it was the experience
At least it wasn't meat of little dog.
Monday, June 11, 2007
Molly's shore
This is the shoreline next to the boathouse--it's what you see from the porch and from the dock. Incredibly peaceful and serene--no sign of human civilization (oh, there I go again, being anti-social). Molly paints scenes like this, and especially this one. There used to be a big poplar tree in the middle of this scene but the beavers girdled it one year and it died, bit by bit until if finally came down. This picture doesn't do the shoreline justice. Maybe I'm just feeling that reality is much better than anything recorded lately.
Ready and waiting
The "cure chair" or Saranac chair, as the Rogers family calls it. My friends call these cure chairs, Rogers call them Saranac chairs. They were used in the tuberculosis sanitariums in Saranac Lake--they were on outdoor porches and the patients would lie on them and breathe the cold fresh air. Yeah, that's right, cold wet air is good for lung ailments. Just ask me how well that works for asthma.
Anyway, this is the boathouse, ready & waiting for my book group. We had a grand time and covered a lot of ground (including the book--Linda Greenlaw's The lobster chronicles). Mary Lou is waiting to be a grandmother, Martha makes great baked beans and Lin has a new job. I'm fighting the good fight for justice and equal rights for all real estate developers.
Anyway, this is the boathouse, ready & waiting for my book group. We had a grand time and covered a lot of ground (including the book--Linda Greenlaw's The lobster chronicles). Mary Lou is waiting to be a grandmother, Martha makes great baked beans and Lin has a new job. I'm fighting the good fight for justice and equal rights for all real estate developers.
Still life
Liza bought this chair sort of on a whim many years ago. She thought she paid too much for it at the time, but it looks really great on the porch and it's really comfortable.
Diamonds
The sun was pretty high by 7:30. This is what I long for all winter, when what you see is white everywhere: sparkling diamonds on blue water (well, it WAS blue, the camera just didn't quite record that).
Friday, June 08, 2007
Vindictive fool
No, not the President. It's the neighborhood bully, or the village idiot, take your pick. Some of us have been working hard to get him to follow the rules with his planned development of a 21-acre shorefront lot. He finally withdrew his plan and said he was going to make Silver Lake public "like you've never seen it public before." Apparently he's placed a huge ad in the Lake Placid paper--according to Linda quoting Fred--
advertising that Silver Lake is
"a private lake now open to the public". His ad notes
the following:
Because of the Adirondack Council's input and the fact
that private camp owners do not want any more
development on Silver Lake, the Douglas family is
opening to the public. We are even considering
giving a Public Boat Ramp to NYS"
Although I doubt he would give the State a boat ramp, since that would compete with his for-profit boat launch, this ad sure shows what a jackass he is. He used to have his operation open to the public, so one might interpret this as no big deal. I know he's thinking people will come by the busload to launch their boats on Silver Lake and park their boats in front of the camps of those of us who spoke out against him, but I bet a lot of people will just want to swim at his beach. Plus there might be canoeists and kayakers. And monkeys might fly out of my butt.
Other news is that I'm having a hard time getting over the grippe I've had for a week now. I have bad lung problems, asthma and cough. I think the air conditioning and moist air at work is a problem because I cough visciously while I'm here but as soon as I get home I relax and my head and lungs seem to clear. Or maybe these people just make me nervous. Anyway, I'm using my inhalers (as my doctor told me to on Tuesday after asking me why I wasn't already using them), sucking down Tussin with codeine, wheezing and hacking away. While I catalog articles Robert Louis Stevenson wrote in various popular magazines during the 1880's. Not the actual articles, but using information from catalog cards. big yawn.
I have to mow my lawn, but I'm fearful of what this will do to my lungs. It has to be done and I will approach the project judiciously. We've had so much rain recently that the grass is really long. I also need to work in the garden, making spaces for my seedlings, mulching and fertilizing my pitiful little tomato plants. They look really pathetic right now, only about 4" tall. The hostas and astilbe I bought from the nursery in Jay last summer, however, are spectacular. That's a great place to get plants from and Fred and I will no doubt return there soon. When we win the lottery. The lilies I got there are coming along nicely, too.
Book group meets at the boat house this Sunday. We read The lobster chronicles by Linda Greenlaw. It's short, and very nice. Memoir. She moved back to the island of her youth to become a lobsterwoman. The stuff about living on the island, where there are 42 year-round residents is really cool, and the stuff about lobstering is interesting but of course I was unable to picture it. And my imagery is tainted by the TV series about crab fishing in the Bering Sea called The Deadliest Catch, where they get hit by 20' waves and have to hack ice 2' thick off the 100' boat so it won't tip over, and the traps weigh 800 lbs. So I think lobstering is quaint.
