Guess the Mystery Bird, Sandpiles are Awesome, Jr. D gets Aggressive, Bingo is Bored, and the Hummingbirds are Hyper.

Welcome to the mixed salad of my bloggy pictorial for this week. A little of this, a little of that, for a taste of everything light and mostly fresh.

First I have a little soft calling bird. It's no mystery for me but a challenge for some of you birdy folks out there. This is the female of the species and more subtly colored in comparison to the gaudy males. Or rather brilliantly colored males . . . I predict Joan should know this lady without pause. For the rest of you just look to the end of the post for the answer.


I asked Mike to bring home some sand for our "sand pile" and we got the sand mountain which is only to be expected. This is basically 25 tons of sand, an end dump full, which Daddy Mike brought home for the kids.


The kids really don't like sand very much. They hardly play in it at all . . .


And they never get sand all over their clothes and in their socks and they never bring in shoe loads of sand in the house and never make me yell and scream about their mess. Nope. That never happens.


Wyatt says, "Mom, how could I possibly bring sand in the house? I'm not wearing any shoes or socks. Duh!"

Every child should have a sand pile, no mater how small. Just some little plot of earth covered with sand where they can dig with shovels, wiggle their toes, and get grits under their finger nails.

Now on to "The Chickens." I'm not showing the ladies. They are up to their usual behavior of pecking each other. I've given up on beautiful chickens. BUT Jr. D is taking after his old man and is constantly jumping the fencing around the coop. He likes to perch dominantly on the gate and scream at us in the morning. He's a real charmer.

Additionally, he is beginning to show some aggressive tenancies which are not unlike his father. The added bonus is that he is bigger than his dad. I can't wait to see how his spurs grow in. Maybe he will be meaner than pop. We can only hope.


Smaller more polite hummingbirds have been frequenting our Mexican sage and dominating the mulberry tree next to my house. These little gems flash their colors with the same territorial aggression that the rooster shows, but he's just so small he can't do the same kind of damage. And he knows it. So he keeps his distance from us humans.

But I still captured his attitude and lovely colors.

Bingo the Mighty Adventurer has been on the prowl, meandering across the property in search of something to do. He's been on the job. He knows he has an obligation to provide me with optimal photographic opportunities. He knows I need material for future Bingo books. He knows he can't survive on just rodent meat alone.


But even with his jaded, movie star, super model attitude, he will obligingly and patiently let me take his picture. For the one millionth time . . .


Are those water droplets on Bingo's tongue? Or is it spray? Or just glistening? I could not figure out what that shine was... Even zoomed.

And lastly, the horses have not been forgotten or ignored. They've been doing their jobs. They look nice standing in their fields, they roll in their own manure, they eat lots of hay. It's a rough life.

Their paycheck comes from their real job which I can attest amounts to approximately 2 hrs per week. They seem happy to comply (well for the most part) with being ridden only twice a week. I think they have a pretty good gig.


Once again I am at the tail end of my post with little substantial depth of material to present. But I'm here, and have documented a fragment of our existence on the planet.

p.s. The mystery bird is a female western bluebird.

The End.

Where the Heck Have I Been? I Really Don't Know Any More . . .

October? What happened to October? I can not explain October.

A thick gray fog has clouded over my brain and there is a vague memory of a pink taffeta-adorned ballerina superhero and a brown duster-cowboy hat wearing Wyatt Earp. We traipsed through a nearby neighborhood since no one trick-or-treats on our street (It's just not possible).

I could not believe my ears when I heard the complaint, "My bucket is too heavy!" after 45 minutes, thus I know it was a dream. So much for Halloween. And October. . .

After clearing my head I thought about doing some photography to align my brain cells to their proper orientation. They needed straightening and organization. Maybe the linear configuration of the vineyards would do the trick. Their soft lines with muted colors contrasting with the soldier-like presentation was calling me to attention.


Ella and I made a morning visit to the vineyards across the street as the sun lazily stretched upward through the weak marine layer that covered our valley. The dramatic changes in the vineyard colors were lovely enough that a three-year old was in awe of the botanical presentation, seemingly wrapped just for us.

