Sep 19, 2010 by Naomi.

The turnout for Freethought this morning was scant – three of us. Well there was a fourth who comes infrequently, but when our windbag expounded on the many things he is s-o-o-o knowledgeable about the infrequent freethinker had some pressing errands to run. Too bad, too, because we had touched on subjects including salt pills, sources of vitamin D and thunder storms. Therefore the meeting did not last very long. Whether my neighbors notice my comings and goings or not I do notice the pattern of the folks next door. Either Buena is sick and couldn’t go off as usual before noon, or her driver was too sick to get out and take her to her usual Sunday morning “whatever” I will probably never know. The car has not moved. Other neighbors came and went as I did. The wonderful slow rain is still falling. It came before dawn with thunder and lightning as it did the day before. A very timely car wash. Frank said the weather pattern is sluggish right now and moving very slowly over the area. Good. Keep the brakes on so the rain will last another day or more.

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Sep 19, 2010 by Naomi.

The clock face blurred under my first squint, red numbers dancing in the predawn dark. Dawn had arrived some earlier but gray clouds hung like wet sheets on the clothesline so its arrival wasn’t well defined. Rain was falling when I last checked around 0345 and the ground looked wonderfully wet. Douglas Fir had dark strips down its trunk. More rain had fallen than its leaves could catch and the excess streamed down the rough bark. There is no breeze to bring on the scent of sage but the heat unit next door threw off the odor of Noxema early on, indicating the ablutions of the neighbor. Where had he been until now? A cab is parked close to the porch at 405 and I had always pegged him for a cab driver so this time he drove the evidence home and hurried in out of the rain, if a man with that girth can hurry. His size will catch a lot of water just going through. But I am up to face another week. No appointments on the immediate calendar but somehow they appear and there will be work to do. Shower the sleep out of sagging eyes and stand ready.

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Sep 18, 2010 by Naomi.

In looking over my books I discovered THE OPEN DOOR was not available on Amazon. I went back to look at the proof copy I have and into CreateSpace to find out what the holdup was. I’m still not certain and it has been such a long time since I dealt with the self-publishing that I had to start from scratch and proof read the copy that should be uploaded. I have been reading for hours and the job is tiring. On my eyes and on my back so I took time out. Fresh air was coming in the breeze from my window but I needed a break so I stepped out the back door and got rained on! What a nice surprise. From the looks of the puddle in the street rain has been coming down for some time. Two nights in a row – very nice. Very welcome. Good weather in which to be working at my desk on my great stories.

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Sep 18, 2010 by Naomi.

Around midnight this morning I was treated to a few seconds of lightning and overhead rumbling thunder. Some rain really falls in the Columbia Basin upon occasion and as far as I’m concerned it is too little to satisfy my plants so I have hoses out and water frequently. I figured that is what I would do again tomorrow to keep my big trees happy. Lightning flickered from the west and I was treated to raindrops, the expected sparse Richland type, when I stepped on the back porch. My sleep had been interrupted and I crawled back under my checkered sheets, closed my eyes, happy to know the air was wet out there. The pleasure of a rain however slight is from the smell of sage that it brings. What a delicious scent comes from the wet bush! I don’t have a rain gauge. I have no idea how much rain fell. There is a puddle in the street and the bare spots under my trees look dark and wet so more rain fell than evaporated. The cement walk is wet and the scent of sage is still in the air. The sky is cloudy but has some blue holes. I will be pleased if more water fell. According to the forecast the area can expect twenty percent precipitation today and tomorrow. Good!

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Sep 14, 2010 by Naomi.

Wednesday is the day for my garbage pickup.That’s tomorrow, early. I never have much but if left over two weeks it smells bad. The little bit in the kitchen had to go and the wormy apples in the back yard should be considered garbage. Peelings are legitimate garbage. Why not the whole apples? It was after dark when I went to take the can out and decided, stiff and aching, I would get those windblown apples picked up. Using an old shovel was an exercize. The long handle didn’t bend around the tree stumps and the apples kept getting knocked off. They are rotten and I am not about to use my hands. I’m not sure I got them all. The back porch light doesn’t shine that far but my night vision is better without close direct light and I did the best I could. At least the garbage bin now has some weight in it. I threw a few small branches in too. Recycle was picked up this morning. It was quite full because I brought stuff from the Refuge. There is no pickup of anything there. Do a good deed and feel good. Crickets sang to me while I worked and that made me feel even better.

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Sep 14, 2010 by Naomi.

At the time cutting up the apple branches didn’t feel like I was overdoing lower back muscles but this morning I wonder. I really ache. The apple tree was fifteen feet tall and well filled with branches that yielded more fruit than I could ever begin to eat even if the apples were worm-less. One year I canned the fruit and still have a few quarts left so no more of that. I feel justified in cutting it down. Getting it cut into pieces that fit in the yard waste bin is now in my future. My big loppers shortened the limbs considerably and then I had to use the saw that I started with. The trouble is that on the standing tree the branches were stable. On the ground they flopped around with each jerk of the saw. It took a well placed foot to hold them down. Good thing I have a saw. With my ax I would probably chopped off my toes. The yard waste bin is smaller than a regular garbage bin and I will have to fill it more than once. Pickup will be next week. That gives me plenty of time to work with loppers, saw and ax.

