Rain in the desert

It is raining today. Not a summer thunderstorm. Not a misty desert drizzle. A really basic, settle-down-and-rain kind of rain, something we get only once or twice a year. Certainly not in August, in the normal cycle of the seasons. But this year has been off-the-charts nutty, starting with the winter that never ended but morphed without preamble into a long, soggy, Willamette Valley-style 'spring' and then continued (winter) all through June (frost!), and reluctantly turned into summer only in July. This is fall weather -- does it mean our summer is over? Hey weather dudes, this is simply not on!

Still, the sound of rain is always lovely to me. Except for my college years, spent in the redwood jungle of northern California, I have always lived in dry climate zones: from Mediterranean to High Desert. I've traveled a bit in the MidWest in summer and can't say I could ever live in that kind of humidity. So the sound, smell and sight of rain is welcome to me, always.


The kitties are disgusted and have settled happily into warm nooks indoors. The chickens are having an indoor 'time out'. My girl Betty has laid an egg a day (with one day off) since she started laying on my birthday. Hawkeye, my Ameraucana, laid her first (green) egg yesterday, alas, on the floor of the henhouse rather than in a nice nest box. But still, it shows a proper spirit of henliness. Nothing so far today, but it's a start. As for the other girls -- ahem, ladies -- can you read my lips? can you say ' we are slackers'? I'm hoping that spending a day inside, staring at Betty's latest effort, will inspire everyone else to get with the program.

I have a lot of indoor jobs I could be doing. Phone calls. Lesson planning for the upcoming year of piano teaching.

Or I could look through some of the books I recently checked out of the library for inspiration in designing a new garden border.


Oops, Alix doesn't approve of any activity that doesn't involve adoring (and petting) her.


But ok, blogger full disclosure forces me to admit that, yes, after I went outside to take photos in the rain, I came inside and ....

built a fire.

Is it a trend?

Day 2. Egg 2. Hen 2?

Being fairly new to the chicken ranching biz, I am still figuring things out. Quite often during the whirlwind of the past months, I have found myself -- or more probably, put myself -- in the mode of scientific researcher. Although I have read everything I could get my hands on about raising chickens, I have attended classes and visited other people's coops, and talked up every feed store employee I could drag into my clutches, there is still a lot I just don't know, and will have to wait to see for myself, about chickens.

This makes it all the more enjoyable for me, as I have a slight scientific bent, at least for small personal things in my own world. As far as 'The First Egg' goes, I know that new hens take a while to get the egg-laying thing sorted out. The first eggs are often small and/or oddly shaped. But there are other mysteries yet to be seen and questions yet to be answered.

The girlies have 2 nest boxes, and the straw bedding in both boxes has been trampled down by ???? hens unknown over the past week and more. The first wee egg was laid in the right hand box, and I know it was laid by Betty because she has been quite conspicuously hovering around the place and looks, to my admittedly novice eye, to be the most sexually mature (ie ready to start laying) of all the girls.

But yesterday there was a second egg, laid in the left hand nest box. It is about the same size as the first, maybe a little bit larger, and a slightly different color. The question is, is this Betty's second egg, or is it someone else's? Do hens usually lay in the same place, or do they vary their nest? Does each hen lay a particular hue of egg, or does that vary?

Time will tell, I am sure. And I am quite curious to see where today's egg (see how confident I am that we are well-launched into the full egg-laying mode?) is laid. And if it will be larger, or a different color?

Too much fun.

High-Tech/Low-Tech Birthday

Here it is in a nutshell. Er, eggshell. I had a most satisfactory birthday yesterday, consisting of heights of high-tech and the most basic of low-tech.

It started out with a spot of electritioning by my sweetheart. The most spoiled chickens in the world now have a light in their henhouse, for egg-encouragement during the shortening days of fall and oncoming winter. I don't want them to stop laying before they even start, do I. So they have a light and an automatic timer to turn it on for a few extra hours in the morning and in the early evening. High tech.


