The old year ended with sightings of and visits from local wildlife with whom this Village shares space.
I told you of the tracks leading down my drive from the street to my back door which I didn’t recognize. Turns out they are/were the tracks of the four wild turkey hens which habitually visit my neighbor to the east who puts seeds up in a tree near her front door. I don’t put out seeds so the bear won’t be enticed. But maybe seeds during hibernation season can be acceptable.
At any rate, last wednesday evening the hens checked out my front yard area and one came up to my back door steps … again. Then they continued down Chelsea Lane toward Jenny and Terry’s house.
Thursday as I sat at breakfast before full dawn light, I saw them as they came over the fence from the now closed RV park and headed toward the seeds in my neighbor’s yard. I couldn’t get to my camera, but I’ve left it close to a window where I will be able to see them if they return.
A bit later that same morning I saw the resident fox, which is about the size of a medium-sized cat but was identifiable by its typical foxtail. It was making its way toward the greenery fence to the east. It was still too dark to distinguish colour, but I’ve been told it is red.
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It has been COLD. Days have been staying around freezing all day (according to the thermometer just outside my office window) with the exception of an hour or two in the early afternoon. Friday it was 17º at dawn and tracks out my office window were deer, fox, and turkey. By 0800 the temp had dropped to 16º.
Saturday was good until late afternoon when light snow moved in. The Mt Shasta family had been here since 0800 and we shared the Rose Parade (which has changed a lot since I first sat on the curb overnight with friends in front of an open-all-night place, with access to hot drinks, wrapped in blankets and sleeping bags … no bleachers in those days), followed by a Plocinik/Baltimore pork and kraut meal (no dessert apple pie because Paul ate the filling the night before … oh well), and then watched the Rose Bowl game (a real nail-biter even though I’m not a football fan … and the wrong team won). But by then the snow was getting heavier, so they left to get around the Mountain (which had been glorious at sunrise … both Kamille and I took pictures) and were safe at home in good time.
Sunday was quiet with leftovers and the Vienna Orchestra’s New Year’s Eve concert repeat on PBS.
Monday snow started lightly a bit after 0730. Was moderate, but steady, until 1000 when it increased. It snowed all day. The grounds keeper started the plowing about 1600 and trash pick-up was on time. Neighbors, who needed to go out, picked up my mail for me.
The DirectTV was out (satellite problem but the hotspot on my phone was functioning for computer access with no problem).
A good day to stay indoors.
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There are no overhead power lines in the small community where I live. This year’s unusual fire season ended with arson investigation reports reports citing causes attributed to down power lines starting with the BAD Delta fire in mid-Californian and ending (so far) with the late season destructive fire near Denver.
Among the problems noted was a down tree which caused the 50+ hour blackout here.
I have never liked the overhead aspect of central power. Now I am wondering how much Pacific Power bills will increase in order to pay the power company fines.
I am also wondering what it will take for folks to go solar, at least for individual homes. I’ve even given thought to checking to see if somehow a deal could be made with the local solar provider if all the houses in this Village went solar at the same time, factoring in the California state tax support as well as the mass sales.
Wouldn’t that be an interesting power statement?
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New Years’ Eve was a surprise for me. I was in bed asleep by 2100, which is my normal habit, when the first gunshot woke me. It sounded like a rather vigorous shotgun just down the street from my house. I don’t really know where it originated and I don’t plan on asking.
However, I wasn’t prepared for it since the most New Year’s noise usual at the farm for the 45 years we were there was an airhorn and nearby large bell bongs with an occasional gunshot, at a distance, which started at midnight and lasted about 15 or 20 minutes.
The “celebration” around here, including the near part of McCloud itself and the area down Squaw Valley Road toward the golf course, started at 2100 and lasted intermittently until after 2400.
I’ll be prepared for it next year.
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Monday, in the snow, a neighbor dragged his holiday tree down the streets to the local burn pile area.
That triggered memories of George’s feelings toward holiday trees. He loved them. Just a few days after Thanksgiving he would go out and pick the “perfect” tree” from somewhere on the farm, cut it, trim it for shape, set it in a bucket of sand which would be kept wet thereby keeping the tree green and delaying the drying out until the tree was finally taken down sometime around the end of February. He loved the tree lights and the miniature village he always arranged around the base of the tree circled by the layout of some of his h-o gauge model trains. His rationalization was that the lights and the smell of the evergreen kept the positive/happy feelings available.
I miss all that.
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As I face another week and year, I found this affirmation particular apt …
I am no longer waiting for a special occasion; I burn the best candles on ordinary days.
I am no longer waiting for the house to be clean; I understand that even dust is Sacred.
I am no longer waiting for everyone to understand me; that’s not their task.
I am no longer waiting for the other shoe to drop; it already dropped, and I survived.
I am no longer waiting for the time to be right; that time is always now.
I am no longer waiting for a quiet moment; my heart can be stilled whenever it is called.
I am no longer waiting for the world to be at peace; I unclench my grasp and hope.
I am no longer waiting to do something great; being awake to carry my grain of sand is enough.
I am no longer waiting to be recognized; I know that I dance to my own drummer in a holy circle.
I am no longer waiting for Forgiveness.
I believe …
― as per Mary Anne Perrone
So,‘til next week …