Old pal Woody

He was the only dog at the pound who wasn't jumping on the cage and barking at us. He sat there wagging his tail with a kind look on his face - the kind of look that conveyed a simple message "please take me outside so I can pee". A couple of days later we welcomed him into the family.

After an early episode involving rightful ownership of a ham bone set the pecking order, we settled into a comfortable routine. We provided food and water, he kept the motorcycles and snowplows out. We provided each other with a wonderful companionship.

One of the benefits of living in the country is great outdoors. Woody loved the neighborhood. For quite some time his routine involved an afternoon stroll to "the campers" (Karen & Mike over the hill) where he would politely knock on the door, be greeted with a dog biscuit, stroll over to Karen's corner and take a nap. An hour later the visit would be over and he'd get up, stretch his legs and say goodbye. He'd go visit Sandy the yellow lab up the hill or one of Caroline Gamble's dogs. And one in a while he'd wander over to the farm to see how Betsey and Sara were doing.

In recent years he had slowed down. He stayed closer to home, didn't go after the loud vehicles - mostly because he couldn't hear them. But he always greeted visitors - happy to show them where the fine silver is kept (like we have any). A skin condition turned much of his black to brown and old age turned his face gray. And he slept a lot.

The end came quickly. Quick is good, but I didn't get to say goodbye. We were in Florida on a project and there was nothing I could do except support Alex who was dealing with all of this.

And now the house is quieter. The cats have become a bit less wary, less on edge. I prefer them on edge. No one to help clean plates and with winter approaching, no one to keep the snowplows out. It's just not the same. Goodbye my friend.

Indian Summer Weekend

I know that it can't last, but that won't stop me from enjoying it now. Mid 70s and sunny. The last wisps of fall color floating on the breeze, with only a few stragglers remaining. Then late this afternoon, Barry the barred owl floats into a tree in the lawn, just begging Sharon to take his picture. Have I ever mentioned that I love where I live?

The things you see...

It's great to have a camera at hand when a sight like this comes along. That's one honker of a table saw... I love getting off of the interstate every so often.

The great prognosticator

Some folks go to NOAA, others to the Old Farmers Almanac. Me, I'm a Woolly Bear Caterpillar kind of guy. Just like Punxsutawney Phil predicts the arrival of spring, this guy is the undisputed predictor of the upcoming winter. And although this one says relatively mild, I've seen many others recently that were virtually all black, indicating a wicked winter. While we're not crazy about brutal cold, please don't hesitate to bring on the snow!

The Great Frederick Fair

The Great Frederick Fair. This year was particularly good - temps in the low 70s and sky as blue and clear as can be. After 40+ years of visiting the fair, we've finally found the secret. Go early in the morning on the first Saturday. Everything is clean, all of the vegetables still look good and the masses were still at home sipping coffee and reading the paper.

First stop was the household building to check on Sharon's photo entries. No blue ribbons, but none for her friendly competitor Paul, so they tied this year.

So much to see and the day slipped by quickly. We watched a couple of the horse show competitions - Novice walk/trot and Novice walk/trot/canter were totally dominated by one particular young lady. She was the only entry in both classes, but it was fun to watch. "Walk please. You're being judged at a walk".

I ran into a junior-high school friend that I haven't seen since... junior high school. She has two daughters with dairy cow entries. Both are following the tradition of taking the week off of school and camping out in the barns. There's something about the farm kids at the fair. They just seem so competent.

Anyway, it was a great day. I love the fair!

Songs of our childhood

Mary Travers passed away the other day, giving me a big tug on those memories of childhood. Peter Paul & Mary's "Ten Years Together" was the first album that I considered "mine". It was 1970, and I was seven years old. I don't remember how I acquired it, but I sure played it a lot. I vividly remember the photo of Mary on the inside cover (the album cover opened like a book) - in the bright sunshine on a swing with her daughter on her lap.

We sang a lot as kids. We had storybook albums (Perry the little girl squirrel), learning albums (Poor little zero, nobody's hero), and albums by contemporary artists singing kids songs - artists like Danny Kaye and Burl Ives. And there were some old 78s that my grandfather had - featuring groups like "Firehouse Five Plus Two".