They also have a remote sensor for a 'weather station' (fancy name for a thermometer readout) which sits on my desk. When I get up in the morning I want to know how my girls are doing! More high tech. When I took this photo around 1:00 pm it showed it was 102 F in the henhouse! Poor dears! Maybe a little fan or mini AC unit is needed?

Just kidding.


Meanwhile, I was down at my local acupuncturist's office, getting a special birthday treatment. Definitely low tech.

Then my boon companion and I set out to pick out rocks for a garden project I have been stalled on for a couple of years. Namely, turning this mess


into a nice backyard oasis, with gravel paths and a flagstone-paved sitting area.

Rocks. How low-tech can you get? Especially since they will be installed by hand. Hands. My hands.

But then, instead of heading back towards home, my chaffeur for the day pointed the car east, towards one of the ubiquitously ugly local big box store shopping centers. He was looking forward to setting me up with a cell phone made earlier than 1806. I have had my current cell phone -- begrudgingly -- for about 5 years. I say begrudgingly because I didn't really want one in the first place, but accepted a hand-me-down phone (I was its 3rd owner) only because I was going on a trip without my ace travel companion and needed to be able to call for moral support, etc.

I admit I am still baffled when I see people walking around, talking all the time on their mobile phones. I barely want to talk on the phone when I am home -- why would I want to be pestered by the damn things when I am out in the world? I know that attitude makes me a dinosaur, and I'm ok with that. So it has been perfectly appropriate that I have been using a dinosaur cell phone all this time too. Witness my 10-year old cell phone -- battered, hard to use, and possessing only three functions. Making & receiving calls, sending & receiving texts, and something else.


Since I got it, it has boldly proclaimed, on its front display, the cryptic word 'Meeting'. I have asked everyone I know, I have searched the manual 3 separate times, and have never been able to remove it. Ironically, and not too surprisingly, once or twice a month, I actually do have a meeting, but of course since I haven't input that information into the phone, I ignore it.

I think we can agree to put this in the 'low tech of high tech' category.

We emerged from the T-Mobile store an hour or so later, with a coolest-of-the-cool, newest-of-the-new (until next week), smarter-than-I-am smart phone. Here's the fun part for me -- aside from the colorful icons which I adore. It not only has a GPS in it -- it IS a GPS. This is one of those epic, life-fulfilling moments one gets if one stays around long enough and is lucky, I suppose.

For the last decade or so I have watched with amazement, I suppose along with everyone else my age, the leaps and bounds forward of all things digital and cyber. But one of the cool things that has managed to sneak up on me is this whole GPS phenomenon. You see, I am responsible for it. Not directly, but through 50+ years of wishing, hoping, fantasizing and just plain magic. I have had a terrible sense (ie no sense) of direction my whole life long. When I was a kid this only resulted in my losing my family now and then on vacations or in large department stores. Nothing too scarring.

But beginning when I got my driver's license I became more and more aware that what the world needed was some kind of device in the car that would have a map in it, know where the car was, and could then show you the route in live-action visuals. I admit I didn't go so far in my imaginings as to think there would be a voice attached to it. If I had, I would have expected an exasperated male voice saying things like: 'no, no, not THAT way. Turn around right now and go back to where I told you to turn.' or 'you IDIOT! why are you taking this exit? you're going to end up on the wrong side of the river -- again!'

And here I am 61 years old, and I've managed to live along to the day when there is such a thing. I tell ya.

The smart-ass phone has a little mount for the dashboard, and it is easy as anything to tell it where you want to go. You clip it in, and out comes a soothing female voice that never calls you names, never loses patience, and never accepts defeat. She didn't know about a couple of recent changes, but we'll give her a chance to learn. I've named her Grace. Highest of high tech (for me).

And then, for the final glorious moment of the day, we returned home to find out that my favorite chicken, Betty


had laid the first egg in our happy new flock.


I think the day definitely ended with low tech. Happy birthday!

And now back to our regularly scheduled summer programming

The piano frenzy is over. July is half gone. What's a neglected garden to do with itself?