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Sep 12, 2010 by Naomi.

Eating was the result but the action appeared less a hunt for food than an outright assault of one insect upon another. Hornets flew near the ground ignoring me and everything else. Or so I thought. My two thousand dollar ears were in place with new batteries. I heard more sounds than I thought existed in my back yard. Trains, highway traffic, squirrels chattering and dogs barking are the norm. An unusual buzzing by my feet alarmed me and I paid attention. A hornet gone berserk. It bumbled frantically around in circles. Was this a mating ritual prior to hibernation? I looked closely and could see a hornet for sure. It seemed to be wrapped around something that was clearly not another hornet. It was a fly. Twice as big as an ordinary housefly that equaled the hornet’s bulk. The bumbling was the frantic determination of the fly to escape the predator that clung to its back. With careful scrutiny I saw the hornet devouring the wings of the fly. Then it began to work on the insect from the rear to the head. I was both fascinated and horrified at the struggle. The result was preordained. Flies can and do bite but not with the ferocity of such a mean spirited predator as the wasp. I wanted to go for my camera but knew the struggle would be over before I got to the door. And I did not want to be denied the sight of the lion eating a commoner so I leaned as close to the ground as I could without falling into the fray. Pushing the few weed leaves aside I maintained a clear view of the epic battle. Whoever said nature was benign? Here was a battle for survival and the warrior with the superior weapon won.

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Sep 12, 2010 by Naomi.

That’s the end line of a ditty running through my mind. How it came to be there I can only shrug. But I was upbeat and playful when I returned from my Freethought meeting and bounced down the back steps into my backyard. Rain fell last night and I thought of rainbarrels. In came the line: “Holler down my rain barrel” followed by something about my cellar door. I revved up trusty Shiba and googled. Up came the entire lyrics with my choice of performers. It goes like this:
I don’t want to play in your yard.
I don’t like you anymore.
You’ll be sorry when you see me
Sliding down our cellar door.
You can’t holler down our rain barrel,
You can’t climb our apple tree,
I don’t wanna play in your yard,
If you can’t be good to me.

There you have it. Another tidbit for my Memoirs. The rain barrel was important in my childhood. I do not recall hollering down it, however. My siblings and I considered the 50 gallon oak-stave rainbarrel our private swimming pool. There was a cellar with its slanted door that we were told to stay off. I climbed a kid friendly silver maple tree but it didn’t bear apples. Once the words and tune were recalled, I chanted the ditty over and over. It is still bouncing between my ears. I wonder if I will ever get it out of my head.

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Sep 12, 2010 by Naomi.

Squirrels scamper from long needled pines in the shelter belt on the south boundary of my lot. From the end of one long branch to another, two squirrels chased one another down around my Douglas Fir and up over my rooftop. One lingered on the top of the bathroom vent looking for all the world like a surveyor approving the breadth and outreach of its domain. Down the roof to the English walnut by the front porch it leaped to the Black walnut tree and one of the uppermost limbs to procure a nut then sat in the crotch of a larger limb and proceeded to nibble and spit out the husk on to the sidewalk below. Because I cannot follow on the roof I move from my back door to the front door and watch the antics of the two rodents. They appear to have a destination in mind but I wonder when one goes to the neighbor’s roof and into the shelter belt beyond my vision. Healthy happy animals they are if one can judge from the thick sleek fur and the fluffy expressive tails telegraphing messages like semaphores from ship to ship. There comes a plot for an adventure coagulating in my brain sensitized by caffeine. I’ve not written an animal story. Maybe the time is now.

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Sep 10, 2010 by Naomi.

The books I read are mostly along the same lines. Adventure, romance, mystery – fiction. I navigate to the authors whose prose is well done. I have to read a book to judge its prose and today I was on a mission when I browsed between the stacks. Sampling different writers was a new adventure for me. I had one serious restriction when I made choices. Paperbacks. Easy to hold in my hands that seem to hurt more from holding books than some time past. I shy away from paranormal or futuristic fantasy. And I am not too keen on war stories. Some writers are good at making tales about how ancient societies lived. Jean Auel. Or what happens when science experiments go awry. Michael Creighton. Occasionally a story of murder with good forensic detectives will attract and hold my interest. Pat Conroy. Adventure that rollicks through water, ice, or air with a hero intact are stories I find hard to put down so I might read through the night. Clive Cussler, Louis L’Amour, and Nora Roberts are the most recent stories that fit that category. But my list of authors is very long, indeed. The different authors I chose today will be critiqued as the reading is completed. Stay tuned.

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