Monday, October 09, 2006, 19:35
Gone. . .
It is just as I feared it would be. Our colored leaves are gone now.
Well, mostly gone. There's still some bright yellow on the aspens and birches. But the brilliant red and scarlet and orange is pretty much gone.
It's kind of early for the colored leaves to be gone already. Usually the trees are at their peak color around here on Oct. 12 or 13 (something like that). And here it is, only the 10th.
Friday, Saturday and Sunday, we had practically gale-force winds. And the wind, of course, stripped most of the leaves off the trees. By Saturday (Oct. 7) the trees were looking a little bare. So that was almost a whole week ahead of schedule for losing the fall color.
Well, at least it wasn't the two weeks ahead of schedule that the birds were operating under at the end of the summer.
Interestingly enough, I heard a robin this morning! Haven't heard any robins since the weather turned so dry last summer. I suppose it's just one that is passing through on his way south for the winter.
Before the leaves quite reached their peak, Randy took some pictures.
Here's a picture of a couple of scarlet maples right across the road.
And here's a picture of one of those lovely brilliant strands of five-lived ivy climbing a tree.
And here's a picture of the hills north of our house.
Ethanol Plant -- I went to the ethanol plant open house on Saturday. The plant is 8 miles west of where we live. It is owned by a farmer's cooperative, and they had a fight and a half to get built, but it's built now. And it only took five years from the time of the first public hearing until their open house.
The plant is the only cooperative ethanol plant in the state. About half the ethanol plants in the United States are cooperatives.
It's a good thing I don't work at the ethanol plant. We were able to go on tours of the plant (tractor pulling a little wagon!) -- and when we got to the point where you could smell the yeast and corn, my stomach said, "Hey, that smells like bread baking. Let's eat!" If I worked at the plant, I am afraid I would be eating all of the time.
LeAnn R. Ralph
Friday, October 06, 2006, 22:10
Like Children. . .
It has happened several times now. I have been on the telephone, interviewing someone for a newspaper story, and all of a sudden --
"RAAAAOWWWWWW. RaaaaaoWWWWWWW. RaaaaaoWWWWWWW."
One of my cats is at it again. In full cry. At the top of his lungs.
"Is that a cat?" the lady asked this morning.
"Well, ummmmm, yes, it is," I said.
I covered the receiver with my hand.
"Duke, be quiet!" I hissed.
Duke, in all his silver tabby majestic wide-eyed wonder, looked at me, opened his mouth and --
"RAAAAOWWWWWW. RaaaaaoWWWWWWW. RaaaaaoWWWWWWW."
Now, let me tell you, when Duke winds up, he winds up. The cat weighs 20 pounds. He is part Maine Coon (the males can get up to 30 pounds). And if he wants to make himself heard, everyone in the house -- everyone in the *neighborhood* -- knows about it.
I went on with my interview, Duke going into full cry in the background every so often.
Eventually he got tired of yelling. Thank goodness.
Of course, after that, he went to work playing with a plastic garbage bag.
The garbage bag is wrapped around the colander-juicer-seeder thingy-dingy that belonged to my mother which I use to get seeds out of wild black cherries and choke cherries and wild grapes when I am making jelly.
The juicer-seeder device is sitting on the floor on the other side of refrigerator, waiting for me to pick the wild grapes (soon!) so I can make juice and jelly.
Rattle-rattle-rattle. Scrape-scrape-scrape. Rattle-rattle-rattle.
Who would think a cat could make so much noise with a plastic bag?
Duke can. He was pawing at it for all he was worth.
I covered the receiver with my hand.
"Duke, be quiet!" I hissed.
Duke, in all his silver tabby majestic wide-eyed wonder opened his mouth and --
"RAAAAOWWWWWW. RaaaaaoWWWWWWW. RaaaaaoWWWWWWW."
I heaved a sigh and went back to finishing the interview.
A few minutes later when I hung up the phone, Duke was nowhere to be seen.
My brown tabby tom Sebastian has gotten in on the act, too.
Just the other day, in fact.
I had no more than reached the person I needed to talk to when --
"ReeeeeeOWWWWWW. REEEEEEOOOOWWWWWWW. ReeeooWWWWWWW."
Sebastian, you will note, has a higher-pitched cry than Duke. Sebastian is not related to Duke, but he is almost as big as Duke.
"Is that a cat?" asked the gentlemen on the other end of the line.
"Yes," I said.
I covered the receiver with my hand.
"Sebastian, be quiet!" I hissed.
"ReeeeeeOWWWWWW. REEEEEEOOOOWWWWWWW. ReeeooWWWWWWW."
Sebastian continued his serenade until I was finished with the interview.
When I hung up the phone, he was nowhere to be seen.
Sophie has also added her two cents worth.
Sophie, however, does not meow. I hardly ever hear Sophie meow. Except when she's playing with her mouse-on-a-string.
No, Sophie's tactic is to find some little thing to play with and then bat it around.
And when Sophie plays with something, I swear I have never heard a cat who can make more noise.
Just the other day when I was on the telephone interviewing someone, she hopped up, batted one of my pen caps to the floor and went to it.
Rattle. Crash. Rattle. Crash. Thump-thump-thump.
I covered the receiver with my hand.
"Sophie, stop that!" I hissed.
Rattle. Crash. Rattle. Crash. Thump-thump-thump.
Do you know how hard it is to talk to someone when there's a cat making rattling, crashing, thumping noises nearby?
Eventually Sophie batted the pen cap across the kitchen linoleum so that it was lying right by my foot.
I leaned down, snatched it up and put it back on my pen.
Now of course, Sophie plays with things all the time, whether or not I am on the phone.
The other cats, Duke and Sebastian, rarely wind up and meow at the top of their lungs. I can be home working on the computer all day and never hear a peep out of them. Only when I get on the telephone to talk to someone do they decide to sing at the top of their lungs.
Randy says he runs into this type of phenomenon frequently when people call him for computer technical support.
The person reaches Randy and no more than begins to describe his or her computer Internet problem when in the background, Randy hears --
"WAAAAAAA. WAAAAAAA. WAAAAAA."
Either that, or he hears a tremendous crash accompanied by the sound of breaking glass.
Or else he hears --
"He hit me!"
"I did not!"
"Did too!"
"Did not!"
The mother or father he is talking to will then excuse himself or herself to tend to the children who were quiet as mice until Mom or Dad got on the telephone.
Perhaps it is time for me to get another cordless telephone?
The volume on the one we have now is so poor that I can barely hear anyone that I am talking to.
If I got a new cordless phone, I could shut myself in my office and shut the cats OUT of the office -- instead of using the telephone in the kitchen.
Of course, then I suppose they will be thumping on the door because they want to get into the office.
But maybe thumping will be quieter than --
"ReeeeeeOWWWWWW. REEEEEEOOOOWWWWWWW."
LeAnn R. Ralph
