Killdeer

One day, as I got out of our car at the Shack, I noticed a bird pause to look at me, and then run down the driveway. It would turn and look and then keep running, hoping I would follow.

Well, I didn't. Because I knew it had a nest somewhere nearby. So close that it was trying to lead me astray.

And when you have a driveway that looks like this:

You don't want to take any chances of stepping on it. Can you see the nest?

Here, let me zoom in....

Now do you see the eggs? They look just like gravel.

So we staked the area around it in case any of us decided to park or mow there. Mow, ha! We're going for the natural prairie look. 

I love these birds, though. If you move in close to the nest. She will hop up, spread her wings, and run away. When you follow her, she will lay on the ground and pretend one wing is broken, hoping that will lure you into pursuing her instead of the nest.

Hey, here's a solution lady. Nest in a tree like other birds.

But I do like the entertainment.

Counting Sheep

Man, all it takes is one good trip and I'm feeling the urge to write. It also could be because I now also want to eat, smell, and basically live again.. after a two month bout of morning sickness. Yeah, I'd have to say that affected my wanting to do anything but lay on the couch and stare at the ceiling. 

Alas, I am on the up-and-up and decided that we deserved a trip to celebrate. Really it was for R's 30th birthday coming up in April, but he let me share in the celebration. 

We'd been planning to go backpacking in Israel last week, from Nazareth to the Sea of Galilee and R especially was excited. This was his destination of choice... not necessarily mine, but I don't argue if someone wants to go somewhere. Please just take me along, I could care less where it is. So after 5 months of planning, everything broke loose in that area of the world and we slowly came to the decision to change our plans.

And by slowly, I mean that R had escalated his justification of our trip to this, "Oh settle down, Carrie. If the Palestinian Rebels were to take us, just fight until they kill you."

[silence]

So England it was, and we changed our tickets literally the day before takeoff. This went against every control-freak, planning cell in my body, but I was consoled with the thought that London was perhaps the easiest European city to fly to with many options, and possibly the cheapest. It was a good bet, last minute.

We already had our backpacking gear ready, so we decided to hike The Cotswolds Trail for a few days, followed by Bath and then London.

Oh, The Cotswolds.... If there's one word to describe this area, it would be: Sheep.

And more sheep. And more sheep.

At one point R started to count a herd.

And got to 9 before falling asleep in the field.

We met up in the next town to continue our walk. Stay tuned for country lanes and thatched roofs. I could live there.

They're alive, ALIVE!

One night we arrived home late to The Shack and, as usual, forgot to leave the porch light on. Forgetting the porch light in town is one thing; you have the neighbor's light, or one from the street.  In the country it's quite another. You have to feel your way to the front door in a blanket of darkness while trying to resist the pull of Orion's Belt. Sometimes my head is thrown so far back staring at the open expanse, it's difficult to raise it again.

This night we pulled into our driveway, and turned off the car. As I stepped out and immediately looked above, a sound wafted towards me from the fields. It was the unmistakeable sound of footsteps (or paw-steps?) slowly crunching down on the tall, dry grass.

My breath caught, and body went still. But I could see nothing, even with the headlights on.



Sound does travel further in the country, so it must be deeper in the field than I originally thought. It, whatever it is. When R got out, I whispered that something is out there. He listened, and also heard it.

Cruuuuuuuuunch, Cruuuuuuunch, as if it were slowly making its way.

He yelled at me to get in the house. We had been hearing coyotes for some time now and as there is a thicket of woods (and turkeys, mind you) behind us, if they're hungry, then we're in trouble.

We ran inside, pulled out R's trusty flashlight, and went through the back door.

I peeped behind R's shoulder to see the pack of wolves, or by this point, T-Rex dinosaurs that have been incubating in a frozen tundra underneath the fields until just a few moments prior. And they were hungry.



Still, we couldn't see anything. But the sound was closer than before, inching its way to our rabbit hutches. If you didn't know, T-Rex dinosaurs love rabbits.

