Free to a Good Home

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"Free to a good home" ... if I was a truly pragmatic soul, this would be an ad for myself rather than for the offspring which have been liberally falling out of almost every animal which the previous owners had left behind. As adorable as these plentiful little creatures are, I am somewhat overwhelmed by the activities it has involved.

And I just realized that I dieseled on well past a monthiversary of my last post. I should be doing some crow bar and hammer work and some framing work before the drywall guy shows up tomorrow but I wanted to let you know that I am still breathing.
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The Panda update: As you can see, the pups have grown enough to start wandering out of their original nest behind the skid steer. The look on Panda's face tells you that she is nearly as tired of being mauled by ten adorable little furballs as I am. This is the puppy stage that I have dreaded, the one where you cannot walk beyond the yard enclosure without the likelihood of drop-kicking or running over a zealous little fuzzball ... or four ... or ten.

The bad news is that W&G have not been proactive about dealing with their dog and her pups as originally promised. The good news is that I inadvertently swiped a copy of a regional newspaper from the zoning and planning guy at the county seat and later found a phone number for a dog rescue in it. The bad news is that the lady said the pups will need to stay with their mother for another two rambunctious weeks to learn "manners and discipline" from their mother. The good news is that she will take them all thereafter. The bad news is that they now respond to the sound of any critter feeding at all with earfuls of high-pitched yipping joy and a full tumbling assault in my direction. The good news is that keeping ahead of this fuzzy pack is becoming a regular source of speed training for me despite any bad knees.
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Thankfully, it's been a fairly quiet place since I arrived. I missed last year's stand-off between police and a guy who used to, most disturbingly, ride his bicycle around the area in the nude and eventually created a pillbox within his decrepit old trailer with concrete block, leaving only Medieval arrow slots in place of the original windows. W&G said that it was quite a show and a few friends joined them with lawn chairs and popcorn for the big smack-down show that day. This story pointedly reminded me of why we so enjoyed being five miles from the nearest neighbor out at the ranch.

The only run-in I have had so far was with a chubby gangbanger on foot who was far too nosy, glancing back over his shoulder as he passed and then flashing me those moronic, belligerent gang signs when he saw me watching back. He returned later that day with a full carload of his buddies, cruising at case-the-joints speed, all rubber-necking at every house. My new friends filled me in on many useful details about such vermin and were greatly concerned about my old habit of facing filth head-on. Not to worry though, I haven't seen this gangbanger crud since.
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And so it was unusual to have the quiet recently broken by a helicopter landing in a field not far from here. Brou was beside himself with excitement ... finally being able to alert me to genuine low incoming air traffic at our new pumpkin shell of a residence.
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Great amusement indeed for both of us as one red-suited occupant of the helicopter jumped into a Sheriff Department SUV and disappeared westwards down the dirt road to our north. Then, despite a loud explosion which may or may not have had anything to do with the helicopter landing, the activity dried up and scattered away piecemeal on the dry winds of the day.

It was the winds that day which sadly reminded me of Slim, our cowboy /grazing tenant at the ranch /fireman /EMT. He had told us a story of a rescue incident in the Colorado mountains which continues to haunt me. They had to call in a helicopter rescue for a badly injured logger. As the helicopter was about to touch down, it suddenly flipped sideways and fatally crashed into the mountain. More upsettingly, as the follow-up helicopter arrived, the crew flew over and saw the first wreck just before it also flipped and crashed. No chance, no survivors. Slim may be that classic tough cowboy who doesn't like to talk much about bad things but you could tell that those people who died that day while trying to help others would be riding not too far behind him, forever. I hear the low thump of helicopter blades quite differently now.
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The winds of Spring: Yes, the winds have been impressive for the last month but I've only had one sizable tree limb fall so far and it landed in a very benign place. I did have to correct some of W's ten penny nail work with screws when the homemade doors to the shed blew open and threatened my truck parked right outside. Nails should be abolished, period.
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This small pile of tire-killing debris which I had been slowly picking up since my arrival caught me off guard. It had originally been carefully deposited in an old galvanized tub which came with me from the ranch. What a minute ... where did the tub go?
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I finally located the tub; it has been blown along a good hundred feet before it's airy journey ended abruptly against a section of wire fence. The tumbleweeds, however, will see much more of the world before stopping, especially if I toss them up in the air during a good wind after they have piled up against the fences. This sport requires thick leather gloves since many of them have very vicious barbs - the goats-head bush is truly vile and its spikes will puncture thin-walled tires (or shoes!) without hesitation.
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Here is a view of how the tumbleweeds typically pile up. The puppies have heard me and are now piling out through the gate to help me take photos ... oh joy of joys.
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More tumbleweeds, more puppies - both are omnipresent lately.
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I had often wondered where these tons of weeds end up and I just found out, thanks to 'Jimmy the drywaller'. They come to rest up where his brother bought a house east of here, often covering his house up well above the eaves. I had driven nearly out to that area in the plains one day but the dust storms were so bad that I could not see the road in front of the truck 30% of the time. I have been in white-outs and fog-outs aplenty before but never in a dusty 'brown-out' like this one and I cringed at what was happening to the air filter on the truck.
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While Jimmy was working here last week, I pointed out the above dark plume to him and asked what he thought it was. His first guess was a fire (not a good thing at all since the region is a dry, dry tinderbox at the moment). Then he noticed that it was moving along quickly. "Wow, THAT is the biggest dust devil I have ever seen!" Unfortunately, I only caught a photo of this devil in its waning stages. It had been so dark and distinct that you would have expected to look up and find it connected to a black tornado cloud but it climbed upwards to connect to nothing but the blue sky above.

In this photo, you can also catch a glimpse of the mountains living far to the East of here. There have been days in this windy season when everything beyond those buildings has been obliterated by a dense curtain of brown dust. Thankfully and forever what reason, this small pocket on the plains is sheltered from the worst of the wind's bluster ... so far at least.
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And here's John, eighty years under his belt already and still kicking butt. He still has the fortitude and pluck which secured him a spot on the US ISDT team years ago on a BSA. God bless him, he remained a friend to both of us and he stopped over on his way West recently. I felt so bad that I still don't have a guest room set up but he was reassuringly gallant about sleeping on the too short Chesterfield even though he takes more of a set overnight these days than he used to.

He was the first contact here to want to sit down and encourage me with positive dialog to get me up out of my slump and consider the future again. I so hate to ask for unpaid help but he also insisted on helping out where he could. He helped me move the 100 plus pound dressers and unwieldy building supplies that have been forever in the way of my next projects and then went out to start up Terry's truck and check it over. He would have kept going and going and going had I not felt so awkward about his very welcomed thoughtfulness. While I no longer miss human company other than Terry's now, I have never felt so all alone in my life and his arrival was a true blessing. John has always been a deep and independent thinker, always observant and sensitive to the big picture and the priorities of the here and now and Terry and I always respected his thoughts and opinions completely. God bless him indeed for showing up when he did in my darkest hours.
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I've got lots of photos and updates that have been languishing amidst my doldrums and sorrows but I will try to post again in the next week if all goes well. I have been beset by a couple of physical maladies which even I can't ignore too much longer but watch for my next post soon ... God willing and the Creek don't rise. And, very genuinely meant, thanks for sticking by me.
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And a P.S.: Alltel absolutely sucks ... more details and rant likely to follow (it's not just their TV commercials that irritate beyond belief).
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