The other night after putting Ossie to bed across the hall (across the breezeway to what is the right side of the house in this image) we heard the sounds of a squeaky toy through the baby monitor. All three dogs were with us though and all sans squeaky toys.
I went out to check on the kids but paused in the breezeway. The back side of the breezeway (opposite image here) is quite elevated and feels a bit like you're in the tree tops. It was dark, only the trees close to us were illuminated. Down, out of sight, in the darkness was squeak, squeak, squeak--something playing with a squeaky toy.
Mystery remains unsolved but we're glad another dog didn't show up on our doorstep. The night before Cowboy joined us, I went out to get something. Knowing exactly where it was the thing I wanted to retrieve, I ventured out without a flaslight, groping blind in the new moon dark. Just as I was reaching for the item, this thing growled at me--close enough to feel its breath on my out reached hand. Next day, this little mutt, at most 10 pounds, joins our family.
Best guess here is that it was a racoon.
Saturday, May 24, 2008
Sunday, May 18, 2008
house stuff 071
Here's our modest little place how it looked last week. Finally got the joists for the deck laid out--no decking yet! All the structural lumber is pressure treated stuff from a local building supply place. We're going to deck it out in cedar though so anything that the kiddos can come into contact with will be inert (and pretty looking, I might add). I bought the cedar from Robbins whose place is not two miles from us. He runs a two person logging operation where he fairly sustainably cuts pine. He keeps the cedar for himself and mills it on a band saw mill and then sells it on the side.
Recently Robbins has been logging a few acres of our neighbors property so Ossie has gotten to see Richard Scarry's account of What Do People Do All Day firsthand, for himself. The other day, Ossie went with me to Robbin's place to pick up some cedar. This was a drawled event, in time without rush, where the destination is approached sideways. It's one of the things I love about the rural South.
Ossie was shy at first with the unfamiliar dogs that were first to greet us but soon enough climbed out of the truck and, in affirmation that all was alright, listed the names of our dogs for Robbins. Ossie wandered with his new dog friends between stacks of cedar and around the mill while Robbins and I talked. We checked out the pool, chatted with Robbins' wife and daughter, watched a blue bird tending to a new nest, and then loaded cedar. It was the perfect way to procure lumber.
On the way back home, we stopped at the place where Robbins had finished logging but still had cedar logs stacked waiting to be brought back to his place. Ossie and I talked about the whole process, from tree, to being felled, to Robbins' mill, to lumber, to us buying it (in this case for a job I'm working on). We smelled the cedar and picked up a piece to bring home and share with momma.
Recently Robbins has been logging a few acres of our neighbors property so Ossie has gotten to see Richard Scarry's account of What Do People Do All Day firsthand, for himself. The other day, Ossie went with me to Robbin's place to pick up some cedar. This was a drawled event, in time without rush, where the destination is approached sideways. It's one of the things I love about the rural South.
Ossie was shy at first with the unfamiliar dogs that were first to greet us but soon enough climbed out of the truck and, in affirmation that all was alright, listed the names of our dogs for Robbins. Ossie wandered with his new dog friends between stacks of cedar and around the mill while Robbins and I talked. We checked out the pool, chatted with Robbins' wife and daughter, watched a blue bird tending to a new nest, and then loaded cedar. It was the perfect way to procure lumber.
On the way back home, we stopped at the place where Robbins had finished logging but still had cedar logs stacked waiting to be brought back to his place. Ossie and I talked about the whole process, from tree, to being felled, to Robbins' mill, to lumber, to us buying it (in this case for a job I'm working on). We smelled the cedar and picked up a piece to bring home and share with momma.
Friday, May 9, 2008
pulling the house down the hill
This is our old cat/pig food house. When we first moved here and were living in the rv trailer, we set up this elaborate pen for our pigs and cats. This was back in January '07 so we built this little shed outta scrap to pen up the cats for a couple of weeks in the hope they'd stick around. With my allergies, and the cramped conditions, there was no way we could add six cats (1--3/4 feral) to me, Ossie, a pregnant Molly, and two dogs (at that time) to the trailer so this was where they ended up.
I don't think the pen with it's three types of fence held The Orange Cat (the feral one) more than a day or two. After about a week, Tim found his way out and to our saddness, hit the road. In short time, all the cats found their way in and out of the pen. Soon, the pigs busted out and now everybody wanders fenceless. With it's disuse, we decided to turn this structure into a garden shed and play house for Ossie and Matilda.
First step was to move it down the hill closer to the garden. I enjoy moving things like this but sort of approached this one recklessly, relying mostly on rigging and the Rav to drag this thing down hill. Though you can't see it here, I also used some logs as rollers to ease the friction of the skids on the ground. I did most of this around hanging out with the kids so it took a couple of days but it's now sitting nice where we want it.
I don't think the pen with it's three types of fence held The Orange Cat (the feral one) more than a day or two. After about a week, Tim found his way out and to our saddness, hit the road. In short time, all the cats found their way in and out of the pen. Soon, the pigs busted out and now everybody wanders fenceless. With it's disuse, we decided to turn this structure into a garden shed and play house for Ossie and Matilda.
First step was to move it down the hill closer to the garden. I enjoy moving things like this but sort of approached this one recklessly, relying mostly on rigging and the Rav to drag this thing down hill. Though you can't see it here, I also used some logs as rollers to ease the friction of the skids on the ground. I did most of this around hanging out with the kids so it took a couple of days but it's now sitting nice where we want it.
rain
The pile is down by his swing and he's recently discovered the pleasure of pushing Matilda. The happiness is two ways and I'm starting to wonder if Matilda shares some of Ossie's daredevilness. Her whole face grins with delight at Ossie's efforts and the thrill of swinging.
Sunday, May 4, 2008
springtime boy
Ossie has been taking his big brother duties very seriously lately. He likes to remind Matilda that he is her big brother while giving her hugs and/or tickling her. As her big brother, he tells her all about life here on earth. Daddy is HER daddy too! And this is OSSIE'S WAGON. And! Apples come from TREES! We live on Woody Dam Road! Grandpa and Nana are in Florida! He likes to teach her to sign by actually grabbing her hands and attempting to make the signs with her. Favorite signs: more, hungry? bath. He also tries doing the ABCs with her at naptime. He's got a sweet high singing voice and he skips half the letters and it's utterly charming. He does a mean Matilda impression, too. There is much loud laughing and tongue wagging involved.
Another development in the world of Oz: he has become very interested in where everything comes from. For awhile his number one question was, "what's that?" Now his question is, "who made that?" He knows our chair came from Ikea, apples are from trees, birds are from eggs (made by a mama and daddy), sausage comes from turkeys (which, in our house, and considering the pigs, it does). In addition to "who made that?", Ossie wants to know "What's his name?" about everybody. This one stumps us more frequently. I've taken to making names up (her? why that's Maude!), but he doesn't like my names! He tells me no most of the time.
Ossie's current favorite book is One Morning In Maine, a gift from our friend Laura. I think he likes the quietness of this book. He doesn't like anything with monsters (I'm looking at you, Where the Wild Things Are). He's got a fearful imagination, which reminds me of Jeff, who is still afraid of aliens and Big Foot. Neither is afraid of anything that might actually remotely happen to them. They regularly climb up things that should not be climbed, and thow themselves in places that should not be entered. But show them pictures of fictional monsters, and they both get rubber-kneed.
Ossie is nearly completely out of diapers, which is so very exciting. We've hatched a plan with his preschool teacher to move him out of them completely this summer in camp. Like every parent everywhere, I can't believe how fast all of this is happening.
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