The End is Here!!

 

Well, the end of the year, not to be too melodramatic! And good-bye 2021!!

Sorry but maybe it IS the end of civilization as we have known it. I attempted to buy Bob a new TV for Christmas. Here's our old TV: 

Probably a lovely set in it's day but it's got a gigantic back that sticks out a good 18" and it doesn't have a very large picture area. It's old! And the modem that we require to allow the TV to "talk" to the dvd player needs a firm whack every few minutes to keep it running. (*1) We decided we needed a new TV.

 So I purchased what looked to me to be a huge step up; like 32" (diagonal) screen. And in all fairness, I'd done a ton of research and determined the brand and approximate size but was utterly intimidated and bowled over by all the enormous screens on view at the store. I felt like I'd crawled out from under a rock. I quickly selected my 32" set and fled the store.

I presented it to Bob on Christmas and we were both excited at the prospect of watching TV while lying in bed and feeling all luxurious and up-to-date. But somehow, I had misgivings when we brought the TV upstairs. It looked less huge; in fact, I thought it looked small. We debated for a while and finally agreed. We'd go one size up.

(Another consideration is this lovely sculpture that resides on top of the TV cabinet. The cabinet needs to accommodate TV and sculpture. Then we to arrived at wall mounting the TV and put the sculpture on another surface...)

So we went to the store- for us a still unusual excursion as COVID has kept us close to home and away from "the public"- and return the new but too small TV. We scouted the rear of the big box store, found the bigger TVs and instead of the 40", I see Bob's eyes go wide and he says, "That's the perfect size!" pointing at a 43" model. So we truly did graduate from old set to 32" all the way up to 43". (*2) The punchline is that they had two of these behemoths in stock, but the boxes were water damaged and we didn't want to take a chance on a defective TV and another return trip. I finally ordered the 43" on-line.

So we're awaiting delivery of the new member of our household. I alluded to the end being near and part of me is afraid of the novelty of a giant screen. Will it become so seductive as to reduce the time we spend reading? Will we become "like everyone else", glued to a huge screen and watching endless hours of mindless dreck? I fear for our future! Oh well, welcome to 2022!

(*1) We tried to purchase a new modem-thing and were laughed out of BestBuy and WalMart. How's that for humiliation?!? 

(*2) And yes, there are far gigantic-er tVs out there. 65", 75"... we'd have to get a bigger wall to make space for these "home theaters". And neither one of us wants our lives dominated by a TV that big!

 

Living the Life Historical

 

The other day, while out gleaning the field of horse poop, it dawned on me that I could be a peasant from any time in history. Essentially my activity- and even my garb- could have been from two, three, four (or more) hundred years ago. I asked Bob to document me in all my earthy glory. And it confirmed what I feared: I make a pretty good peasant.

A case in point. Same pitchfork (well, mine is plastic and came from tractor Supply. She probably made hers!), same basic stance, similar head gear (but her ground length skirt is fetching!)... you get the idea. I probably staggered off to lunch on the same moldy potatoes as her!

This is a painting by Kazimir Malevich entitled something like "Peasant Out in the Field" I don't know where his pitchfork went, but he's got that same attitude as me and the romanticized peasant in the above painting or even this woman with a wheelbarrow by Millet. Notice how our "technology" hasn't changed!

(She's probably praying that she smells better than I do when I'm done collecting manure!) I rest my case. I could be whisked back in time in some accident created by a tesseract! Why, I'd fit right in! Further oddball illustration is the below picture sent to me by my sister Cathy (Hi Cathy!). It purports to be a photo promoting vacationing in Estonia- one 1/2 of our family background. I'd look at home among these fine folks, too!

Satan's Pony

Doesn't Neko just look the picture of innocence all sleepy in the morning sun? Isn't she sweet? Isn't she just the bestest little pony? Ha! Don't let her fool you for one minute. Neko has been busy devising devious plots and dastardly deeds!

The other day, at around 6:30 when it's still dark, I go to feed the horses. Usually there are two semi-visible silhouettes near the top of the field, eagerly awaiting their slops 'n' grub. This morning, I'm seeing Maggie and I think, "Oh, Neko must be in the barn or lower down in the field".  But as I round the barn, I see Neko and it takes a minute for me to decipher why she looks odd. Then I realize she's on the wrong side of the fence!

