Thursday, June 23, 2005

Firefly Night -- redux

There are relationships, heavy things pushed and pulled through years, they start anytime, but for good reason, they last through endless season changes. Then there is firefly love. Firefly love starts when the days turn long and the nights short, wondrous days when walking through the dark sends sparks of magic light dancing through the air.

In late June I watch the dancing fireflys, and remember.

Firefly Night

Fireflys are Summer evenings, I had hoped to catch a photo of fireflys on the first day of Summer.  Not to be.  Two days later and several hundred snaps later ...

Sunday, June 19, 2005

Trip to the Grocery -- Week -- uhh (what?-- 3?)

Cereal!   audio Play audio entry (1 min 8 sec)   DogFood   audio Play audio entry (0 min 38 sec)   And the final chapter in my search for vanilla ice cream!   audio Play audio entry (1 min 2 sec)

Saturday, June 18, 2005

A Special Visitor ...

This week, Tuesday, we got a visit from a very special someone.  Some-dog rather.  Maggie.  Lost running from a storm, she ended up on our back porch needing help.  No tags, no name plate, but clearly a much loved pet and ten o'clock at night, not knowing which way was home, she ended up here.  Fortunately.

A myth.  City folk imagine that dumping a dog in farm country will result in their discarded pet leading an ideal life.  Not so, not so.  You see, so many dogs are discarded in the rural areas of this country that they can not all be taken in and most turn feral and end up sick and eventually shot.  Sad but true.  Humane shelters are equiped to take on discarded pets, farmers are not.

That aside,  Maggie was clearly not discarded, just lost, and local.  But I had no idea where here home was, and she couldn't tell me where home was.  So, there she was, on the porch, needing help, here I was with a house already inhabited by two large dogs, but we all moved over and made room for a third, only until we could find her family.

Next day dawned and it was a busy one for me, I took time to call all the neighbors that I could think of who might have heard that someone was looking for a dog, and no-one had heard. So, Maggie (who I called "white dog" not knowing her real name) and I an the boys spent our hours working, followed by dinner and walkies and a swim in the pond and sleep in the house and on the furniture and who cares, because all good dogs are special and Maggie was lost and without her family and the least that we could do was let her sleep on the leather couch if that is where she wanted to sleep. And the next day, I called the humane socitey and Success!!!  Folk not too far from us were looking for a dog very much like Maggie, lost in a storm Tuesday night and Mom showed-up and Maggie (who I knew as white dog) had found her family and all was well again! 

So, Maggie went home and the boys and I were minus a new found friend, but in the larger picture, things were as they should be.  And a lost dog got to go home!

Lesson here folks: If for some reason you can't keep your pet -- take them to the humane society, do NOT dump them in a rural area.  Maggie was lucky, she ended up on my porch, and the fella and I understand and love doggies, not everyone does. Most of the discarded dogs in farm country end up shot dead. Maggie ended up here and that made all the difference.

Friday, June 17, 2005

How I Spent The Last Week ...

Before                                                          After

Yep, 5 gallons of paint stripper, a few hours with a sandblaster and some paint can do wonders for a gal.  Provided that the gal in question is made of steel.

This old gal is a Plymouth TGT industrial locomotive.  Manufactured at the Plymouth Locomotive Works in Plymouth Ohio, she is one of  only 3 made. She and her twin spent their working days at a munitions factory in virginia. The third of the trio was manufactured to be shipped overseas.

This should be followed by a cute train story.  But I don't feel like writing one, well, that and I have to sandblast about three layers of paint off of my hands. 

Saturday, June 11, 2005

I don't get out much ...

A couple of exceedingly dull audio entries from the grocery store.  Gotta work on delivery.  Holding the phone on my shoulder and talking while pushing a cart and picking out chicken records too many breathing sounds.  Considering the content of the audio entries, perhaps being able to hear me breathe serves as proof that I am still living.   Audio entry audio Play audio entry (0 min 41 sec)   Audio entry audio Play audio entry (0 min 53 sec)

Monday, June 6, 2005

Two Ways ...

I walk two paths every evening, in my hour just before sunset, two paths that occupy the same space, the same time, two realities, one walk. 

Path One:

In the slanted golden light that is my time, evening time, just me and the boys and the birds and whatever is growing or singing in that magic hour time, I walk.  Wading now through the front hayfeild that has grown waist high and glorious, stems heavy with seed, red-winged blackbirds bursting into the air ahead of me while I head towards the June woods.  Cowhead, Wild Dog Of The Woodland (pictured above) leads the way, sniffing the air for danger or after dinner snackies he leads his dog pack into the danger of darkening treeline.  Along the woods path we creep searching, for whatever may be lurking. Then across the bridge ...

Path two:

The fella was late getting started on his way to an auction, a friend of a friend had the misfortune of blowing a tire and the great good fortune of blowing that tire just down the road from us. He had a spare tire, but no spare rim so he pulled his car into the shop and we pulled the shredded tire and rim off of his car -- put the new tire on the rim that the shredded tire was on and then back on his car. Sigh.  Then a new light on the tail of the trailer that the fella was toting to an auction and dinner and a shower and "your suitcase is packed" and a quick dinner and "your reservation and maps and all that you need on your trip is in the truck" and a quick hug and "off you go" and it is eight PM, and "safe trip" and the dogs are barking, wanting their walkies and the light is going and ...

Man, I am tired.  And dirty. I stink.  Wow was it hot today or what?  Walkies, woods and bugs! Uggh! Bug Spray!  Deep Woods Off, at least that will cover the stench of dirt and sweat gathered over the afternoon.  Won't do a thing about the way that I look, all cover ed with dust and grease, but me and the dogs and walkies and "who cares?" So we head toward the front field, swarms of bugs swirl around my head and "oh hell! How deep can this grass get?  What if I step on a snake or something dead?"  ...

One path really, two views.  Glass half full or half empty -- mostly, I say, almost always, almost always both at the same time.

Friday, June 3, 2005

B&O Caboose Flys Again

Short on clever descriptions this evening. Just photos that I took before and after the caboose flew to her new perch. The time inbetween was spent pushing to line up the pins on the trucks with the recievers on the caboose.

 

 

Caboose is home.