Archive for November 2014
A couple of days ago, I took a picture of the liquidambar tree, and it looked like this:
It didn’t seem as if there was a lot of wind in the night, but when I looked out this morning, it looked like this:
Most of those pretty leaves were on the ground. Of course, that means you can get close-ups.
One of the nicest things about liquidambar trees is the variety of color one tree can give you — everything from deep burgundy to clear yellow. Sometimes on one leaf . . .
The falling leaves and fast-moving clouds seem to show that the forecasts for an incoming storm might be right. We hope so; but no two forecasts are alike. Not even close. I just noticed an elderly and sedate horse go sailing around the arena at a run, though. That’s a good sign of a weather change.
Everything is going well around here, right now. I even managed to get to Barnes and Noble, and do some grocery shopping. Billy’s back seems to be improving. He’s down to one prescription painkiller a night, and an occasional over-the-counter pill. Our stomach flu seems to be about gone, as well. Maybe I’ll be able to get out and visit the horses soon — unless rain keeps us inside.
And that would be all right, too!
Peaches continues her campaign to smooch every horse on the place. Here’s her latest conquest . . . isn’t it nice they match so closely?
“Wouldn’t you like a kiss? I’m sitting on this nice stump to make it easier!”
“Here we go . . . ”
“Awww. We’re friends now!”
A couple of times, Peaches’ “kiss” has been closer to a nip from her horsey pal, but she is unfazed. I guess she knows it’s the duty of a Golden Retriever to make friends with everybody she meets. These nice pictures, by the way, are from friend Jennifer.
Billy and I are still fighting off the stomach bug we picked up, but we’re much better. People have been sending us lots of food — Thanksgiving, after all — and it’s been nice not to have to cook for a while.
He’s still flat on his back most of the time, but taking very few painkillers now. A fractured vertebra at age eighty-one is going to take a while to heal. He’s able to keep up with the books, though, which gives him something to do. I, of course, am not at all short of things to do!
No, I’m not going down the trail. At least, not yet. But Sarah took Bella out on the trail yesterday, all by herself, for the first time. (Or should that be themselves?) Anyhow, here’s the proof.
Just look at Bella’s cute widdle fuzzy ears, and bright silvery mane.
And in this shot, Sarah’s light, strong hands — with embellishments, of course.
Sarah said that Bella did “awesome”, with no spooking at all; nor did she hurry home. That’s great; she was a nervous, jittery filly for so long. It’s got to be scary to be an itty bitty pony in a big world. Sarah gave her confidence.
It was a beautiful day out there, and there is fall color by the river, like this gleaming yellow cottonwood.
Kitty and I will be out there yet. It’ll be a while, though; to top everything else off, Billy and I have both come down with some kind of stomach but. He had it first, then I got it from him. It’s been miserable, and we’ve both been able to eat very little — and lost most of that. We’re getting better, but our stomachs tell us we’d better watch it. Luckily, boarder Jennifer brought us all kinds of groceries today, sent by boarder Lisa F. The fresh fruit went down especially well. How great to have boarders who are friends as well . . . and wonderful people.
We’ll make it yet.
To begin with, my Billy is doing pretty well. He has very little pain from his back as long as he stays nearly flat in his recliner. He’s having some problems with his insides, but that is undoubtedly due to the painkillers, and he has cut way back on those. We’re hanging in there.
We had a family conference today, and we laid out everything to his children. There’s a lot they need to know to keep this place going the way it has for so many years (almost exactly seventy) and they are willing to take it on. I really don’t know what all of our boarders would do if we had to shut down. There’s really no place for them to go — not nearly three hundred of them. Well, two hundred seventy-seven at last count. We are completely full.
Billy was pleased and proud today to get a call from a photographer. She had heard that we had a “beautiful stable” and that we would allow pictures to be taken. She wanted to know if a) it was all right for her to do the same, b) if she needed a reservation, and c) how much we charged. The answers were yes, no, and nothing. Light and air are still free, at least around here.
