The other day we took a walk to "plant" the game camera in a totally different place hoping to catch more varities of game in our lens. We are actually hoping for a bobcat or mountain lion as neighbors have had a few sightings. I would love to see either one just so long as I am not standing there at the time!
We have a wide variety of woods, deep valleys filled with aspens, high rock outcroppings and high prairie grasslands on our 74 acres. The cabin is located nearest the woodsy part and aspen valley. In the valley, Bart's creek (named after our water-loving dog Bart) runs with snowmelt until late June when the tall grasses lushly take over. Monkshood likes to grow in the moist "bottom" as we call it, as it is the lowest point of our property.
But on this day the bottom was not our goal — the rocky outcroppings were. So we donned our hiking boots, and off we went. We had an idea to put it somewhere along a game trail that looks used, but not overly so. On the way there we had to pass by our marshy bog that never dries up, even in summer. And it was there that I had a joyful moment. It was almost like someone had queued up a choir of angles to sing Ahhhhhhh. I could not believe my eyes when I saw that the bog was harboring my favorite flower of all time —elephant head! I have never seen them growing on our land before, yet here they were. I nearly had a heart attack. Once you see them you'll know why they are my favorite. Their big ears, their long curled trunks — perfection.
But enough dilly-dallying over flowers — on to the main point of this blog post! Sheesh, Lynne, choirs of angels? Enough!
We picked our way up and over the granite rocks and scree like a couple of not-so-graceful mountain goats. It's a good workout, especially at this altitude. It's kind of like walking on little ball bearings on a slant. Very good for the balance!
We found a tree that Rick thought would have good coverage of the area.
Below us was the aspen forest.
So many cool rock formations up here! To me, if I were a mountain lion or a bobcat, I would hang out here.
On top, but not the highest point of our property by any means.
There are also lots of dead trees that are interesting (at least I think so). There is something very moving and thought provoking about these old giants that have given up.
I was really sad when this one fell over. It looks at rest though, doesn't it? Like someone who finally gave up after a brave battle with the elements.
This favorite still stands ... for now.
Its bark is weathered in a beautiful way. Sometimes I like to think I can talk to these old trees. I lay my hand on their bark and just stand there, listening, paying it reverance. (Not to worry, I haven't heard anything back yet.)
This same slope is also home to "Downward-Facing Dog", an old tree that was struck by lightning and gutted long ago, but after I put this up on Facebook many people thought it looked more like a wolf than a domesticed dog, one person thought it looked like a deer's head. We just thought that name up because it was catchy and like the yoga pose.
And that my friends, was our walk on the rocky side. I know you're sad it's over but there is always more to come. I have promised the fans of "Dick the Tree" that I will do an update on him for all of those who know and love him, and it will introduce him to a whole new set of "Dick" lovers out there.
~Side note: We did switch out the cards on the game cameras (we put up one more as well) from the rocky ridge and only managed to get a shot of a doe deer and baby, the mamma moose running with the baby so that only the baby was captured, and what we think was a jack rabbit at night (hard to tell). No cats yet. Boo.
I am a fan of foraging for mushrooms around our cabin site. There are literally hundreds of different kinds of mushrooms that grow here. We've found 3 that we can forage as edible (and hope to find more over time). One of those is the oyster mushroom. It grows on dead aspen trees in cool wet areas like the picture below.
The other day when Lynne and I were hiking below the cabin at a place we call Picnic Rock, we noticed a few oyster mushrooms on a large dead and fallen aspen tree.
I had no way to collect them at the time, and there weren't many, so we left them. But, I decided to go back down this morning with my power drill and do some "plugs" to propagate the mushrooms. Turns out if you drill a hole in a dead host tree (aspen in this case) and then fill the hole with some existing fresh mushrooms, a new cluster of mushrooms is likely to grow at that site.
Here I am drilling hole in the downed, dead aspen.
And, plugging it with some mushroom picked elsewhere on the tree.
The squirrels had been busy eating green pine cones on the same tree.
And, I picked and ate a few wild strawberries before turning to head home.
After I turned back toward the cabin, I spotted more mushrooms growing on a different tree that I had not seen earlier. As I walked to that tree, I saw another stump literally covered with mushrooms!
I guess I did not need to try manually propagating them. There are more here than we can ever use! And, they were fresh and ready to cut. Oyster mushrooms are attractive to bugs as well as mycophagists, and even if they are a few days old they can get infested. Most of these were in perfect shape. So, I came back up to the cabin, got Lynne, a knife and a bag and headed back down. She took these two photos of me cutting a few of the nicer ones.
