For 12 hours overnight from yesterday afternoon. Back on this morning. Ice accumulation on the power lines, apparently, or nearby trees falling on them. Indeed, all night we heard trees falling in the canyon from ice accumulation. Waiting for full daylight to see the carnage.
Our thanks to the resident here at the canyon who, around midnight last night, amid the usual bottle rockets and roman candles, played Auld Lang Syne on a trumpet. He (or she?) also plays taps on Memorial Day. Sweet notes drifting through the trees. A healthy year to all!
Several downpours overnight has us worrying if the water will get into the kitchen cabinets again. Apparently not. Left the doors open to air them out. Then Checkers the cat got into the biggest one, all the way in the back, and sat there looking self-satisfied until I said it was okay and then he left. No wet paw prints evident.
Bar this morning spotted Mr. and Mrs. Cardinal shepherding three baby cardinals through the branches of nearby trees and briefly onto the tiles of the back porch. Checkers the cat, from the back of the sofa, was wishing they’d all go to hell, Bar surmised.
The dishwasher is re-stabilized after loosening during counter-top changes from tile to formica, and the fridge is likewise, finally. Happy Day!
Had to issue fliers to all residents of our building about plumbers cutting off the water between 1 p.m. and 4 p.m. tomorrow to replace a faucet that feeds the new fridge’s ice-maker. Ice just tastes bad with the existing, old and corroded faucet.
Now need to get an electrician in to replace some light bulbs with LEDs, and four ceiling fan blades that are just too high for us fogies to balance on a step-ladder, when our balance is fairly screwed up. Especially mine at age 76.
A longtime resident, who was an archaeologist in a previous incarnation, ventured into the canyon years ago on an old trail and returned to describe some interesting things.
Among them, apparent Native American campsites (hearths & middens) and the remains of an old house that could have belonged to one of the area’s famous “cedar choppers,” folks who in the 1930s and on into the 1950s cut up mountain cedar (really juniper) to make charcoal which they sold in burlap bags.
I won’t identify the resident because the condo board of directors doesn’t want us owners/residents venturing into the canyon.
UPDATE: Oops. Turns out the archeo found this stuff in Caprock Canyon, about a mile south of Neely’s. Alas and alack. He says they probably also exist in Neely’s Canyon but he’s seen no evidence of it. “I believe,” he wrote me, “indigenous peoples occupied the (Neely’s) area in short seasonal intervals for perhaps thousands of years…very short in duration & maintained by small groups… In short the human fingerprint on the area would have been faint.”