The last of Winter... a photo journey

Peeking out from one of my canvas carryalls is Dinah. Tiny Dinah as she is known here, doesn't get much respect. She's very small, difficult to photograph being a black cat - and she tends to be very busy except when she's hogging Freda's dog bed. Poor Freda is completely intimidated by this tiny dynamo - and will come and stare at me to do something about Dinah being in her bed.

Dinah was one of two kittens found on a highway dehydrated and near death from upper respiratory disease. She and her sister Winkle (the Blue Siamese) spent six weeks in quarantine. My vet said that even though they were tiny as eight week old kittens, in reality they were five or six months old. They finally got well and grew a little - but both maxed out at about five pounds. Five pounds of Dinah-mite!! Dinah is of course named after Alice's cat in Alice in Wonderland.
What do you do when you are iced in and out of birdseed? My poor birdies couldn't believe that the feeders were empty what with the freezing temps and the wind blowing snow. I felt so guilty that I rummaged about to come up with something to get them by. I had whole corn that I mix into the horses' feed and actual horse feed - which is pelleted grain and alfalfa along with cracked oats.

The bits were way too big for the small songbirds, so into the Oster for a grind. Then I added Kasha and barley and bread crumbs to the mix, and got out the Jif Extra Crunchy Peanut Butter to slather onto the suet feeder and some pine cones that I wired to the old pear tree. What a feast!! This buffet drew cardinals, bluejays, doves, nuthatches, woodpeckers, chickadees, red-winged blackbirds, several different sparrows, phoebes, tufted titmice, juncos and of course, starlings. I'm pretty sure they like the Jif better than the generic stuff I usually give them!! (But then, so do I)

When I ventured outside with my camera, I found this imprint of wingtips and little bird feet and got this photo right before Elvis obliterated it in an attempt to ambush Madeline...
If you look closely for click for enlarging, you can see the imprint here ... and then...

Whump!

I think he's trying to lick the snow or just make a face at Maddy

And finally - Here's Claire. She may not look it, but I know she was thrilled to finally get some Pyrenees-suitable weather. These dogs begin to pant when it is over 50 degrees. That's why I have them shaved every spring.

Today it is nearing 70 degrees and it's my turn to be thrilled!!

Oh yeah, Spring is ... confused!

Things can really change in a few days. Just ask the daffodils... In twenty years, this is the most and the prettiest snowfall I've ever seen here in Northeast Georgia. The horses were running around sniffing the ground and tossing their heads - and Freda was (blush) afraid of the snow...

A blanket of snow for Easter Lilies. In this case, they are Valentine lilies!! Or President's lilies...?

I was working on the cabinet on the right at a client's home - making a couple of changes/additions when Brodie came over to sulk a bit. He's not the one pictured - he's the new dog; a rescue - and I think he wants to be painted! Cool dog - a Blue Weimeraner. I had a wonderful time painting for this animal and art loving couple. Just being in a home filled with original art gives me a huge lift! Everywhere you look, there is something to make you smile.

A funky bear they bought at a silent auction - coincidentally, I had done much of the painting! This was for a fundraiser and I'd no idea who had "won" it. Small world.

The kitties on one side of the canine cabinet, done in a folksy style.

A cool and spooky figure. Very enigmatic.

These were just a few of the interesting art items in this wonderful mountain lake home. Oh - and I'll be doing a portrait of Brodie in the near future.

Meanwhile, Happy Snow Day!

Dreaming of Spring...

Winkle contemplates Spring of 2010...

It's the end of January and I am restless. Years ago when I dwelt in the land of lake effect snow there were five seasons: summer, fall, winter, mud season - and finally - spring. The end of January usually meant that the worst of winter was yet to come, followed by weeks of inevitable mud. Now, after nearly twenty years in the Deep South, I have come to expect the stirring of Spring in February - and tomorrow is day one.

These little daffs appear to be huddling together, having shed their leafy blanket a bit early...

Though we here in Northeast GA have just suffered our second major winter storm with snow and ice and power outages, - my senses are drawn to the first rather bold tidings of things to come. Believe it or not, these photos were taken just a few days ago as the temperatures reached the 50's - and the sun paid a rare (these days) visit.

I can't help but wonder if a bloom will appear from within the pot ...