Crisp golds and burning purples chased the dangling vines, warning of the impending leaf loss and winter. Demonstrating survival strategies at their finest, deciduous plants know it is time to go bald for the winter.


The bald hill in the background called Lion's Peak provided a constant silhouette which captured my attention. It was a game for me to see how many angles I could find of this local landmark while featuring the changing of the vines. (I've not hiked all the way to the top of Lion's Peak and it's on my short list to conquer.)

Then there were grapes! A tremendous amount all still on the vine! Why?

Shouldn't they all have been picked by now?? I guess these were left for the birds? I thought about all the water used to make grape vines grow and the amount of mature grapes left on the vines and was puzzled. I guess I should have found some staff at the winery to answer my queries.

Ella asked, "Can I try one?"

I replied, "Yep. Go ahead and have a grape."

"Why aren't they big grapes, Mom?" The little thoughtful questioner asked.
"Well, these are wine grapes, Ella. Table grapes are big," I simply explained.

Then Lion's Peak roared softly again. It had to be pictured once more with a foreground of organized vineyard. The steeply sloping hills surrounding this winery were sparred from deforestation. The oak woodlands are all protected as wildlife habitat within a conservation easement. That's a good thing.


My attempt to capture the arching rolls over the low hills were not entirely fruitful. Maybe the hills were not dramatic enough to get the "look" I was trying to "picture."


Taking pictures was a fine excuse to stand on the roof of my truck and leave muddy foot prints up there for the rain to wash away. It was an excuse for my side kick to play in the truck bed and ask any and all questions without interruption. Best of all it was a reason to meander through the vine rows with my not so baby-girl, lady-girl, daughter-girl on a quiet Thursday morning. We were walking along slowly, my big Mommy hand holding a littler Ella hand, strolling through the vines. I can remember my leather clogs sucking in droplets of water and her shiny black patent boots collecting dew and shedding it off. The sound of a peregrine falcon screeching . . .

All this before the crush of the real day was a great comfort. To spend just a few quite minutes with a little girl who is growing so quickly . . .

Moments. Gather them one at a time.

Been Doing Research... Lost in Antiquity

I've been kind of obsessed lately doing research on houses like this...

The thought of totally replacing our little hovel of a shack is fabulous. (We have lived in an 800 square foot house for seven years now.) I've been combing the internet and getting all the information I can find on Craftsman style architecture. I even got one of Gustav Stickley's books to find prospective floor plans. Ha! I laugh out loud since they are not available in this world any longer. I guess I will be enlarging his four by five inch drawings. Yeah, that ought to work...

We are setting a goal of next summer for attaining this monumental feat. I just want to get up to the 1000 square foot range in house size. (The County we live in restricts the size of secondary dwellings on our property.) Thus, I will settle for the 200 square foot upgrade in the new house.

But with a certain style.

A style of simplicity and function beyond all else.

And well, of course, beauty. And yes beauty is always in the eye of the beholder.

This original Craftsman (circa 1909) pictured above is 1000 square feet - on a gnats ass!

And we plan on including a 200-300 square foot garage that can be converted to a play room for the kids. You see we can have any sized garage we want by County rules. Like that makes any sense at all.

So you see I have been away from the blog with good reason. For happy reasons!

My Son Is NOT Afraid of The Camera...

Imagine that.

My son, Wyatt, has no fear of the camera. Either operating it or being the subject of photographic composition.

I recently bought a small device to complement my camera arsenal called a remote shutter release. At a cost of 10 dollars I can not believe I did not buy it earlier and I can't see how I lived without it!

Basically, this little black remote control has one button and it makes the camera take pictures while you prance in front of the lens. Or rather pose in front of the lens.

Wyatt has become quite professional at setting up a tripod. And using the camera remote.

And taking photos of himself for his own personal entertainment.

This morning, while I did dishes and made breakfast Wyatt occupied himself with my photography equipment. And I truly was not paying the slightest attention to WHAT images he was capturing.

This afternoon, when I skimmed through the photos on the one inch view frame of the camera, I sputtered in delight.

