We heard last night that our great-granddaughter — David’s son Bruce’s daughter Ashlinn — had an emergency appendectomy.

She had been sick for several days, but they thought it was the flu.  She came through the surgery well, but must be pretty miserable, poor kid.  She was really looking forward to going back to school — first grade! — next week, but it doesn’t seem she’s going to make it.

I’ll go out tomorrow and do a little shopping.  Maybe some art supplies would help occupy her mind while she recuperates.

You don’t expect a little kid to have appendix problems, but it (obviously) happens.  At least it’s a routine surgery — if there is such a thing. 

It could have been a lot worse.

Here’s a group of boarders that rode through this morning.  Some or all of them ride every morning, and I enjoy seeing them, partly because they’re such a colorful bunch.

You see, from left, a blue roan, a bay, a sooty palomino, and a sorrel and white paint.  I didn’t  have a good blue roan picture, so I asked her to stop for a snapshot.

The “blue” roan has a dark bay or black base color, as compared to Duffy’s dark chestnut.

They share the solid-color head and legs of the true roan.  Of course they’re a lot different in build; Duffy is a gaited horse, while the blue is a quarter horse.  She has shorter (and more correct) legs, a longer hip, and deeper body.  She’s built for speed and power; he’s built for a smooth four-beat gait. 

There are so many different shapes, sizes, and colors in horses.  I bet only dogs have a greater variety of form.

It’s been a long time since I’ve posted any needlework projects.  If you only have a swamp cooler, you generally take the summer off from warm, heavy yarn projects.

It’s been so (comparatively) cool lately, though, I’ve been doing a little knitting.  Here’s one result:

This log cabin square, in chunky yarn, turned out to be almost exactly eighteen inches square.  Six of them, with a nice wide border, should make a cozy lap blanket.  Christmas is out there somewhere.

I totally forgot (and Billy didn’t mention) that yesterday was his seventy-seventh birthday.  We don’t pay much attention to birthdays any more, and were taken by surprise when Suzanne showed up at the door with not one, but two Marie Callender pies. French apple and banana cream.  There go the old diets.  Pies have to be eaten up before they get soggy, right?

Just to prove that all the flowers around aren’t daylilies — here’s a rose that’s by one of the tackrooms.  I thought it looked so delicate against the rough weathered wood.

The title of today’s post comes from an article in the Bakersfield Californian today.  Ex-mayor Mary K. Shell wrote in commenting about a brief mention of the La Cresta Airfield.  Since my friend Marion lives on La Cresta, I read it with interest.  She said,

“Right after World War II, I worked at the Kern County Airport and in 1947 moved over to La Cresta Airfield on the bluffs.  It was owned by Ralph Smith and partners, but managed by John G. ‘Monte’ Montijo, a former P-51 pilot who saw combat in the European Theater.  Flight training was one of the opportunities under the GI bill so flight schools sprung up all over, including at La Cresta . . . Almost all of the pilots for Atwood Crop Dusters, based at La Cresta, were veterans of WWII, including Bill Jukes and Steve Straub who had flown for the Royal Canadian Air Force, as well as Jim French, a highly decorated Navy pilot.  There was no control tower.  You just used your eyes to land and take off when it was safe.  One great advantage at La Cresta was that when you took off toward the northwest, you had an immediate increase in altitude as you flew over the bluffs.  I was young, and it was fun to work there.”

What does this have to do with us?  Well, when I read it to Billy, he immediately said, “Monte was one of our boarders in those days.”  Sometimes it seems as if everyone in Kern County was.  “It was his daughter I sold my palomino mare to.”  That was Digger, the Morab mare who was his favorite horse ever. 

In addition, we bought the eastern part of our property from Jim French.  It was covered with debris from Mr. French’s flying days.  At one time, there had been an entire cropduster parked there.  Members of a local flying club came out when we started to clear it, and walked the whole property looking for rare parts for old aircraft.  I’ll always remember the little Caterpillar with a tree growing through right through its middle.  It was practically an archaeological site.

I asked Billy if the street had been named after the airfield, and he said that to the best of his recollection, it was the other way around.  The street named La Cresta had been there first.

