In the past, I've wondered why Thanksgiving, a harvest festival, is held a month or two after the garden has frozen and there's not much fresh food to be had, other than the turkey. This year was different. With a late start, the garden was not in full production until September. Our usual mid-September frost did not happen and the weather stayed pleasant until shortly before Thanksgiving. Thus we had for our harvest meal: carrot raisin salad with carrots freshly dug (although I had to pour warm water on the soil to thaw it before digging the carrots), potatoes unearthed shortly before the ground froze, squash and pumpkin pie from Hubbard Squash newly harvested, dressing made with herbs picked fresh that morning from the garden (parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme).
Friends Barb and Mark brought more pies and salads... and a dragon, Barb's latest creation for Portland's Christmas Revels. Steve and Munazza brought our grandsons Kestrel and Cedrus (not to eat, just to enjoy). 3 1/2 year old Kestrel was not amused, although the rest of us were, when his father appeared to nearly become food for the dragon.
Johnny believes you have to work off all that Thanksgiving dinner, so he put the wee boys to work. Never too young to haul in firewood, Johnny says.
That was fun for awhile, but more fun was climbing the ladder to the loft of the new goat barn under construction...
And feeding comfrey leaves to goats, gathering eggs, and throwing seed out for the birds. The California Quail were very appreciative.
Hikes are mandatory on our farm so, besides the usual Fink Family Farm arboretum tour, we took a short drive to the newly reopened Yoncalla Falls trail. At 1 1/2 years old, Cedrus could only take so much of this exhaustive farm life: he went on strike. Steve had come prepared with a stroller. This was not a trail designed for strollers, but it worked. (So did Steve.) Kestrel was a trooper and hiked the whole trail up and back: he loves bushwhacking. The waterfall at the end of the hike made all that work worthwhile. (Well, only if Mom was holding him, as far as Cedrus was concerned.)
Kids... and parents... and grandparents (whew!) need to sleep after all that activity.
What could be cuter than Kestrel in his skeleton jammies and Cedrus in his snowman jammies?
Thanksgiving 2010 was a harvest of garden goodies and happy memories. And now to rest up...
Sunday it seemed as though everyone except us was getting snow. We could see it in the hills above us, but all we had was cold rain and wind. Ugh. So we drove up into the hills to enjoy the first snowfall of the season. We didn't have to go far.... but we went a little too far for our truck with no traction devices and had to back down the slippery mountain road.
Back a bit lower in the no-snow zone, we found that the trail to Yoncalla Falls was open again after having been thoroughly blocked by downed trees for the last two years. Hooray for the hardy souls who cleared it.. no doubt a work crew from the Confederated Tribes of Grand Ronde, who are gradually making a trail all the way from Grand Ronde to the coast. We did not hike across Yoncalla Creek to the upper falls on Boulder Creek, but we could see it from the road now that the leaves are gone.
On Monday the higher elevations and higher latitudes (like Seattle) were having blizzard conditions. We were having cold rain and wind. But before I went out to do evening chores, the rain had turned to snow. Hooray!
I was not so thrilled when I went outside. It was snowing horizontally... very wet and very cold. Soon the snow turned to snow pellets travelling sideways about 40 mph... painful as they peppered my face. This was not what I had in mind when I was wishing for snow.
By Tuesday morning (today) the brutal snow pellets had changed to lovely snowflakes drifting slowly down as snowflakes should. Only about an inch of snow was on the ground but that was enough to make things pretty. Much of the snow melted today in the areas not shaded, although light snow showers continued off and on. The shady woods were still lovely this afternoon, though, with nature's artworks everywhere.
Agency Creek was a deep chilly blue and running full. But not as full as it will be in the spring, after the snow above us melts.
The dogs accompanied me on my woodland walk of course. This moss and fern covered stump looked like a howling dog to me, but Shirley and McCoy didn't think so.
We usually wonder if we'll have a white Christmas. This year I wonder if we'll have a white Thanksgiving.
Whenever company is expected, I "clean" the table by stuffing all the assorted mail and papers and whatever-else-I've-stashed-on-the-table into a big cardboard box which I then hide in Johnny's study, to be sorted later. Someday. Hopefully before the next round of company. I am currently two boxes behind. But now that's it's raining daily, I have time to sort.
So, naturally, I've found something else to do: compile my father's life story. Dad died over two years ago. For about the last eight years of his life, he and I each tried to write down his stories. I now have all those notes and writings and what not on a table in my office, along with photos from his house that I have not yet gone through. It was too sad to deal with these memories in the first year after his death. Or the second. Now I'm able to do it without too many tears.
