A BAT was swooping around the house just as I was getting ready for bed. It was wonderful watching how he could fly and turn, but of course it was under a lot of stress. For one thing it isn't used to lights at night. I wasn't sure what to do since I don't have a butterfly net! It was madly circling arpund so fast I didn't think I could catch it. (Amir did catch two bats in the summer with a towel).
I stood by the front door with the screen door open hoping and praying and sending it a psychic message so it could just fly out, but the poor thing was on radar and didn't have a clue. I think it finally went down stairs to the basement, which is probably where it got in by the window I have open down there with no screen!
When Aslan (my 25# gray tiger cat)came in from his nightly neighborhood prowling he got his "pet on" on his favorite rug, went to his food dish and then STOPPED in his tracks. I'm sure he could hear the bat down there (inaudible to me). He walked over to the stairs and was poised there listening. I turned off the light and went up staris to bed. I knew that finding much less catching the bat in the basement would be pretty much impossible. Later I heard Aslan romping around the first floor. I was hoping he wouldn't trash anything in his effort to catch the bat. Of course I was afraid that in the unlikely scenario that he did catch the bat that it might bite him.
This morning no sign of the bat and no broken sculptures - thank GOD!. I hope it found the basement window and could get out on its own.
Part 2:
After Signe left her two person birthday party (complete with chocolate - cranberry cake) I settled on the couch to read and looked up at the bricks of the fireplace in front of me.
There she/he was. A compact, symmetrical little ball of brown fur and darker wings. Of course it was sleeping upside down. I was able to stand on the couch and gently nabbed it with a pink hand towel. I saw his tiny little foot. I wanted to take a better look and maybe take a picture, but didn't want to wake it up or for it to be more frightened than it was already being in a foreign human home. Of course I didn't want to be bitten by a bat! I carried it outside and gently placed it on the small rocking chair on my big Midwestern front porch. When I checked a few minutes later it was gone.
I'm glad I was able to catch the bat and let it free. Earlier in the day I was concerned that it would be hungry as I was not sure what food it might find in the basement.
All's well that ends well!
Sunday, August 7, 2011
Sunday, November 14, 2010
November Chill
Here it is again. The dramatic, Wisconsin November - bare branches etched against the cold gray sky. The Canadian geese have long since departed, having already started their southerly trek in August.
Today a migrating cardinal pecks at the compost in the back yard. It must be a little restaurant for them. I see a pair of them traveling through in earlier spring and later fall. And an occasional blue jay. Although there have been numerous frosts the parsley is still going strong. The little tomatillos (garden "volunteers") still hang on the tomato cages in their papery jackets looking a little forlorn.
Today I'm cooking some cranberry sauce and will make my own birthday cake. I dreamed up a chocolate cranberry cake last year for Townely's B Day in December. Despite speculation, it turned out great, especially with a chocolate/orange frosting. So it will be a gift I give myself and my friends for our little "cake time" tomorrow. It's lovely to have the oven on this time of year, warming up the place. Steam even collected on the windows of the studio when I gave a massage yesterday. Cold weather is good for business.
Other signs of the season - the squirrels ate the face off my Jack-O-Lantern (!!) and I dug out my black fur, Chinese pilot's hat and mittens. Aslan, my big, male, gray tiger-cat, has put on his winter coat. He is soft and very sleek with an extra layer of fur and insulating fat for his nightly forays into the neighborhood.
Strangely, I sit on the front porch swing these days as I sip my coffee in the morning in a sweatshirt, nightgown, bare legs and slippers. I barely feel a chill as bikers whiz by bundled against Jack Frost, pedaling fast to keep warm.
I guess I am truly a child of the fall.
Today a migrating cardinal pecks at the compost in the back yard. It must be a little restaurant for them. I see a pair of them traveling through in earlier spring and later fall. And an occasional blue jay. Although there have been numerous frosts the parsley is still going strong. The little tomatillos (garden "volunteers") still hang on the tomato cages in their papery jackets looking a little forlorn.
Today I'm cooking some cranberry sauce and will make my own birthday cake. I dreamed up a chocolate cranberry cake last year for Townely's B Day in December. Despite speculation, it turned out great, especially with a chocolate/orange frosting. So it will be a gift I give myself and my friends for our little "cake time" tomorrow. It's lovely to have the oven on this time of year, warming up the place. Steam even collected on the windows of the studio when I gave a massage yesterday. Cold weather is good for business.