It really is a small world.

Since Andrew and Courtney got back , so did Gina and Spanky.  They were very glad to be home.  Spanky seems to have grown just in the week he’s been gone.  He’s nearly as big as Gina now.

Spanky has learned to “Down” — at least partly from Gina — and now drops obediently on command.  He finds it hard to stay that way for long, but he’s trying.

On the right is Skip, the neighboring German Shorthair pup, whose name ought to be Skip the Overenthusiastic.  He adores everybody and everything, but his hard muscular body could flatten someone if they were off balance.  Needless to say, he does not Down.

Together, they’re capable of getting into a lot of mischief.  Their owners keep an eye on them, though, and only the more mature and sensible Gina gets to come visiting.  That eagle-eyed Border Collie stare is really good for soliciting leftovers.

So far, the predicted heat has failed to materialize.  We are still turning off the water on the swamp cooler at night, and are quite comfortable.  The predictions for 105 or 106 next week have tailed off to 100 to 102.

And no one’s complaining.

At last the second of the fancy daylilies from the coast has bloomed.  Its name is Spacecoast Tiny Perfection — STP for short.  It is just gorgeous.

I guess that “Spacecoast” is the name of the farm that bred it, as I also have Spacecoast Snow Angel.  STP, though, is a miniature.  Its bloom is only two or three inches across. 

The delicate shades of pink and gold seen in the first shot looked quite different as the light changed.

I can hardly wait for Javanese Jewel.  Or Beautiful Edgings.  Or Wild Horses.  Or . . . maybe I’d better quit now.  Maybe I’m sounding  just a touch overenthusiastic.

Andrew and Courtney, that is.  They were just down collecting their lizards (for which I’m glad) and dropping off a couple of sacks of saltwater taffy (for which both of us are glad).

We’re up to 258 boarders, Billy was saying this morning; an all-time high.  With our horses and a few miscellaneous critters, that keeps us above 270 to feed and watch.   Sometimes I’m amazed at how well and quietly things are going.  The less excitement the better . . . but that doesn’t make for exciting blogging.

Not that I”m complaining.  (Sound of knocking on wood.)

Ferrabie’s here cleaning — no time to blog!

Have you ever noticed how many things there are around you that glitter?  Not jewelry or real glitter, that is, but things in nature.  The dew on the grass this morning, for example. 

And then there’s Duffy’s roan coat. 

It’s too bad you really need movement to see how it sparkles in the sun.  Each silvery-white hair catches the light as he moves, contrasting with the deep chestnut of his base coat.  From a distance, it all blends into a silvery-pink shine; but up close, he glitters.

And of course, there’s my favorite; water droplets on a flower.  In this case it’s Gentle Shepherd.  For a variety that was supposed to be rather a shy bloomer, it’s doing pretty well.

I think I’ll go start a sprinkler on the lawn, so I can watch the spray glitter — and make rainbows.  Who needs diamonds?

I guess you can tell things are pretty quiet around here . . . for today.

The river is down to more usual levels by now.  Marion crossed it this morning for the first time in a long while.  It’s nice that people are able to cross, but it’s gotten pretty green and scummy in parts.  Here is a recent shot of my favorite spot right by the house.

The water hyacinth looks very pretty, but what you can’t see is the algae and scum in the foreground.  Luckily the mosquito abatement department is keeping busy, so the bugs aren’t too bad.

Last night a boarder’s horse was a bit colicky, so we put her up in the sick pen and started trying to contact her owner.  When Billy said a Bad Word as he hung up, I knew we had a problem.  The phone number was no longer valid.  We started trying different people that might know the owner’s number, but no one did.  We did get an e-mail address, though, and I sent a message.  Meanwhile, we put her vet on alert.

The mare wasn’t getting any better, so we finally called the vet anyway.  After he left, we got a call from the owner, who was relieved to hear that her horse had been treated and was improving.  She’s much better this morning, passing oil and nibbling on her hay.

Phone numbers seem to change so much more often these days.  I hope there aren’t any more wrong numbers in our list — but there probably are.  We don’t usually find out, though, until there’s a problem.  Boarders — please keep us updated!