Farewell Maggie!

 Farewell sweet Maggie! She had a long and- hopefully!- happy life. She was a good friend, a funny, opinionated mare, a nice companion to Neko (who loved telling Maggie what to do and when to do it...) We all loved Maggie (aka "The Magster", "Magatini" and so many other nicknames!); Robin the Good especially had a lovely friendship with Maggie. They'd touch noses through the fence and lick each other's noses. Maggie was so gentle with Robin when she was a puppy. Maggie had obviously had foals and knew what a baby animal was- they forged a deep bond.

But as you could see in that picture above, Maggie was very old and very tired. She knew what was coming. I often saw her standing with her head low, soaking up the morning sun as if the weight of her own head was too great. 

Here's the two of them last week- always hungry! They hear the back door open and are at the fence like, "Hey! Isn't it meal time?!!?!?" (Maggie wasn't really a small as she appears above; somehow my perspective made her look so tiny, like a pony!) 

Maggie was a real character. Due to her chronic lameness, I only was able to ride her for a couple of years after she arrived here.  But that was fine: she was a delightful member of our herd. She loved to pick her food dish up when it was empty and shake it around and the toss it as if to say, "Fill this thing up again, dammit!". She often had a mischievous twinkle in her eye and liked to try and bite me, especially when I attempted to put one of her blankets on her. The funny part of that was she had few teeth and made a weird clacking noise. She also had no sense of personal space and enjoyed walking directly into you. (And her eyes were fine, believe me!) 

Here's Maggie busy at another one of her "hobbies". She was really good at getting super dirty. She rarely used the barn and stood outside in whatever kind of inclement weather. Maggie loved to get down on the ground and roll- which was fine when she was younger (in the picture above) and could right herself easily. In the last few years, however, she would get down to roll and was frequently unable to get herself back up. Imagine attempting to lift a piano; she was that heavy. We called upon friends to come and assist in righting her but the danger was in her hurting herself (or us trying to help her). 

Here's on of my favorite pictures of Maggie. What could be better than a horse and sculpture?! We used to let her graze on the lawn in the backyard. Look at that nice round butt! Anyone who has seen Maggie in the last couple of years will remark on just how skinny she'd become! It was her time...

Her departure to the Great Pasture in the Sky was peaceful and dignified. She is missed; Neko is very sad and missing her pasture mate. I know we'll get through this but we're all mourning our beloved Maggie.

My Cousin Johnny

 

 I have only done this once before: written what I guess is a eulogy. That was for Mommy. (I still miss her!) This time around, I am compelled to memorialize my cousin Johnny who played a bigger part in my childhood than anyone will ever know.

Johnny was two years older than me which- when we were kids- afforded him a sense of wisdom and gravitas. He got me to do and believe all sorts of pretty crazy stuff because of this age advantage. Like the time he paid me a dollar (in pennies) if I would eat an entire raw onion. (I did it.) 

We lived in New Haven while our parents built their house on property contiguous to my grandmother (Gramma) and my aunts and uncles. Every weekend, we would drive to Durham so that Mommy and Daddy could work on the house. I would immediately run across the field to see Johnny. We spent most of our time roving the woods, building forts and bridges and somehow not injuring ourselves too badly. Our toys consisted mainly of tools: saws and hatchets and other sharp implements stolen from our parents tool boxes: real child-safe approved stuff.(*1) Also frequently starring in our escapades was Johnny's bee bee gun. (Oh boy did I want one!) We shot at all sorts of things, most often missing but sometimes hitting one another. I still recall the day I limped home with several round holes in my knee, trusting that Mommy wouldn't ask too closely what had happened.

Johnny and I founded The Kongatowa Club. (*2)It was named for a large stream flowing through the property that abutted our family's woods; I don't know that it had an "official" name but we christened it The Kongatowa River. It afforded passage to vast tracts of swamp and forest, which in turn led to a dirt road that approached The Pig Man's Farm. We often dared each other to climb the rise that hid the (literal) Pig Farm from view. The smell was frequently overwhelming but it was thrilling to catch a glimpse of the hidden farm or even get chased away by the farmer. We in The Kongatowa Club lived dangerously.

After these exhilarating and exhausting excursions (*3), we'd repair to Gramma's house- nicknamed The Tea House- for a cup of milky tea, graciously provided by Gramma. The mismatched teacups themselves provided entertainment: who would get the cup adorned by a pheasant (referred to as the "Fozzent" cup), or The Daniel Boone mug? There were also Gramma's mysterious Cabinet of Rocks to admire and a strange wooden dachshund painted green... all sorts of oddities. Johnny, Cathy and I spent hours visiting Gramma, who enjoyed our company until we resorted to one of our favorite pass times. This consisted of spitting (often some of that milky tea) into the large furnace grate that covered part of her living room floor. A satisfying sizzling noise arose from the unseen depths of the basement and satisfying words of surprise and anger erupted from Gramma. (*4) 

These are the things I remember about Johnny and our childhood escapades. I didn't see Johnny, or his wonderful wife Chris, much in adulthood, but I know he was happy making music and traveling to Block Island and Jamestown and working on his house, which I recall having been transformed into a playful space with nooks and crannies and cats. The last time I saw Johnny was at Mommy's funeral and gathering. He seemed well and it was nice to catch up. The last time I talked to Johnny was last year. In COVID time, he had been admitted to the hospital with a recurrence of cancer. (*5) When he returned home, I called him, hoping he'd sound okay. He was weak and tired and realistic about what was happening.

