Spring and Writers' Retreat
Life continues to be exhausting and fraught, but there are lovely moments. Like my tiny patio garden. For the first time in the twenty-five years I've had this pine tree (many years in a pot) it is making pine cones! I think this is due to the true winter we had, complete with rain.
Everything else is wondrous in bloom. Ordinarily I can't stand pink, except in flowers.I love every shade in the rainbow in blooms.
Below my rose bush offered its first bloom of the season.
A week ago, I was able to get away for our second (hopefully annual) writers' retreat, hosted by rachelmanija. There were five of us all told, three of us driving from KA up to Mariposa, meeting the other two there.
On the way we stopped to admire patches of wildflowers. Here's Rachel with her wonderful rainbow hair in the "oil slick" style that reveals different brilliant colors with every move of her head:
Her parents very graciously let us take over their house for our retreat, which included turning over their garden to us, and having us take over feeding the cats and the chickens. Since there was an early morning feeding involved for both, and I was the only morning person in the group, I volunteered for these jobs--netting me the opportunity to be with creatures I ordinarily do not get to see. (Spouse being extremely allergic to cats. And keeping chickens in condominiums is not optimal)
In addition to a beautiful flower garden . . .
That is just a part of the garden. Anyway, there is also veggies of various types growing, so we were able to go out and pick our salads for every meal.
I also collected the eggs each day, after the afternoon feeding. I learned that these chickens don't lay at night, except occasionally. There'd be one egg, or none at the morning feeding. But that afternoon feeding would bring on the clusters.
What surprised me is that there would be these clusters, not one egg in each of the nest boxes. Since I am profoundly ignorant about chicken biology I don't know if one chicken lays a bunch of eggs, or they all hop up and reuse that one next box.
On the last day, I caught one chicken in the box. I remembered reading many kids' books in which people reached under hens to collect eggs, but this poor hen made the most pitiful noises when I came near her, so I backed off and let her get on with her work.
It was fun watching the chickens. They knew when I was coming, and I'd hear the tenor of their clucking change before they could possibly see me. The thing I enjoyed most was that they got themselves into their shed each night around sunset so they could be locked in until morning. (They have a very sturdy cage and run, but still a couple of them have been nailed by local predators). I'd peek in and there they'd be, clustered together in a group for the night, on their top shelf.
The seven hens have one very fine rooster who struts among them. When I let them out in the morning, he'd crow. That crowing can be heard for quite a distance.
Occasionally squadrons of hawks would fly overhead, but the chicken run has a sturdy ceiling.
They get plenty of fresh greens along with excellent feed, and you could taste it in those fresh eggs. I was able to bring some home with me. I've had two today. Yum!
As for the cats, well, I only got a couple photos. Mostly I was enjoying cat world, which overlies people world. Dog world I understand. It intersects with people world, though it's all about smells, the earthier the better. But people are part of their pack.
Cats . . . cats do not have packs. They have Missions. Which may or may not, usually not, include other cats. Unless it's a bonded pair. These cat missions can be completely puzzling. For instance at two a.m. I woke up startled one night when a cat suddenly decided it was necessary to rocket from the headboard on which she sat, behind my pillow, over the bed to land with a thump and clatter on the floor ("I meant to do that!"), scramble to her feet and shoot out the door. To . . .? It was completely silent in the house. Nothing was moving. Except, of course, other cats.
The house cats are supposed to have two separate foods, two cats getting special food for X condition, and two cats special food for Y condition. But I was instructed to put the bowls down in the laundry room and "the cats will inevitably switch bowls."
No kidding! Those cats would move back and forth, sampling from all the bowls, and then the biggest two would stalk Rachel's cats' food. One of Rachel's cats craved the wet food that the house cats get at 6:30 a.m. for First Breakfast. (Second Breakfast being 8:30) He snuck in among the house cats a couple of times to catch a nibble--though at home he apparently refuses to have anything to do with wet food. (Rachel's other cat, his sister and partner in crime would take a sniff and nope out fast.) So apparently there is this rule that whatever other cats have Tastes Better.
Then there were the missions.
What this cat expected to find in the hat, I do not know, but there was much determined rustling as he tried to get his body inside. Maybe he just wanted to be cat in hat.
His sister would suddenly decide that it was time for me to pet and love her. She dropped subtle hints by leaping up between me and my laptop. And as she determinedly tried to step on the keyboard, she also stuck her butt in my face to remind me that my attention was to be on the cat. And if I was suitably petting, she would strop her head on me, and purr. Good human, well trained.
The two are a bonded pair, so sweet together. Once I woke up thinking my dogs had somehow tesseracted to the house because I felt warm animal spines against a leg, which is a typical dog sleeping position. But when I checked, there were the two, pressed against my leg in curl cat position (as opposed to meatloaf position and flatcat position).
The downside was they were fascinated with the window closest to my head, which meant jumping over me, or on me, to get to the nightstand to look out said window in the night. And day. Knocking over the stuff I put on the nightstand to discourage them during the night As if! No other window would do. Had to be that one.
One time early on I got up and peered out, half-expecting to see a bobcat, or even a rat, but . . . nothing. They still Watched.
On the last day, I caught them looking intently out:
And so our wonderful journey came to an end, with all of us having gotten a ton of writing done. There was much sitting on various pieces of furniture and typing away, but also conversations and walks. Everybody pitched in so that food (lots and lots of delicious food!) happened.