It's time for me to start sleeping in the boat house, I think night time temps are warm enough. I hate waking up to a cold room so I wait until it's around 60 at night before I go down there. How spoiled am I? Very.
Nice walk this morning, down to the end of my road. I've only walked the past 2 mornings, badly in need of exercise and distraction. The bugs have abated so I've no excuse now. No, indeed not. Get out there girl--why do you live where you do? You could watch TV sitting in an apartment in Plattsburgh.
No, not the President. It's the neighborhood bully, or the village idiot, take your pick. Some of us have been working hard to get him to follow the rules with his planned development of a 21-acre shorefront lot. He finally withdrew his plan and said he was going to make Silver Lake public "like you've never seen it public before." Apparently he's placed a huge ad in the Lake Placid paper--according to Linda quoting Fred--
advertising that Silver Lake is
"a private lake now open to the public". His ad notes
the following:
Because of the Adirondack Council's input and the fact
that private camp owners do not want any more
development on Silver Lake, the Douglas family is
opening to the public. We are even considering
giving a Public Boat Ramp to NYS"
Although I doubt he would give the State a boat ramp, since that would compete with his for-profit boat launch, this ad sure shows what a jackass he is. He used to have his operation open to the public, so one might interpret this as no big deal. I know he's thinking people will come by the busload to launch their boats on Silver Lake and park their boats in front of the camps of those of us who spoke out against him, but I bet a lot of people will just want to swim at his beach. Plus there might be canoeists and kayakers. And monkeys might fly out of my butt.
Other news is that I'm having a hard time getting over the grippe I've had for a week now. I have bad lung problems, asthma and cough. I think the air conditioning and moist air at work is a problem because I cough visciously while I'm here but as soon as I get home I relax and my head and lungs seem to clear. Or maybe these people just make me nervous. Anyway, I'm using my inhalers (as my doctor told me to on Tuesday after asking me why I wasn't already using them), sucking down Tussin with codeine, wheezing and hacking away. While I catalog articles Robert Louis Stevenson wrote in various popular magazines during the 1880's. Not the actual articles, but using information from catalog cards. big yawn.
I have to mow my lawn, but I'm fearful of what this will do to my lungs. It has to be done and I will approach the project judiciously. We've had so much rain recently that the grass is really long. I also need to work in the garden, making spaces for my seedlings, mulching and fertilizing my pitiful little tomato plants. They look really pathetic right now, only about 4" tall. The hostas and astilbe I bought from the nursery in Jay last summer, however, are spectacular. That's a great place to get plants from and Fred and I will no doubt return there soon. When we win the lottery. The lilies I got there are coming along nicely, too.
Book group meets at the boat house this Sunday. We read The lobster chronicles by Linda Greenlaw. It's short, and very nice. Memoir. She moved back to the island of her youth to become a lobsterwoman. The stuff about living on the island, where there are 42 year-round residents is really cool, and the stuff about lobstering is interesting but of course I was unable to picture it. And my imagery is tainted by the TV series about crab fishing in the Bering Sea called The Deadliest Catch, where they get hit by 20' waves and have to hack ice 2' thick off the 100' boat so it won't tip over, and the traps weigh 800 lbs. So I think lobstering is quaint.
It's time for me to start sleeping in the boat house, I think night time temps are warm enough. I hate waking up to a cold room so I wait until it's around 60 at night before I go down there. How spoiled am I? Very.
Nice walk this morning, down to the end of my road. I've only walked the past 2 mornings, badly in need of exercise and distraction. The bugs have abated so I've no excuse now. No, indeed not. Get out there girl--why do you live where you do? You could watch TV sitting in an apartment in Plattsburgh.
Nice view
This is a view of Douglas Mtn. (foreground) and Catamount (background) taken this morning from the top of the hill at my friends the Grays. Nice colors, huh.
It's a miracle
Jenica's an my handiwork. We planted grass seed at my friends' camp Memorial Day weekend and lo and behold: grass is emerging! This is only some: there is more coming up. Will wonders never cease.
Infant berries
Blackberry blossoms. This indicates it may be another banner year for blackberries. Depends on the weather, of course--enough rain but not too much. Enough sun but not too much. Plus, I have to get out there to pick before they dry up, or before everyone else picks the bushes empty.
By leaps and bounds
Nasturtiums and zinnias, doing what they're supposed to do. Now if I would just decide where to put the nasties, and clear a space in the garden for the zinnias, they would be extremely grateful.
Viburnum
Wow are these blossoms ever blinding. This is a viburnum bush that Julie and Kevin brought me years ago as a reward for feeding their 7 cats while they were on vacation. Due to neglect the bush is now a 7' tall tree, but it's blooming for the first time. The blossoms are incredibly fragrant. I have to remember to trim it in the fall to make it bush-shaped. I only noticed it was blooming because I looked down at my yard from the 2nd story this morning. The poor thing is being crowded by maple trees and weeds. Must help it.