Dad mostly wrote about his military career of which he was rightfully proud. I tried to get other stories out of him... about his childhood and about his courtship of Mom. I am so glad I did. Now I'm working on my brother, who is 5 years older than I, to tell me stories of our childhood that I don't remember. I remember little of those years. Heck, I remember little that happened yesterday, how could I remember 60 years ago? Bob does better. His memories tend to revolve around boat racing and fishing and hunting, interests he shared with Dad. My memories revolve around horses. Dad was a good horseman and supported my horse craziness.
Once I get all the stories together, my brother and I will add photos. Here's one I found awhile ago and scanned into the computer. Dad is a young airman in the Army Air Corps here, before it became the U.S. Air Force. This photo was probably taken sometime in the 1940's. Dad was born in 1918 and entered the service when he was 18.
This project promises to be a lot more fun than sorting "company boxes".
Today was supposed to be my catching up day... catching my breath after a busy several days. Friday I drove 6 hours to the Washington kids' place to attend and help with another fabulous Shannon Peters clinic over the weekend. And to play with grandson Ian who has a cool new game for his WII, "Just Dance". Here he is during a clinic lunch break, following the WII dancer's moves.
Ian didn't have much time to spend dancing, though. He manned the concession booth at the clinic both days, selling hot coffee and muffins and a multitude of other things. Between customers, he played games on his portable computer. Ian is a high tech kid. But he knows how to make change in his head... no calculator needed.
The whole trip, not just the dancing, was fun but exhausting. I could get tired just watching Shannon working with horses and riders from the ground. At times with long lines, at times with longe whip and/or bamboo pole, she helps create the "inner fire" and instant response so necessary for dressage. She gives the horses (and the riders) positive reinforcement when they make the right responses and both horses and riders try hard to please her.
I drove home Sunday afternoon, before the clinic was over, so I could go to my Monday jump lesson. This was at a different barn than usual but with the same wonderful instructor. One of these times I'll have to coax Johnny into coming with me and taking photos. Mr. Smith and I had great fun learning to bounce. No, not the kind of bouncing on horseback I do without instruction. This kind of bouncing is jumping several jumps in a row with no strides in between. We did four jumps in a line, bouncing in and out. Very fun but, again, exhausting.
Today was supposed to be a restful day after all this excitement. But my animals, as usual, thought otherwise. Animals seem to be tuned into my moods and as soon as I'm tired and need rest, they do something to make sure I don't get it. This morning I discovered that Jessie Anne had, sometime before I arrived on the scene, managed to get herself on the wrong side of the electric fence, tearing it down in the process. I spent the first part of my restful day repairing fence.
Then I fed the horses their breakfasts. As I was doing so, I noticed Shirley Puppy headed through the bushes for the woven wire fence separating us from our neighbor. Mister McCoy (more commonly known as The Big White Dog) was right behind her. Those delinquents oozed through a widened space in the woven wire and disappeared eastward, toward the road. I screamed at them. McCoy reappeared, joyfully wagging his tail, and squeezed back through the fence. Shirley followed reluctantly. Once the dogs were on the proper side of the fence, I praised them for coming home but told them they must not go outside our boundaries.
Knowing I would be ignored, I shoved a spare white electric fence post into the ground, fastening the wires to it in hopes of blocking their escape route. Of course, the dogs are perfectly capable of creating other widened places so I wove branches through wires in other likely escape spots. I do not want McCoy roaming the neighborhood.
Finally, I headed for the goat barn to do morning chores, only to realize that I first needed to unload the feed I'd picked up at the feed store on my way home from my jump lesson yesterday. Eventually, the 10 sacks of goat feed were unloaded, goats milked and fed, barn cleaned. Johnny, who spent the day working on the new goat barn, helped unload the 10 sacks of horse feed. By now my catching up on rest day was half over with nary a sign of resting.
But in the afternoon bills were paid, appointments made, and too many hours spent on this computer trying to find lost information needed to make those appointments and pay those bills. I guess that's a kind of resting, just not very relaxing. So I elected to relax by catching up in this blog... instead of doing something useful, like unpacking the car... and my suitcase... from the weekend.
And now, before I get on with the evening's work and apropos of nothing, here are some recent images...
Elk and a Cedar Waxwing at Finley National Wildlife Refuge;
the big white dog where he's supposed to be, with goats in the goat barn;
and Johnny on top of the new goat barn, working late one evening.
Finley is one of the three Willamette Valley refuges strung in a line from Eugene to Salem that were created as safe wintering grounds for the Dusky Canada Goose, a bird that winters nowhere else. Other birds have benefited from the protection, making these refuges a birder's paradise. Baskett Slough, just west of Salem, is close to where I live and the only one of the three I regularly bird... on my way to and from the feed store in Dallas. That is, it was the only one... until friend Toni was kind enough to move to Albany, not far from Finley, and give me an excuse to pick her up and go birding and hiking at the Corvallis area refuge.