It was so lovely. Now I'm home again, with all my stuff, and that's lovely, too. So grateful for a week of beauty, and not once was the news ever on: I never had to hear the T-word. What a blessing that was!
Everything else is wondrous in bloom. Ordinarily I can't stand pink, except in flowers.I love every shade in the rainbow in blooms.
Below my rose bush offered its first bloom of the season.
A week ago, I was able to get away for our second (hopefully annual) writers' retreat, hosted by rachelmanija. There were five of us all told, three of us driving from KA up to Mariposa, meeting the other two there.
On the way we stopped to admire patches of wildflowers. Here's Rachel with her wonderful rainbow hair in the "oil slick" style that reveals different brilliant colors with every move of her head:
Her parents very graciously let us take over their house for our retreat, which included turning over their garden to us, and having us take over feeding the cats and the chickens. Since there was an early morning feeding involved for both, and I was the only morning person in the group, I volunteered for these jobs--netting me the opportunity to be with creatures I ordinarily do not get to see. (Spouse being extremely allergic to cats. And keeping chickens in condominiums is not optimal)
In addition to a beautiful flower garden . . .
That is just a part of the garden. Anyway, there is also veggies of various types growing, so we were able to go out and pick our salads for every meal.
I also collected the eggs each day, after the afternoon feeding. I learned that these chickens don't lay at night, except occasionally. There'd be one egg, or none at the morning feeding. But that afternoon feeding would bring on the clusters.
What surprised me is that there would be these clusters, not one egg in each of the nest boxes. Since I am profoundly ignorant about chicken biology I don't know if one chicken lays a bunch of eggs, or they all hop up and reuse that one next box.
On the last day, I caught one chicken in the box. I remembered reading many kids' books in which people reached under hens to collect eggs, but this poor hen made the most pitiful noises when I came near her, so I backed off and let her get on with her work.
It was fun watching the chickens. They knew when I was coming, and I'd hear the tenor of their clucking change before they could possibly see me. The thing I enjoyed most was that they got themselves into their shed each night around sunset so they could be locked in until morning. (They have a very sturdy cage and run, but still a couple of them have been nailed by local predators). I'd peek in and there they'd be, clustered together in a group for the night, on their top shelf.
The seven hens have one very fine rooster who struts among them. When I let them out in the morning, he'd crow. That crowing can be heard for quite a distance.
Occasionally squadrons of hawks would fly overhead, but the chicken run has a sturdy ceiling.
They get plenty of fresh greens along with excellent feed, and you could taste it in those fresh eggs. I was able to bring some home with me. I've had two today. Yum!
As for the cats, well, I only got a couple photos. Mostly I was enjoying cat world, which overlies people world. Dog world I understand. It intersects with people world, though it's all about smells, the earthier the better. But people are part of their pack.
Cats . . . cats do not have packs. They have Missions. Which may or may not, usually not, include other cats. Unless it's a bonded pair. These cat missions can be completely puzzling. For instance at two a.m. I woke up startled one night when a cat suddenly decided it was necessary to rocket from the headboard on which she sat, behind my pillow, over the bed to land with a thump and clatter on the floor ("I meant to do that!"), scramble to her feet and shoot out the door. To . . .? It was completely silent in the house. Nothing was moving. Except, of course, other cats.
The house cats are supposed to have two separate foods, two cats getting special food for X condition, and two cats special food for Y condition. But I was instructed to put the bowls down in the laundry room and "the cats will inevitably switch bowls."
No kidding! Those cats would move back and forth, sampling from all the bowls, and then the biggest two would stalk Rachel's cats' food. One of Rachel's cats craved the wet food that the house cats get at 6:30 a.m. for First Breakfast. (Second Breakfast being 8:30) He snuck in among the house cats a couple of times to catch a nibble--though at home he apparently refuses to have anything to do with wet food. (Rachel's other cat, his sister and partner in crime would take a sniff and nope out fast.) So apparently there is this rule that whatever other cats have Tastes Better.
Then there were the missions.
What this cat expected to find in the hat, I do not know, but there was much determined rustling as he tried to get his body inside. Maybe he just wanted to be cat in hat.
His sister would suddenly decide that it was time for me to pet and love her. She dropped subtle hints by leaping up between me and my laptop. And as she determinedly tried to step on the keyboard, she also stuck her butt in my face to remind me that my attention was to be on the cat. And if I was suitably petting, she would strop her head on me, and purr. Good human, well trained.
The two are a bonded pair, so sweet together. Once I woke up thinking my dogs had somehow tesseracted to the house because I felt warm animal spines against a leg, which is a typical dog sleeping position. But when I checked, there were the two, pressed against my leg in curl cat position (as opposed to meatloaf position and flatcat position).
The downside was they were fascinated with the window closest to my head, which meant jumping over me, or on me, to get to the nightstand to look out said window in the night. And day. Knocking over the stuff I put on the nightstand to discourage them during the night As if! No other window would do. Had to be that one.
One time early on I got up and peered out, half-expecting to see a bobcat, or even a rat, but . . . nothing. They still Watched.
On the last day, I caught them looking intently out:
And so our wonderful journey came to an end, with all of us having gotten a ton of writing done. There was much sitting on various pieces of furniture and typing away, but also conversations and walks. Everybody pitched in so that food (lots and lots of delicious food!) happened.
It was so lovely. Now I'm home again, with all my stuff, and that's lovely, too. So grateful for a week of beauty, and not once was the news ever on: I never had to hear the T-word. What a blessing that was!