This just in from Donny. A field outside Boulder Colorado.
A western version of the farm field in my earlier post.
Monday, July 7, 2008
notes from the field
This just in from Donny. A field outside Boulder Colorado.
A western version of the farm field in my earlier post.
Sunday, July 6, 2008
Friday, July 4, 2008
Wednesday, July 2, 2008
Clothes Line Part One
It may appear to all of you readers that we are indeed the Hillbillies we profess to be.
In fact, the clothes line is right up there with compact florescent light bulbs.
It is part of the solution that will free us from dependence on foreign oil.
So this week, here on Moccasin Hill, we graduated from a sagging rope between two trees to the real thing.
David was incredibly kind to use his first day of summer vacation on my request.
But then again, the price of oil is going up! We could save some money here!
The Plan. The designer checks with the client to gather all the specs and finalizes the drawing.
Digging the holes. Where we live, every time you put a shovel in the ground you hit a rock. This was no exception.
Carpenter's rule: Measure twice, cut once.
Putting it all together.
Stay tuned for Part Two tomorrow.
The rope and
our wet clothes
Hope for sun.
PS By popular demand, here are two formally undisclosed photos of DAVID ON THE LADDER! One had been up and then taken down, but blog expert John caught it before it disappeared (see comments). So here it is back along with a new photo, NEVER before seen on this or any other blog. enjoy.
and yes, the clothesline could also be used as a swing set when M comes to visit!
In fact, the clothes line is right up there with compact florescent light bulbs.
It is part of the solution that will free us from dependence on foreign oil.
So this week, here on Moccasin Hill, we graduated from a sagging rope between two trees to the real thing.
David was incredibly kind to use his first day of summer vacation on my request.
But then again, the price of oil is going up! We could save some money here!
The Plan. The designer checks with the client to gather all the specs and finalizes the drawing.
Digging the holes. Where we live, every time you put a shovel in the ground you hit a rock. This was no exception.
Carpenter's rule: Measure twice, cut once.
Putting it all together.
Stay tuned for Part Two tomorrow.
The rope and
our wet clothes
Hope for sun.
PS By popular demand, here are two formally undisclosed photos of DAVID ON THE LADDER! One had been up and then taken down, but blog expert John caught it before it disappeared (see comments). So here it is back along with a new photo, NEVER before seen on this or any other blog. enjoy.
and yes, the clothesline could also be used as a swing set when M comes to visit!
Saturday, June 28, 2008
Lakes of the Clouds 5050'
Eiza's summer home just below the summit of Mt. Washington.
Serving breakfast and dinner to 90 hikers a night.
Toys
In April, Madelyn, Eliza and I wrote to the prompt of TOYS
Ten minutes, GO!
Here's a three generational response!
What are your memories of toys?
Toys (1996)
I told my mother that all I wanted in the world was a Rollerblade Kelly. Why wouldn’t I want her? Kelly was absolutely cutting edge, the coolest most with-it toy of 1996. The advertisements came on TV every other minute, reminding me (with rock and roll music playing in the background) that she could ‘blade on her own.’ She would giggle and say things like, “This is fun” and “Let’s go!” in the most realistic of voices.
That was it. I would not rest until I had her. Toy store visits would leave me bereft, turning my back on her perky pigtails and neon knee pads. The obsession did not wane, and finally my parents gave in. There she was, wrapped up for my birthday. There was no need to look at any of the wrapped trinkets that surrounded her package. I had studied her so thoroughly that I felt her presence and violently ripped her open, freeing her of her tags and plastic cage and set her down on the floor, ready for loads of instant fun.
I pushed the button on her back that was hidden under her kicky reflector vest. On she came, life pored out of her in a disruptive, loud “mmmmmmm" noise that the commercials had neglected to mention. Her eerily robotic voice echoed through the house, her pebble sized rollerblade wheels dragged mechanically across the floor. She was not at all as I had imagined her.
This was my first lesson in the deception of advertisement.
**************************************************************************************
Toys (1960)
Cathy had short, straight blond hair. She wore a blue and white checked sunsuit. She had hard, smiling plastic cheeks and arms and legs that moved. She was petite and blond; a vision of what I wished I could be.
Betty had brown, curly short hair and other wise looked a lot like Cathy. Betty’s dress was red with white polka dots. She had white rubber shoes that slid on and off her feet. She was a practical doll, which is why I named her Betty.
Susie was a beautiful baby doll. Although she was younger than Cathy and Betty, she was much larger. She came with an elegant silk coat and hat with lace around the edges. She was a fancy baby with a hole in her mouth where you could feed her a bottle.