R felt me over his back and pushed me inside. Stay in there!, he said and I listened. There was something in his tone.

After inspecting the hutches a bit more and trying his best to dinosaur-proof the rabbits, he came back in.

I guess we'll just see if they make it through the night, he said. And we looked at each other, both silently praying that we would make it too. T-rexes are also drawn to gray hair, so I knew I was a gonner.

We climbed into bed and held hands, like the couple in Titanic.

The next morning, I opened my eyes to a new day and yelled 'Huzzah'! We made it! R woke up, and we ran outside to check on the rabbits.

This is what we saw:



Now, I know I grew up in the city and am still getting used to the noises (and in reality, the quietness) of the country, but this one did make me feel like a loser. The cows had been rotated into the fields behind us.

Sigh.

Wilbur?

Or maybe Boomer? We don't know, just that the owner across the street yells "Buuubuh" anytime Wilbur comes close to us. Maybe Bubba? Whatever his name is, Mr. Unfriendly, who refuses to return our waves doesn't like it. I don't think he likes Shack Dwellers.

My friend is going through a similar experience, except they don't live in a shack so I don't know their neighbors' excuse. What's up, unfriendly neighbors of America. Is it some sort of club? The UNA club. Is his child receiving a scholarship for being part of the club? For gawd's sake, Wave.

We've had a good laugh, though, watching how hard they avoid making eye contact with us. One guy actually twisted his body in such an awkward way while getting out of the car to avoid facing us. And then side-shuffled along the side of the vehicle to the front door. Oh, how that made us giggle!

Oh, people.



Anyway, sometimes we walk out the door and there's Wilbur/Bubba/Boomer. Like he's waiting for us to hug him.



So we do. Apparently he likes giving kisses to pirates.

It doesn't help that N carries dog treats in his car for random "leeedull dowggies" in the town. Seriously, without even owning a dog. He's like that weird guy getting a little to close for comfort to kids on the playground, only it's dogs.



I get up to go, and Wilbur asks me not to just yet. Please rub behind my ears some more. I don't care if you live in a Shack.

But I have to get dinner started, Wilbur. We'll play another time. Promise.



And as I was prepping my food, I watched him slowly make his way back home across the street. He'd walk a little bit, then lay down and stare at The Shack, walk, lay down a bit, stare.. walk, lay down  a bit, stare, all the way home.

Oh, Wilbur. How you make up for your owners.

Twiggy

I was headed out The Shack's back door to bask in the 110 degree heat index, when my hand closed around something large, wiggly, and with many legs.

I screamed.

Neighbors probably thought someone got murdered in The Shack, so they put down their knitting and shook their heads at their spouse saying, "It was only a matter of time..."

Shacks get a bad rap.

(can you see the turkey farm?)

But it really wasn't a 300 lb spider that my brain told me it was.

In fact, it was just our friend Twiggy, the stick bug.



Since our initial spotting of Twiggy, we have seen him roam around the property, popping up here and there.

Until recently, that is.

We haven't seen him in about a week and have come to the conclusion that a dog is playing catch with him. You had a good run, Twiggy. And so did that dog..after he caught you.

Around the Shack

I've enjoyed exploring our piece of outdoors near The Shack. It can simultaneously calm and reinvigorate me.

Like the semi-canopied dirt roads.



Or the various moths and butterflies that circle me as I walk. (There is one house on the way that I swear keeps a coyote chained up in the front yard. Every time I pass, it groans out of agony for not being able to eat me alive. It would be my absolute last resort, but I'm not taking chances.)



Our small little graveyard.



Which is right next to a tree cemetery. This little grove has confirmed my belief that dead trees are just as beautiful as full, luscious ones. They're like old, wrinkled faces... I wonder what they've seen.



And then scattered throughout are horses of varying colors. The white ones are my favorite.



But most importantly, and probably most simply, open space. I never tire of these views.

