The Importance of Punctuation: Lesser Known Edition

I have written before about my love of lesser known punctuation: the ellipsis, the dash. And we have all, of course, seen this little gem.
Woman, without her man, is nothing.
Woman: without her, man is nothing.

or

He eats shoots and leaves.
He eats, shoots, and leaves.

And if you’ve not seen this as of yet. . .

This afternoon, Thad and I were running an errand. Not three miles from our house, we saw the most persuasive evidence yet for the lowly ampersand.

First of all, whilst hurtling past at 55 miles per hour (and slowing down as the sign is at the beginning of a big curve), it takes a moment for what you just saw to shoot through your visual cortices then sink adequately enough into the crevices of your brain so that meaning can be extracted. You get a cerebral image of goats. You get a cerebral image of eggs. The two don’t jibe. THEN, you wonder exactly how that sales pitch could be so.

What is the harvesting process? Is there a huge market for such? Are they now taking nanny goats down the same path of high dollar bulls and stallions with their reproductive. . .productions? Is there some sort of of agricultural in vitro procedure of which you are (blissfully) unaware?

After navigating the curve while trying to sort out the tangle of thoughts this one, small sign unleashed in your brain, you realize that that a simple & would have taken care of the confusion. That thought is immediately followed by a sigh of relief that it did not, in fact, read “goat’s eggs” OR “goats’ eggs.”

It’s all a matter of punctuation.

Indian Autumn

Yes. . .I know the actual terminology, but this lovely fall we have is still showing off. Victoria and ran into Magnolia today, and I took these photos on the way. I would apologize for MORE autumn tree pictures. . .but they are JUST SO PRETTY. I can’t help myself.

At our neighbors' house. These leaves look like poinsettias!!!

Again with the oaks that aren't "Red Oaks" turning red!!!! SPEECHLESS. And this tree is HUGE.

We pulled into the driveway of an abandoned house so I could go back to photograph the huge oak with all the red leaves, and found this patch of clover. See what I mean? AMAZING. Clover. And RED LEAVES. In December. (I also forgot to mention that our neighbor delivered a home-grown watermelon from their garden to our door step last Sunday while we were at church. So add watermelons in December to the list.)

Victoria wanted to run through it. . .and I said, “Go for it, girly.”

Lovely, lovely day.

Phone Call Photos

Earlier I had a long talk with my friend, Carolyn. As we talked, I made the bed and walked around and folded clothes, and then went outside to take some photos for her. And here they are. . .explanations will follow. . .or you can just make up your own. (But she will understand them.)

Obviously, greenery on front porch rails. . .methinks we need some red bows though.

Afternoon kitty-cats

THERE are the red bows.

We hope the holly tree will survive. . .there are some green leaves still. Fingers crossed.

More colors. . .including a big ‘ole patch of some tender, green ground cover.

Not sure what it is, but it’s BRIGHT. I did NOTHING to that photo but take it.

Tony is building Thad his long promised and awaited fort. It’s TALL (10 feet clearance) and BIG (100 square feet). If Tony can survive building the stairs and the railing, we will all be happy.

The path the kids cut from the house to the fort. The entry to this path is very near the entry to the official path, but THIS path makes a bee-line to the fort. . .they will eventually be able to run down the trail and up the stairs at speed.

This is going FROM the clearing TO the house on the official trail that Tony and I cut three years ago. The clearing is a natural one–a low spot in the land, so it is where the rain water collects when there is any.

Yaupon is a type of native bush/shrub that grows all over the place out here. THESE yaupons have obviously become more like trees and are years and years old.

These last three are on the trail back to the house but looking back toward the clearing. The close-up yaupon photos above are of the clutch to the right.

Have I mentioned that I love where we live?

It’s Still Fall until December 21st or AMAZING Nature

As I’m sure you might recall, we had a fire here in September. It was awful and devastating, and I’ve still not really written about it. Mainly, because as blessed as we were personally to keep our home and as a community to suffer no loss of life, it’s still a bit depressing. The landscape has changed, and it won’t be the same as it was–at least not in my lifetime.

Tony and I knew a guy a long time ago who had a unique way of phrasing things. He was just a unique individual period. I can’t deliver the line at its best since you can’t hear me and since you didn’t know Joel, but he said the following in all seriousness as though it were a new concept, “Ya know? The thing about rain is. . .it makes the grass GROW!” And he was right. Look what some rain will do.

I took this photo today. . .middle of December and about four nights of below freezing temps, yet the grass is all gussied up as though it were April.

I took these next two photos today as well. The nutrients left by the fire do amazing things for ground cover.