Although my dolls came with different clothes, eventually they all wore matching nightgowns made of seersucker fabric covered with tiny red roses. They all had matching red flannel bathrobes with blue silk lining. They had been dressed this way since the early Christmas morning when I found them sitting by the tree, in new matching outfits. This was definitely my mother’s handiwork, but I gave the credit to Santa.
No matter what their ages, my dolls had to go to school. I was their teacher. I lined them up in my room along with a few stuffed animals, in small hand painted Mexican chairs. I don’t remember what I taught them but I know I liked the sense of order. All the different sized students sitting up and paying attention.
*************************************************************************************
Toys (1920)
My first toy was a doll. I called her Eleanor after my mother. She was incredibly ugly; plaster head (made in Germany) cloth arms and legs and blue eyes (painted on) and I loved her.
My cousin Beatrice was jealous and grabbed her from me, shook her up and down and banged her head on the floor. I couldn’t believe such cruelty and burst into tears and punched my cousin, but not hard enough. I have always regretted my timidity.
My other beloved doll was Jeanine. She was french, pretty, she had real eyelashes and real hair that I lovingly curled and adorned with ribbons. I never tired of watching her eyes open and close.
Where is she now, I wonder? My pretty doll.
Ten minutes, GO!
Here's a three generational response!
What are your memories of toys?
Toys (1996)
I told my mother that all I wanted in the world was a Rollerblade Kelly. Why wouldn’t I want her? Kelly was absolutely cutting edge, the coolest most with-it toy of 1996. The advertisements came on TV every other minute, reminding me (with rock and roll music playing in the background) that she could ‘blade on her own.’ She would giggle and say things like, “This is fun” and “Let’s go!” in the most realistic of voices.
That was it. I would not rest until I had her. Toy store visits would leave me bereft, turning my back on her perky pigtails and neon knee pads. The obsession did not wane, and finally my parents gave in. There she was, wrapped up for my birthday. There was no need to look at any of the wrapped trinkets that surrounded her package. I had studied her so thoroughly that I felt her presence and violently ripped her open, freeing her of her tags and plastic cage and set her down on the floor, ready for loads of instant fun.
I pushed the button on her back that was hidden under her kicky reflector vest. On she came, life pored out of her in a disruptive, loud “mmmmmmm" noise that the commercials had neglected to mention. Her eerily robotic voice echoed through the house, her pebble sized rollerblade wheels dragged mechanically across the floor. She was not at all as I had imagined her.
This was my first lesson in the deception of advertisement.
**************************************************************************************
Toys (1960)
Cathy had short, straight blond hair. She wore a blue and white checked sunsuit. She had hard, smiling plastic cheeks and arms and legs that moved. She was petite and blond; a vision of what I wished I could be.
Betty had brown, curly short hair and other wise looked a lot like Cathy. Betty’s dress was red with white polka dots. She had white rubber shoes that slid on and off her feet. She was a practical doll, which is why I named her Betty.
Susie was a beautiful baby doll. Although she was younger than Cathy and Betty, she was much larger. She came with an elegant silk coat and hat with lace around the edges. She was a fancy baby with a hole in her mouth where you could feed her a bottle.
Although my dolls came with different clothes, eventually they all wore matching nightgowns made of seersucker fabric covered with tiny red roses. They all had matching red flannel bathrobes with blue silk lining. They had been dressed this way since the early Christmas morning when I found them sitting by the tree, in new matching outfits. This was definitely my mother’s handiwork, but I gave the credit to Santa.
No matter what their ages, my dolls had to go to school. I was their teacher. I lined them up in my room along with a few stuffed animals, in small hand painted Mexican chairs. I don’t remember what I taught them but I know I liked the sense of order. All the different sized students sitting up and paying attention.
*************************************************************************************
Toys (1920)
My first toy was a doll. I called her Eleanor after my mother. She was incredibly ugly; plaster head (made in Germany) cloth arms and legs and blue eyes (painted on) and I loved her.
My cousin Beatrice was jealous and grabbed her from me, shook her up and down and banged her head on the floor. I couldn’t believe such cruelty and burst into tears and punched my cousin, but not hard enough. I have always regretted my timidity.
My other beloved doll was Jeanine. She was french, pretty, she had real eyelashes and real hair that I lovingly curled and adorned with ribbons. I never tired of watching her eyes open and close.
Where is she now, I wonder? My pretty doll.
Tuesday, June 24, 2008
Rainy day in New England
Having a dog who is part Australian Shepherd (she needs a herd of sheep to manage, but we don't have one) means going out for a walk even on a rainy day. Not a bad thing, actually.
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