Thinking Outside the Barn

In most businesses, the excitement is inside the store.  Not at the Barn Store.  Excitement is not in the air either.  It’s on the grounds.

People love to ride things, and watch people riding things.  Bring back the 50s where we all sat on a pony dressed in a cowboy outfits.  The pony walked around the yard – or it didn’t, and practically every child within 5 years of my age in either direction has that same picture of themselves and all their siblings.  Grandma knows!

Of course ponies aren’t the only things on farms that move.  In real life people want to move fast.  The faster the better, but on a vacation people throng to ride 2-5 miles an hour to watch as plants grow right before their very eyes.  At least for 5-10 minutes.  Then they are off and the next batch runs over to jump on the trailer.

The only one that might have wanted to go that couldn’t was the rooster.  I think he went away mad.

Everyone loves to eat.  At the petting zoo animals stationed in pens around the barns called out to young customers, “Bring me something green, my pretties.”  One of them even graced his benefactor with a grateful kiss. I was a split second too late with my trigger finger, but you get the idea.

Some of them shouted at their onlookers like vendors trying to attract customers.

Some of us egged them on.  BAAAAAAAA.

One little guy TRIED his best to be subtle, but maybe he was too young to understand the art.  The bull in a china shop technique seemed to come more naturally to him.

Most people read the sign, but this little one was SO cute.

He finally got tired of waiting and took matters into his own hands – against Leslie’s warning NOOOOOOOOOOO.  (which rhymes with moo)  I’d say that calves enter the rebellious stage EVEN earlier than humans.

“Should I eat these fingers?  Where’s the food, my pretty?  Maybe you’d just like to GO AWAY!”

Maybe Superman can figure out where to get some food.

ALMOST everyone loved the petting zoo.

“Ugh, I don’t really see the appeal to those ANIMALS.  Look at this body.  I’m too cute!  I work out!”

The rest of us were delighted at the petting zoo.  We heard about a New York City girl who was afraid of flying bears.  No one in our group even looked UP to make sure there were just birds up there.

During our whole stay we didn’t see any flying bears, only a few seals on the rocks.  And that’s a story for another day.

Lee Skywatcher

What fascinated me today was the sky.  On the way home from work in the west was a block of grisly gray from high in the sky to the ground.  On the east was a dust devil.  That just seemed wrong, but what was really wrong was that I didn’t have my camera.  So I got it out when I came home.

Fortunately for me, the sky stayed diverse long enough for me to get tired of taking pictures.

By the way you don’t want to plant eucalyptus trees too near your pool.  They don’t clean up after themselves.  I faced east as I took these first two pictures.  Watch when I turn about 135 degrees.

Gray adds depth and interest to the sky, maybe even to one’s life if you believe the philosophers. As a hair color, and according to my fashion expert and co-worker, Glenn,  gray should not be an option in my wardrobe either.   But it looks nice if the sky is wearing a little of it – in places.

What made this evening particularly interesting was the next turn.  Looking straight south you could almost imagine yourself in another world.

You should neither spit into the wind nor take pictures into the sun. But in the spirit of providing you all with an accurate recording today’s sky display, I did it anyway.   If you live in the midwest or east, these skyscapes may not seem spectacular to you.  But in this area if you have something other than dusky,cloudless,  lifeless blue, you grab your camera and point up.

Relaxing After Work

A technician told me the other day that he didn’t mind driving home 35 minutes from work.  When he had lived 2 minutes from work, he always took a drive out into the country to relax before he went home.    His story inspired me to take you on a drive with me as I relax on my way home from work.

You are seeing rural California at its best.  The temperature is a perfect 80 degrees.  The air smells fresh and clean.  You can open your car windows, forget about air conditioning, and let the wind mess up your hair because you are going home.

I stopped along the way to take these pictures, and walked out into the middle of the street.  I could take my time snapping pictures because there is only evidence of human habitation here – telephone poles, garbage can, and, of course, groves and groves of trees, not so many real humans.

The foremost crop in this part of Tulare County is citrus.  Oranges have just been picked for the most part, and although there are still a few in the trees, they are small.

Without irrigation, this area is very arid.  I took this picture on  May 22, 2012, and the hills are already brown, and there are not even any weeds growing along the side of the road.

