I forget I had this....

Fri, 8 Oct 2010 17:35:47 -0700

I think I may revisit this site. A lot has happened. Stay tuned.

Long May You Run.

Tue, 11 Aug 2009 10:52:31 -0700

When my parents purchased the Cooper Hollow property in 1991, it came with a tractor and a 1968 International pickup. When I showed up in 1997, I tried to revive it, with mixed results. I never had much use for it, beyond yard sculpture.

This Spring I decided to get the truck moving, at least out of my driveway. A friend helped get the gas tank out for repairs, then I towed the truck wot Roger’s Automotive in Monmouth to fix the brakes.

While parked at Roger’s along 99W, a gentleman drove past and took an interest. He told his son, who contacted me to see if the truck was for sale. He’d been looking for an International like the one his Dad had in 1968.

Turns out, this truck WAS his Dad’s old truck. Assumed scraped years ago, but still alive, found by happenstance.

So the old white truck is back with his family, I have a piece of equipment out of my yard, and everything is where it should be.

Water, water, everywhere.

Wed, 8 Jul 2009 16:46:43 -0700

As I rejigger my life, I find myself floating downstream to a pool of possibilities. In coming weeks, I might fashion a livelihood from water. Stay tuned.

Shamrock, R.I.P.

Wed, 24 Jun 2009 10:12:38 -0700

A few days ago, I said farewell to my quirky dog friend, Shamrock. She lived with me for a dozen of her fourteen years, staying after the rest of my family followed their whims and journeys.

Shortly before I moved to Oregon in 1997, my parents bought a Jack Russell terrier puppy named Peanut. My mom embraced animals of all types, and she thought a JRT would entertain the grandkids and control the rodent populations. (Mom was a pragmatic gal.) Unfortunately, Kim accidentally ran over Peanut within days of our arrival.

Oops.

I felt duty-bound to replace Peanut with another JRT. We scoured the classifieds (remember those -- before Craigslist?) and found a breeder in Woodburn. She had a bitch with fine lineage but a reluctance to breed. Fine by me. Shamrock (so named by the shape of her black rump patch) took a shine to me, but I thought nothing of it at the time. We agreed to co-own Shamrock for one more breeding effort, then she was ours.

By the time we acquired Shamrock, my folks had gotten over their desire for a JRT, so... I guess we had a dog to ourselves. Shamrock was most grateful to escape the craziness of her fellow JRTs, and she grew into her role as Solo Alpha Bitch of the Ranch.

She schooled my son's black lab, Draco, in the art of digging after gophers and pronging through the weeds. A Mutt & Jeff combo of canines. Many a time I saw her rump barely above ground, and many times later with a gopher a third her size as the reward. She was always ready for a bounce around the property, looking for new critter smells.

At night, she lobbied for a spot on the bed. Usually a game night decision, depending how much dirty fun she had during the day. She preferred to tunnel under the covers and find body heat next to an available thigh.

She took a special affection to me. One time, I was on all fours beneath my desk, untangling and futzing with wires and cables. She hopped on my back and curled up for a nap as I went about my work. Whenever I played piano, she tucked into her bed and listened -- even as she went deaf in the last few months.

As she gathered her spirits from life on the farm, she shed her reluctance to breed. We honored our obligation for a litter with the original owner, then kept going. She had several litters, and we used our new-fangled InterWeb skills to shill her puppies around the country. And we kept some, which drove me bonkers. One JRT is okay, but seven? Insane. (Our vet, who refers to JRTs as "Jack Russell Terrorists," claims the dogs have only two speeds -- Really Fast and Oh My Gosh!) And yet, I forgive Shamrock.

One of the litters almost killed Shamrock. Shortly before her due date, she disappeared. We didn't see her for a couple weeks. I assumed her luck had run, and she was a coyote dinner. Then we heard a faint puppy yelp. We looked all around, saw nothing. After a few days, we discovered the yelps were coming from beneath the concrete floor of our equipment shed. Shamrock had tunneled beneath the slab, well beyond reach. We assumed she was alright, but she wasn't. The tunnel had collapsed and she was trapped. Using my small children as excavators, we rescued Shamrock and her sole surviving puppy. If we had waited any longer, Shamrock would have died. As it was, her chances were 50-50.

But she survived and prospered. When Kim and I split last year, she took all the other JRTs (thank God!) and added a couple Irish Wolfhounds and a pit bull mutt (Godspeed!). Draco and Shamrock stayed with me. Slower of foot, unable to leap into bed, she settled into senior living, but still keen for frolics in the woods.

Last week I took her to the vet, who confirmed my suspicion that Shamrock was on her last legs. She was still eating and enjoying life yet uncomfortable, so I held off on the Deep Sleep option. On Friday, she struggled up the stairs, but greatly relished her doggy treats. I left the sliding door open for her to relieve herself during the night and left her curled up in her bed by the piano.

By morning she was gone. Still gone on Sunday. My pal Nancy and I walked the woods on Sunday afternoon, but no trace. As we got back to the house, a couple neighbors had stopped to see if we were missing a small terrier. They found her along the road, with no idea where she might belong. We went to get her. Shamrock was weak and sore, clearly worse then when I gave her the dog biscuit on Friday. We cleaned her up, put her in the dog bed next to the piano. I played her a pleasant tune, of my own making, while Nancy petted her. Just enough aware to be grateful to be home, Shamrock was clearly in pain. I thought of waiting 'til the morning to see the vet, but after a few minutes, I made the call to Dr. Fullmer at Dallas Animal Clinic. We met him at the clinic, and Shamrock passed gracefully.

We buried Shamrock along the back fence of the property, overlooking the valley through the oaks. I often saw Shamrock just sit on the crest of the yard, taking in the world in a most relaxed, thoughtful way. And there she rests today.

Shamrock followed me through a notable phase of my life, from the beginning to my time on Cooper Hollow, through my children's growth to adulthood, to the passing of my mother and the end of my marriage. Apart from the loss of her company, Shamrock is a vessel of personal memories, an avatar of my times, a special friend during unusual times. A good companion who led a full doggy life.

Sleep well, my pal.

Trim & Cut

Mon, 11 May 2009 15:59:48 -0700

As the dust settles from the cataclysm called the last three years, everyone who used to live with me has ventured in new directions. With my dad moving to the Dallas Retirement Village (and assisted care in February), he doesn’t need his house in the countryside. I don’t have an army of people to manage the watershed, and I’m a terrible farmer. So I’m getting ready to list the house, maybe by the end of the month.

A wonderful place, but way too big for my needs, way too much responsibility, way too distracting from everything else I should do. I’ll repair the front deck, refloor the bottom floor, fix the landscaping, clean up the woodland, and sprinkle pixie dust.

The available options are (1) sell the house and sixty acres, (2) sell the house and ten acres, retaining fifty acres adjacent to my dad’s place, (3) sell the two houses and sixty-six acres. The market is very slow, and valuations down from March, when Kim and I had an appraisal for purposes of the divorce. But it’s time to move on, in directions yet to be discovered.

For more info, check www.cooperhollow.com.

Huh?!? 2009!

I forget I had this....

Long May You Run.

Water, water, everywhere.

Shamrock, R.I.P.

Trim & Cut