Wednesday, June 27, 2007
Monday, June 18, 2007
I remember the controversy surrounding the Glen Canyon Dam Project in the fifties when the dam was begun. There was an outcry among ecologists and archaeologists who deplored the loss of plant and animal life as well as any ancient mysteries lying undiscovered in canyons soon to be inundated by hundreds of feet of water.
Nevertheless, the dam was built to bridge nearly one third of a mile, from rim to rim, of the Grand Canyon, and the waters in Lake Powell began to rise. Glen Canyon Dam History and Tours tells the story.
As a man made lake, 186 mile long Lake Powell is second only to Lake Meade in size and second to none in beauty. The kids let us know they'd be camping somewhere, "past Dangling Rope Marina," as there's no cell phone reception at the lake and off they went.
A hike up to Rainbow Bridge National Monument was on the agenda,
some wild rides,
swimming, and fishing.
Mu learned to fish about the time she learned to walk.
But, Piglet, having just caught her first, says ewwwww rather than cheese!
Sunday, June 10, 2007
Some days it is a bit difficult to maintain an optimistic attitude. This morning I went out to water only to find that those pesky Peccary had munched their way through my little garden. Again. And they did more damage than usual. My purple cone flower-gone. My budded out about to bloom Johnson''s Geranium-severely cropped, and horror of horrors, several bites were taken from my treasured Franz Schubert Phlox. A large branch was bitten off, and presumably consumed, from my early Girl tomato. It took a big,-really big-possibly the Goliath of all the javelinas to rear up, and plant his fat, cloven hoof in a half-whiskey barrel to desecrate that tomato plant. Apparently, to a peccary, deadly nightshade is a delicacy.
It seems that the horned lizards living in hot desert areas lay eggs in the sand. The sand remains warm enough to incubate the eggs in the lower climes, but the horned lizard in cooler climes gives live birth. I know our local horny toads (I know-I know, a misnomer as they are not toads, but when someone says horny toad to one of us local-yokels we know what they're talking about) give live birth and that they really can spray blood from the corners of their eyes when under extreme duress.
I found an article on horned lizards here. I think our local genus is Phrynosoma,hernandesi
A bit faded, but still, I do love this picture.
Thursday, June 7, 2007
Of late, I have begun to fear that I am lamentably lacking in original thought. While this is not unusual for one oflittlebrain , I have begun to wonder. "Is this all there is to me?" You know, sorta like that old Peggy Lee song?
A continuous stream of cliches, as well as quotations from songs, books, movies, and advertisements, plays as the background music for my daily life.
I'm like Mel Gibson in Conspiracy Theory. When he attempts to articulate his love for Julia Roberts he receives a pitying look. "Jerry," she says, " those are song lyrics."
"I know," he says miserably, "I know." It's all he can come up with at the moment.
So, of course, as a cold blustery wind swept in to batter the trees, ruffle the chicken feathers and drive the pot bellies into their house to cuddle up and wait it out, I was thinking in quotes. First I always think of my Grandmother who was herself quoting from some book she fancied and I never knew the name of. When ever the wind howled eerily about the eves of her old Nebraska farm house, she would pronounce in a fiercely theatrical way, "Listen to the wind Mrs. Cottle!"
Here I am, sixty-five years later still hearing her voice every time the wind wails about the house.
My friend Granny J of Walking Prescott and I have been talking about poetry lately and remembering bits and pieces of old poems. (Sometimes we need a little help from our friend Avus of Little Corner of the Earth to keep our history straight.) Here's the windy day poem that blows through my mind......... Do you remember it too?
I saw you toss the kites on high,
And blow the birds about the sky:
And all around I heard you pass,
Like ladies' skirts across the grass--
O wind a-blowing all day long,
O wind that sings so loud a song!
Robert Lewis Stevenson