1/2 Blind Horse Pics 2 of 2

Whatever the disagreement may have been, these 2 seemed to kiss and make up (giving me even better views of the eye socket - yes, I'm fascinated with the odd):

The eye socket and surrounding areas seem to have no apparent injury or scarring; the entire depression was covered in skin and hair.

As a matter of fact, the underlying muscles caused the eye socket to twitch with an attempt to move the eyeball.

Kinda' put me in mind of those skulls in the cartoon desert-west.

Only this one was alive.

This other fella' was very pushy. After talking to him for a few minutes, I could see why there could be conflict with his fellows (this applies to people as well; it's just easier to deal with in horses - at least when they're on the other side of the fence):

He was not at all happy that I had no carrot or apple or anything.

I think he would have been happy to take off with my Life-is-Good water bottle if I hadn't pulled it down off the fence. I still have horse slobber on the hair-tie that was attached to the mini-carbiner that hangs from the lid-loop.

(It's a Nalgene bottle: I haul it with me everywhere. Wide-mouth, 1 quart, doesn't leak even though I've dropped it a ga-zillion times over the 4-5 years that I've had this particular one.

While I'm not much of a wine drinker, I have friends who use these Nalgene bottles as the perfect non-breakable wine-toting apparatus for backpacking. I should think it's worth the 2 extra pounds for wine by firelight.)                                                

                                   

Half Blind Horse (Play Time 2) Pics 1 of 2

I stood at the gate and made a sound like an apple.

Okay.

Not really.

It was more like a carrot ;).

I really didn't feed them, but they must be used to visitors with yummies in hand, because it didn't take much to get them to come over and check me out. Can you see this guy's off side (right) eye yet?

Well, I guess you'll never see it, really, because it's not there. I, however morbid it might be, was fascinated by his eye socket. 

Although I told them I had no food, they refused to be deterred and continued to ask. It took a little while, but they finally went about their business and I was able to snap a few shots with a clear view of the eye socket.

In the next couple of pictures, I'm not sure what these 2 are disagreeing about (see the ears laid back?), but it gave me a good view, so I didn't ask: 

In addition to the laid-back ears, I think there is somewhat of an indignant look going on here.

Perhaps I'm reading too much into it.

Perhaps not. 

Bingo! Perfect View: 

(....Still following my 5 pic max rule...

One more 1/2 blind horse post coming up...)



Robert Frost Trail

PC & I met in Vermont. (I won't tell you how many years ago, but it's been a few.)
This past summer when we went on the New Hampshire family vacation, PC & I took a day to revisit the place where we met: the Green Mountain National Forest.
Here are a few pictures from the Robert Frost interpretive trail (I don't think this was here when we were there - it's been that long):

Daytripping - Raccoon Creek State Park, Pennsylvania

Before I tell you about my trip, I want to insert some gratitude for my wee little gas sipper:


I get about 34mpg just zipping back and forth to town, but on the highway it easily gets 40mpg. I've always thought tiny 4-cylinder engines were smart, but now that gas prices are so high more people understand why I like it so much.
Alright, I'm done talking about gas prices. For now. But, yes, I plan to revisit the subject...


Raccoon Creek State Park is located in Pennsylvania just to the east of the northernmost tip of the Northern Panhandle of West Virginia. And, being as close as it is to West Virginia, it is beautiful.



So what did it take to get me to go? To get me to leave West Virginia, even for such a short time? To take me away from my writing, my coffee house construction, my kids, my daily chaos routine?



Part of it was the lure of a walk in the woods, but there's no need to go anywhere for that. I am very blessed with plenty of woods and plenty of walking space right here at home. Plenty of that West Virginia beauty, too.



Really, the reason I went? Friends. Good old friends.
They drove down from Ohio and Raccoon Creek State Park is just about exactly the halfway point (now that we know this, we should get together more often).
And it was worth the trip.

Walking up a hill, Nancy spotted this:


And from the back side of the tree it looked like this:

I wonder how many years it's been there?








It was just enough further north that jack-in-the-pulpit still sat in his pulpit:




All those beautiful pictures of green and now I have to throw this one in:


I've never seen a giant M&M vending machine.
Maybe I'm just not paying attention.

Thanks, Lisa and Nancy, for being my friends and loving a walk in the woods as much as I do.