She herself seems a tad confused or embarrassed (yes, I'm anthropomorphizing) and follows me through the side gate, docile and hungry. I know now that this is not the first time she has escaped; last week, Bob announced that there were piles of horse poop behind his studio. I said, "Nay; it cannot be our horses. They're both present and accounted for"... which they were. A careful tour of the fence perimeter showed no signs of having been pulled down so we came to the conclusion that someone else's horse must have gotten loose and come to visit Maggie and Neko. But having found her on the wrong side of the fence, I now know better.

Neko's like, "Whaddyou lookin' at?" It still remains quite a mystery how she got herself through the ELECTRIC fence- unscathed- and back inside (last week). I realize poor Neko is certain she's starving to death and must escape from our evil pasture to find sufficient forage, but she really is a Houdini. She had no scrapes, no damage to her person, did not disrupt the fence. The fact that she got herself back in; I just don't know how she did it.

Hopefully, she will be unable to duplicate her recent nightly escapades as I ran out to Home Depot and secured a bundle of fiberglass poles and reinforced the fence line. (Like I really felt like doing this... I was hoping to go for a ride that afternoon.) She came to the bottom of the field and watched me insert the new poles, as I lectured her about her perfidy. I wish she were contrite!

Later that same day, I caught her with her big fat head pushed sideways, between the mesh fence and the hot electric line, bending another section of fence down so as to snack on the other side. Bob and I are in the process of replacing this fence line, as it is old and rusty. But now we're required to double up on the electric line. Ah! The joys of horse ownership!

First Blood

 

It was going to happen some day; Robin actually caught- and killed!- an animal. Robin chases everything: squirrels, birds, leaves, shadows... seemingly she is a born hunter. (*1) But despite many heroic attempts at catching anything, it has taken Robin almost six years to achieve the status of Official Hunter.

She had been pursuing the above rodent (a shrew.. similar to mice and moles and voles) for several days. It apparently lived in the patch of lirope beneath the Tiger Eye Sumac. Certainly, it attracted her attention whenever she was in the vicinity. 

She finally nailed it one day last week and proceeded to "play" with it and one last toss in the air dispatched it to the Great Shew Beyond. (*2) However, once it was dead, a look of anguish seemed to cross her face. She sat and stared at it and all I can say is she seemed to experience some sort of existential remorse. Bob noticed this, too. (*3) Robin was no doubt analyzing the impermanence of life and considering what happens "afterwards". It affected her profoundly!

This is how Robin typically hunts. She up ends her toy box- which need frequent replacement as she chews the box apart as sport- and selects one toy to terrorize. (By the way, she totally ignores that pink camouflage alien in the front of the picture. Not sure why) She then shakes it and tosses it and eviscerates it.

Look at that face! You would never know that I had just spent twenty minutes performing surgery on this poor thing. Robin promptly pulled it's nose off, stuffing every where! I don't think she experiences and remorse about "killing" stuffed animals. I'm sure she knows the difference.

Although who knows? Maybe now that our little angel has tasted blood, and contemplated the loss of life, she'll reconsider her approach to hunting artificial game. She does look a bit contrite in the picture above...

(*1) And you would expect this as both her parents were field hunting dogs. You will perhaps recall that her mother, Chloe, was a Long Haired Weimaraner and her father, Gunnar, was a Llewellyn English Setter. 

(*2) I'm really glad she killed it as our previous dog Ricky used catch things but never figured out how to kill them. I followed her around with a shovel, finishing off what she had started. It was not the most fun I've ever had!

(*3) Yes, I know: many will find it anthropomorphizing and "inappropriate" to assign "human" emotions to dogs, but believe me, Robin the Good seemed bummed and confused.

Already Waiting for Spring

 

I don't know about you, but I'm ready for spring.The days have been getting shorter and darker, I'm still in a state of continual re-adjustment to the time change and suddenly it's cold. But tell that to the above primroses. These flowers are usually a tell-tale sign that spring has arrived; these crazy plants seem to bloom all year long. It's November, it's 23 degrees over night and they're like, "Perfect weather!" The kicker is that they came from Stop and Shop or Shop Rite- yes, I guess the variety is Super Market Mix. I buy them (marked down, of course!) in February so as to have color in the house and then plant them outdoors when spring finally arrives. Originally I thought we'd get a season's flowers and then they'd die but boy did I get a tremendous surprise when they came back, year after year. Truly perennial! 