Johnny died this last week. I think his death caused me to reflect on the fragility of our lives and on how much time has passed since our childhoods. I hope that Johnny has crossed The Kongatowa River and is enjoying a milky cup of tea with Gramma at The Tea House.

(*1) I am not sure whether our parents ever knew exactly where all these tools had vanished to. Mommy and Daddy probably blamed each other for having carelessly misplaced them. It is possible they thought we were angels who would never do dangerous stuff like steal and lie.. hahahahaaha!!

(*2) My younger sister Cathy was a sometimes/partial member of this organization. She was occasionally allowed to accompany us on our adventures into the outback, but I am sorry to confess that one of the reasons for The Kongatowa Club was to keep it exclusive. Johnny and I therefore spent time and effort thinking up impossible tasks for Cathy to perform in order to achieve full membership. (Nice, huh?) More than once, we left Cathy to chop through a fallen tree with an extremely dull saw. We'd go off on exciting excursions and return an hour later to find my poor sister diligently hewing away. Kids are so cruel! I cringe now to consider this but at the time it felt great!

(*3) How's that for alliteration?!? 

(*4) Let's face it: half the fun of being a kid is irritating adults and pushing limits!

(*5) Do I need to say it? Fuck cancer.

A Dead Squirrel for the Holidays

Happy Holidays! And no, that's not a dead squirrel; that's Burned Santa. Remember him? As a real innovation, Bob added lights to Burned Santa's interior... you could even say he glows.

Here's the other side. Bob was trying to keep up with the honored tradition of putting lights our for Xmas. I like the effect: sort of Xmas in Hell.
Anyway, I went to get wood for my studio wood stove the other day and as I  picked up a couple of logs, I saw this fluffy grey thing. At first I thought Bob had left a glove on the wood pile. But it was a squirrel and it was most emphatically dead.

After assessing that it wasn't "playing opossum", I took this picture, wondered idly how it died- old age? log fell on it? scared to death by Robin chasing it? who knows. But it didn't have any obvious evidence of foul play, like blood or bite marks on it. I told Bob and he disposed of it as I was rushing off to work or something and forgot to get rid of it.
But it gets weirder as the next day, I was walking by Maggie's barn and I saw this:

Another dead squirrel! Now we had a mystery on our hands! At first I suspected it was the same squirrel and an animal had found the first squirrel carcass and carried to to the barn but on closer examination, it was clearly another corpse, as it's tail was bushier and it's position was different. It was kind of creepy because how often do you find dead animals just sort of laying around? Was there a rash of squirrels suddenly falling out of trees, an outbreak of squirrel plague or do we have a group of elderly squirrels ready to depart this mortal coil all at once? I guess we'll never know what killed them but it was definitely strange to see two dead ones within two days.
Let me know if anyone spots further squirrel die off and I'll post something more Christmas-y like our tree later this week.

