Animals 2

Very sick kitty. Very sick. Pretty all-consuming for the time being.

Animals

Nothing too exciting, actually.

There a pair of California Quail on the place again this year. I'll be watching for feral cats.

Speaking of hunting, the Gray Digger seems to have packed up and left. Either that or the bait finally got it. Or an owl. Or a cat. There are cobwebs on one of its entrances.

A pair of ring necked doves has been seen in the area, including our driveway. Odd this far north.

Today I flushed out a Coluber constrictor (Northern Black Racer) when I was weed-whacking. Too fast to catch.

The pond is full of some sizable tadpoles. I'm guessing a couple varieties of tree frogs, as some of the adults are bigger than others. One type I see around a lot. The other may be new to the area since I have been keeping water in the pond year-round. I might have to capture one and do a closer examination.

Half of what must be the front line of the Scio High School football team put up hay in our barn for the mules.

The Coast

Pacific City, to be exact.

DW and I celebrated 13 years together a couple weeks ago. We had made plans to make this trip then, but a stomach bug first took DW out of commission, and I followed shortly. The vows held.

The hotel we stayed at was nice, and they wanted us to have a good time. 

We took several walks on the beach, making sure to catch last light.

Yet, I cannot recommend staying as close to the beach as we did, for folks younger than us stay on after dark and whoop it up for several hours.

Still, morning brought another walk and a chance for me to use my 75-300mm lens.

The big rock in the water is called Haystack Rock.

Money

I'm broaching good manners here, I know. Unseemly. Granted, it has been a while since I was asked how much we paid for our farm or what kind of pay a writer makes, so I'll move from the tangent to the theme.

Tuesday was Pub Poker. The usual suspects, although many of the regulars were not there. It's summer, and the numbers dwindle. After all, it is not Vegas, and, aware the sun is still shining, most folks would rather enjoy it while they can, for the rainy season will be here again before you know it. Plus, maybe there's something in recreational players that says poker should be played after dark.

We had fourteen runners. I usually get there early and eat a sandwich in the rig while I wait for folks to start showing up. When they do, I mosey up to the door and hang out with the folks grabbing a last cigarette. One of these smokers was holding three lighters between his fingers. Sticking the cig in his mouth, he uses one lighter as flint to ignite another that only provided butane. Comments were made. He provided justifications. It was remarked that he had walked off with someone's lighter the previous week. Chuckling, he admitted such but did not offer to hand it over this week.

The duration of the game was short, due more to the few players than the time between hands. A lot of chatter as people catch up, gossip and pontificate. The conversation included the employment lines at the cannery, the lines more clusters, but plural in that they were in place two days. It was said that folks camped in the parking lot the night before the first run on applications for the 300 slots available. I had seen the first day's group and estimate there were that many waiting for the three months of work that would be offered.

The guy who won Tuesday night's game is unemployed. The $30 certificate will provide a few meals at the Chinese restaurant that hosts the game. Now, you are most likely thinking that $30 has in no way been covered by the fourteen players, let alone pay for the bartender and general overhead. I know I was, so when I was handed my $15 certificate for taking second, I sought out the owner and handed it over.

"You want to eat?"

"No." I thanked her for her generosity, told her how grateful we were just to have a place to play poker, and that I would be happy to accept the prize when the size of the group grows in the autumn (next week is the last game until September). Perhaps  having alreadyworked out the numbers, she did not try to hand the piece of paper back to me, but did counter:

"Next time, I remember. I make you sweet-sour pork you like."

I do not particularly care for that dish.

On the way home I began to think that I had perhaps made a cultural no-no.

Wandering around

The estimated one hour for service turned into the anticipated three. That is why I took my camera to town.

A Tolerance

Not all that certain pearls are considered gems, though minerals, chemicals,
physics make stones. Sometimes the experts make finer distinctions
the ogler might overlook by all that's shiny. Likewise, loud or deep-fried
food. Yet, as decoration, the pearl needs no fine point, sharp edge, with its savage
beauty farmed an argument for the softer parts in this imperfect life observed.

Typoem

I'm excited for MemphisMojo, getting deep in the Old Fogeys Have-at-It Tourney in the WSOP. Shame that Grump, that comparably spring chicken of a whippersnapper takes it hard on the chin by some guys in Depends. Whether it happens this year or not, both of these fellers stand a good chance of taking one of these down. Mark my words.

Of course, after my last couple days, words may not be my strong suit(e).

This piece measures approximately 5' x 12'. It is made with wash clothes that have been formed with an acrylic gel.

Its title is "One Quatrain," although, as one might expect, can be configured any number of ways.

The abstract shape as a whole doesn't do much for me Perhaps as some sort of collection of forms, like insects, then an arrangement like this might work; yet, I do prefer the first one more as it supports the notion that a poem on the page is as much a visual experience as it is literary.