Thursday, June 07, 2007
Here's that bracken in the bog, now frondy. This is what it looks like in bloom, or as much in bloom as bracken gets. I'm not sure if you call it "in bloom," but it sure looks cool. These things grow straight up from the middle of the plant.
I went for a bog walk this morning at 6:15. The dogs were sooooo thrilled. It was 38 out. The TV people threatened us with frost last night so I brought in a bunch of my seedlings and plantlets--all for naught, thank goodness.
I stayed home yesterday, still had my fever and yucky cough. Did shots of 'tussin with codeine, which helped a little bit. The house was 58 degrees when I got up and I never got it warmer than 64. The sun barely came out so it was just cold all day. It rained in the morning or I would have ventured outside for firewood and lit the stove. That would have meant clearing off the detritus, though. My father always pronounced that DEH-tritus, but people I know now call it deh-TRItus. Oh how confusing life can be.
I went for a bog walk this morning at 6:15. The dogs were sooooo thrilled. It was 38 out. The TV people threatened us with frost last night so I brought in a bunch of my seedlings and plantlets--all for naught, thank goodness.
I stayed home yesterday, still had my fever and yucky cough. Did shots of 'tussin with codeine, which helped a little bit. The house was 58 degrees when I got up and I never got it warmer than 64. The sun barely came out so it was just cold all day. It rained in the morning or I would have ventured outside for firewood and lit the stove. That would have meant clearing off the detritus, though. My father always pronounced that DEH-tritus, but people I know now call it deh-TRItus. Oh how confusing life can be.
Bunchberry
This is bunchberry, very pretty. It's a member of the dogwood family, obvious from its leaves. Famous wildlife photographer Clyde Smith once took a photo not unlike this one, of bunchberry in bloom. I was unimpressed: anyone can take a picture of blooming bunchberry--it's everywhere. These blossoms turn into pretty little red berries. I don't think there's as much bunchberry as there used to be.
This is Clintonia, which has a really gross name. It's named for Gov. Dewitt Clinton of New York, for which our county is named. It grows like a weed around Silver Lake. These blossoms turn into huge blue berries which are rumored to be poisonous. Every kid in the Adirondacks has picked one and opened it. It's full of white stuff the consistency of circus peanuts.
Early morning moon
Classic case of "you had to be there." the moon looked really nifty this morning at 6:30. Here it looks like a water spot on a photograph. Trust me, you wish you'd been there.
This is sure a lousy shot--the dogs trotted by just as I was taking the picture and jiggled the boardwalk. This is Labrador tea. I guess I missed the sheep laurel in full bloom--it's very pretty, like miniature laurel. This is not terribly pretty. It's interesting, the progression of these three plants that look so much alike: first the leatherleaf, then the sheep laurel, then the Lab. tea. Go figure.
Tuesday, June 05, 2007
graceful necks
This is what the bracken fronds looked like a while ago when I went for an early morning walk in the bog. I haven't walked in a while because I've had a bad cold/cough/fever. Seeing these pictures makes me miss my walks and makes me realize that I felt more cheerful and better physically when I was walking regularly. Plus the dogs get excited when I go outside with them because (I think) they're hoping we're going for a walk.
Bracken looks like giant ferns. When these come out completely, by mid-summer, they will make the bog look like a prehistoric forest. They'll be nearly as tall as I am. I know, that doesn't make them all that tall.
Bracken looks like giant ferns. When these come out completely, by mid-summer, they will make the bog look like a prehistoric forest. They'll be nearly as tall as I am. I know, that doesn't make them all that tall.
leatherleaf
I'm pretty sure this is leatherleaf, but it could be Labrador tea. There's also sheep laurel, which I recognize because it's laurel. Lab. tea looks just like the sheep laurel, and this looked more like leatherleaf. Sometimes I just don't know what these things are.
apples of the future unite!
I have lots of blossoms on my apple trees this year--let's hope they make it to the apple stage. My land includes an old, very old orchard. Some years I have a banner crop of apples of different varieties, some years I hardly have any. Last year I hardly had any. The dogs graze for hours beneath the trees--they love apples. One tree has incredibly sweet apples. You can't eat very many of the apples, they're pretty wormy, but I use them if I make jelly because they have lots of pectin in them. And I like the idea the I have healthy trees. One year I caught a porcupine eating the apples. When I told him to leave he walked away really slowly as if saying "I'm leaving because I want to, not because you told me to."
Dark haze
This was Sunday morning at 6 a.m. I like fog/mist when it takes away the forest and the mountains, then returns them later in the day.
