In the Cool, Cool, Cool of the Afternoon

Rosie and Charlie......Sigh.............

Having long ago disparaged of television, Eeyore and I get news from the Internet and entertainment via Netflix, and the occasional local movie rental.

Now that summer is upon us, we work outside in the morning and meet over lunch to spend the hot part of the day in the cool house watching whatever has appeared in the mailbox from Netflix. We watch quite a few British movies and TV shows, like Judi Dench's As Time Goes By. Lately we've become hooked on The Inspector Lindley Mysteries and John Thaw's Kavanah QC.

Sometimes nothing arrives in the mail, usually due to our forgetting to mail watched materials back in a timely fashion, and we are forced to turn to whatever we're reading at the moment or watch some old favorite.

Yesterday afternoon we watched The African Queen for the umteenth time. Although we know this movie by heart, we held hands, exchanged, "oh here it comes" glances, and laughed out loud. To our minds, the performances of Katherine Hepburn and Humphrey Bogart are perfect. (As for the Academy, he got Best Actor).

I feel lucky to have such a like-minded (well most of the time anyway) mate to share in such simple pleasures as enjoying a classic movie.

Yesterday, it dawned on us that we had never read C. S. Forester's book, The African Queen so it went on hold at the library.

I'll leave you with one of E's butterfly pictures. Can anyone identify this little brown guy with all the big fake-you-out eyes on his wings? Maybe one of the Lady butterflies? Well, I don't think it really is a Lady....

Visiting Lake Powell

Since I've been spending a lot of time reading one book after another as well as listening to others on CD, (to be fair, I do this listening as I go about those boring and mundane tasks necessitated by everyday life ) I thought I'd share some photos from my son's family fishing trip on Lake Powell.

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!

A dainty touch, that Kleenex in the fish mouth.

A nice catch of striped bass that was, I'm told, very tasty when

wrapped in bacon and cooked over the campfire.

Lake Powell is as vast and wonderful as the rugged, red rocked landscape that surrounds it, but some people still mourn the lost world that has lain, for nearly half a century, hidden beneath Powell's cool green water. Now that drought has robbed the Colorado River and it's tributaries of rain and snow melt, canyons and caves are re-emerging for exploration and admiration. National Geographic has an article and some great pictures in the April 2006 issue.

This picture in Reflection Canyon in Utah, was taken after the lake dropped more than 100 feet. It's available as wallpaper from National Geographic so I felt comfortable uploading it.

Water has always been a precious commodity here in the West. As the Geographic points out, much of the water trapped by the Glen Canyon Dam goes to keep our desert cities green.

In Which solb Has the Javelina Blues

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.

I'm just as disgusted as this guy looks, and I know just how he feels!

You're going along as usual, happily getting on with the daily routine when something annoying happens! For this horned lizard, it was Eeyore spotting him in the meadow and bringing him up to visit me. We pondered on taking him to a remote spot where he'd be safer from cats and other domestic predators, but in the end decided he's survived on, or in the neighborhood of, the one acre wood since he was approximately the size of a dime so E. released him back into the meadow.
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

Happily his problem's solved. He's hunting ants in Eeyore's tiny meadow, a lovely tangle of domestic and wild flowers. Here, little Roo standing in the meadow makes me think of an illustration for a Laura Ingalls Wilder book.
A bit faded, but still, I do love this picture.

As for my problem....... who knows what the 'morrow will bring...........

Some Blustery Days

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?

The Wind

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

In Which Owl has a Birthday

My Mom, the Wise Old Owl of our family celebrated her 94th birthday with a birthday picnic at Goldwater Lake on Sunday.

When Owl decided on the day for her celebration, she (with my help) picked May 27th because it seemed to be a day when most could attend. Rather late in the game, we became aware that it was the Memorial Day weekend. We had already changed the date once, so we decided to persevere. Now, I know that some guests missed the event because the parking lot was full. I do apologize for our poor planning and thank them for their attempts to attend. There were also some family members who were unable to make it because they are uncomfortable driving in the heavy holiday traffic. We are the same way! What were we thinking? Not thinking, at all, I'm afraid. We missed you all!

Here's the way the day went...........

Kanga, Piglet and I arrived early to decorate and organize the Ramada.

Not an easy task!

But Piglet got the job done.