Mommy 1920-2017

Alas! Veronica West Valley Bogel aka Mommy has died. We have known for a long time that she was fading but it's still shocking when it happens.  I know I'm still processing this information, and truly haven't had time to feel much of anything yet; except, perhaps, a profound sense of relief as Mommy's last few years were anything but rewarding or beautiful.(The picture above is from quite a long time ago, as Mommy had her dog Molly with her and she's driving what appears to be the silver Toyota that she handed down to me like twenty years ago! But it all seems like yesterday.)
So Mommy finally died on June 17th, her 97th birthday. It does have a nice feeling of her coming full circle. I'll never forget how Mommy turned to me once- when she was a comparative spring chicken of an old person (like in her vigorous eighties) and said, "You know if I died now, I'd be happy". I exclaimed, "Do you know something that I don't know?" and she replied that she wasn't sick with something mysterious or anything, she just felt contented and at peace and happy that we, her three daughters seemed happy. Obviously, she went on to live for quite a while longer!
I am happy that she bequeathed to me a love of dogs and most animals- except snakes, of which she was deathly afraid. It is really ironic that Mommy moved to East Haddam and lived in a town that was reportedly a "Herpetologist's Dream". One of my chores when visiting my mother was to go down in the basement and check for snakes. I would inevitably do so... and find one.We never told her that East Haddam was known as the "Snake Capital" of Connecticut. And while she loved flowers and gardens, her fear of snakes kept her from planting much of a garden at home. When she'd come to visit, she was famous for standing in the driveway and refusing to venture further into the grass (where she KNEW snakes were lurking) and waving here arm generally at the garden and saying, "That's okay! I can see the garden from here!"
Mommy was unfailingly generous. She gave Beatrice and Cathy and me a piece of land that we were able to sell. The proceeds from my portion of that transaction allowed Bob and I to purchase The BauHaus Chicken Coop. Thank you Mommy!
The only thing that drove me crazy about my mother was her insecurity about her intelligence. She never seemed to understand that there are many ways to be smart. I think she had been told early on by someone (a family member (who as we all know are not always helpful) or a teacher) that she was a "dummy" (that was the word she used about herself) and I think that was tragic! She was a good cook, a good listener, liked to read and taught me to sew. (We all know where that led!)
So I will say this: Mommy was never judgemental and didn't question my life choices. She never turned to me and said, "Why are you an artist? Why can't you just become a secretary or something?' She knew that being an artist was a different kind of commitment. When she was younger, she did a number of paintings and I had encouraged her to take up painting again later in life, but she was busy doing other things.
And a last note: Mommy loved strawberry shortcake. It was an ongoing ritual for her birthday and if you asked her what she wanted for her birthday, she's invariably say she didn't care what she got, as long as there was strawberry shortcake. (And it had to be REAL shortcake, not that spongey stuff!) I had thought about making one on her birthday just to fulfill that annual wish but then she passed.
So I guess I'll say how terribly we will miss Mommy. I will miss talking with her about silly things my current dog was doing, or telling her about what I was working on in my studio, or what Bob and I were up to (she loved Bob). Goodbye Mommy!

A Eulogy for Jules 2010-2016

What can I say about Jules the Dog now that he's gone? I loved him; we loved him. He was a wonderful dog. It is too terrible contemplating our present lives, without Jules. He was our constant companion and a vital force of nature. The house is too quiet and very empty.
Jules loved snow and tennis balls and chasing squirrels and carrying large sticks. He was silly and funny and smart and tolerant of my off-key singing of atrocious songs in his praise. (I know he secretly loved hearing my nonsense tunes, extolling his virtues, even though he rolled his eyes and acted embarrassed.) He was a truly handsome dog. He wasn't even six...
He has been gone almost a week. I have left a bowl of water for him in case some spirit incarnation of his is thirsty and needs a drink. His tennis balls are here, buried under the snow. I haven't been able to go for a walk yet without him. I have cleaned up all his silky black dust kittens (and he did know how to shed constantly!) but I would gladly have fur-encrusted stairs if it meant that Jules was here. Fuck a clean house!
As is apparent to anyone who follows this blog or was fortunate enough to have met him, Jules was a star.

Wildlife Tragedies and Mysteries

Last Sunday morning was truly awful. I fed Maggie and was on my way into the house to eat toast with Bob, when I spied Jules standing stock still over by the fence, staring intently at something. I say "something" as I wander around outside quite often with no contact lens in my good eye and I miss things. I had to get very close to Jules and I'm thinking he sees a squirrel or the neighbor's dog.. But then I realize, with my nose almost on the fence, that he's looking a grey think IN the fence. I think it's a leaf or a mushroom (I am half asleep) and I'm on top of the fence and Jules before it dawns on me that it's the hind end of a bunny, stuck at a really weird angle. I realized this poor bunny is stuck in the fence, and probably hurt. Poor Jules was very good and realized that I was upset as he followed me without a protest straight into the house.
I retrieved Bob, safety glasses, two pairs of heavy leather gloves and a pair of tin snips. Bob and I set to work, trying to free the obviously badly injured rabbit from the fence. When he was finally free, he slide in a pathetic little heap of bunny fur on the other side of the fence and Bob and I agreed that there was only one humane thing to do.
Bob went and got a sharp shovel and I carried the badly hurt rabbit to a clear spot on the other side of the fence and finished him off. At this point, I'm crying (it was very sad!) and it's raining and it couldn't have gotten more gloomy or tragic if we'd scripted it. I buried the bunny and put a small bouquet of late chrysanthemums and yellow amsonia leaves on his grave. So much for Sunday morning.

And today, the next Sunday (and a time change one at that: I'm confused, as usual about what time it REALLY is) I go outside with Jules to feed Maggie and there's another wildlife mystery. There's a large pile of some kind of poo in the yard, right by the long border. I almost stepped in it- isn't that what piles of shit are all about? Anyway, that's it in the picture. Obviously some wild thing as it looks nothing like neatly formed dog poops. This is someone messy who eats seeds and god knows what else... maybe a bear? I got a shovel and disposed of it (heavy!) and then realized that Maggie's fence is bent right by her water basin, like something heavy had climbed over it. Later I discovered another section of bent fencing. I have to deduce that some sizable beast scaled the fence, no doubt terrifying our horse in the mean time, and took a heroic dump on the yard. I hope they had fun!