Two for one
Some people would be embarrassed by this, but those of us who live here nod knowingly when we see 2 dishes at a house. It means that you can now get all the local channels, including the 2 public TV stations and Fox. When I bought my new TV I decided to take the plunge and spend the $3 a month it costs to "rent" the 2nd dish. I probably already blogged this, but anyway this is what it looks like. I think it looks pretty funny.
Unfinished symphony
This is the chaos that is my bedroom right now. I'm sleeping in the upstairs (guest) bedroom. It turns out I really like that room but the dogs desperately want to sleep in their regular bed. Every night I ask them if they want to go to bed and Chances walks right to the downstairs bedroom door, sadly. Too bad, Chances Are, I haven't painted the trim yet.
The color was supposed to be a pale, grayish green. As everyone I've spoken to in the past 2 weeks knows, that is not how it turned out. What I had in mind was a pale Colonial green. What I got was a pale celery-sort of green. I had to decide after the first coat whether to drive 60 miles round trip to get a different color and paint 2 more coats, or live with what I had. Everyone knows I'm fundamentally lazy, so it's no surprise that I'm living with what I have.
When I painted the ceiling, it turned out to be an even different color, maybe because I didn't stir the paint enough, or maybe because they mixed the 2nd gallon differently. Anyway, there's nary a green tint to the ceiling. It's way better than looking at the single coat of primer I've been staring at for the past several years, though. Overall I'm pleased with the project and will be really pleased when I feel well enough to paint the trim. I had "Bill's boys" move the bed back to it's position for me, since it's too heavy for almost anyone to move and you can't slide it along the floor because the floorboards are warped (they were green wood) and the legs will buckle (even though each leg now has 4 screws holding it together). When Jamie built this bed he was so proud that it had no nails or screws, but was built entirely with pegs. Bad idea, I've discovered, unless you know what you're doing. When Lin & I took it apart to move it downstairs a couple of years ago and reassembled it (after she stopped laughing--really laughing) we had one peg left over and couldn't find a hole to put it in. Anyway, I always felt the whole thing would collapse at any moment but now it's sturdy and doesn't wobble every time a dog scratches her ear.
The color was supposed to be a pale, grayish green. As everyone I've spoken to in the past 2 weeks knows, that is not how it turned out. What I had in mind was a pale Colonial green. What I got was a pale celery-sort of green. I had to decide after the first coat whether to drive 60 miles round trip to get a different color and paint 2 more coats, or live with what I had. Everyone knows I'm fundamentally lazy, so it's no surprise that I'm living with what I have.
When I painted the ceiling, it turned out to be an even different color, maybe because I didn't stir the paint enough, or maybe because they mixed the 2nd gallon differently. Anyway, there's nary a green tint to the ceiling. It's way better than looking at the single coat of primer I've been staring at for the past several years, though. Overall I'm pleased with the project and will be really pleased when I feel well enough to paint the trim. I had "Bill's boys" move the bed back to it's position for me, since it's too heavy for almost anyone to move and you can't slide it along the floor because the floorboards are warped (they were green wood) and the legs will buckle (even though each leg now has 4 screws holding it together). When Jamie built this bed he was so proud that it had no nails or screws, but was built entirely with pegs. Bad idea, I've discovered, unless you know what you're doing. When Lin & I took it apart to move it downstairs a couple of years ago and reassembled it (after she stopped laughing--really laughing) we had one peg left over and couldn't find a hole to put it in. Anyway, I always felt the whole thing would collapse at any moment but now it's sturdy and doesn't wobble every time a dog scratches her ear.
Monday, June 04, 2007
Learn something new every day: for today it's:
moose knuckle n. a (prominent) pudendum; the appearance of the (male or female) sex organs in tight clothing. Subjects: English, Sex & Sexuality
Apparently some think it only applies to men. I read it in reference to a poorly dressed male in Esquire over the weekend, and thought I knew what it meant but had to check. Wikipedia had never heard of it but doubletongued.org had it down pat.
I just spent an hour correcting a stupid mistake. I switched all the entries for works by D.H. Lawrence and put them under George Lukas. This meant I had to go through 93 bib records and change the author entry manually for the appropriate one. So who won the contest? More entries for Lucas or Lawrence? Should be an easy one to answer. Lucas, of course.
moose knuckle n. a (prominent) pudendum; the appearance of the (male or female) sex organs in tight clothing. Subjects: English, Sex & Sexuality
Apparently some think it only applies to men. I read it in reference to a poorly dressed male in Esquire over the weekend, and thought I knew what it meant but had to check. Wikipedia had never heard of it but doubletongued.org had it down pat.
I just spent an hour correcting a stupid mistake. I switched all the entries for works by D.H. Lawrence and put them under George Lukas. This meant I had to go through 93 bib records and change the author entry manually for the appropriate one. So who won the contest? More entries for Lucas or Lawrence? Should be an easy one to answer. Lucas, of course.
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