But we also had contemporary artists singing contemporary songs. So, as a child of the 60s we grew up singing protest songs. Not because we were protesting, but rather because...well...there they were. At that point in my life, I didn't get the significance of lyrics like "Seventy miles of ocean spray, it's a garbage dump (referring to San Fransisco Bay)" or "Where have all the flowers gone?" or "Preserven el Parque Elysian". We just sang and sang and sang.

The music of Peter, Paul and Mary was different. It was music on which both parents and children could agree. When my boys were young I'd sing these songs to them. Maybe to them and to myself as well. Because every time I hear this music, it takes me back to a simple time. Don't get me wrong, life is great and I wouldn't trade it for anything. But it anything but simple. And it was a childhood that, too, I wouldn't trade for anything. Thanks in part to Mary Travers.

So Puff, that mighty dragon, sadly slipped into his cave.

First fruits

From reading these posts, you'd think that all I do is think about the garden. Not so. I still go to work just about every day, mow the lawn every couple of weeks, think computers with Chris, think tennis with Alex, and think whatever she wants to think with Sharon. But the garden is new to me. And mostly the fruit of my labor (with some weeding assistance from boyz and tomato tying assistance from Sharon). The garden is an escape. And now it is beginning to produce - which is the fun part. Really produce. "Exactly why did we plant all of this zucchinni?" kind of quantities. Word of caution: You may want to be sure your car is locked at night, lest you wake up and find a dozen fresh yellow squash on your front seat.

I had my first garden drama yesterday. (Off stage announcer: Playing the part of Mr. McGregor is Mike Forrence) Only it wasn't Peter Rabbit. It was Wally Woodchuck. He was discovered within the restricted zone and much to his dismay, Wally had failed to plan a viable escape route. Hiding under a tomato plant is not an effective backup plan. After a five minute tour of the perimeter Wally made his escape thru the open gate, all the while fending off clumps of dirt thrown in a poorly coordinated offensive by Mr. McGregor. Wally was last seen ambling toward the mower shed, sticking his tongue out at me as he ran. I suspect that we haven't seen the last of Wally...

So, now its Monday. Back to the world of SIP trunks and T.38 fax protocol. Needing to get tasks completed in both Gaithersburg and Towson by the end of the day. But still I wonder... do any of our customers leave their car doors unlocked at night?

Gardens of Gracerock update

Well
The tomatoes don't have cages yet
The trumpet vine is pushing up thru the newspaper
The devil weed (my name) is very persistent.

BUT
The tomatoes plants are huge - we almost have enough to make our own Heitz (all 57 varieties).
The pumpkins are huge - Linus will want to spend Halloween in our garden.
The string beans have climbed to the top of their fence and are looking for more.
The green peppers have lots of buds
For being in only midday sun, the sunflowers are waist high.
AND - no mammals have been spotted within the restricted area

So far, so good.

The boss decides to visit

It's late in the day, your "to do" list for the day is almost complete. And BAM, the boss decides to stop in for a visit. And he has a very "in your face" approach to things. The only thing you can do is wait it out. The clock means nothing to him - he works on his own time.

So, first, a quick nap







And then a bath



OK, I think we're finished here. Anyone have any tuna left over from lunch?

The Gardens of Gracerock - a start

I've finally joined the family. My parents have had a garden since the very beginning of my childhood memories. My sisters have green blood running thru their veins. Jennifer left the world of lawyerdom to become a gardener and Sharon secretly removes invasive weeds from other peoples' landscaping. My darling wife has embraced the flower garden concept very successfully, adding wonderful colors with lots of blue and yellow for me.

But we live in the woods. We see neither sunrise nor sunset and our view of the night sky is very limited. Sharon can select flowers that will do just fine in the shade; not likely with red tomatoes. We have one nice patch of sunshine - but in my typical luck, it is situated under a very mature and thriving black walnut tree. God gave the walnut the ability chemically to fend off the competition - including the vegetables that we like. Our only choice was to make more sky.

So, between me and the backhoe, we toppled two small locust (that will make fine posts), one old apple and one very nice tulip poplar. I may leave the poplar in log lengths and see if Downstream Dave and his magic sawmill will slab them for me. The remainder will keep us warm next winter. Another couple of days to rake out the roots and install the anti-bambi netting and it'll be ready to go. I can taste the string beans already!