Water, water and more water. The temps have been in the high 80's and low 90's for a while now, after the longest, wettest, coldest spring I can remember in decades. We essentially went from winter to summer, with no spring to speak of. I didn't water some parts of my garden until late June, which would normally be a death sentence for plants in our dry climate. But this year it just kept raining and raining forever. Many Bendites were heard bemoaning the fact that they might as well be living in the (green, wet) Willamette Valley.

However, even though many years we don't get summer until July, once it comes it stays and stays. Day after day, week after week, month after month of clear, warm (usually not too hot) sunshine, perfect for bicycling, gardening, and one of my favorites: Home Improvement Days.

Since my sweetheart and I work completely different days and hours, we have managed to set aside only one day that is sacred to Married Togetherness, and that day is normally Thursday. In summer it's a bit whackier, but we usually manage. Often Thursday becomes Home Improvement Day. Before our garbage & recycling company offered curbside yard waste pickup (three cheers for Bruce and Betty) our HID's often revolved around festive yet romantic runs to the landfill, using a friend's borrowed truck. Festive because, well, going to the dump has always been a sort of secret pleasure for me, ever since childhood.

In my earliest dump memories, Mom would load us kids up in our '46 Ford pickup and off we would go to the dump, which was, in those pre-environmental-awareness days, located in the salt marshes of San Francisco Bay. It was a scary yet enticing place to a small kid: both bleak, with giant windrows of burning garbage, and rich with the smells of rotting garbage, marsh grasses, and the cries of the wheeling sea gulls. It was smoky --ha! Imagine open burning in a modern landfill! We were absolutely NOT allowed out of the truck....... but more than once we sneaked out the passenger side door while Mom was occupied with emptying the truck bed. It was probably truly a dangerous place, but we couldn't resist a quick scan of the ground next to the truck before scurrying back in to Mom's yells. Once I found a tiny plastic doll which I kept for years.

The festivities around here this week include manly deeds of repair and womanly addition of new livestock to the urban farmyard.
First up was the all-important preparation for summer lounging. Don ordered a repair kit for our LaFuma chairs and restrung them. Ya gotta have a lounge chairs in a proper garden!



Then he changed the tire on my faithful garden cart, which had suffered a serious breakdown


Living with a bike mechanic has its advantages. And dudes, check it out -- the new tire is a whitewall!



Perhaps this would be a good time to put in a plug for Garden Way carts? My sweetheart, sensing early on in our marriage that this gardening insanity probably wasn't going to go away, bought and assembled this cart from a kit for me back in, oh, 1972 or so. It came with all the hardware -- all he had to do was buy and cut the wood and put it together. I don't remember the cost, but it was damned cheap, and the thing has lasted and lasted, outside in all weather, for all these decades. The fact that, 38 years later, one of the tires broke, does not upset me. The other tire, not pictured, has had a severe wobble since our friend Rod borrowed it to move bricks, about 30 years ago, but even my ace bicycle mechanic husband can't true it. Still, it works.

Meanwhile, I assembled a worm bin. It's my second time on this, and I confess that, now that I have the girls I probably don't need one anymore. But I had ordered the worms 6 months or so ago, from a local worm rancher and couldn't resist the chance to go out to their place, admire their giant worm bins, and pick up my new livestock.

First, an old storage container with a weather-wrecked lid:


Next, bedding for the kids: shredded newspaper, old dead potting soil and a few handfuls of straw


Enter, the worms, courtesy of Rockton Ranch


Dive, dive, dive! Must escape Mr. Sun!


Cover with a nice newspaper blanket


Put on the lid


And under the eave of the front porch they go. Surely it's good feng shui to have earthworms next to the front door?!

Our name up in lights!

Well, it's all over but the shouting. Or rather, the resting-up. We came, we played, we were cheered, and the kids (and teachers) had a great time.


Here are a few scenes from the concert. This one was a piece called 'Agent 003' and as you can see, there are 3 players on each piano, making a total of 24 performers. Naturally, as secret agents, we all wore dark glasses.



Here I am with my good buddy, Patti.



Fun for all ages. And aren't these pianos beautiful?!


