GETTING BEAUTIFUL.

This little doe comes to visit me each morning. She seems to know when I have the camera aimed at her and hides from me. My yard is Certified Wildlife Habitat, and between Karen and I, we’ve  seen every animal except a possum and a bear come to drink water. Cougars, bobcats, foxes, skunks, raccoons, squirrels, coyotes, dogs, cats, birds. Even bats and lizards. This low water year, the water in my pond, and other vessels,  needs to be replenished every other day, which Karen does.

I’m coming at my subject a bit sideways, here, but Jim brought this beautiful hammock all the way from Central America. It has hung between a couple of trees for the last two summers and a squirrel came down the tree and chewed part of the threads. Sorry, Jim. I was pretty amazed at that. She  chewed some of the support strings as well. I don’t blame the squirrel. I’m sure she is nest-building.  Red tail hawks decimated my squirrel population a while back and this one has moved in to begin a new generation.

I’m always bragging about Murphys being such a nice place to live, with its beautiful park with a creek running through it. But, San Andreas has a beautiful Turner Park too, with multiple entrances and areas to enjoy because it runs along a small creek. I met friends yesterday, with whom I worked at the Calaveras Enterprise in the 1980′s  and was reminded of the wholesome community we share. Dedicated park volunteers were blowing debris and picking up stuff people leave behind when I got there. How cool is that?

This cute elephant bridge leads to a playground for the kids. Part of why this is such a great place to live is the huge body of volunteerism that makes places  like this possible for everyone.

Sue Walker has a new last name since we met at this same spot last year. I was surprised my friends knew about my accident on May 27th.  We spent an hour playing catch-up while we ate our bag lunch.

We manage our visit in an hour since Deborah Mullen comes from work during her lunch time.  I heard that our former editor, Sandy Lema died while I was on the road, and I forgot to ask them if that was correct?

That hour went by way too fast!  I’m going to make an effort to get home earlier next year to attend the main event. We grabbed one of the friendly park volunteers to take our picture before we parted.

This is a group photo of Enterprise staffers from Reunion 2011.
After leaving the park, I had some blood work done and then went to the beauty shop to get my hair cut. I reminded Sue, who was cutting my hair, that the purpose of a beauty salon is make people beautiful.

I thought she did a pretty good job, don’t you?

Then I stopped in Angels Camp to visit my friend Linda Foster. She is painting her house and needs help deciding what color to choose.

The picture doesn’t show all of her possible choices.  But, I think it was more than nine.  Decisions, decisions. And you know?  She didn’t even notice my beautiful new look? The older we get, the harder it is to get beautiful.

GOOD SAM AKA TERRIBLE SAM.

I’m glad I live in a small town, like the song says. I get good customer service, people are gracious and nice.  Yesterday, I drove my truck to Angels Camp,  nine miles from my house. My major errand to have the truck washed and get my hair cut.  Then, my truck had the outrageous temerity to stop and refuse to start. The temp was 97  but in a hot asphalt parking lot, you can up that several degrees. I called my roadside emergency service and explained that I needed a tow to Nash’s Chevron, just 1/2 mile up the road. I told the dispatcher, who asked what state I was in, that the  nearest tow service was Sam Berry in Douglas Flat, which is seven miles away. I was told rather crisply that he was “out of district”.  “Calaveras County only has two tow services and he is closest.” I explained to her.
She then told me they don’t have a contract with him and if they use him I would have to pay the tow. Three hours later, while they dinked around trying to find some tow service from  other counties, Tuolumne, Amador and Stanislaus,  Sam Berry picked me up and towed  me the half mile to Nash’s Chevron. What that tells me is they are quite willing to take your money, but not willing to contract with someone in my entire county and not willing to pay the freight without the contract until they had NO other alternative cost wise. Oh, yeah, the dispatcher apologized for the long wait.   Our insurance covers the motor home and all vehicles, and is good until 2013. I won’t be renewing after that hot, frustrating episode. The business people in the center offered me a cool air-conditioned place to sit; coffee, to drive me somewhere, and to make phone calls for me. Like I say, I’m glad I live in a small town.
After my partner’s rant on horrible customer service, I had to add this one.  The other great part of living in my rural area is my wonderful neighbors and my morning walk:

This squirrel has attacked a cone half his body size.