Our stable is a practical place, not intended to be beautiful, but the photographer who has been coming here has been getting some really nice shots by selecting carefully. There were some wedding shots in the paper lately, and I didn’t realize they were taken here. Billy did, though.
I take pictures here, too, though I haven’t gotten very far lately. I did take some of the liquidambar tree today. It’s finally burst forth in color . . .
It’s never really been the same since the big fire a year ago last May, but it’s like us; it’s hanging in there.
Billy is doing well, and having very little pain. However, keeping it that way takes a lot of time; so this blog might be pretty intermittent for a while.
But here are a couple of November flowers I did find time to capture. First, a little pink rose . . .
A couple of weeks ago, I trashed a petunia that had apparently croaked. Passing the garbage can, though, I found it blooming happily among drifts of Peaches’ sheddings.
There must be a moral there somewhere!
We went to consult the orthopedic surgeon yesterday — a very nice young man. It was an ordeal for all concerned, as Billy can’t sit up straight without extreme pain, and you have to do a lot of that in a doctor’s office.
The bad news was that he is not a subject for surgery. His age, his weight, and his medical conditions are all against him. The good news was that the fracture will probably heal without intervention — if he can deal with the pain in the meantime. Well, that’s what painkillers are for, after all.
His back is, as expected, a mess. I got a glimpse of the x-ray, and it looks as if he has less a column of vertebrae, and more of a line of gnarled chunks of bone. Some of his vertebrae are just bone grinding on bone. I got the impression that they were surprised he hadn’t been having pain for years; but his back hasn’t been a problem till the past few weeks. Or perhaps, knowing him, he just ignored it.
So he’s down in his recliner for the foreseeable future, though he can get up and down and move around briefly. As long as he’s down and still, he’s comfortable. His sons have been a blessing. David, whose wife Terri was paralyzed for so many years, has been especially helpful with his father’s needs, while son Scott keeps an eye on everything and reports faithfully to his dad.
I know the place just isn’t the same without him and his faithful pickup doing their rounds, but perhaps they’ll get back to them yet. In the meantime, he’s still able to keep track of all the boarders and keep up with the bookwork, just as well as ever.
Both of us are still recovering from yesterday. I never realized how hard it is to see someone you love in pain, and not be able to do much about it. It is stressful.
On the way to the medical center, we got a few sprinkles. The air has been really clear. Even the mountains to the southwest, usually invisible, are as sharp as knives.
Right now it’s beginning to look as if we might get a little rain later. We’ve got our fingers crossed . . .
The smog has cleared out, and we are getting some beautiful fall days. Everyone is taking advantage of the weather, including the Three Amigos — Sarah, Aggie, and Bella.
I just realized — they all three are girls who have “people” names, even the human-type person.
Here are another trio of ladies out and about, but only one of them is not a human — Peaches. Does that count as a people name?
Anyway, they are all enjoying the morning, too; and Peaches is fascinated by that baby.
Billy is getting along pretty well, but looking forward to having his visit to the surgeon over with. David is running around trying to collect all of the x-rays and MRIs, which seems to be a lot more difficult than you’d think. Meanwhile, I’m helping to make out all of those pages of forms that have to be completed before a doctor even lays eyes on you. I’m pretty well read, but there’s a lot of those conditions that Billy doesn’t have that I never heard of; and can’t pronounce, either.
I suppose if he did have them, I’d know what they were.
I was sound asleep last night, when a dog stepped on my head, and then danced around. Not one of our dogs, but granddaughter Christina’s pup Mimi. She came over with Scott, lost track of him, and was afraid to try to get home on her own. She spent the evening hours curled up in a disconsolate little ball by our door. I felt sorry for her, but didn’t realize what the problem was. Then, about three in the morning, she figured out the doggie door and joined Peaches and me on the bed. I might not even have known she was there, except she heard another dog barking outside, got wildly excited, and tried to climb out through the window. That was when she stepped on my head. I’m afraid I wasn’t too sympathetic, and kicked her out.
At least she didn’t try to jump on Billy, asleep in his comfortable recliner. Except when he heard me yelling at Mimi.
And yes, she did make it back home safely.