Tuesday

I visited my mother (aka Mommy) on Saturday. She falls asleep a lot and is generally not all there because she's so very tired, old and frail. Mommy is still "with it" in terms of knowing who you are and asking "appropriate" questions, like how Bob and Jules are etc. She was also genuinely pleased when I told her that I have a couple of shows coming up late this year.
But out of the blue, Mommy turns to me after a quiet time in our visit and she says (apropos of nothing), "Tuesday."
"Tuesday?", I respond, thinking maybe she's going to say she had a visit form a friend or a nurse on Tuesday- whatever. Instead, she blows me away by saying, "I'm going to die on Tuesday."
I had to ask, "This Tuesday?" to which she responded, "I'm not sure, but a Tuesday." We then had a brief, but straight forward discussion about death and the length of ones life versus when your time is up.
I mean, we all know, Mommy's ready to go and that's not a bad thing. Sad, as we'll miss her and she's a really nice person and presence on this planet, but she's so unable to do things... it's just TIME.
Of course, Monday night, I had trouble sleeping and kept thinking, "Gee, that was probably the last time I'll see Mommy alive"... cheerful middle of the night thoughts like that.
But Tuesday rolled around and I went to work and expected a phone call. Which never came. Mommy is still with us- probably much to her consternation as well as ours! I don't want to hustle her off to Heaven or anything (and don't get me started: I have no idea what I think happens or where we go. Fuck if I know!) So so much for premonitions; maybe it was merely wishful thinking.

Bye Bye Birdie

Jules and I discovered a dead red tailed hawk on our walk yesterday morning. It was laying in the road, neck obviously broken, but unharmed other than that. I mean, what were the chances with all the speeding Audis and Volvos and BMWs racing off to the office that it wasn't utterly smooshed like most road kill? I carefully delivered the sad bird to the side of the road and returned to the scene of the crime in my car on my way to work.

It is really beautiful and remarkably light. I guess we all know that bird's bones are hollow so they can fly but I'm constantly surprised when picking up a bird just how airy a living thing (even dead) can be. But yes, I drove around all day with a dead bird in the back of my car, delicately folded into a plastic bag. Half way to work, it occurred to me that maybe the hawk was only stunned and I started casting a wary eye backwards, hoping to not see a sudden feathery eruption. These things aren't small when enclosed in a hatchback. Remember, I rescued a stunned road side hawk years ago on my way back from New Haven. A stupid suburban woman in a mini van slammed into the bird and simply drove on. (I saved it and drove it all the way to the Audubon center in Sharon CT, where it was allegedly nursed to health.)
In any event, the bird didn't awake from the dead an it was cold enough (no I am not talking weather...) so that it kept quite frozen all day. I showed the bird around at work; it was quite the conversation piece. And I can bet you that I was the only person at the Stop and Shop Plaza with a dead hawk in my car.
Here's a couple of details because how often do you get to see something like this up close:

Sort of sad! Makes me think of that poor giraffe Marius (?) that they "euthanized" in a zoo in Europe. Don't get me started; I'm seething over that whole mess. (He could have come to live with us, here at the BauHaus Chicken Coop. Maggie would have loved the company.)
Anywya, a shot of his feet:

Just a touch of blood! I feel badly as Bob and II suspected this is one of a pair of hawks that live (noisily) near our little pond. They do mate for life, but will rebond if one of the pair dies. And it's mating season!

Apres L'Deluge

So after some pretty wicky- whacky weather, Bob and I made a tour over the bridge to the far side of the stream. Our stream was a torrent: swirling, cresting and threatening to become a river. It had been a wild night of downpour and wind and general wooliness. But at least all trace of that nasty snow is gone!
This poor mouse seems to have not made it home and out of harm's way and had obviously drowned. We found this tiny corpse while inspecting one of the little pine seedlings. I guess I shouldn't feel badly, after all, had the mouse found his way into our house, we probably would have set a trap.
On an entirely opposite note, our horse Maggie decided that the absence of snow and ice was a marvelous good thing and took the opportunity to kick up her heels and really show off. She raced the wind from one end of her pasture to the other sliding to a stop like a reining champion and then spinning on a hind hoof and careening off to the other side. Crow hopping, bucking, galloping... at least she feels good! Bob and I were alternately entertained and terrified that she would trip head over tail and break a leg or two (horses being know for truly stupid accidents).
Later, Mistress Maggie rolled and enrobed herself in a thick plaster of mud. She looked very pleased with her performance as I tried to brush her back to a semblance of civilization. I was contemplating riding her today, but that high wind dissuaded me and I'm glad I stayed on terra firma.