Long before the fire, our poor area of Texas was parched like the rest of the state. The grass was just crunchy black-brown from being scorched by the sun. The ponds were completely dry–and they were ponds that, as it turns out, were 6-10 feet deep. When I went out about a week after the fire, there were trees that looked as though they had been burned–but they hadn’t. The only way you could tell was to look at the bark. The sun and high heat had scorched leaves and pine needles just like the fires had. Houston and the surrounding area has lost something like 20% of its trees–and that’s hundreds of thousands of trees. We’re talking serious, serious drought.

Losing the trees has been particularly sad. Huge pines and oaks have died all over and are being cut down by the hundreds each day. Many trees went into shock this summer and lost or dropped their leaves in an effort to save themselves. The ones that kept their leaves sort of drooped and sagged. We don’t normally have a lot of fall color in this part of the country. There are always a few sweet gums or tallow trees that put on a show–Bradford pears (which I don’t count because they are interlopers) are good for some color, but for the most part the leaves turn brown and fall.

So imagine our surprise when we got some rain. . .and then some more, and some more, and a little more. And the temperatures dropped a bit, and there was some serious cold and low and behold if the trees that are left didn’t give us something to cheer about.

This is an OAK tree. I didn’t even know oaks TURNED red. . .at least oaks that aren’t Red Oaks. And this is NOT a Red Oak.

The past two weeks have been like something out of a dream as far as southeast Texas goes. At least my little section of it.

Oh. . .it’s not Vermont. But we’ll take it.

Happy Halloween

From our house to yours. . .

Stories don’t wag at the end, but dogs do. (Part two)

As I mentioned before, I DID try to find a home for the latest dog who adopted me–but no takers. They already had animals and felt that a puppy might be more readily accepted by the current canine and feline residents. I could tell this girlie was young–about 17 or 18 months as it turns out–but she did not LOOK like a puppy at all. She looked like a mostly starved big ‘ole dirty dog. But a pretty one.

When the other little German Shepherd showed up in 2010, being a puppy, Victoria, Thad and I all fell in love. We were home for Spring Break, so she really DID hang around and run and romp and play. Tony’s mantra over the three days she was here was, “DO NOT NAME THAT DOG!!! Do NOT name that dog.” That is why I was a little taken aback when one day Victoria (also an avowed dog-disliker) said, “Zoe did thus and such and I had to help her.”
I said, “Did you just call that dog Zoe?”
“Um. . . .no?”
“Yes you did. You called that dog Zoe.”
(frantically pleading) “Don’t tell Daddy!!!”

So, this dog wasn’t with us that long, and I had no thoughts of naming her. I just wanted to get her somewhere she’d be fed and brushed and wormed and de-flea’d. The only other option was the SPCA disaster rescue that was set up in the city of Waller. They were, reportedly, closing at 5:00 p.m. on a particular Thursday. She showed up at 5:30 a.m. the day before. We were in a time crunch.

I left AS SOON AS school was over that Thursday to get home, get her, and haul her the 20 miles into town. She was too big to pick up and put into the back of Tony’s truck, and she had NO desire to hop up in there herself. I think she might have suspected something. I FINALLY managed to load her into the cab (of Tony’s beloved, beloved pick-up) and squeeze my way into the other door.

Let me state right now that love dogs though I do, I am highly allergic. So this (dirty) girl and I were in some very close quarters on a rather hot day. Sneezing, however, was the least of my worries. I was not quite sure how she would handle the stress of the ride, and didn’t really relish the thought of having my throat ripped open by a freaked out dog. Turns out she was scared to death and just cowered when I started the truck. . .and she cowered atop ME. So. Sneezing–not a big deal. Throat and blood supply–intact. Now I had to figure out how to drive a 5 speed stick shift truck with a very large dog in my lap.

I managed to get her OUT of my lap (which was pretty full of steering wheel already) but she leaned on my right shoulder for the next five miles. I would shove her over, and she’d move right back. Lather, rinse, repeat. Eventually, she settled as close to me on the seat as she could. I put my right arm over her shoulders and rested my hand on the gear shift. Thus we made our way, quietly except for the occasional sneeze from me, to the shelter.

As I drove with this dog beside me, I decided right then and there that if I EVER have cause or opportunity to get a dog, I think it will be a female German Shepherd. There are too many indicators pointing me in that direction. I was scared of the breed most of my life. Hal and Sissy were both bitten by German Shepherds when we were kids. Both episodes were males, and both times they were protecting a child they THOUGHT was in danger. I know they are fiercely protective–the females even more-so than the males–but living in the middle of nowhere, I now find that to be an asset.

The miles rolled beneath the tires of the truck, and the sun shone, and I thought about this lovely, lovely animal next to me. She deserved a home full of love with a big yard and a pond–or at the very least a wading pool. I could give her none of that right now, but I COULD give her a name.

And so I did.