Our first jaunt this fall was in October. The second was yesterday. Both times we hit glorious autumn days with sun and dramatic clouds, colorful leaves and fields greened by rains. This photo of the refuge was taken by Toni yesterday.
On both trips we were able to tour charming country roads we had not intended to tour... because neither of us has any sense of direction and kept getting lost. It's fun to have a birding partner who considers every wrong turn a chance for new adventures.
In October, we saw White-fronted Geese (like the one above), along with Duskies and other forms of Canada and Cackling Geese (presumably, although I can only identify Duskies because they are, well, dusky). On both trips, we walked this wonderful Homer Campbell boardwalk through the lichen-dripping forest to Cabell Marsh.
On yesterday's trip we found all our target birds: Tundra Swan, Western Meadowlark, and Red-shouldered Hawk. (We targeted these because someone else had reported seeing them there recently.) We also saw many other birds, especially geese. Geese in the water, on land, in the air... noisy geese everywhere. I did not manage to get good photos of our target birds, but you can see a couple white swans way in the background on Cabell Marsh, behind hordes of ducks and geese.
Another white bird was closer, as we first entered the refuge. Great Egrets are not shy.
At the refuge headquarters, many Acorn Woodpeckers and Western Bluebirds were flitting about. This bluebird seemed to be mocking my photo taking attempts.
An American Kestrel was more cooperative, perching in plain sight on one of the refuge interpretive signs. But I had to lean way out of the window to take his portrait without flushing him. Toni captured my contortions.
Although the sun was setting, we hated to leave this bird paradise. As Western Meadowlarks sang and a Red-shouldered Hawk sat in the dimming light... too far for a photo but close enough to be identified through the scope... we headed home in a glowing sunset.
Toni and I are both looking forward to our next trip to Finley... likely by yet another unexpected route on some unforeseen, but no doubt charming, country road.
On my way home from the World Equestrian Games, I bought the book "Secretariat", by William Nack, at the Lexington airport bookstore. This was the first I knew that Paradies has stores at most every major airport and that you can buy a book, read it, return it within six months to any of their shops with your original receipt, and receive a 50% refund. Cool. Except I haven't returned it. There are some books that I just can't turn loose of. This one is the true story that inspired the motion picture Secretariat.... a good movie... but the book is, of course, much more detailed, much more about the horse... and true.
My parents were horse-racing enthusiasts and we watched all the Triple Crown races on television, after television came into being. Johnny and I never felt the need for a tv, but I retreated to my parents' house to watch the Triple Crown most years, including 1973, the year Secretariat won all three of those races. The last and longest of the races, the one that at least some people thought was too long for the big red come-from-behind horse, Secretariat won by 31 lengths in a record time that has never been beat. It still gives me goose bumps to watch. Here is a video of that race: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xoFquax2F-k
Born and raised in Virginia and retired in Kentucky, Secretariat, (along with bourbon whiskey), is the pride of the blue grass state. A life-size bronze statue of Secretariat, with jockey Ron Turcotte aboard and groom Eddie Sweat hanging on to the reins from the ground, graces Secretariat Plaza at the Kentucky Horse Park. This photo is from the internet as I did not get a good one while at KHP in September... too many people were always gathered around the famous Big Red.
The movie played loosely with the facts of the coin toss that gave Penny Chenery Tweedy the foal that became Secretariat. That bothered me when I watched the movie, having already read the book. Although it made a good story that Penny had researched and decided the foal from the younger mare would make the better horse because the dam had distance horses in her background, it isn't true.
In fact, the heavily researched book explains that there were two sets of breeding results to be decided with that coin toss of 1969. The winner of the flip automatically got the first choice of the first pair of foals, those born in 1969, either the Somethingroyal filly or the Hasty Matelda colt. The loser, while getting whichever foal the flip winner did not select, would also automatically get the first choice of the second pair of foals to be born in 1970. The winner of the toss would get the second choice of the second pair.
But, as they already knew at the time of the coin toss, there would be no second foal in the second pair because Somethingroyal was pregant again; the other mare who was part of the 2nd year's deal, Cicada, was barren. Whoever won the toss would get their choice of the first pair, but only that horse. The loser would get a 1969 and a 1970 foal. Naturally, neither Phipps nor Penny wanted to win.
Penny lost the toss. Phipps took the Somethingroyal filly, and named her The Bride. Penny got the Hasty Matelda colt, naming him Rising River. Neither foal born that year amounted to anything. But the following year, in 1970, Somethingroyal gave birth to the second foal for Penny's Meadow Stable... because she lost the coin toss... and that foal was Secretariat.