Other signs of the season - the squirrels ate the face off my Jack-O-Lantern (!!) and I dug out my black fur, Chinese pilot's hat and mittens. Aslan, my big, male, gray tiger-cat, has put on his winter coat. He is soft and very sleek with an extra layer of fur and insulating fat for his nightly forays into the neighborhood.
Strangely, I sit on the front porch swing these days as I sip my coffee in the morning in a sweatshirt, nightgown, bare legs and slippers. I barely feel a chill as bikers whiz by bundled against Jack Frost, pedaling fast to keep warm.
I guess I am truly a child of the fall.
Monday, October 25, 2010
Long Hair and Witchy Women
Monday, October 25, 2010
FASHION & STYLE | NY Times October 24, 2010
The Mirror: Why Can't Middle-Aged Women Have Long Hair?
By DOMINIQUE BROWNING
At a certain age, cutting your hair is considered the appropriate thing to do, as if being shorn is a way of releasing oneself from the locks of the past.
**************
One commenter said they think that long gray or white hair looks "witchy" on women - maybe this was a guy? What does this mean? That they are powerful, mysterious, dangerous or??? More power to the witchy women!
This NY Times article now has 1266 comments (the most I have ever seen on there, they usually cut comments off way before this point), so it seems like everyone has something to say about long hair on older women. It was interesting to read the comments made about women in the family and hair as something beautiful, something that many people had fond memories of. How women's hair was a big part of collective memory and individual identity.
Well, I have long hair because that is what feels the best to me. I had long hair since about the age of 11. My mom was always hounding me to "get a hair style" after I turned about 35. I did have it cut a jaw length and wore it that way for a few years, but after I went to Jamaica live in Jamaica when I was in my mid 40's, I just let it grow and it has now been halfway down my back for most of my life. Too bad that my hair is fine and thin as it is, but tho I am an "older woman" I am lucky that it hasn't gotten thinner as many people commented on in the article. It now needs a bit of a trim. My friends cut my hair which only takes a couple of minutes. After it is trimmed a few inches there is just a few tablespoons of hair as it thins out towards the bottom.
I started coloring my hair in the 60's. I was a teenager then when we lived in California and I wanted to be a "real" California girl. Tho I was only 14 I went ahead a did it myself without checking with mom, who rarely colored her hair. I used a do-it-yourself blond packet. (God knows that there were a million ads everywhere - Remember "If I only have one life let me live it as a bonde"). But after that I just used "sun in" which you just spritz on. It has always worked well for me and is fast, cheap and easy. Since I was a blonde as a kid, that type of coloring worked fine and looks pretty natural - or at least I think it does.
In the 50's the "pixie" hair cut was just the "thing" and my mom made my sister and I get one. I cried and didn't want my hair to be cut. I could take care of it myself and I tried to talk her out of it. No dice. But I did win honorable mention in a "Cute Kid" photo contest due to that hair cut - that and my chubby round face and pixie smile to match.
The last 3 years I stopped coloring my hair, but I am going to color it again in December. I did it last June for Isaac and Angie's wedding. Sister Chris was commenting on it - repeatedly. She goes to some stylist due to her thin hair and has spent a lot on color and cuts, but that era is coming to an end since she is retired and doesn't have that much to spend on what I would call a luxury. I have spent about $30 on my hair in the past 10 years (shampoo and conditioner excepted). For blonding this time I used Garnier "natural blonde," shampoo-in color for the wedding. It came out a little lighter than I wanted, but seems to have toned down to a kind of honey color which is generally what I hope for. The package said that the color would wash out in 4 weeks. It never did...hmmmm.
In Jamaica fair hair is prized, as it is in Turkey, thus so MANY bottled blondes there. And when the Turks see someone that they suspect has natural blonde hair, that is really something to stare at. (Staring is considered "normal" there.) What they expect is "true" blond is apparently truly "exotic"...
At Madison's Willy St Fair in September I saw so much beautiful, blonde, generally long hair on women or all ages (probably 90% of it colored) that was shining in the sun. I decided I would "do it" again this winter before my trip to Jamaica. I am going to try to avoid my white forelock, which I love. It was one reason not to color my hair recently, since my hair is now such a dark "ash blonde" that there is a good contrast that makes it more noticeable. In my 20's a friend's mom had a white forelock that I thought was so cool. I didn't think I would "get one" as neither of my parents had one, so was very happy when that came in a few years ago.
Of course hair is considered a woman's "crowning glory." In the late 60's or early 70's my mom grew her hair long - almost down to her waist. She was about 50 at that time. You could see the progression of the gray from top to bottom that was very noticeable as she was a brunette. I have a picture of us out in the garden with me holding out her hair out in a cascade for the photo. I think she got tired of taking care of it after a few years and went back to her shorter hair style.