I named her Bella. Beautiful. Zoe means life. Bella means beautiful. I think Victoria and I have done pretty well in the naming department.

I would love to tell you that when I dropped her off at the shelter, she was welcomed with open arms. It wasn’t quite that easy. Turns out they quit accepting animals at 4:00, and it was two minutes ’til 5:00. The curmudgeonly County Animal Control Officer (who was THE BOW-LEGGEDEST man I had EVER seen, and also only had three fingers on his right hand as I was to find out when I shook it later) was in NO MOOD to deal with either her or me. I can’t blame him. He is the ONLY County Animal Control Officer employed by Waller, and he had found himself in the middle of one unadulterated mess. At one point he grumbled, “This is what happens when you have a bunch of volunteers and no plan.” To which I replied, “Well, sir, no one PLANNED for half the woods to burn down either.” He stopped, looked at me, and said, “Well, yer bygod right about that, ma’am.” After that he settled down quite a bit.

He really COULDN’T take her as all the computers were packed up and there was no way to enter her into the system that afternoon so her possible owner could find her if they were looking. He decided he would take a photo of her, get my information and come to pick her up from my house the next day. He said he knew RIGHT where I lived as a lot of animals get dumped on our road. (And they do. And both he and I thought Bella was one of them based on how thin she was.) I managed to roll the window of the truck down while keeping the dog in so he could get a good shot.

When he pulled his camera out, Bella’s ears perked right up, and he liked that. “You’re a smart one aren’t you girl?” Then to me, “She is a BEAUTIFUL animal isn’t she?” And she is–thus the name. Before too long, he had someone bring him a lead. He took her out of the truck–I thought to get a better photo. His wife walked over and he explained about the dog and the confusion then said he’d take her that evening and enter her in the system the next day–I had taken my time and gas to get her there the right way with the information I’d been given even though it was incorrect.

As I drove away, Mr. Bandy-Legged Curmudgeon was sitting on an ice chest under a shade tree petting that dog who was also seated and thumping her tail against the ground for all she was worth. They both looked pretty happy about the arrangement. I read on facebook the next week a total of all the animals that had been taken to the SPCA of Houston from the fire rescue and were now up for adoption. And also a tidbit stating that the County Animal Control Agent would be on vacation for the next two weeks, so no pick-ups of animals would be made.

I never saw Bella’s photo on any website. I don’t think she made it into “the system.” I kind of like to think that she spent the next two weeks getting her belly fattened and her ears-scratched by a new three-fingered, bow-legged owner. At least, that’s what I hope.

Someday, a Dog for Me (A story in two parts)

I have already documented on this blog my love of the puppy I had so long ago–and her early demise that led me to not give my heart to any animal for a very, very, VERY long time. (While doing a search through my posts for that link, I typed in her name–then realized that I still hadn’t been able to bring myself to even when I wrote that post. Her name was Elvira. Blame the ’80′s. She was white and brown and about the prettiest thing you have EVER SEEN.)

The NEXT time I loved a critter, it was a bird. And then she flew away, and I was glad for her, but I didn’t get to say goodbye.

We began building our house out here, and I told you about sweet, Joss.

I asked her if she wanted to be My Dog once we got here full-time, but she likes being the “block dog.” (This link is to the song only. . .obviously if there is a dog in a tub–it is NOT a block dog.) Even though we don’t live on a block. She had a hard and difficult puppy-hood, teenaged pregnancies, and many attempts by well-meaning folk to tame her. But she’s a gypsy, so I just feed her and pet her when she visits.

Then Zoe showed up over spring break, 2010 as we had plans to adopt two of the feline sort (plus Tony, at best, tolerates dogs–he at least owes me that what with all of the snake/tarantula/bullfrog/mice/cricket nonsense).

We got her to a good home, but oh–I would love to see how she looks today. Gorgeous I imagine.

Then, of course, we got the kittens.

How we loved those kitties–and we still do, but Penny (the princess, Princess Penelope) up and vanished and broke our hearts. Truth be told, she was my favorite even though she was really THAD’S cat. Yes–Buttercup (the gray) was the one I initially wanted,

and Poppy is a model worthy cat,

but Penny was the one with personality and verve and LITERALLY posed for several of my favorite photos. If she saw the camera out, she was looking into it.

Things have been pretty quiet on the pet front–both wanted and unwanted. One of the The Girls will stay out at night every so often, but they are at the back door ready to be fed the next morning. And THAT is right where we found the most recent animal to adopt us–or, rather, me. Yet ANOTHER female German Shepherd. Tony opened the door to let the cats out last Wednesday morning, and then announced the presence of “a dog out there.” I looked, and there she stood. She was INCREDIBLY skinny, and VERY LARGE, but I could tell she was young. If we’d not closed the door at that moment, she would have walked into the house.