Here is the gang (I am 5th from the left)


Time to write thank you notes, get the DVDs out, make notes for next time, and put the monster piano concert garden to bed. See you in the (soil) garden.

"Oh, we'll just punt"

or 'Piano Delivery Debacle Adds Drama to Dress Rehearsal'

Tonight is our concert. Yesterday was the dress rehearsal, scheduled to start at 1:00 pm in the Tower Theatre.

I arrived around 11:00 to witness the unloading of the pianos. I was greeted with the words, "oh good, you're here -- did you get the update?"

These did not seem like propitious words at the start of a tightly timed event involving 100+ people. Indeed, I then learned that one of the 2 piano delivery trucks was broken down in Madras, 40 miles away. The other had arrived with only 4 of our 8 grand pianos in it. The other 4 were stuck in Madras, with no ETA in sight. What should we do: postpone the rehearsal for an undetermined time? Start and bring in the second set of pianos when/if they arrived before dinner time? Our unflappable conductor summed it up: "Oh, we'll just punt." And so we did.

Luckily, along with the 4 grands, there were 6 uprights standing against the back wall, waiting for the piano sale that will follow tonight's performance. We pulled up 4 of them and, despite the fact that none of the kids behind them could actually see the conductor sitting down, we started the rehearsal only 10 minutes late.

About 2+ hours into the rehearsal, a loud rumbling was heard outside the back stage door. I rushed out to see ..... a very large tow truck inching up the alley behind the theatre


followed by another large truck full of pianos


followed by a third large truck -- the original unbroken-down one that had brought the pianos we were playing on. All of this end-to-end down about 70 feet of the alley.

Soon there were a number of large, beefy guys standing around in the hot sun, trying to figure out how to marry two delivery gates (one inoperable), a wimpy ramp for the purpose of moving several large, unwieldy and very heavy objects into the theatre.



Meanwhile the rehearsal continued uninterrupted inside


They got it sorted out, and soon we started seeing (but not hearing) this -- they were incredibly quiet bringing these big babies in.







We sent the mover guys on to their next destination (140 miles north of here) with fresh lemonade from the farmers' market (conveniently located across the parking lot) and hot, sweaty hugs.

We left the stage quiet and dark, ready for players and audience -- coming tonight.


If you're curious, tune in to our live streaming video broadcast at this link. Cameras should be live starting around 7:15 pm PDT. Enjoy (and wish us luck!)

http://bit.ly/BendMonsterConcert

Monster Music Gardening This Week

Most of my energy and focus this week is on my 'monster music garden' -- the piano monster concert I organized and wrassled into existence last year, and which is happening once again on Thursday evening. I like to think of it as a garden, with planning, sowing, weeding, fertilizing and watering happening in the months between December and July. The harvest comes in two parts. First, the concert itself, which last year played to a spectacular sell-out crowd. Happy kids, happy parents, happy teachers, and happy random community members who stumbled upon this obscure event -- seemed to enjoy themselves hugely.

The second harvest has come gradually, and continues as the second concert draws near. That is the harvest of inspiration, determination and renewed interest in practicing, and in learning to think more deeply and consciously about music, that many of last year's participants are showing. One teacher told me her students have never counted so well, and that they ASK TO USE the metronome in their lessons. More students are willing and eager to play duets and other ensemble music with teachers, parents and their fellow students. Students are listening and watching better than ever before, as a result of having to follow a conductor, and stay together with other players. Pianists are notorious for ignoring everyone else when playing in groups, as a result of spending so much practice time alone. Playing with 7 or 15 or 23 other people requires good listening skills!

Here is our newest crop -- 9 brand-new-to-the-monster-concert performers -- waiting outside the rehearsal room and ready to play Giggle Bugs and Chocolate Fudge Swirls. Wouldn't you like to be there with them?


One of my favorite parts of the monster concert is the way young students play alongside older, longtime players. Making music together has no age boundaries

Who knows where these kids will go with music ..... in life ....... maybe they'll remember holding a conductor's baton and standing in front of a classroom full of their friends, leading the way?