Sunday, August 29, 2010
Grandson Nathan turned 11 on the 21st, and for an end of summer birthday treat, we hit the Schlitterbahn Waterpark in neighboring Kansas City, Kansas. Nathan, his stepbrother Jacob, stepsister Madison, Grandma, and mom all spent the day in the sun, floating on the raging waters, or sliding down the slides! We had a great time, and wore ourselves out. The birthday boy spent his night with his Dad, his steps and little brother and sister, and Grandma got a rest after spending the day floating in a tube.
Tuesday, August 10, 2010
Inca and Tony learned from Mama, while she was still here. She taught them to stay in the shade during the worst part of the day, and to lay by the troughs for the coolness of the water. In the morning they stay at the south fence in the shade of the cottonwoods, but in the afternoon, they come up to the troughs for the cool ground. Tony appears to be getting along better than Inca, who is suffering in the terrible heat of this week (114 heat index). She is eating, but only in the evening, it looks like, and is conserving her energy. If the pond were still there, she would stand in it and cool off, but she won't let me spray her with the hose, and walks away indignantly. She is the one animal I am really worried for in the heat.
Today, they flew. When I walked out the door to do morning chores, the air was full of chirping and calling, and fluttering wings. Mama and Daddy (Hekyll and Jekyll) swooped around them, encouraging them. When the last four launched, two were dead within hours, one into the door, and the other, found out in the yard. Of these four, all fluttered around the porch, onto the wires, onto the porch roof and off again. I went to work happy for them.
Tonight, there were only three. Hekyll and Jekyll were flying farther away feeding, and the three little ones huddled, two on the wires, and one on the porch roof. At nightfall, their parents had come back for a few minutes, and I watched one lone baby try to make his way down the wire, fluttering his wings, to his sibling. The sibling flew off, and he is huddled out there in the dark, alone. After weeks of no rain, black clouds came over at dusk and there is a breeze and lightening cutting across the western sky in jagged arrows. We just went out to check on him again at 10:30, and he is hunched down, holding on. I hope he is okay by morning, they are such pretty little birds.
Sunday, August 8, 2010
Our neighbor's ponds to the east are still full... they are very, very deep and stocked with fish. Ours, however, was simply a hole in the ground where we took dirt to make a pad to build a barn that was never built. The rainwater filled the hole, and our ducks were happy. For a while, the geese could even swim in the pond and clean themselves, but little by little, it silted shut. In the spring, we are going to have a proper pond dug, with a dam and a spill pipe. On Friday night, we counted 16 green frogs in the last of the water in the middle of what was their own little pond. This morning, Sunday, there were only one or two, so maybe they have started the trek downhill to our neighbor's big ponds to stay alive. Still, I miss our pond... the frogs, the tadpoles, the birds and llamas and (ponies) who drank there. I can't wait until we have another.
Sunday, August 1, 2010
Hannah is blind, or nearly so. Her world is the house, the porch and the deck. When the deck was finished last year, she increased her world by another 24 x 16 feet, and loves to lay on it in the sun. Where I am, when home, she is. If I leave the porch to do chores, and she is out, she sits at the edge of the steps, staring into space, waiting to catch a dim sight, or hear a sound of me as I go past. Every once in a while I hear an insistent, staccato bark to remind me that my girl is waiting for me. I call to her from the pasture when I hear those barks, to reassure her I haven't forgotten her, and am hurrying. Sometimes I will carry her down into the yard, but she becomes disoriented by the feel of the grass, and all the smells. She will begin to run in circles, and become frantic, her breathing going heavier and heavier until she is groaning, so we never do this for but a minute or two. Once on the deck she is calmer, and she will collapse and sleep next to our feet. She doesn't like to be held, like Abby, who cuddles on our laps, but to be near us, where she can be stroked, and to sleep with her body alongside one of us where she feels reassurance. She needs drops every day to keep what little sight she has. Soon her world will be completely dark, we are afraid. She came to us from a rescue, where she and her four pug companions had been placed by their vet, their mama had been diagnosed with cancer and had died suddenly. We were so blessed to have her come into our lives, to be a companion for first Addie Mae, and then our new little Abby. She is Mama's Little Doll... our little Hannah Mama, our little Hannah Jean.