I was instructed to most definitely NOT feed her. (*Ahem* What happens when everyone leaves for school and I’m the only one at home STAYS that way.) I did OFFICIALLY give her some water, which she drank and drank and drank, and then she flopped down on our back door welcome mat (she felt welcomed in more ways than one) and for all practical purposed passed slap out. She didn’t FLINCH when I turned off the back porch light. And we kept the cats in the cage that day.

I wondered, at first, if it might be Zoe–the puppy from about a year and a half ago. The family we had given her to lived where the fires had burned, and I was afraid they had lost her. Upon closer examination of the photo, I knew it was not the same dog. Zoe was black and silver, and had some distinct facial markings. This dog had a lot of rust in her coat and didn’t have such defined coloring on her face.

Tony called me that afternoon to inform me that my college text book was on the front porch “along with That Dog.” I had called a couple from church to see if they wanted her. No go. Same thing when I asked a neighbor the next day. So, it was off to the SPCA temporary disaster rescue Thursday afternoon. When the fires broke out, they set up an emergency shelter for animals from the fire zone, and it was closing down last Thursday at 5:00 p.m. The dog and I were most DEFINITELY in the fire zone. I thought she was way too skinny to be a fire dog, but that shelter was our last resort. . .

Fire Map Photos Saturday A.M.

Full view of fire containment lines at of this a.m.

Our house in relation to containment lines. Still lookin' good.

Just saw a photo on Facebook of a firemen sleeping on concrete next to his truck. He had his walkie-talkie next to his head and had managed to get his boots off. That man deserves a bed and a special star in his crown.

Ummm. . .yeah.

So. At 9:15 on Monday night, we were evacuated from our home due to wildfires in our area–which is the juncture of Waller/Grimes/Montgomery counties. We grabbed the cats, the kids, photo albums, pictures, medicine and hit the road. Tony and the kids have been out of school all week. I missed two days. We are with his mom and dad in the Houston area. Right now our home is safe and so are we, but we are still unable to go home due to the fact that our house is CLOSE to the fire and in the middle of the evacuation zone for our county. Below is the thermal image from the fire YESTERDAY (Thursday 9/8). Due to winds, etc. the situation changes frequently–hotspots pop up, etc. A DC 10 that had been doing fire retardant air drops on the Bastrop fire near Austin was diverted to our area to do some drops. There are also helicopters doing water drops and A LOT of firemen and police officers doing their jobs and keeping people safe. We would, of course, covet your prayers for us and everyone else affected. So far, there has been no loss of life–which is AMAZING and evidence of God’s work. See photo below.

What a weekend (in reverse)

So, we kind of have a huge wild fire very, very near our house. Like two miles away kind of near. The only thing that kept us in our house and not evacuated was prevailing winds from the south, and the fire is north of us. It’s still there despite our first rain in several months that arrived in the early hours of the morning Wednesday. Nearly 6,000 acres have burned, 30 homes, 20 buildings, and a lot of live-stock have been lost. It is a sad, sad thing. As of 10:00 Wed. night, the fire was 75% contained, and hopefully that won’t change tomorrow if the sun is out and the wind is back. Meanwhile, we are so thankful to be spared and very prayerful for those who have lost everything. The fire began when someone was cooking on their grill, but things are so dry that it takes merely a spark to create a conflagration.

That storm cloud is actually smoke from the fire about 45 minutes after it started. We started hearing siren after siren at 4:00 Sunday afternoon.

We went to explore a bit, then got out of the way. That black smoke at the bottom is someone's propane tank exploding--that means they lost their home as well.

The day BEFORE the wildfire excitement, Saturday, Tony arrived home with an ice-chest full of blue crabs.

It always amazes me that something THAT blue can turn so VIBRANTLY orange.

Victoria got a little too friendly with a particularly large one (7 1/2 inches across) who’d not been under the ice and was a bit cranky. She has been wearing a band-aid since. Ouch. Since she was a little bitty thing, she has been handling crabs, so I’m glad this happened at nearly 13 and not at 3.

Mr. Cranky is the blur in the bottom right corner. . .Victoria dropped him in the water AFTER her Daddy had buried him in the ice for awhile to settle him down a bit. Retribution.

And on Friday, the kids and I went to see Kung Fu Panda 2. (Thad corrected me every time I left off the “2.” He said that it might CONFUSE someone if I wasn’t specific. Ahem.) After, the kids and I ran into a store to get some shrimp and my mother (who was about 300 mile away at the time) bought my birthday present (which is 6 weeks away).

I called her and said, “Would you like to buy me a bird bath for my birthday?” even though I already KNEW what the answer would be.

Isn’t that pretty???