He had obviously shot some real winners.

Here is the reason you should let your kids play with your camera . . .



I'm so proud of my little budding photographer. I think a career in entertainment may be in his future. Bwahhaahaaaa......

A Tragedy Has Befallen Our Compound. This Post is in Memory of an Intrepid Rooster...

I have sad news to report from the world of Our Simple Life.

Sometimes there are events that are beyond our control and we must forge on in the face of sadness and grief...

Last week we lost a valued member of our community.

While he only weighed 9 lbs and had a pea for a brain, but we loved him all the same.

Mr. D, the intrepid rooster, succumbed to an infection after being attacked by an unknown predator. He went quickly over the course of a week. I speculate that an aerial attacker such as a Cooper's hawk may have attacked him, but we shall never know.

Last Monday night Mike came to me and said, "Mr. D is not looking so good. Wyatt went in the chicken coop and told me he was going to pet Mr. D. I knew something was wrong . . ." You see, Mr. D was not a rooster who could be petted unless you wanted a spur in the arm or leg in exchange.

I thought quickly and replied, "I think must have got an infection from something that attacked him last week. It took off a hand full of feathers from his neck. Poor guy. I did not realize he was getting sick. He seemed fine during the week. I bet some bacteria settled into a few small scratches. And they did him in..."

And so it goes. Whatever wanted to kill and eat him earlier in the week, be it hawk or other predator, ended up still killing him in the end. We were all very sad with his passing.

In homage to Mr. D here are some photos of Mr. D doing what he did best.

Guarding the ladies. . .

Attacking Mike with reckless abandon.

Chasing Mike with the ferocity of a rottweiler.

Bingo loved Mr. D too. But for slightly different reasons. I am glad that Mr. D has been immortalized in the pages of Bingo's Big Adventure. His image and spirit will live on within the printed pages of the book.

Here the proud rooster was seen at his best!

Mr. D was a source of reliable entertainment for our kids and we adults alike. Many a blog post was written on behalf of his wonderful, yet ruthless behavior. Roosters can be bastards and Mr. D. was no exception to the rule.

I wrote seven posts on this blog over the past few years about Mr. D. Here are a few references to remind you how much we liked this rooster:

Why we wanted a rooster like Mr. D is HERE.
Mr. D shows off just how big his spurs are HERE.
Mr. D is my prop showing off a rooster inspired apron HERE.
Mr. D shows off his ninja style attacks HERE.
Mr. D in "When Roosters Attack" HERE.
Mr. D protects what is his HERE.
Why I loved Mr. D the most is HERE.

He was an awesome rooster and will be remembered with fondness.

Now for the 2nd half of the story. . .

Last Tuesday Ella began her first day of preschool and we drove off talking about how sad it was that Mr. D had died.

We entered the small building where Mrs. Cindy teaches her little class to cut and glue and color and were greeted with a warm welcome. We began talking and one of the first questions Mrs. Cindy asked was, "How is Mr. D?"

I explained, "Well, I've bad news. Mr. D. died last night. All the kids are pretty sad."

"Oh, that's awful," Mrs. Cindy responded, "But you know, I have his son out side."

My eyes brightened and I looked toward her chicken coop that I could not see through the preschool walls. Mrs. Cindy has a small coop on the north side of the school house. "Really? You hatched a rooster from those eggs we gave you? I can hardly believe it!"

I was thinking to my self "What luck! How fortuitous! Amazing! The son of Mr. D!"

Mrs. Cindy continued, "Yeah, he's starting to crow now too. I kind of need to find him a new home now since my neighbors complain about roosters."

"Oh we'll take him off you hands," I spoke with gratitude and then suggested, "Let's go check him out."

So we eagerly popped out to the chicken coop and low and behold there stood "Junior D." For that is what he had to be called. The posture and shape of Mr. D was incarnate in Junior D's body. It appears that the apple did not fall too far from the tree.

Junior has an orange colored body and is beginning to grow some dark colored tail feathers like his dad's. Making an educated guess based on body color, I think his mom is our Rhode Island red hen, thus the russet colored body feathers are explained.