He spotted me. You can see the detritus of chewed cone remnants on the ground. He has obviously gathered them and brought them to his dining room, because the tree is not a pine.

He decided I might be a threat and sprinted up the oak about five feet and flashed his tail in warning!  I left him to his breakfast and went on my merry way. Kind of puts Good Sam in perspective.  Life is good.

PIRATES AND SWAMPLAND

I suspect that the town of Jean Lafitte is the only town in America named for a pirate. Many pirate movies use the type of landscape available in the 20,000 acre Louisiana Barataria Preserve we visited yesterday, just a small part of where Lafitte plied his trade. Lafitte was sort of the Robin Hood of the high seas, commanding and feeding over 1,000 men who escaped the tyranny of the British Government and took to piracy. Lafitte controlled the whole territory of Barataria, a swampland so vast and difficult, no one could dare to catch them. He saw himself as serving an economic need, in a new country, helping to feed and clothe a part of the population the government ignored. He was arrested and his ships taken by the American Authorities who hounded him and then pardoned him three times. He identified with the Americans. He tried to warn them they were about to be attacked by the British. He sided with Andrew Jackson in the Battle of New Orleans in 1815 and gained a pardon for his crimes. In his own sense of honor, he left Barataria and quit piracy in the Louisiana area. He didn't consider himself a pirate, but a privateer. He moved his operations to Galveston and founded a new empire there. He was a gentlemanly figure with impeccable manners and felt betrayed by a country that didn't understand his aim. He never attacked an American ship.

Book cover: Jean Lafitte "The Corsair"
by E.H. Suydam

Jim and I hiked about 4 miles through the swampland on lovely manicured plank walkways at a time of year without mosquitos, no leaves on the trees and not much of the storied wildlife this area is famous for. We saw birds and squirrels that darted away with lightening speed. Signs that read: Do not feed the alligators. Places where plant life was crushed as though some awakened critter languished on a spare piece of ground. Wintering cardinals were beautiful in this gray bearded environment of Spanish Moss. The day was crisp and cool, the air clean, and we'd like to come back in the spring or summer to see the same place with a different landscape. What we saw will be covered over and invisible at another time of year: amazing fungi, water reflections, bright red lichen, stark cypress ghosts against a blue, blue sky and changing environments of the fecund swampland asleep.

This beautiful white heron stood and posed for us for several minutes

The bright red wintering cardinal showy in the gray of a winter swamp.

A few flowers and berries overwinter and feed busy squirrels.

Cypress knobs poke up their heads among the roots of young trees. Cypress is a soft wood almost logged to extinction because of its resistance to rot. Few huge slow growing cypress are left. Two in the whole preserve.

Interesting fungi, here are only two of many varieties we saw.

Splashy colored lichens, something unnoticeable in summer or spring.

EASTER WEATHER UNPREDICTABLE HERE

Easter was almost as wonderful as Christmas when we were kids. Lent was over and the hoarded goodies could then be eaten, stale, along with decorated eggs and a chocolate treat. We'd get decked out in our best finery, always a hat, and head for church. It was a parade of sorts as the women wore their newest hat and gloves, maybe a new dress and shoes. Neighbors stopped outside to chat and preen just a little bit before heading home for a ham dinner.
Here in the mother lode weather has proved unpredictable. Last week the neighborhood horses basking in the lush grass and sunshine have now been covered with winter coats. The daffodils are beaten to the ground in recent rains, the squirrels have retreated to their warm nests.
Though it is Easter Sunday, hardly anyone wears a fancy hat anymore, but this delightful hat display is a reminder of Easter's past and prudently defies the weather.

Her feet beneath her petticoat
Like little mice, stole in and out,
As if they feared the light;
But oh, she dances such a way!
No sun upon an Easter-day
Is half so fine a sight.
(From Ballad Upon A wedding-1641)

Oh, enter spring and new beginnings.