I cut my mom's hair many times, she said I did a better job than a stylist. She cut the family's hair on the "old days" as a cost - cutting - measure. I learned how to do it by watching her and also from watching stylists cut my hair when I did have a "style" for a few years. Now I cut my friend Antonio's hair. Once many years ago I cut five, or more, family member's in succession one Thanksgiving while the turkey was roasting. The last head to be cut was my nephew Isaac's golden locks - he was about 2 and it was his first haircut. We have a photo of it somewhere. He cried the whole time.
Well, let's hear it for the witchy women, and hair as an object of memory, beauty and identity!
FASHION & STYLE | NY Times October 24, 2010
The Mirror: Why Can't Middle-Aged Women Have Long Hair?
By DOMINIQUE BROWNING
At a certain age, cutting your hair is considered the appropriate thing to do, as if being shorn is a way of releasing oneself from the locks of the past.
**************
One commenter said they think that long gray or white hair looks "witchy" on women - maybe this was a guy? What does this mean? That they are powerful, mysterious, dangerous or??? More power to the witchy women!
This NY Times article now has 1266 comments (the most I have ever seen on there, they usually cut comments off way before this point), so it seems like everyone has something to say about long hair on older women. It was interesting to read the comments made about women in the family and hair as something beautiful, something that many people had fond memories of. How women's hair was a big part of collective memory and individual identity.
Well, I have long hair because that is what feels the best to me. I had long hair since about the age of 11. My mom was always hounding me to "get a hair style" after I turned about 35. I did have it cut a jaw length and wore it that way for a few years, but after I went to Jamaica live in Jamaica when I was in my mid 40's, I just let it grow and it has now been halfway down my back for most of my life. Too bad that my hair is fine and thin as it is, but tho I am an "older woman" I am lucky that it hasn't gotten thinner as many people commented on in the article. It now needs a bit of a trim. My friends cut my hair which only takes a couple of minutes. After it is trimmed a few inches there is just a few tablespoons of hair as it thins out towards the bottom.
I started coloring my hair in the 60's. I was a teenager then when we lived in California and I wanted to be a "real" California girl. Tho I was only 14 I went ahead a did it myself without checking with mom, who rarely colored her hair. I used a do-it-yourself blond packet. (God knows that there were a million ads everywhere - Remember "If I only have one life let me live it as a bonde"). But after that I just used "sun in" which you just spritz on. It has always worked well for me and is fast, cheap and easy. Since I was a blonde as a kid, that type of coloring worked fine and looks pretty natural - or at least I think it does.
In the 50's the "pixie" hair cut was just the "thing" and my mom made my sister and I get one. I cried and didn't want my hair to be cut. I could take care of it myself and I tried to talk her out of it. No dice. But I did win honorable mention in a "Cute Kid" photo contest due to that hair cut - that and my chubby round face and pixie smile to match.
The last 3 years I stopped coloring my hair, but I am going to color it again in December. I did it last June for Isaac and Angie's wedding. Sister Chris was commenting on it - repeatedly. She goes to some stylist due to her thin hair and has spent a lot on color and cuts, but that era is coming to an end since she is retired and doesn't have that much to spend on what I would call a luxury. I have spent about $30 on my hair in the past 10 years (shampoo and conditioner excepted). For blonding this time I used Garnier "natural blonde," shampoo-in color for the wedding. It came out a little lighter than I wanted, but seems to have toned down to a kind of honey color which is generally what I hope for. The package said that the color would wash out in 4 weeks. It never did...hmmmm.
In Jamaica fair hair is prized, as it is in Turkey, thus so MANY bottled blondes there. And when the Turks see someone that they suspect has natural blonde hair, that is really something to stare at. (Staring is considered "normal" there.) What they expect is "true" blond is apparently truly "exotic"...
At Madison's Willy St Fair in September I saw so much beautiful, blonde, generally long hair on women or all ages (probably 90% of it colored) that was shining in the sun. I decided I would "do it" again this winter before my trip to Jamaica. I am going to try to avoid my white forelock, which I love. It was one reason not to color my hair recently, since my hair is now such a dark "ash blonde" that there is a good contrast that makes it more noticeable. In my 20's a friend's mom had a white forelock that I thought was so cool. I didn't think I would "get one" as neither of my parents had one, so was very happy when that came in a few years ago.