Yesterday and today I was scheduled to run the galleries at Sautee (Sat.) and Tallulah Falls (today). I received calls from each to let me know they would not be opening due to weather conditions. As a transplant from the North, I was prepared to brave the cold and ice, but quite content to be told to stay home with the kitties and a good book. Luckily my power did not go out!

Not only are there daffodils blooming, the Spring Peepers have begun to sing in the woods. One would think they'd retreat with this return to cold nights, but thus far the little peeps are peeping still.

No - not my photo - I hear them, but likely won't see any until they begin to lay eggs in the pond.

A wonderful cocoon found amongst the blackberry canes.

Elvis came along for a walk before the sleet and snow began, but he just wouldn't hold still for a photo. Perhaps he was eager to get back home or spooked as we revisited the Fallen Dolly of the Dell.

Or perhaps he was pointing to this small "leafy treehouse"? Could it be the abode of a mousie ? It was only about 6 inches in diameter, so I can't imagine anything larger than a field mouse living here. Maybe it's used as a camp in summer ?We also found this unusual set of burls attached to a small sapling stem. I've no idea whether this is the product of a fungus, insect - or the plant itself, but it is certainly unusual .

And finally, Happy New Year!

I know, I know, my New Year's wishes are not exactly timely, but you must understand, that until a couple of days ago, I had no welcoming words for the new year. The best I could do was kick old 2009 to be sure it was dead - not exactly a pleasant image or state of mind! But on Tuesday, as I wrote to a friend:
You'll never believe it, but my van is finally running. It turned out there was a short under the motor mount, nearly impossible to find, and my mechanic finally sussed it out while driving it up and down hills. When the motor reved, or rocked in its mount due to gravity, braking or even quick acceleration, the short caused either low voltage, or a surge, which then ruined the switches and electronic bits and such... Ricky (my mechanic) called me at 10 pm Tuesday night and said " I found it, it's fixed, and I'm dropping it off tonight. I just can't wait to see it in my rear view mirror."

I know this is small stuff to most people, but it's really big news to me.!! So even though it is pouring rain and my bank balance is $4.71, I am happy! Thus: "Happy New Year." Here are a few shots from the last flooding rain. The first one shows that amazing richness one sees when everything is washed and aglow, still glistening wet, with all the colors imaginable shining in the fresh air. How can anyone be happy in a beige house when there are hues like this?

Below and above are scenes from the forest floor - nothing unusual - just the beautiful cacophony of nature.
This one shows an area between my workshop and a storage trailer where the waters run rapid off the roof and down toward the woods. This little torrent creates a cascade of leaves and twigs and acorns which then are trapped in a "leaf jam" to lie in amazingly complex patterns just like a logjam in a large river.

And finally, here's my pond at flood stage. The winter had been so mild up until a couple of weeks ago, that there were still green lily pads. But now the pond has been quite frozen, and these reminders of warmer times have turned black and disappeared beneath the surface. Another "leaf jam" is visible in the lower right where the overflow pipe protrudes. I suppose I should get a rake and clear it, but I think the deeper water can only be good for the pond life in general, so I'll likely let it stay till it clears on its own.
I planned to post some photos from my opening reception, but when I looked for my camera this morning, it's nowhere to be found. That means I left it sitting on a pedestal at the gallery ( I hope) and I have to wait until one o'clock to call. Keeping fingers crossed, I'm off to make some brunch.

A Big Birdie told me: every Dog has his day...

Recently I made a trade with an amazing expert gardener and budding artist (pun intended). If you've not visited GetSoiled, I urge you to go on over and pay a visit. There you will find some of the most luscious photographs on the web - but that's not all. There's advice and information on food and nutrition, plant science and healthy meals, all offered with keen wit, humor, and a dash of panache.

Whenever I "Get Soiled," I am further convinced that when people are creative in one area, that creativity spills out into another, and another and another. There's photography, mosaic work, the building of raised beds and wonderful paintings!! I was lucky enough to barter one of my landscapes for this fabulous Birdie and I smile every time I see her (I decided it's a her).

And now for a happy ending...

When Bad Dog showed up, I made posters to distribute to the coon hunter's headquarters: the local feed store.

And today - hooray!! - one of my neighbors spotted the pic and called to claim him!! Seems he's been missing for two weeks, ever since the last cattle round up. Yep. Apparently BD was a failure at coon hunting (good boy!!) but was a natural born herder. Perhaps that explains what he was trying to do with my horses...