Insects, Sunshine, & Baldness

• It's apparent that I'll have to specify 'fiction' when I post it. 'Roach Motel' was mistaken by at least several people as a real report on how my day was going. Most were able to figure it out before they got too far, but one was a new reader. I hope I didn't scare her away.
• I am thankful that roaches are not on my daily to-do list. Neither is vacuuming, although it probably should be. However, I am certain that there are other people out there, like the young woman in the flash, who are not so fortunate.
• You'll notice that I edited the 'Roach Motel' post title to include 'Flash Fiction.' I figured it couldn't hurt.
• Speaking of insects: they're back. It was warm enough to sit outside yesterday evening and the insects thought it was warm enough, too. I will gladly take a few gnats and mosquitoes to go along with this gorgeous weather.
• For the second time in a week I took advantage of the warm temperatures and gentle sunshine to take a walk in a place that I don't normally go. And for the second time in a week I did not bring my camera. Be assured that I saw many beautiful things: a hillside draped in the soft comfort of Virginia Bluebells, Spring Beauties, Violets, a bumblebee, two deer grazing quietly just up the hill from where I walked, and, unfortunately, plenty of Garlic Mustard -both 1st and 2nd year plants- and Japanese Knotweed already much higher than any Pokeweed I've yet to see this year.
• My comfrey is up in the garden. It's the first robust sign I've seen from out there so far this year - myself included.
• Yes. I have been very lazy and late with the spring gardening.
• The strawberries survived. We will have fresh strawberries come June.
• Maisie is bald. Yep. You read that right. My big hairy dog got shaved down to nubblies. I will take pictures. (Ha! No more shedding this spring!)

Be Still

With the weather cooling off for the first time this fall -and seeing as how I am trying to regularly add more content to this blog as well as to my other blog and to my web site- I rememberd this:

This was published last year in the Mountain Statesman, our local Grafton, WV newspaper.

“It’s gonna be a hard winter,” my grandmother would’ve said. A firm nod of her head and a sagacity underlined with wrinkles would have left little room for doubt.
Unfortunately, my grandmother is no longer with us, but her insight and wisdom live on…
Yesterday, while walking the Woodland Trail here at Tygart Lake State Park, I slowed my usual frenzied pace and breathed in the ever-so-slight fall crispness that comes this time of year. The air was still quite warm, but the underlying sweet-tangy aroma of the mountains preparing to burst into color reminded me that winter is not far off. With the thought of cold weather approaching, I found a cold, flat rock to sit on, sunshine dappling my hiking boots. And then, I did what my grandmother told me, a fidgety child, to do: Be Still.
The pleasure of sitting quietly in the woods can only be outdone with the awareness that comes with stillness: the loudness of acorns and hickory nuts falling through the tree canopy and thumping when they hit the forest floor; the softness of two deer feeding, making their way up the hill toward me; the call of a bird I can’t identify. I see a little spotted toad hopping toward a hollow in the base of a massive oak. Miniscule mushrooms and hundreds of early-dropped maple seed ‘helicopters’. There are thousands of hickory nuts and as many acorns, most still with their little hats on.
If you’ve been fortunate enough to spend time in the woods this summer, you’ll have noticed the abundance of tree fruit this year. This is the indicator that my grandmother would have used as proof of the hard winter to come. Botanists call this larger-than-normal production ‘mast’. It happens every three to five years, but this year is a particularly heavy year. With all the research and scientific data, still no one is quite sure why this happens. For a year like this, when all fruit production is elevated, the most popular theory is based on the measured rainfall of the few years previous: the precipitation of a couple of ‘wet’ years is able to support the growth of heavy foliage and therefore the extra energy needed for fruit production. Another idea, based on a mast of one or several, but not all, types of fruit, theorizes that the cyclic production of fruit encourages squirrels and other animals to diversify their food sources.
My camera flash startles the deer, now only 50 feet distant. Their tails rise like truce flags as they turn away, down the mountainside. I stand to stretch, watching them disappear. Whatever the reasons, mast ensures a plentiful food supply for over-wintering wildlife and the uneaten –or undigested- excess will guarantee a high germination rate, perpetuating the cycle. No matter how you choose to look at it, plenty of food is essential for a hard winter. As I begin my descent, I realize that Grandma was right about a lot of things; I’ll be interested to see if she’s as right about the hard winter coming as she has proved to be about the importance of stillness.