Thinking of spring

After a VERY long couple of weeks at a project in Westminster, and with a couple of inches of snow in the forecast, I'm going to take the day off and think about spring. Think about cleaning up all of the fallen branches covering the yard. Think about completing the back hill stone steps with ornamental grass accents. And building a tractor shed to match the wood shed. And planting a garden. And beating back the wicked invasives creeping into the woods. And think about sitting my butt on a rock with a glass of wine on a warm spring Sunday afternoon, sunning myself like a lizard. Yup. That's what I'm going to do.

The best birthday gift EVER

Here we are, some seventeen years later. That birthday gift that I received so long ago continues to bring sunshine to my life. Goofball that he is...

Moondance

Mid-winter. Temps flirted with 60 this afternoon. The moon is almost full. And this evening the view from the deck was fantastic! It's a marvelous night for a Moondance...

And the static version.

Getting Into the Game!

Some call it “The Scavenge Scramble”. Others call it “you snooze, you lose”. We call it “Getting into the Game”.

It started several months ago when a storm had knocked down a couple of nice trees near my parent’s farm. On the opposite side of the road, but close enough that I felt that the spoils were within the “Forrence domain”. And I’d ride out and gather the loot in the next couple of days. Well, my downstream neighbor Dave is recently retired, yet still in his mid to late 50s. So he is young (relatively), heats with wood, has time on his hands, and is on the prowl. And he beat me to it.

As we walked out to get the mail this past Friday, a pickup with trailer rolled by. The cargo was three nice sized logs. Then Dave drove up, rolled down his window, pointed at the receding trailer and said “How do you like my find?” “There’s all kinds of stuff up there” as he gestured up the road. County work crews had been making noise all day – the sounds of chain saws and backhoes echoing up and down the mountain. And now we BOTH knew what that meant. And he had a head start. Game on!

One of the benefits of running your own business is that you can set your own priorities. The morning was spent configuring the best way to route a large customer’s inbound and outbound call traffic over a variety of TDM and IP trunks. So, a Friday afternoon with mid-winter temps in the 40s, and deciduous road-kill available for the taking, ranks fairly high on the priority list. Fire up the tractor.

There is really only one rule - you can’t take wood from in front another “wood burner’s” property. Fortunately, we all know who we are.

I know that it sounds like something a bunch of hillbillies would do - poaching roadside lumber after every wind storm. Dave is retired after a career of managing the voice and data infrastructure at the Nation Fire Academy. And I spend my days providing voice, data and video design and support for customers from coast to coast. But maybe we are hillbillies. Anyone who saw me with a company van two weeks ago would have surely wondered. They would have said to themselves, “…the van says ‘Voice, Data & Video Distribution Solutions’ – why are they driving up the road with a twenty foot log chained to the trailer hitch…” Well, I’ll tell you why. It’s because I’m in the game!

Recent haul

When life hands you lemons

When life hands you lemons

You cut firewood.

Although it wasn't enough to equal the $2200 damage to the car, it's something. A surprise two inches of snow made the task a bit more interesting. I know that Chris would be distraught if he learns that he missed this "Character-building" exercise - so please don't tell him. Surely he'd then know that Alex may edge him out on the Character count.

Something about snow

View from the deck

There is just something about snow that makes the world beautiful. Here in north central Maryland, Mother Nature has mostly forgotten how to snow. Rain, cold rain, freezing rain, heavy sleet are what we get recently. I know, be careful what you wish for...a business colleague is in Minnesota where they had below freezing virtually every day of December and regular snow measured in feet. She would trade places in a heartbeat! But a little bit of snow and I'm a kid again. No matter how old I get, the words "Frederick County Schools are Closed" remain magic. Best heard from Tommy Grunwell on WFMD, but I'll take "Find Out First" on my cell phone.

Last winter it snowed in Atlanta and Chris said professors let class out simply because the attention of students was lost with the first flake. He enjoyed showing his Georgia friends the finer points of making a snow angel.

So, even though the shed isn't exactly overflowing with wood, I say "let it snow, let it snow, let it snow!"

Mornings with Alex

The dawn of a new day

Remember being a kid? Say sixteen years of age? Remember what you liked to do? Say at 5:00am? Did you enjoy getting out of bed so you could go work out with your dad before school starts? What started last year as a combo "Morning Tennis Practice" and "How can I avoid the big yellow school taxi" has continued into a "we'll get some exercise, occasional tennis or weight room time then you'll go your way and I'll go mine" time. And as the parent of that sixteen year old, all I can say is... it is good. And when we leave the Mount around seven, we share the spectacular view of dawn. And it too is good.