Our 58th Anniversary

 It seems impossible that Johnny and I, young things that we think we are, have been married for 58 years but... we were married on Feb. 13 in 1967 so...  

I have told the story many times in these blog posts of how we happened to get married the day before Valentine's Day. 

Briefly: Johnny's Forest Service boss in Wyoming told him the Friday before that it was not acceptable to be living with a woman he was not married to. (Remember: This was 1967). So I had to move out. Instead, we got married the next Monday, when we figured the courthouse would be open. What we didn't realize was that Feb. 13 was a Federal Holiday (Lincoln's Birthday, I think) and courthouses in Wyoming and nearby Utah were closed. That's how we happened to get married in Paris. 

Paris, Idaho, that is. I guess Idaho did not observe federal holidays. 

Johnny always says Friday the 13th came on a Monday that year. And it does seem as though we have had some minor bad luck on most of our anniversaries. Those stories are in my blog posts, too. 

This year was no exception.

I have been sick for weeks with the coughing virus that's going around. Johnny gave it to me. Of course, he's well now. It's a good thing, too, because the weather has been challenging. I talked him into staying home on the 13th to celebrate our anniversary with me. All seemed to be going well at first. We watched a wonderful movie on the Roku TV that son Steve had given us and installed when they came here for the Christmas holidays. We had no clue how to use it, of course, so grandson Kestrel wrote out instructions in a little book and left it for us with the tv. Thank goodness for that little book. Johnny figured it out and we spent the afternoon watching The Greatest Showman. All was well until I went to the bathroom afterwards and discovered that we had no water. 

Johnny investigated the possibilities and discovered a broken pipe between well and house. Of course, he got stuck in his EZ Go in the snow and I was enlisted to pull him out with the tractor, which I have not driven in ages. That went well and I was able to take my coughing body back to the house while he gathered up all sorts of tools and, eventually, fixed the broken pipe. 

The only other still-unresolved problem is the bathroom tub drain doesn't drain and he's spending Valentine's Day working on that.

I guess it just shows if we can survive our Friday-the-13th-on-Monday anniversary each year, we can stick together for 58 years... and counting. 

A Bad Start to 2025

 

 

 There is no way to sugar coat the way this year has begun, both for us and for our nation.

 We don't usually get sick but we are. Johnny has had a coughing virus for a month. Now I have it. Just about everyone we know locally has or has had this bug. On top of that, I injured my back the first day Johnny was up in Seattle and have had painful sciatica down my right leg ever since. Fortunately, our electric EZ Go golf carts are very comfortable on my sore hip and so I've been doing chores via EZ Go for a month. But the relief is only while I'm in the cart so most of the time, I'm in pain. I don't do pain well. I do think it is slightly better... at least I'm not slathering it with pain relief salve constantly.

But worse is the state of our nation, now in the charge of a lunatic with a band of self-serving, wealthy lunatics carrying out their plans to gut the government of laws and any official that doesn't carry out their cruel directives. They have managed to buy the news media so most Americans apparently don't realize what's happening. That may change as soon as prices skyrocket, as they will have to do with the tariffs being imposed and all the seasonal workers being shipped out of the country. I doubt the fat cats in Washington will be picking produce in their places. Not that high prices mean anything but higher profits for them and their companies. It's only ordinary, non-billionaire Americans, who will pay the price. And, so far, they are mostly clueless.

So what's a person to do? I write letters to my congress folk, sign petitions, try to educate the people who are willing to listen (of whom there are precious few), and mostly just associate with and support our friends who are as outraged as are we. And that includes all of our left-leaning, progressive, college-educated friends... a group that includes nearly all our friends. If and when the tv addicts and Elon Musk worshipers will figure out there's a problem, I don't know.

Meanwhile, back on the farm, we just keep keeping on. This morning the ground is covered in snow. The world always looks so fresh and beautiful in snow. I am trying not to worry about how my hip-saving EZ Go will perform in deep snow. And what I will do if it won't. The goats should be worried, too, but they have the advantage of living in the present and trusting that their slave (me) will get to the barn to feed them. 

So I will take a clue from our supposedly less intelligent livestock and just enjoy the beauty of our newly-white world for a spell... and take photos... from inside my EZ Go, while it can still navigate this lovely, white world.

 

  

Too Many Bird Counts

 December was full of bird counts, both live ones (raptor routes and Christmas Bird Counts) and a dead one (Beached Bird survey). The weather and tides were not very cooperative. The tides only matter on our once-a-month Beached Bird Survey, but during this season of King Tides, that matters a lot. We can only walk along the beach looking for washed-in dead birds when the tide and waves are not apt to grab us and haul us out to sea. Since our beach is bordered by a very high dune that we would not be able to climb, it is very important to go when the ocean is a safe distance away. Thank goodness for tide tables. They tell me when the tide is going out and how high it will be when we must arrive at the beach... on a day when it's not pouring rain and blowing sand. Those conditions were not met until December 9th.

Meanwhile, we hit a reasonably clear day for our North Santiam Raptor route on December 5th. That 72 mile route took us 6 hours.