Trip Down Dad's Memory Lane

Last weekend, my parents came down to visit. It happened to be on Mother's Day weekend, and when asked if she was sad to not be spending it with the majority of her kids in KC, she replied, "Oh yeah. I didn't realize it was this weekend."

Thanks.

One item on our agenda was to scope out where my grandparents (my father's parents) grew up. My dad visited his mom's family once a year on and off and had fond memories.

So we piled into the car and. off. we. went. ..just a spoon full of sugar helps the medicine go down...



One thing my dad brought up was the artesian well near his grandparent's property, which had never stopped gushing out water when he was kid. We weaved our way down some dirt roads and finally found it, on (no joke) Artesian Well Road.

whew.



We later found out that my great-great grandparents owned a store right near this water source, if not practically right on top of it. At one time, there was also a plaque stating that this was a stagecoach stop!

Just past this well is a creek in which dad used to play. When we drove up to it, there were still kids playing in it, which was a nice touch, I thought.

Then we headed back towards the properties.



First, looking to the south to Tater Hill and John Koch's house.

As we parked, we heard some birds chirping on the wire fence.



So mom brought out their trusty bird book and we actually found it and listed to its song!

I'm one for 235 on the good gift scale. Not bad.



We spotted Uncle Abe and Aunt Sophie's home and pulled up in front of it.



Dad started pointing out what the different buildings behind the house were for, what had changed, what hadn't, etc. Then we noticed a man standing out in the lawn.

He didn't look too happy watching us stare at this property.

So dad decided to pull in and talk to him.



Turns out the home is still owned by Abe and Sophie's son (Dennis) and this couple is renting from him. They said they had Dennis' number in their cell and asked if we'd like to talk to him.

This is Dad's cousin. Yes, we'll talk to him!



While Dennis was being called, the other guy showed us his timberwolf. No really. A full timberwolf.

I stayed back.



Dennis happened to be in the area and swung by the property. Dad and him shook hands exclaiming how old each had gotten. It was great. He was the one who told us about the store near the well.

They reminisced and described what had changed.



The barn from which they'd gather eggs is still there as well as the building where they'd milked the cows.



The field is there with cows (and donkeys) running amok. Did you know that donkey's are used to keep away coyotes?

Neither did I.



After we left, we stopped by the old cemetery and found some gravestones. This will help me in my ancestry.com quest. Oh lordie, a couple nights ago, I travelled a few hundred years back into time into the land of Luxembourg, Germany. It was fantastic. Love that site.

Dennis also told us that the house where Dad's mom grew up in was still standing. Even dad didn't know about that. We got directions and headed straight there.



Don't you just love it? Yes, there's a piece of furniture on the balcony and a stove on front porch, but come on!

I'm just picturing little Gerdie running around with her blonde ringlets and wishing it were up for sale. I want it back.

But for now, I'll be content with looking at the photos and imagining.

Okay. Really?

On one of our stops over the weekend, we came upon a festival.

I bet R was wishing he had those shades. They're perfectly round, you know. Exactly what his face needs according to Glamour magazine.

Oh, Stanley!

A few weeks ago, my friend turned a year older. We were on our way to visit R's parents and stopped through on the way.

Oh my goodness.

Also, Oh Stanley!

That's what I said every other second for the night we were there.



This is Stanley.

He's sad.

I love sad dogs.

One time my sister and I went to Petsmart and we found Freckles. He was sad. I still regret not buying him.



Look at those eyes. I know what he's thinking.

"Why is life so hard. What is my purpose. Who is this person shoving their face into mine. I want to jump out that window over there."

The next day we woke up and treated S to a round of golf.

But first I had to give her a bday gift.



Our library gives some books away free. And no I don't mean I just walked out with it. It really was free.

And this was one! Perfect for S.

This book along with a pink plastic flamingo for their housewarming gift has led me to believe that I'm probably the world's best gift giver.





It ended up being a nice sunny (littly chilly) morning. We only played nine holes before heading off to lunch.

And I actually enjoyed myself. I think it took not playing for a year and a half to come back a little more laid back. That being said, I can't wait for more rounds.

