GETTING A GRIP ON THE WEATHER.

In April, we had two mega storms. There is a joke going around the neighborhood. “What’s the weather report today? Answer: Partly cloudy and 50 degrees, but call back in ten minutes and it will be different.”  Yeah!

This hailstorm came on so strong and so fast and unexpected it was like an attack. Moth ball sized hailstones sounded like explosions on the roof and deck.

You can see them bouncing in the air. They bounced up onto the bench. From eight feet under a covered part of the deck, they hit my screen door. The roadway a fairy tale, pure white in less than 10 minutes.

The aftermath, a blanket of green leaves pounded off the trees.

My front sidewalk, even with  the partial shelter of the house, covered. My driveway and the street the same.

When it dried out enough, I swept just in front of my doorway and to the steps. I couldn’t believe the pile of leaves I had to compost. The previous week, we had a torrential downpour of rain that lasted two days and half of another.

Now I’m dealing with oversized grass. I’ve plowed through it to get to my empty chicken coop. I hoped to find the hose buried in the grass so I can put water out for the wild birds. Their receptacles are empty.

I had to stomp a new path to the coop.

Several grass plants are taller than me and my fence. I’ve lived here for 38 years and I’ve never seen anything like it. The high country has seen 91 inches of rain this year,  a new record. And there are people who don’t believe the climate is changing from the misadventure of humans and our polluting devices? We all have to adjust. It is folly to ignore it.

We can all do our little part by supporting harmless power initiatives and reducing our own use of carbon fuels whenever possible. It takes global action, all world populations to cooperate to blunt this robbery of the norm.

More on that subject later. I’ve gotta go pull some giant weeds.

 

GIFTS TO TREASURE.

Two nights ago, I awoke to a star filled sky, the milky way clearly in view with a small moon and the fresh night air. I walked out on my deck and drank it in. Then I saw a shooting star and thought about a star dying and remembered that a friend gave me a packet of star dust. And, I treasure that gift that he worked so hard to extract from a fallen star. I began to think of gifts I treasure.

Friendships and family are always high on my list, and friends are a gift to be sure.

Imagine having your family members sitting on your table, each and every one a  gourd. It gives me joy every time I look at them.  They were painted by my daughter-in-law Laurie.

My friend Kendra came Sunday and brought a quilt of her’s that I admired. I quilted with her for the year it took her to make it and asked her for the pattern, called jewel box. She couldn’t find the pattern so we plotted the pattern from her quilt, measuring and gageing the somewhat complicated construction to produce strings of “jeweled” squares on point. I treasure time spent with her and it pleases me that little scraps of rescued material can turn into make something bigger and beautiful, and useful, too.

Another gift I treasure is this crystal bottle with a silver lid filled with the sand, given to me by my neighbor Jan Stewart,  upon my husband’s death. An ode to time and assurance that I would find myself and be grounded again some day without him.

There are other gifts, polished glass my grandsons brought to me from glass beach.  A batik stamp my daughter brought me from another part of the world. I treasure her letters and writings from Egypt. Greeting cards from both my son’s and things they made for me over the years. A kaleidoscope necklace from my oldest daughter but more than that, her unique ability in rescuing others, people and animals.

I spent two days weeding in the yard to the sound of chirping birds, the smell’s emanating from the soil and the sun beating down on my head. Heaven.

It kind of amazes me when I think about the things I treasure. Most of them have no great value. See what a few moments in starlight  can trigger? The poets call it magic. But, I can hear “corny” emanating from my machine.

 

DERELICT CARS

In Murphys there is an artist who paints old derelict cars. His paintings don’t look anything like these, though. I liked the paintings and regret not buying one of them when I could afford them. Now, they are out of my price range. When we travel about, I tend to photograph these old, forgotten relics of the past and wonder about them.

This old truck is located  in Washington, State. The owner has put new wood on the bed and roof of the cab. It looks like he is going to restore it. I hope so. Maybe Jim and I can go by and check on it this coming summer since we will trip about Washington in 2011.

This poor pick-up sits next to an auto repair place. Not good advertising unless you like growing weeds. It makes a perfect nest for field mice, but the door standing there suggests someone was planning to put it back together, maybe, someday. Sad.

This custom tow truck looks like something right out of the Grapes Of Wrath. We couldn’t find anyone to answer the question, is it under restoration? Does it run?  It seemed to beg to get back on the road and thrill the genuine seeker of authentic old vehicles. The tires looked worthy, but, a few weeds indicate it hasn’t been driven recently.

Again, the weeds tell the tail. The tires on this relic are sunburned and peeling. Its says, “no hope!”
But the pick-up below is drivable. It looks dusty and unused, but someone has made it a point to garage it and take care of it. I hope the tow truck ends up with a similar fate. It was my favorite.