Of course hair is considered a woman's "crowning glory." In the late 60's or early 70's my mom grew her hair long - almost down to her waist. She was about 50 at that time. You could see the progression of the gray from top to bottom that was very noticeable as she was a brunette. I have a picture of us out in the garden with me holding out her hair out in a cascade for the photo. I think she got tired of taking care of it after a few years and went back to her shorter hair style.
I cut my mom's hair many times, she said I did a better job than a stylist. She cut the family's hair on the "old days" as a cost - cutting - measure. I learned how to do it by watching her and also from watching stylists cut my hair when I did have a "style" for a few years. Now I cut my friend Antonio's hair. Once many years ago I cut five, or more, family member's in succession one Thanksgiving while the turkey was roasting. The last head to be cut was my nephew Isaac's golden locks - he was about 2 and it was his first haircut. We have a photo of it somewhere. He cried the whole time.
Well, let's hear it for the witchy women, and hair as an object of memory, beauty and identity!
Sunday, September 19, 2010
The Hail Storm - Sept 18
September night - 4am.
We awoke to thunder crackling over head as lightning split the sky.
Amirs' suitcase was out on the front porch where it had been sunning. The rain started pounding down as we raced to the Midwestern porch. As we opened the door, down came the hail - beating a tinny, hard rhythm on the air conditioner still in the living room window. Aslan, our gray tiger, beat it to the safety of the basement.
We stood out there loving the hail bouncing off the sidewalk and street. Down came the leaves, ripped off the big ash tree on the parkway. The ground was completely covered. Lovely!
I rushed and grabbed my camera. I was in my night gown and slippers. I tried to get a photo but the screen showed black. I turned on the flash and edged out onto the steps, but it was pouring and I didn't want to get my camera wet. I managed one photo of a little hail and some leaves on the porch steps. Disappointing.
In the morning the storm sewer on the street was filled with leaves and the ground and street were covered with them. I checked out the back yard and the flannel backed cloth on the table out there was pocked with holes cut by the hail, even the zucchini on the ground and had been pierced! The squash plants had all but been flattened.
Happily some leaves remained on the trees. The ash turns a beautiful shade of dull purple in the fall.
We awoke to thunder crackling over head as lightning split the sky.
Amirs' suitcase was out on the front porch where it had been sunning. The rain started pounding down as we raced to the Midwestern porch. As we opened the door, down came the hail - beating a tinny, hard rhythm on the air conditioner still in the living room window. Aslan, our gray tiger, beat it to the safety of the basement.
We stood out there loving the hail bouncing off the sidewalk and street. Down came the leaves, ripped off the big ash tree on the parkway. The ground was completely covered. Lovely!
I rushed and grabbed my camera. I was in my night gown and slippers. I tried to get a photo but the screen showed black. I turned on the flash and edged out onto the steps, but it was pouring and I didn't want to get my camera wet. I managed one photo of a little hail and some leaves on the porch steps. Disappointing.
In the morning the storm sewer on the street was filled with leaves and the ground and street were covered with them. I checked out the back yard and the flannel backed cloth on the table out there was pocked with holes cut by the hail, even the zucchini on the ground and had been pierced! The squash plants had all but been flattened.
Happily some leaves remained on the trees. The ash turns a beautiful shade of dull purple in the fall.
Saturday, July 3, 2010
Amir's Galant Rescue
Dec 9, 2012 On Monday evening Amir and I rescued two raccoon cubs from the overflowing storm sewer on our parkway here on the Near East Side of Maidson, WI, just after a huge cloud burst. He jerked the two huge heavy iron parkway grates out with two hammers that we hastily dug out of the basement. It was a super human feat as each weighed at least 100#~!
And just in time, as flooding water had filled them to the top and the just little raccoon noses were sticking out - they were otherwise submerged. The mom had been crying out, and it is a haunting sound! She was chest high in the water where the storm drain empties by the curb. Then she was clawing on the horizontal parkway grates which tipped us off that there was something in there. Then the civil defense siren went off and scared her so she ran away.
I grabbed them with a towel as they hung onto the grate and put them in our cat cage on the porch that we use for Aslan (my cat) in the daytime. We covered them up with a towel as they were soaked to the skin and shivering maybe from the shock of their ordeal. One just hid under the towel but the other one was more adventurous and watched us with curiosity. We gave them some apple slices but they seemed to be too scared to care much about eating. We got a couple of photos.
After the downpour we were able to reunite them with their mom when we put the cage out on the parkway with the door open. They didn't venture out on their own but were happy to nose out when mom arrived just as it got dark. I'm afraid many other animals must have suffered in the heavy rain. Several streets here on in Madison were flooded and a few were even closed.