I wish Stanley would come along.

Catalina, or why my hips hurt.. Part One

I'll be straight with you. I'm gonna stretch this past weekend out for as many posts as possible, partly because it reminds me of the nice weather we experienced and partly because I have nothing else to talk about. So there.

We met up with my brother's friends early saturday morning to eat a good pre-hiking breakfast of McDonalds Egg & Cheese biscuits. Just exactly what you want at the pit of your belly while wandering around for 8 miles. But since I never order this delicacy anymore, I slurped it up. Slurped? I guess that verb works, since its mostly grease.

Ah, grease. Let's all take a moment and bow our heads in appreciation of it.

After an hour ride on the water taxi to the Two Harbors marina, we unloaded our gear, grabbed what we needed from the park office, and took off. Oh joy! We were so happy and full of energy!! Especially me, since D slipped me an Excedrin on the ride over. I don't take much medicine, even for minor things. So when this puppy hit me, I was wide eyed and jittery. I'm pretty sure if someone showed up in a trench coat with little Excedrin pills hanging on the inside, I'd buy some. And isn't that how they always get you? The first one's free, buddy.



As we walked around the one street town to find the trailhead, I noticed a sign. Wheels? When was that an option? I want my money back.

But they shoved a sock in my mouth and we trekked on....



...right up the first hill out of town. And then we rested for about three hours. It hurt and I was starting to crash from my half dosage of pain reliever. We were bracing for the worst.



Every so often, I'd turn around to see where my brother, M, was. I'd have to turn around, you see, because he was almost certainly pulling up the rear. It wasn't because he was out of shape.. oh no, it was because he was carrying an 8-person tent. For 8 miles. I'll let that swirl around in your brain for a bit and will definitely not bring up that I had suggested renting a couple smaller tents. No, you'll never hear that out of my mouth.

Never.

(ever)

I don't know how he did it. I'd have quit right after lugging it to the car.



But we forged on, enjoying the scenery. And oh, it was so lovely. We arrived after almost two straight weeks of rain showers and the hills showed the results. I was happy.



Until we turned a corner. And I saw it. Where the Others live. It. was. freaky. Mostly because of how quiet it was. So I pretended to be Kate and hoped Sawyer was somewhere nearby being tortured on a tree. Who knew torturing could be so sexy?

After that scene was over with, we came to a crossroads, and chose unwisely. Whenever I think of the phrase "choose wisely", I always envision Indiana Jones determining which cup is the Holy Grail. Isn't it weird how your mind will instantly flash a scene for only a moment and then its gone.

Happens to me a lot. But mostly it's of what might happen. And that, my friends, is the scariest place to go in the world.

What I didn't envision was walking straight into the path of bison.



My heart pounded.

We stood there staring at them and them back at us. It felt like a million years went by until one of them finally crossed the path and let us through.

After about a mile straight uphill, we realized we had gone the wrong way and had to turn around and politely ask to be let by the bison again. My poor hips.



Oh, and M's too. I had almost forgotten about him. But they hitched a ride from some guys who had their day off. In the back, they had a cooler full of beer and we checked to see if it had the Dharma logo. It didn't. But I still bored my eyes into them hoping to be offered one. All I got was dirt in my face as they peeled off.

M & D had never smiled bigger.



But if I'm honest, I enjoyed the hike... despite how angry my hips were.

I was just happy to be outside all day. Nothing beats that feeling.



So after we watched M & D ride off into the sunset, the rest of us hiked a couple more miles to the end destination. A little cove called Parsons Landing. As we neared, our feet couldn't help but run.

I was kind of sad for it to end. But sitting in front of a fire and hearing the waves crash all night made the 16 hour pause so worth it.

So did the food. Okay, it was all the food, none of the nature.

No, okay, I lied again. It was about half and half.

Tomorrow we would wake up early and hike back...and to me, a morning hike is about as good as it gets. Especially if you have M&Ms in your pocket.

Good night.