 The next day, we had finished morning farm chores and were about to start on the rest of the day's activities when Johnny said, "I just saw two Cooper's hawks fly across the driveway. Let's do our Grand Ronde raptor route!" The Grand Ronde route starts in our driveway and wanders through Grand Ronde, Willamina and Sheridan for 69 miles. So off we went.

  I always take photos of the raptors (hawks and eagles, basically) that we're not able to identify with certainty. At home I put my photos on the computer and bring them up or lighten them or do whatever it takes that the computer can do to make the bird recognizable.

Here's one of those distant birds. It was in Shenk Wetlands where we often see a Harrier and we thought that's what this must be, but even through the scope, it was hard to tell for sure. My camera though, brought it up closer and closer until it finally posed enough to see the white rump and Harrier face.

 Then on Monday, December 9th, all the signs pointed to a reasonably safe and dry beach experience so off we went to Pacific City and Bob Straub Park for our monthly Beached Bird Survey. We don't usually get very many washed-in birds on this beach but the month before we had nine, thanks to the wild seas. Most were Northern Fulmars, which we have never had before. 

This month we were hopeful of having a restful walk on the beach under sunny skies and no wind. We got the sunny skies and no wind, but, alas, the wild seas were still throwing dead birds up on the sand. This day there were six. All but one was a Northern Fulmar. Our usual one hour stroll with a bird or two became almost 3 hours. We take lots of measurements and follow the key in our Beached Bird guide book to identify the bird. And we take photos. They are not as scenic as the ones on our raptor routes. Here is one of the Northern Fulmars: 

  And the dune: 

 

And then it was Back to wreath making and Christmas light stringing before scouting for the first Christmas Bird Count (an Audubon tradition) scheduled for December 16, weather permitting. On the 14th we drove up into our sector of the count circle to check out the road situation. Alas, there was a logging operation in the area we drive up to access our sector. So we would have to go the long way around, nearly to Mt. Hebo, to get to our count area on count day. Rats.

And so we did... and hit snow. But it was passable and turned to rain in the lower areas. The birds, however, were elsewhere for the most part, having wings and being able to fly to better weather. I took few photos. And few of those were recognizable. There were flocks of Golden-crowned Kinglets feeding in the roadway, where kinglets never feed. I had to show my blurry photos, taken through the windshield in the rain, to our coordinator to find out that yes, they were kinglets and most everyone else had seen kinglets feeding on the ground in their sectors of the circle, too. How odd. Kinglets are supposed to be gleaning bugs at the tops of trees. I guess if the bugs are not up there... neither are the kinglets.

 The only birds I photographed that look like they should were the Varied Thrushes, of which there were many feeding by the roadside.

Sunday, December 22 was our second and last Audubon Christmas Bird Count. Called the Yamhill Valley count, it takes place in McMinnville and the hills near Sheridan. We have a friend, Mary, who lives inside our "Upper Gopher Valley" sector and does the count with us. So it's a fun count, whether we see many birds or not. The weather was damp but not pouring and the birds were fairly cooperative.

Very near  Mary's woodland home we heard the drumming of a woodpecker. It took us a very long time to figure out where the sound was coming from, then once we spotted the distant woodpecker, what it was. My camera helped considerably, drawing it up close.

... A Hairy Woodpecker!

 Near the end of our route, we came across a very wet and bedraggled juvenile Red-tailed Hawk perched on a snag, looking miserable in the cold, wet weather. We all agreed it was time to get out of the cold and the rain and go home.

 

 

 

On the 23rd, we were cleaning and cooking and preparing for our California kids and grandkids plus local friends to come for Christmas Eve dinner on the 24th. We had a great time, punctuated by unexpected excitement on Christmas night. That story is told in a previous blog post, "Twas the Night After Christmas".

2025 has begun with strange weather around the country: snow on the east coast and fires in southern California. There is good news, too, with our Steve and Kevin's childhood friend Brad recovering from his horrific traffic accident in November; Brad's brother Steve in Santa Monica, California, has so far not been evacuated for fire danger. Nor has our nephew Rob and family in the Los Angeles area. Meanwhile, Johnny is in Seattle helping son Kevin with a week's worth of projects while I tend the farm alone. So far, so good. When he gets back, we have two raptor routes to do... when the weather permits. We already managed to do our monthly beached bird survey on January 9th, with only one beached bird!

Here's hoping the rest of 2025 is kind to all of us.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Postscript to The Night After Christmas

 Time marches on as I frantically chase after it, trying to catch up. Johnny is much faster than I. That tree that fell across our drive on Christmas night is still there... missing the entire section that was blocking our route to the barn. Johnny took care of that with his biggest chain saw and log roller gizmo (have no idea what it's called) in one long day.

 

 

Here's the California family admiring Grandpa's work. It was a great Christmas week with them ... off and on... safely in a bnb on the coast during the tree excitement.

 

 

 

Although poplar is not the greatest firewood, look how pretty it is! I think they would make great tables... or toys for goats to jump on...