Introducing . . . Junior D!

We brought him home today and put him in with the ladies. Then the boys, the human boys, had to pick him up because he must be immediately initiated into the hazing program that we have developed...


So with the departure of our beloved Mr. D we were consoled by the newly learned existence of his son, who we were so fortunate to be able to bring into our family.

Let's remember Mr. D with joy and welcome his long lost son with the same enthusiasm!

A Fish Out of Water

I am not one for reposting stuff from the news but this one I just had to share. This fish was allegedly hooked in a lake in France and then released by the angler. It took 10 minutes to reel this 30 lb mass of a fish to shore.... Hmmmm. Is it really a fish? I am not sure.

But seeing this giant "real life" carp (if it is not a fake) sent me immediately to a book I can almost recite verbatum. I have probably read A Fish Out of Water ONE MILLION TIMES. It has swum after me from my childhood into my adult life since I now read it to my children. Thus in celebration of this fish...

"I called Mr Carp.

"Please, please help me!" I said.

"I fed Otto too much."

"Oh, dear! said Mr. Carp."

"So you fed him too much!

I knew you would.

I always say 'don't

but you boys always do.

Yes, I will come." - Helen Palmer, A Fish Out of Water.

This book is also illustrated by P.D. Eastman who's drawings most of us will recognize in an instant.

Sorry folks, I just could not help myself. Now I know where the concept for this book really came from. If you have not got it for your kids, go get it!

PS. I just can not believe how BLEEPING big that fish is!

No Your Shoes are Still on Wrong, Yes I Can See You Hiding There and other Random Inert Observations

Let's start off with my daughter Ella today. She has been the source of much happiness in my life with her sense of humor, her quick wit and kind and loving ways. She really is an angel in disguise as a child.

However, if I can accurately see into the future there could be clouds of dissent brewing sometime in her teen years. Here's her best, "I'm an insolent 16 year old expression." She's just practicing for later.


But back to her good qualities... The other day Ella put on her shoes by herself. She is great about taking the initiative to care for her own human sphere. She shows a level of responsibility that is admirable for a 3.5 year old.

I looked down at Ella's feet and mentioned, "Hey Belle, your shoes are on backward."

Ella quickly says, "No Mom, Look!" And as I glanced up from my own feet to look at hers, I observed she had criss-crossed her legs at the knee. Then she said, "They are on the right way now! See!"

OK Smartie, now change your shoes please...

Then later I was looking for her, calling for her and wandering around the house only to find this amazing costume. . .

Clever, but I still can see your bare feet little lady.

I love her because she always makes me smile and I can never stay upset with her for more than a few moments. I wish I could absorb some of her good qualities and make them mine. I could learn a lot from her.


Moving on to Wyatt and Ella. Thank goodness these two can play together and have fun. Even when a black cat crosses their path.

Their joy is infectious.

Wyatt started 1st grade and has been a discombobulated ball of 6 year old boy lately. He flies off to school all day, comes home exhausted, cries at the drop of a rock, and crashes into bed promptly at 7. It's all in a days work for my little man.


While Wyatt is at school, Ella gets to help me with Bingo. She is the official cat chaser. Don't get the wrong idea about this. Bingo loves it and gets all dog-like crazy in the arena. He does his own share of chasing too.

Run Bingo, RUN!!!

I've had a preoccupation with photographing inert looking things lately. Things like wood and metal. And then those things which are really not inert like this lichen clinging to the fence on the back of our property. The back fence is truly in shambles, but it takes the best pictures.


My husband uses the term "inert" to describe some people. If a person neither irritates you or interests you he labels them "inert." It's like the person can't cause offense or inspire a strong likening.

I can't imagine what it is like to be an inert person. I've been known to cause a strong reaction from people in either the positive or negative direction. Generally, there is no two ways about it. What about you?

Well, I'm about all out of oomph tonight. It's been roasting in our part of CA. I'm cooked, I'm boiled, I'm fried, I'm roasted, I'm BBQ'ed, stick a fork in me I. AM. DONE!

And that's the end of my "tail."