Here are just a few of what I cut. I've put the word out to neighbors that I have these and more to see if anyone want some. If not, I'll blanch about half of them in boiling water for a couple of minutes, let them dry out real well, then freeze them in a ziploc bag.
The ones we don't freeze will go into some kind of dish within the next day or two. (I store them wrapped in damp paper towels in a paper bag in the warmest part of the refrigerator. They'll keep for a week that way.) Maybe sliced and breaded and fried? Maybe in an Asian-flavored stir fry with some steak and veggies? Maybe in an omelette or frittata? Suggestions?
(Please, don't ever eat a wild mushroom that you are not 100% certain of. Wild mushrooms can be deadly. Never eat any wild mushroom raw. In other words, don't try this at home unless you know what you are doing!)
We love an occasional breakfast of waffles. We have an antique cast-iron waffle maker from the Wagner Manufacturing Company that we use at the cabin. It is marked with the company name and location--Sydney, O(hio)-- as well as "PAT'D FEB 22, 1910".
It took a while to get it properly conditioned so that waffles don't stick. But, we can now successfully make waffles. Of course we have to adapt the waffle mix recipe to high altitude by adding a bit of extra flour. I also increase the oil slightly. One secret to good waffles from this waffle iron is that we never wash it. Just wipe it clean after each use.
It goes over the stove burner. I let it get good and hot and then flip it to get both sides hot. Then, the batter goes in and I close the top. When I "sense" it is done on one side (I really should time this...), I flip it over to cook the second side (see video below).
Last weekend was a memorable one. Mainly because I travelled to New Mexico to attend my father's memorial service. But, it was memorable for other reasons, too. So, let me walk you through the weekend.
I had a 3:30-ish flight from Denver to Albuquerque on Friday. It is about a 3 hour drive to the airport from the cabin if I take County Rd 80C. That road is 37 miles of dirt road, the first half of which is pretty bad with ruts and washboard. The latter half is well graded and even treated with something that makes it almost like a paved road. I took the Suburban and we bounced down the mountain, joined Highway 287, popped over to I-25 at Owl Canyon Rd, and then took I-25 and later E-470 to the airport. I drove into the economy parking lot on the east side and went up and down several aisles to find an open parking spot. Just as I spied one and aimed for it, the truck went "putt putter putt putt, wank, wank, poof", lost all power and died. I coasted into the parking spot. Clearly, something is terribly wrong and I suspected something fuel system related. But, I had a plane to catch so I took a photo of my location (to remind me where I parked), and headed to the airport.
I guess I should even go back to Thursday. Lynne and I drove into town so I could riffle through boxes of clothes. Turns out I had nothing at the cabin appropriate for a memorial service. Really all I have are jeans, most of which are pretty worn, t-shirts and work shirts. I found a pair of black slacks and a couple of nice shirts--casual, but okay for a memorial service in a town that will see 103 degrees during the day. I forgot to grab a small suitcase, but luckily, I was able to cram those clothes along with several changes of underwear into my backpack.
The only semi-appropriate shoes I have are some black leather Sketcher slip-ons. They were really dirty with dust and mud, so I had them polished at the airport. They came out looking pretty good, so I felt prepared for the weekend. Well, I still needed to decide what to say at the service as I was to give the "Family Memories" speech.
I arrived in Albuquerque (do you mind if I just write ABQ from now on?) and my cousin Debra picked me up at the airport. We immediately headed for Las Cruces, which is about 210 miles south and the city where the memorial was to be held. We got into Las Cruces about 9:00. I grabbed a bite to eat and headed to bed.
The memorial was the next day at a Baptist church in Las Cruces. There was a nice group of family there, and a lot of people from the community and parents' church attended.
A nice photo of family. Notice I don't have any glasses on. Yup, lost them a few days earlier.
My brother made up a nice memorial board for the service.
When I got a chance to talk, I addressed five topics.
1. Dad as a provider. He adopted us kids and took great care of us. We had a lot of fun growing up. Weekends at the lake, vacations at a beach somewhere, often in Mexico. Hunting, fishing. He worked hard to provide us with a carefree childhood.
2. Dad as a teacher. He taught me how to drive a boat, run a trot line, waterski; how to work on my car; keep my tools clean and organized; how to assemble a fishing rod by wiping a bit of sweat of the side of my nose and using it to lubricate the joints; "righty tighty, lefty loosey"; even some old Navy ditties like the one that starts "She has freckles on her but(t) she's nice".
3. Dad as a learner. He had an intense curiosity. I remember driving through the Black Forest of Germany one time when he visited us there. As we drove along taking in the beautiful views, he asked the question: "Son, where do you recon they got those mud flaps?" referring to same on a truck that just passed us. He noticed and questioned things that passed the rest of us by. And, later in life, even as he was losing his sight and hearing, he took up guitar lessons and learned to play Native American flutes.