I've got quite a few of them now. Last year, they were blooming in the snow so go figure: they must be some new mutant variety dreamed up in some horticulturist's perverse lab. But they're pretty and cheap so you gotta love them!

Okay but the main reason for my post is that I finally planted all the bulbs I bought:

As I've said before, bulbs are great; if you plant them and if they don't come up, no big deal! No one knows you wasted your time and money on them... not like some fancy-pants, over-priced perennial that looks swell at the nursery but immediately withers and dies when installed in your garden. So I planned on obtaining some bulbs. I have a spot where I plant tulips every year and then yank them to plant annuals. (Most tulips being not-too-perennial but soooooo lovely!) While bob and I were in Vermont recently, switching out his remarkable sculptures, I requested that we visit the Bennington Home Depot to see if they had marked down bulbs. Yes they did! And good colors! So for 50% off, I got Pink Impression and a beautiful mix called "Pride" (purples and pinks and reds). Also a bag of deep blue hyacinths for the Blue Garden.

I didn't stop there, however. Enthused by my luck and lured by the sales from nurseries that filled up my email in-box, I ordered petite miniature daffodils (Jack Sprite and Tete-a-Tete) and aliums (Bulgaricum and Christophii) and more tulips! Just you wait 'til next spring! Our gardens are going to be jumping! (*1)

(*1) I was fortunate that I encountered several warm sunny days to stagger around our vast estate, pushing a wheel barrow full of assorted bulbs, looking for spots to tuck them all in. It wouldn't have been fun had it been as cold as it was this morning!

The Junque man Cometh

 

Or go-eth! Poor Bob! He lived for almost twelve years with this ridiculous hot tub outside of his studio door. Not only was it an eyesore but it is/was big, heavy and well... an eyesore. When we first looked at the house- lo! these many years ago, the hot tub was on the rotting back deck, off the living room. When we came to inspect the house for our closing walk-through, it was gone. Somehow, the previous owner had hauled this monstrosity down to most recent location, by Bob's studio door. 

To be honest, I never entertained the idea of taking pictures of the hot tub in situ because it wasn't exactly photogenic. I knew how badly Bob wanted to get rid of it, though. He entertained several options- none easy- because this thing was massive and made of all manner of nastiness, including fiberglass and spray insulation. He debated making a "heat grabber" for his studio but the size and shape were unworkable. Friends suggested simply dragging it off into the woods, where it probably would have resided for eternity.

(Don't ask: I was simply photographing "hose arabesques".) Bob decided his best course of action was to haul that sucker away to the dump. Bob spent several days deconstructing the monstrosity and revealing all sorts of weird insulation, pipes, wood frame complete with nails... just awful stuff. Our good friend Joe agreed to come over and assist Bob in the heroic undertaking of getting it up onto the truck and help get it to the dump. It proved to be no small task as the unwieldy shape of the tub resisted being loaded and kept sliding back off the truck, and there was no way to lift it up as it was too heavy. (I wisely missed observing all of this fun,leaving it to the men folk to figure the logistics out.) Bob and Joe finally resorted to sawing the fiberglass body in half and then loading it on. 

Off to the dump it (finally!) went. A loud cheer was heard through out the land as Bob was free of the burden of the accursed hot tub. Additionally, Bob discovered he had a whole new area of open space beside his back door. Victory was his!

Big 33

 

Hey look! The basil finally got zapped by a (rather late) frost! That mean that Bob ad I celebrated yet another trip around the sun together. Yes, 33 years of un-anniversary. In a nod to non-tradition, Bob makes an attractive (!?!!) arrangement of the deceased, now rotting basil.

I haven't much more to say than I can think of no one else I'd rather spend a year in COVID lock down with; we had fun! Now on to another 33... of course that's make me 98 and Bob 101 or something so I don't know if that's a good idea. 

So, yes, I look forward to this next year. Hopefully, we can crawl out of our quarantine isolation and once again show art in real spaces and maybe even risk taking a train into NYC to see some art. But let's just get through the upcoming winter first!