This is one of my favorite turns in the road.  It changes season by season, but is always beautiful.  Dark clouds, sometimes a heavy downpour, come occasionally from December until maybe as late as April and create a dramatic skyscape for the snow-capped peaks.  In early spring the white peaks of the Sierra Nevada contrast with a bluer sky.  On a windless mid-summer day dusty air hides the mountains, and in the fall the few deciduous trees turn orange and yellow.

Coming from the Midwest, and later the Northwest I had to develop an appreciation for the color brown.  In the Central Valley of California water comes from wells, reservoirs, and we also import water from the north.  A few years ago many, many trees died because farmers couldn’t get enough water.  Now those groves have been replanted.

You can see the drip irrigation hose wrapped around the first tree and stretches to all the trees in the row.  Some types of groves are flood irrigated periodically instead, but this is the most common method of watering citrus trees that I have seen in this area.

I grew up in cities.  I love them, the activities, the lights, the people, but my technician friend was right.  When I lived there, my family and I always took drives into the country to relax before or after going home.  Now I relax by going home, but have to go to cities  so I don’t turn into a vegetable.  I am blessed to have both in my life.

Kalev

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People choose dogs based on their personality.  Those who choose small dogs love adventure and are confident.  Kalev is small and very confident, but how do dogs choose people?   When I met Kalev, she was about 6 months old.  She bounded across a rural highway, laid down at my feet, and said, “Take me home.”

I picked her up, carried her back across the highway to the yard watched a lady quickly retreat back into the house and shut the door.  I knocked on the door, dog in arm, and when she answered said, “You’d better keep your baby inside.”

“That’s not my dog.”  Slam.

Ok then… So puppy and I were off to look for her owner.  I knocked at every house on the block and then proceeded on my 3 mile walk, stopping periodically to ask if anyone recognized my new tag-along.  Meanwhile Puppy chased every car that slowed down.

I am addicted to my cell phone, and while I walked, I talked.  My friend Elane finally asked me who I kept talking to as we chatted.  I told her about my uninvited guest, and Elane asked, “What’s her name?”

“I don’t know, Elane, she’s not my dog.”

“Her name is Kalev.”  I spell it like I heard it.  I asked her to repeat it a few times.  “It means dog in Hebrew.”

Ok then.  Puppy had a name, but no home.  I walk almost daily, and that December day was no different in spite of the fact that as soon as I returned our family was headed south because my husband’s father had just passed away, and there were several services we would be attending that week-end.  When I arrived home with Kalev, my husband was not pleased.  I was already in love with Kalev, but he clearly was not.

I made him a deal.  I would fix up a place for her to get out of the cold, and get her some food, when we returned, if she was still there I would keep her.  He didn’t really agree, but I was already adopted.  I got in the car and headed for the store.  Behind me ran Kalev as fast as her puppy legs would carry her.  I stopped the car.  She jumped in, and we rode to the store together with her in her rightful place on my lap.  She seemed to know that the store had food, so she didn’t fuss when I got out.  Once we got back home, I set up a dog kennel with blankets, put out her food and some water, and we were ready to leave.

My husband made a fatal mistake.  “You’d better have Ron hold on to her as we take off or she will chase the car.”  I quickly took her to the neighbor and asked if he could hold the dog for a few minutes, and explained that we were on our way to the funeral and would be back on Sunday night.  I might have told him the story about how Kalev found me.

“Sure, I’ll watch your dog while you’re gone,”  he winked.  When we got home Sunday, Ron called and I went to pick up my new puppy.  Even though my husband did not allow animals in the house this was Kalev about a half hour after she arrived back home.

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The first night I kept her in the kennel in the spare room.  She slept quietly, and so did we.  The next day my husband thought we should get her a little bed to keep in our bedroom so she wouldn’t be lonely.  If you have ever had a dog, has that worked very well for you?

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You can see that the red doggie bed is at the foot of the bed.  Clearly Kalev and Manny preferred the head of the bed.  How does a dog tell the difference between the head and foot of the bed?

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One night Vince was in bed, and wanted to talk to Puppy Girl – she had a nick-name already.  She was not excited about sliding to the head of the bed, but she dealt with it.  That night he made another rule.   The new rule was that she could get out of the bed, but she had to stay at the foot of the bed.  But her bed had been drug to the head of the bed.  What was a puppy to do?

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She figured it out.  Then the rule was that she couldn’t get under the covers.

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Who do you think stuck to that rule?

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Kalev may be about 3 now.  Guess whose dog she is.

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Ok I still love her, too.