Wednesday, April 19, 2006, 18:13
How Dry Is It?
I can't hardly believe this. Two days in a row, I have hung laundry up outside at night and by morning, the clothes are very nearly dry.
That's highly unusual for this neck of the woods.
The dewpoint is around 20 degrees and the humidity is about 30 percent. In the summer, we have dewpoints up around 70 or 80 degrees with a humidity of 90 percent.
The weather forecasters keep saying it is going to rain, but the air is so dry, I would not be surprised if it does not rain. It was supposed to rain on Sunday, and in fact, the sky clouded over, but only a few sprinkles fell and then the sky cleared off and it was warm and sunny and breezy again.
My mother would have said the sprinkles on Sunday were "dry weather drops." The phenomenon of 'dry weather drops' was common during the dry years of the Great Depression, she used to tell me.
It's too bad there isn't any hay to cut right now. If we did have hay to cut, it could be clipped one afternoon and baled the next, seeing as the air is so dry. But, it's so early in the spring the hayfield has not even started to sprout yet, much less be tall enough to cut. (And if we don't get much rain this spring, there *won't* be any hay to cut.)
Grass fires are common around here now, too. On the news this morning, the anchor person reported a grass fire that burned 200 feet. Jeepers -- 200 feet. They were lucky it wasn't 200 acres or 2,000 acres, as dry as it is and with as much wind as has been blowing lately -- 15 to 25 mph every day.
Walking around in the yard or the horse pasture or the hayfield has turned into a crunchy experience, as well. The thatch from last year's grass is so dry and brittle that it crackles and crunches when you walk through it.
The marshes around here are also dry, and that's probably what worries me the most. It was very dry last year, not much rain last fall, not much snow over the winter, and not much rain so far this spring. Marshes that would normally be full of water now -- and also full of spring peeper frogs -- are dry and silent.
It is eerie to walk past marshes that are typically so alive with spring peepers that it is difficult to think -- much less talk to someone standing next to you. Come to think of it, the redwing blackbirds that make the marshes a place alive with sound are not singing much, either.
The drought is picking up where it left off last year, it would seem. I guess I will be keeping my arm muscles and leg muscles in shape by carrying five-gallon buckets of water from the washing machine to help my flowers, young trees and garden to stay alive.
And here I was afraid it would be muddy outside until May.
Then again, my mother always did say "be careful what you wish for. . ."
LeAnn R. Ralph
Monday, April 17, 2006, 18:51
Kuma Comes for a Visit
Seeing as the weather has been so warm and pleasant, Randy and I have been spending more time outside. Which is what we were doing one evening last week when an unexpected visitor arrived.
Randy and I were sitting on a bench near the porch. I was facing Randy -- and facing the road.
And much to my surprise, out of nowhere, came a large black and white dog -- an Akita -- trotting in the driveway.
"Hi Kuma," I said. "I bet I know who's looking for you!"
The Akita is a gorgeous dog, and she is friendly and well-mannered.
She also likes to go for jaunts and sometimes is gone all night, which causes her owners, who live three-quarters of a mile from us, a great deal of distress. There have been occasions when I have seen them drive past our place a half a dozen times in an evening, going up and down the roads, looking for Kuma.
It's not that Kuma breaks out on her own, however. She has help. In the form of two little boys in the family who sometimes have trouble remembering to shut the gate leading into the backyard. They leave the gate open, Kuma sees her chance, and she takes off. . .
The Akita trotted over to Randy and I.
"Hi, Kuma," I said.
The words were no more out of my mouth when Charlie, who had been napping in the grass by the house, sat up and took notice.
He was not amused.
Our Springer Spaniel jumped up and sprang into action. He also sprang for Kuma, rearing up on his hind legs, jaws snapping.
"No, Charlie!" I said.
Randy, who was closer, grabbed Kuma's collar with one hand and pushed Charlie away with the foot he swung over the bench while at the same time grabbing for Charlie's collar.
"Get a leash!" he gasped, as he held Charlie back with his left hand and held onto the Akita with his right. Kuma was not straining forward toward Charlie, and in fact, she was her normal, well-behaved self.
I am sorry I cannot say as much for Charlie.
I ran into the house, snatched up both leashes and ran back outside.
"Don't let go," I panted as I tried to get the leash clipped onto Charlie's collar. "Don't let go or he'll he jump on her."
"I won't," Randy said, straining to hold Charlie back with his left hand.
I finally got the leash attached to Charlie's collar and then dragged a very unwilling 70-pound dog over to the house where I tied him up.
Charlie did not like the situation and began barking.
"Be quiet, Charlie," I said. "You weren't very nice to our guest."
Randy put the leash on Kuma, who -- when he said 'sit' -- sat quietly.
"I'll go inside and call," I said.
I went in the house and dialed the neighbor's number.
"Hello?" said the neighbor.
"This is LeAnn," I said. "Are you missing a dog?"
"Oh, yes! Yes, we are! Where is she?"
"She's right outside. We put the leash on her. Randy's holding onto her."
"I'll call my husband," the neighbor said. "He's out looking for her even as we speak."
The relief in her voice made me smile. I know how frantic they have been in the past, trying to find Kuma.
In the meantime, Charlie was "having a fit" -- he barked, he growled, he strained against the leash.
Kuma, on the other hand, sat quietly beside Randy, looking tall and proud and regal.
Minutes later, the neighbor pulled in the driveway.
Charlie still was not very happy.
The last time Kuma showed up here, she had been gone all night. She arrived early in the morning, before I had let Charlie out of his kennel in the basement, and was very tired and very thirsty.
This time she had only been gone for a short while.
The neighbor talked to Randy for a few minutes, then he put Kuma in his truck and they went home.
While they were talking, I petted Charlie and tried to make him see that everything was all right. When they left, I let Charlie loose.
His nose was still out of joint that there had been a "strange dog" in our yard who'd had the effrontery to trot up to Randy and me, expecting to be petted. He stalked around the yard for the next ten minutes, looking grumpy.
All I can say is -- it's a good thing my husband has long arms. And is quick thinking. And has quick reflexes. Because it's much better, I think, to prevent a dog fight all together than to try to break one up after it has started.
That's one of the things I have noticed about hunting dogs over the yeas, though. They are generally friendly and like people and are usually good with other dogs. Except when they think another dog means harm to their people. . .
If you would like to see what an Akita looks like (if you've never seen one), click here
LeAnn R. Ralph