His excellency paid us a visit in which we served him coffee and discussed how much the town has changed in just the past eleven months (traffic is worse) he’s been away, and sundry other points of interest.
He said the rancho sits in what was once a field of scattered limestone quarries when he was coming up here in the Sixties. Now lives in western Colorado taking care of his 80ish parents. Sent his regards to Barbara Ellen who was at work.
The old Assyrian said he’d been in touch with Snoopy to learn that he was visiting the grand kids up on the Lebanon border. Stay safe. Mr. Goon. We shared memories of defunct Austin restaurants like Bean’s and Les Amis. But he finally had to leave: Got to go see a girl, he said, with anticipatory eyebrows.
If you can make out the three yellow spots (click on the photo to biggerize it) you’ll see the broken limbs from a tree on the north side of the rancho. Tool shed visible through the branches. Super-saturation with rainwater combined with 45 mph gusts brought them down. Now to clean them up. May take a few days to get it scheduled with a tree service. “Is it an emergency?” asked the receptionist. “Because we’ve got trees fallen into houses and onto cars.” Well, no. I can wait.
UPDATE: Our landscaper got a crew out Tuesday and cleared all this away. Said one good result is the grass will grow better now without the shade.
Six to eight inches of rain could fall on the rancho this weekend. A pittance compared to what some others will get but plenty enough for us.
A recent visitor to our bird feeders at Rancho Roly Poly. I was stunned when I saw it in my binoculars and didn’t have time to grab a camera. This will do.
Via Danny Bales at allaboutbirds dot com
Our orange male tabby Pumpkin shot out the front door last night as I stood paying the pizza man. The escape artist ran down the slope of the front lawn. I hurried after him pleading for him to come back.
He slowed to a walk as he got to the sidewalk and kept walking south tentatively, ears twitching at the outdoor sounds only animals can hear. He waited for me to catch up and didn’t protest when I picked him up and took him back inside.
He has to be too smart to want to return to the constant danger and hunger he knew as a stray for at least the past two years. I can’t imagine how he ever got any sleep, which house cats do for an average of sixteen hours a day. I expect he is more appreciative now of his new home of almost seven weeks.
For reasons I no longer recall, Mrs. C. did not believe in running the self-clean cycle on the rancho’s self-cleaning Frigidaire gas oven.I think she didn’t like the smell it put out on the self-clean setting. Result: the glass door was incredibly soiled on the inside. Most of the interior was okay. I guess she cleaned that part by hand.
The other day I decided to run it on its two-hour cycle. Opened windows and turned on ceiling fans. Fortunately it was warmish outside (well, in the 50s) so we didn’t freeze, Senor Gato and me (Mr. B. was gone to school) and the smell was tolerable.
Best part is, later, when the cycle was over and the oven had cooled down again, I followed the instructions and wiped down the interior with a damp cloth, including the glass on the inside of the door. Whoop-de-do. The glass is clean for the first time I can remember. Several years, anyhow. I’m so far successfully resisting any more major cleaning efforts, however.
Ms Graham is an old favorite here at Rancho Roly Poly