Mu decorated the decorations......And we were ready to party!

There were old friends...............

And New.....

The young..........

And the more mature.........

Outside, there was volleyball and a game of Horseshoes..........

There was a homemade autograph book...........

Some serious conversation.........

And some silliness.........

There was too much food and a chocolate cake,

but the highlight of the desert table was....

Shoo Fly Pie and...........

Apple Pan Dowdy, homemade by Owl herself!

Piglet found the old Dinah Shore song and downloaded it to a CD.

Shoo Fly Pie and Apple Pan Dowdy,

Makes your eyes light up and your tummy say howdy.

Shoo fly Pie and Apple Pan Dowdy,

I'll never get enough of that wonderful stuff!

It was a fine day, and for those who missed it, not to worry, because it was just a warm up for Owl's 95th Birthday Celebration.

See you there!

Identity Crisis

Although I had been commenting on other blogs using the name linda g, I had been intending to use a different name when I began ruminating about doing this blog. My family and I discussed it, albeit casually while engaged in other pursuits, and each person had an identity in mind. I, of course would be Pooh. I am shaped like Pooh, share a number of other character traits with Pooh, and most importantly, it is MY blog, and as everybody knows, Pooh is the MOST IMPORTANT ONE. Somehow, overcome by confusion as I rather thoughtlessly launched into cyberspace, I forgot that intent

I was forced to give proper consideration to all our identities when, anxious for feedback on the few posts I have done, I approached some family members for their opinions.

"You said I could be Roo", complained my youngest Granddaughter. "You called me Vee."

"She hasn't mentioned me at all, and Piglet is a very important character," said the oldest of this trio of girls, offering a genuinely sweet smile in forgiveness.

"I'm going to be Mu," remarked the third who has an independent nature. "Mu belongs to the One Acre Wood, not the Hundred Acre Wood.

A long pause ensued as the rest of us reflected on this stunning announcement.

Hmmmmmmmm, the sheer creativity and originality of this idea was just so........... so.......well.......creative and original.

"Well," I said a little wistfully as I would have liked to be the original and creative one, I will give you all those names in the blog. Now, I need to call myself something Pooish, but not Pooh.

"I'm glad you're doing that," offered my daughter who, as the kindest, calmest, most nurturing person in our family deserves the title of Kanga. "I have felt that, as a couple, Eeyore and linda g do seem to be lacking something. "What will it be?"

"I was thinking of sheoflittlebrain," I said.

"Perfect," they all cried at once.

"You don't think it too demeaning or self-effacing?" I asked a bit anxiously.

"Not at all," said Kanga staunchly. "It suits you to a T."

'I mean, you'll all still respect me won't you?"

Fondley they pronounced, "Silly old Grandma!"

And so it has come to pass.

A Day in the Real Woods

Last week our son called to say that he was taking his family camping near Flagstaff. They were on their way, but why didn't Eeyore and I drive up for the day on Saturday or Sunday?
So we did. On Sunday we all connected on a shady Forest road.
The kids were excited about a nifty spot they had discovered, and wasted no time mounting their various machines to lead us there.


We jolted along a tiny, washed out, rocky road that ended at a wide meadow dotted with lovely, little, ground hugging flowers. I have no idea what these charmers are. Maybe someone else knows?

That little donut tastes much better than the dust Vee's been eating!

On one side of the meadow, sheltered by a kind of pale, feathery Juniper is the ruin of a log cabin. On the other, there is a cement tank with two vertical pipes in the bottom that look as though they may have brought water into the tank from the ground. Perhaps a spring flowed there at one time.

There is some fancy tile work around the top edges of the tank. Put there in the sixties maybe, when quite a number of folks were moving into old cabins throughout the National Forests.

Sadly, the Forest Service initiated a policy of demolishing all the old deserted buildings and cabins to discourage prospective occupants. Many of the old cabins standing in the Bradshaws were fairly solid and held wood stoves and bits of old furniture. I thought of them as little pieces of history and hated to see them go.

Where did that lizard go?????????

Here's one having a sunbath on the edge of the pool.

There were a number of dirt stock tanks in this area including one on the fringe of this meadow.

All had water in them, and in the mud at the edge of this one were many tracks. Along with elk, deer, rabbit and bird tracks we saw turkey and some BIG cat tracks.

It was a lovely day.............