I kinda gave the guy a hard time, as the dog didn't get that thin in the five days before he showed up here. My hope is that he'll worm him - and increase his rations. And yes, he's earned a new moniker for not being so insipid as to chase after raccoons. He shall now be Good Dog as far as I'm concerned. That's him waving farewell with his ears and tail!!

My kitties are relieved...

No good deed...

...goes unpunished.

Okay - so Wednesday has never been my best day. All kinds of rotten things seem to happen on "hump" day. (I think of Wednesdays as humpff days.)

It was bad enough that I had an appointment for a checkup at 8:15 am. I figured I'd be out of there by, say, 9:00 or 9:15 and have plenty of time for the drive up to Tallulah Falls for my demo day at the Center. But as I was still sitting in the very chilly waiting area at 8:55 am, I called to get someone else to go and open up for me.

I finally get out of there at about 10:00 and head for the Toccoa post office to pick up a package that has been waiting there for me since Saturday. That accomplished, I head up the mountain, figuring to stop for gas at a station near the top of the climb. As I turn into the station, my van stalls. This is not good. I let it glide to a stop and try to start it, but it it immediately dies again. Now I freak. A million half-formed thoughts and solutions race through my head, each shorting out when they run up against the tiny balance in my checking account. No money for towing, no money for repairs, no way to get the damn thing home without busting me completely.

After about ten minutes of stewing, I decide I must get it home somehow. I turn the key, stomp on the gas, and it roars to life. I put some gas in, call my friend Carol, and start for home advising Carol of my progress in case I get stranded. It stalls once more but restarts and I make it!! The dogs greet me - my three sitting for their pats - and Bad Dog by jumping on me with muddy paws. I'm all (well, reasonably) relieved and happy. I call my mechanic, and the Center, and cancel all my Wednesday and Thursday obligations.

I have to borrow some cat food from close neighbor and friend Carol, as I was afraid to stop on the way home. She comes right over and then leaves with Bad Dog following along. Ten minutes later she's on the phone to me. Bad Dog has clambered under her house and somehow managed to break or knock loose a pipe. Water - HOT water - is streaming and spraying everywhere, and Bad Dog won't come out from under there. As her water comes from my well, this is another thing that is not good. I tell her to turn off the water, and I put on boots and sweats and fetch the pvc pipe repair kit.

Sure enough, there is steaming water flowing out of a disconnected pipe joint. We turn off the hot water heater and drain it completely, make the repair, and get Bad Dog out from the scene of the crime. We replace the barrier to the crawl space that had been removed by Carol's son-in-law when he came to do a pipe repair!

So who's to blame? Me for letting the dog stay? Carol for being followed home? Bad Dog for being a dog? The son-in-law who didn't put the barrier back?

Nope.

It's just a Wednesday thing. Luckily, it comes only once a week.

Is this your hound dog?

'Cause it's not mine...

Once again, a critter has wandered upon my back 40. I came home quite late last Friday, tired and chilled, and just wanting to chill out. I climbed out of the van and right away I noticed my two Pyrs cause they show up even when it's really dark with the security light shining off their white coats. It's harder to see Freda, but I'm used to her being right smack in front of me waiting for her pat-on-the-head greeting. Well, that night, I kept glimpsing Freda over here - and then over there, and then back over here. I could see her long ears flapping about and I wondered how she moved so fast. Then I opened the rear door and ka-whomp - a dog jumped right in, ran right over my groceries and paintings - and plopped down in the driver's seat! So that's it - four ears flapping in the night...

You guessed it. Not Freda - but some free-loader.

So here he is. Sad, skinny, and sans the giant chain that someone was using as a "collar". He looks like an old dog, but he's not. He's just got that Bloodhound droopy look. And he's definitely got that stinky dog smell.

So of course I fed him and made up a bed in the shop for him - and wondered why he was still here the next morning.

Lots of my neighbors are "coon" hunters, a despicable activity carried out under cover of darkness with big guns, dogs and flashlights. Why anyone thinks this is sporting defies not only logic but humanity. So I'm not about to go ask any of them if they're missing one of their black'n'tans. I tried out a few dog-sounding monikers on him, but he only seems to react to "Bad Boy" and "No". (I found this out when he tried chasing any of the kitties who offered to run.)

He tried to protect me from the horses, too, but after two days he's given up on that. I figure he needs about fifteen pounds of muscle to look good. I really can't afford another large dog, so if you're a doggy lover in need of a real pal, here he is! He wants to ride in the car, so someone must have given him rides. And he always tries to come in the house, so someone must have let him in. sigh... Poor boy...