4. Dad as a people person. He could strike up a conversation with anyone. And, he had this uncanny ability to discover relationships with everyone. Throughout out life, he'd meet and start a conversation with total strangers, and then find some linkage back to a family member or friend. I remember one time, again when visiting us in Europe, we were driving over a pass in the Swiss Alps. Dad needed to find a restroom and we pulled over at a guest house with a bar and restaurant at the top of a pass above timberline. After 15 or 20 minutes, he had still not come back out to the car. I went in search of him and found him at the bar talking with a man who knew a guy that managed a gas station in Artesia, NM (where I grew up).
5. Dad as a story teller. Dad liked to talk. And, he had a perfect memory, even of events from 90 years ago. He loved to talk about his childhood on the family farm in Oklahoma; about his first horse; about the weather there; the workings of the farm; family stories; etc. One thing he never talked about was his Navy service. He joined the Navy right out of high school at the beginning of World War II. Actually the theme of Dad as a story teller came up over and again in people's memories of him.
It was actually a joyful celebration of his life and chance to reconnect to family.
We drove back to ABQ on Saturday afternoon. And, I spent all day Sunday with my Mom. She has moved into a new adult community apartment there. She needed some help unpacking things, moving a few items to storage for a future garage sale, hanging her cuckoo clock, etc. We ate a few great meals together. And, went to see The Secret Life of Pets with my sister. This was all meant to be a surrogate birthday celebration for her. She'll turn 80 in early August and I won't be able to make it back down for that big day.
Of course, all weekend I was thinking about what to do with the truck when I got back to Denver. My sister has worked at GM dealerships managing service departments and inventory for over 30 years. She knows a lot about cars, and especially Chevy's. She suggested several possible problems, one of which was "vapor lock". I did not realize that a car without a carburator could have vapor lock, but she said it could be the problem.
I figured there were three possible alternatives:
Worst case: The truck won't start, I have to call Good Sam's Roadside Service, tow the truck to a service garage, find out that it is really bad and I'll need to leave the truck for several days. In that case, I'd rent a car and go home coming back in several days to get the truck.
Medium case: Same as above, but they can fix the truck within a few hours. This would allow me to drive the truck home that day, only later than I expected. And, that I may or may not be able to pick up the RV washing machine I'd ordered for the cabin.
Best case: The truck starts and acts as if nothing ever happened and all my weekend anxiety was for nothing.
Guess what? It started right up! Per my sister's instructions, I drove to the nearest gas station and put high octane gas in it. I also put in a fuel injector cleaner additive she recommended.
I was able to pick up the washing machine as planned. The whole process was a bit more time consuming and complicated than I had hoped, but I won't go into all that here. The main point is that we now have a washing machine sitting in a utility closet of the cabin awaiting a plumber (next Tuesday, oh please, oh please). Now that makes this a truly memorable weekend!
Another misleading title for a blog post. Actually, I am home alone (not counting the three dogs and one cat) while Rick is in New Mexico attending the memorial for his father. I wish I could have gone too, but things worked against us and there was no way we could leave Destin or put elderly Hailey in a strange kennel, so I stayed behind.
This morning when I got up, my moose/deer/elk sensor was going off. Meaning eBay the kitty was peeking between the closed curtains with her tail switching back and forth. Always an indicator of something interesting in the meadow. The window was cranked open and Hailey was doing her usual greet-the-morning-barking ritual. I looked out and saw what I knew had to be Big Boy, the mythical moose that our neighbors kept telling us about but we had never seen. There he stood in all his glory. Big Boy. In our meadow. I was so excited I nearly peed my pajamas.
I immediately cranked the window closed and shushed Hailey. I was successful at closing the window but not so much getting Hailey to be quiet. He seemed rather nonplussed by the whole thing. I had to switch lenses on my camera really fast to the telephoto and ignored the dogs' wishes to be fed and snapped a few photos.
Munching on our baby aspens!
He was posing nicely but at 6:30 a.m., the sun was not quite fully into the meadow as yet. I did the best I could through the window.
Look at that rack, and it's only July! Imagine by the time they are in rut what they will look like.
Hello Big Boy, why don't you just look right at me? I know they are kind of funny looking, but how majestic is this animal, I ask you?
He left for a bit, then came strolling back into the meadow. I tried to sneak out on the front porch for some pics on this second visit but he was having none of it and turned tail for the neighbors where I understand he chased one of their aussies down the hill and onto their deck. I would run too if he started to chase me!