Big Red, as he was known, was almost certainly the greatest race horse ever. About that, the movie did not lie. However, I wish the movie had explained how Secretariat did what everyone at the time knew was impossible: running faster each quarter mile in the Kentucky Derby than the previous one... no horse had ever done that in a mile-and-a-quarter race... and cutting over two seconds off the mile and a half Belmont record... simply not possible. But the big red colt did it. There was a reason that the movie never mentioned.
When Secretariat was euthanized in 1989 because of laminitis, a necropsy was performed by Dr. Thomas Swerczek. All of the horse's vital organs were normal in size except for the heart. Here is what Dr. Swerczek said: "I've seen and done thousands of autopsies on horses, and nothing I'd ever seen compared to it. The heart of the average horse weighs about nine pounds. This was almost twice the average size, and a third larger than any equine heart I'd ever seen. And it wasn't pathologically enlarged. All the chambers and the valves were normal. It was just larger. I think it told us why he was able to do what he did."
When the movie said Secretariat had the heart to win, it was literally true. There has never been another like him. It's an exciting movie to watch. But I'm glad I read the book.
On Halloween, I turned 65 by Medicare's count, 35 by mine. (At age 50, I started counting backward, making me 35 this Oct. 31st. Time is relative, right?) For such a momentous occasion, I planned a big party. In my head. But my enthusiasm ran out by the time October arrived, along with a series of flu/cold bugs and regrouping after my big trip to the World Equestrian Games in Kentucky.
So instead I opted for three days of goofing off. Friday of Halloween weekend, I went to Daryll's Nursery's end-of-the-season sale with friend Velta. It was a beautiful fall day and we had a great time. I bought a lovely Japanese maple which will get planted in the arboretum eventually.
By Saturday morning, I was sick with a bad cold. But Johnny and I went to the movie Secretariat anyway and then to watch a friend ride in a dressage show. The plan had been to eat at our favorite Thai restaurant in McMinnville after the show but I felt too crummy so Johnny brought take-out instead. All was not lost as we had yummy Thai food for both Saturday and Sunday suppers.
On Sunday, Halloween and my actual birthday, we intended to explore logging roads in the hills by us, arriving eventually at the coast. Although feeling yucky, I rallied enough to let Johnny drive me into the woods. Occasionally, I woke up long enough to get out and enjoy the scenery. We did make it to the ocean eventually. It was fun to see (from a distance) my summer haunt... Road's End, and The Thumb that I have hiked so many times looking for Black Oystercatchers.
In spite of my cold-that-refused-to-go-away, it was a busy week before the next weekend: putting music to the pas de deux with friend Sam; going on my first raptor run of the season with friend Carol; writing my monthly goat column for United Caprine News; setting up the pas de deux course, with added jumps, in our field and practicing it solo; enjoying the baby owls begging for food and flying about (one evening four friends came to enjoy with us); watching Jessica's horse Lily in the Lendon Gray clinic at Devonwood; and doing as little as possible in the way of cleaning up the house to get ready for company on the weekend.
On Saturday, Kevin and Jessica and Ian arrived to celebrate my birthday a little late, on their only free weekend. Jessica cooked her fabulous chili and baked pumpkin cupcakes with cream cheese frosting, my favorite. Jessica's chili would win any bake-off. She creates a mouth-watering masterpiece, then tops it with several varieties of grated cheese plus avocados. Oh my.
While Jessica cooked, the rest of us, along with friends Barb and Mark, shook the last remaining apples off our apple trees and, adding them to Barb and Mark's apples, pressed cider. Our goal was not so much to make cider as to remove the apples to discourage any more visits from bears. But the cider is delicious and the bears seem to have given up and moved on, even before we took away the last of their apples.
In years past, we have had big cider making parties but big parties take much energy (plus many apples) and we had neither this year. Maybe we *are* getting older. Good thing there are younger folk to keep the tradition alive. Pictured washing apples are Mark and Barb and our grandson Ian, with llamas supervising in the background. Running apples through the grinder is Ian, with Grandpa Johnny's help. And squeezing them through the press are Kevin and Ian, displaying teamwork. Yes, 9-year-old Ian, who has been doing this since he was small, helped with every part of the process.
It turned out to be a happy Halloween, extended-birthday, after all.
Author of three humor books: "Life in the Goat Lane"; "More Life in the Goat Lane"; "How to Live with Teenagers. I give up. How?"
Retired weekly columnist for The Sheridan Sun, retired monthly columnist for United Caprine News: "The Kidding Pen". Books available from any bookstore by order, and from the author: linda@fink.com
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