The Pyrs don't mind him - except when he tried to eat their food, but a truce has been declared during which they pretend he doesn't exist. The cats are wary - and Freda wants to play. But "Bad Dog" only wants to bay at unknown things out in the pastures. Better not be my any of my kitties...

And Elvis? Elvis can't wait to shred that doggie's nose.

Who lives here? And here? And here?

Ever since I was a child, I've been drawn to places that appear marginally habitable... This fascination includes not only old houses and outbuildings, but spaces and openings in stone, earth and trees. I find myself peering into these spaces, and wondering who lives there?

Perhaps it could be me?

Perhaps it is the desire to escape - to go and live among the wild things where the only rules and constraints are those of the natural world. If the worry of survival was simplified down to the basics of food, shelter and water, would stresses be lessened? Perhaps it's the need to "make over" a space to suit my particular comfort level. Or perhaps it's just the fantasy of becoming someone or something else - trying on another existence...

I can see myself much as Alice In Wonderland - shrinking down and down, smaller and smaller until I might fit inside the little doorways, the small openings, the tiny thresholds - of mice and moles. My tiny abode could be filled with the fragrance of wintermint or wild roses or sweet clover and dishes of acorn and hickory nut shells would serve up fresh berries.

I'd make garments from the petals of Rose of Sharon, the leaves of sumac and gardenia, and sleep on a bed of the softest fern fronds. I'd float down the creek in a pecan husk canoe, and walk out on the water lily leaves to bath in the "cup" of a lily's bloom.

In summer I'd build a treehouse out of Sycamore bark and camp high in the sky in my private arboretum.

I'd catch a night ride on a flying squirrel or hop a treefrog - and I'd sleep the sleep of the just, the innocent, and the contented - waking with the warmth of the sun...

... sigh

... and now for a walk - and then on to the business of this other life.

Wild themes, continued...

Bogo posed for flight. Does she know that white horses are sacred?

I know, I know - this was last weeks theme... but wild horses do fly. If you've ever been astride a horse soaring over jumps and streams and galloping over the earth, you know what it is to fly.

Ever since I heard his album "Graffiti Man", I've been a fan of John Trudell - and an admirer of his activist work. This video, with the beautiful voice of Anne Humphreys singing, is a favorite of mine. The flight of insects, the flight of birds, the flight for survival of wild things , the flight of Native Americans to avoid extermination. When fight is certain death, only flight remains.

Who's all powerful?

I saw this over at The Clever Pup, which I came to via Polly Jackson's new website - and I wanted to pass it on. Think about it. When you go to build a home or studio or whatever, who determines what materials you can buy and who does the wiring, plumbing, etc.? If it doesn't meet insurance standards, then you'll get no bank financing. If you want to drive, you gotta have insurance. Want to own a home? Mortgage insurance. How about medical malpractice insurance and double indemnity insurance and flood insurance and dental insurance, and business insurance - and bonding and floater policies for craft and art festivals?

So tell me. Who's really responsible for the high cost of everything? Who's pockets are full?

Protect Insurance Companies PSA from Will Ferrell

Wild Things... Theme Thursday

When despair for the world grows in me... I go and lie down where the wood drake rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds. I come into the peace of wild things who do not tax their lives with forethought or grief. I come into the presence of still water. And I feel above me the day-blind stars waiting with their light. For a time, I rest in the grace of world and am free.

- Wendell Berry

I wish I were with some of the wild people that run in the woods, and know nothing about accomplishments. - Joanna Baillie

It seems no matter how we hack away and groom and "landscape" our surroundings, nature will persevere the moment our eyes and energies turn away. The spirit of the wild is stronger than civilized humankind.

Even goldfish born and raised in the tiny tanks of a Wal-Mart know how to be wild when given over to the possibilities of freedom in the natural world.

Art may imitate wild nature; less often does it dare to place itself in the midst of it, and when it does, it may come out second best - John Hart

They could just take you up yonder, honey, you're already wild and blue...
- John Anderson

And some only seem to be tamed. If you catch them unawares - wildness shines from their eyes, and shows in their actions...

Wild skies, wild animals, wild woods, wild horses - the spirit of the wild, wild at heart.

Susan Boyle singing The Rolling Stones Wild Horses