Just Photos: Snow Frolics! December 2009

This post is for pet/animal lovers.  Refer to the post after this one, Forest Living: Snow Scenes, for the details about our storm. 

Everyone appreciated the snow, although some had to adapt.

• Connor -- adapt?  You just have to love it.  He raced around the hillside and forest, and was in motion so much that I had trouble taking pictures.
  
• Ripley, our blind Australian Cattle Dog, was disoriented at first, and we had to shift to some older toys.  But she liked nosing it, sniffing it, and eating it.
  
• Homer-Kitty's fur was useful for something other than weed-gathering. He accompanied us on our walk down the road, and went outside every time I took the dogs out.  He rolled in the snow, skated on the ice, climbed the trees, and generally frolicked.
  
• The twins (18 month old kittens) were new to this, but that didn't stop them long.  They had great fun in the powder stuff.  Whiz (WYSIWYG), in particular, would have mad moments of rushing around grabbing armfuls of powder and looking insane.  Then when it iced over, it became a skating rink.  Worried about falling?  Not them.
  

Homer-Kitty likes pedestals.

(He's the stray kitten who wandered onto our building site; we think he is 2.5 years now.)

On the walk, Ripley & Connor on flexi's, Homer in the ditch on the right.

Ripley (12 years old), little blind trooper.  Doesn't let disabilities slow her down.

Busy busy busy.  Homer has so much personality that it is sometimes odd to realize how small he is.

Ripley with her old pre-surgery toy. When she was blind but still had her eyes, this was the only toy she could handle. I could throw it, it has a repetitive song, and she could find it and retrieve it. After she recovered from her surgery early this year, she refused to play with this anymore, and went back to the more "technical" hard rubber balls. I think the surgery to remove her eyes also removed her pain.  Today I throw balls along the ground (sometimes bouncing) and she retrieves. She's amazingly quick and it is hard sometimes to remember she is blind. However, the powdery snow meant we had to go back to this toy.  But as soon as it was icy, she rejected it again.

Wysiwyg (whizzy-whig), next to my lemon tree (which seems to be okay). 

Can you do this?

(It has to be such fun to be a cat!)

Grabbing armfuls of powder, a new sport.  Whiz cavorted in circles, sliding down the hill.

In Connor's defense, here is the proof that he doesn't always start these things!

BCOS (Black Cloud Over Snow), little kitty, so hard to get a picture of him in the snow.

In most shots he looks like a black rock.

When I shot this one, Homer had just started to move.  The next shot would have shown him peacefully sitting on a boulder, after alluding Connor with a zig-zag trail that bounced off at least one tree.

So much to watch.

Blind Cattle Dog roaming cross-country.  Independent?  You think?

Introduction

For as long as I can remember, I have loved the deep green liveliness of forests.

When I was young, my parents made several memorable treks to Sequoia National Park. My mother had been transplanted to the Southern California LA basin from the northeast, and she would soak up the cool glades of trees that she achingly missed in her new life of sunshine. Perhaps it is her love of trees that first created this love of forests in me.

More recently, after she was gone, my Dad sought a place to live where “trees just grow; you don't have to plant them.” He bought a house in a forest, and our Rising Oaks is about 7 miles from where he chose to live.

On the other hand, a straw bale home is something wonderful that happened as we sought energy independence. When we finally found an architect whose desires meshed with ours (Dan Smith), he suggested we tour the Presentation Center, in the Santa Cruz Mountains (near Los Gatos). It is a straw bale building designed by DSA. Both Ron and I were immediately enchanted, and we marched determinedly onward despite any obstacles.

In that first straw bale building I was reminded of the deep walls and cool interiors of the adobe buildings I had visited as a child. Those deep plastered walls and deep inset windows feel magical, peaceful, and solid to me, and create a special sense of home.



This blog is a tale about this journey that had many beginnings, but we'll start with the most relevant in '98 when we purchased 12 acres of steep hillsides and marvelous trees in the Sierra Foothills of California. The trees are an interesting mix of oaks, pines, madrones, douglas firs, and cedars. The acres are on the side of a south facing ridge overlooking the canyon where Sutter Creek flows year round. This blog will include our experiences and mistakes, and details about the process – from land to architect to builder, and the endless decisions. As well I'll intersperse daily events that have happened or are happening as we live here, so it won't all be history but will move forward as we do.



Importantly, the we who live here include 5 others – 2 dogs (Ripley and Connor) and 3 cats (Homer-Kitty, BCOS, and WYSIWYG). They are an important part of our story.

We call our place Rising Oaks in recognition of the glorious trees and particularly the prominent sentinels at the top of the driveway that shade the east side of our house. As I return home up the drive, they rise up into view.



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