More "heavy weather" is forecast and it has been storming every day at some point, the summer Midwestern weather pattern it seems. This is great to cool things off but the humidity now is killing!
And just in time, as flooding water had filled them to the top and the just little raccoon noses were sticking out - they were otherwise submerged. The mom had been crying out, and it is a haunting sound! She was chest high in the water where the storm drain empties by the curb. Then she was clawing on the horizontal parkway grates which tipped us off that there was something in there. Then the civil defense siren went off and scared her so she ran away.
I grabbed them with a towel as they hung onto the grate and put them in our cat cage on the porch that we use for Aslan (my cat) in the daytime. We covered them up with a towel as they were soaked to the skin and shivering maybe from the shock of their ordeal. One just hid under the towel but the other one was more adventurous and watched us with curiosity. We gave them some apple slices but they seemed to be too scared to care much about eating. We got a couple of photos.
After the downpour we were able to reunite them with their mom when we put the cage out on the parkway with the door open. They didn't venture out on their own but were happy to nose out when mom arrived just as it got dark. I'm afraid many other animals must have suffered in the heavy rain. Several streets here on in Madison were flooded and a few were even closed.
More "heavy weather" is forecast and it has been storming every day at some point, the summer Midwestern weather pattern it seems. This is great to cool things off but the humidity now is killing!
Wednesday, May 19, 2010
Phlox Everywhere
2012
A sea of phlox is blooming in the back yard. Lavender, white and pink. Some is standing almost five feet tall. It is lovely in the morning light.
The phlox has migrated into the part of the garden bed that was newly turned over last year, bordered by stones. What a mystery. How did it travel there? By wind or water?
In the evening its fairy breath surrounds you with its spicy-sweet carnation like scent. True it is a "common weed," familiar of meadows and immigrant of country roads and highways. I cut some and elevated it to bouquet status in a tall vase. It is resilient, lasting for days.
I decided to let the bountiful phlox have its week or two in the spring sun, coloring my world. Soon most of it will be in a pile next to the compost, making room for the utilitarian tomatoes and a few poetic herbs. But a few plants will survive at the back of the garden, preparing for next spring's debut.
The phlox has migrated into the part of the garden bed that was newly turned over last year, bordered by stones. What a mystery. How did it travel there? By wind or water?
In the evening its fairy breath surrounds you with its spicy-sweet carnation like scent. True it is a "common weed," familiar of meadows and immigrant of country roads and highways. I cut some and elevated it to bouquet status in a tall vase. It is resilient, lasting for days.
I decided to let the bountiful phlox have its week or two in the spring sun, coloring my world. Soon most of it will be in a pile next to the compost, making room for the utilitarian tomatoes and a few poetic herbs. But a few plants will survive at the back of the garden, preparing for next spring's debut.
Thursday, April 29, 2010
Blessed by a Spider
2012
It's spring here now in the northland, but still quite cool at night. My windows are cracked in the daytime for air but the screens have not been pulled down yet.
I was going to open the lace half curtains in the kitchen to let in the morning light when I saw her. A bunched up brown black wonder, sleeping upside down with her legs pulled together on the top hem of the curtain.
I LOVE spiders. To me they are magical creatures (sacred to Native Americans) and good luck charms! I admired her dark, compact symmetry. I grabbed a jar and took a pencil to nudge her gently into it. This was pretty easy since she was still asleep. Some of these spiders are leapers, so I was slightly on guard. Once she fell into the jar she was on alert and scrambling around looking for an out. I enjoyed looking at her marvelous, extended legs. Since it had warmed up some I spoke to her gently and took her out to the garden in back releasing her onto a warm buff colored stone.
Since it got down to freezing the last few nights I hope she found a likely place to shelter.
Blessed by the encounter.
I was going to open the lace half curtains in the kitchen to let in the morning light when I saw her. A bunched up brown black wonder, sleeping upside down with her legs pulled together on the top hem of the curtain.
I LOVE spiders. To me they are magical creatures (sacred to Native Americans) and good luck charms! I admired her dark, compact symmetry. I grabbed a jar and took a pencil to nudge her gently into it. This was pretty easy since she was still asleep. Some of these spiders are leapers, so I was slightly on guard. Once she fell into the jar she was on alert and scrambling around looking for an out. I enjoyed looking at her marvelous, extended legs. Since it had warmed up some I spoke to her gently and took her out to the garden in back releasing her onto a warm buff colored stone.
Since it got down to freezing the last few nights I hope she found a likely place to shelter.
Blessed by the encounter.
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