Adding "Tree Surgeon" to My Repertoire; or Night of the Lopper

After sending Mitchell off to Falls Creek and taking Abby to the doctor for a check-up, she and I had a fairly down afternoon. It was hot out, and Abby was off her feed, so we napped, and I burned a few DVDs. As evening approached, however, I started feeling the need to be useful, physically active, and outdoors.

I grabbed the limb lopper and headed toward Dorothy's place. I knew that despite pruning some of the limbs in that direction the other day, there were still a few that needed attention.

Long story short: I must have lopped literally a ton of branches, all of which I dragged off, some for the goats, but most to the brush pile. It took me all of two hours.

The denouement for the evening was to give Jean-Claude Grand Am a bath. Hint: your car doesn't get its cleanest unless you dry it.

Pictured: Abby's crepe myrtle in the front yard, which decided to bloom suddenly.

Analysis Shows...

Our attempts to explain why my cucumber wouldn't shatter under the explosive force of the legendary M-80 July 4 firework bomb have been fruitful, as shown in this simple graph (click to enlarge)...


As you can see, the reason it didn't turn into smoked salad is obvious: just as with the Ludendorff Bridge over the Rhine in 1945, we were promised top-rate military ordnance, but were given "cheap, industrial explosives" instead.

Explosives-Resistant Cucumbers

Since Mitchell is slated to attend Falls Creek next week, he will be there during the Independence Day holiday. As a father, I am mindful of the importance of teaching my child the joys of celebrating America by blowing up a small part of it.

We started by placing some M-80s in one of the cucumbers from the garden. We were chagrined to discover that I apparently planted an ordinance-proof cultivar, because we couldn't blast that sucker apart no matter how hard we tried. Mitchell even tried wrapping it in a string of 100 Black Cats. It was unassailably cool, but the green melon remained intact.

With night settling in, it was time for the meat of the evening, fireworks. When I was a kid, my dad was quite frugal, as well as very afraid of fire and fireworks, so only once or twice did we have our own fireworks. By the time I was Mitchell's age, 15, it was illegal to shoot them off in the city anyway. But I'm not my dad, and this is the country, so we got $75 worth of the good stuff. We both had a fantastic time, as did Abby, who applauded from the back porch.

Top image: The sole survivor, a tough little cucurbitaceae. Middle image: a sample of our fun tonight. Bottom image: a ghostly Mitchell lighting a floral shell.

Heads of State

The second annual Byng Community Yard Sale is underway in Dorothy's front yard. Cars and trucks choke our driveway as people from around the county swarm to pick through the used and misused equipment of other people's lives. The sale is intended to benefit a family in Byng who has an emotionally ill member, leaving them deep in debt. The family member is about Mitchell's age, so I am reminded of how glad I am that Mitch is relatively normal and healthy.

The church members came last night and set everything up, so I walked down when they were finished and made these really cool photos of some haircut practice dummies the vo-tech donated to the cause. They are easily the most entertaining photographs I have made all week.

The Genius of M7

This is one of the best tribute entries I have ever read. Click to read.

Pasture Eyes

Morning Glory Vine

Walnut Tree and Pond

Sunflower Leaf

Black-Eyed Susan

Maple Leaves

Cucumber Vines

Strictly for Dog Lovers

If you don't love dogs and the cute things they do, please disregard this post.

While Abby was preparing to go to town today, the dogs teamed up to be cute on our unmade bed...

Sierra in the Afternoon

Sierra has been ours since we bought her from the Chihuahua place (I want to say Daisy Hill Puppy Farm, but that's not quite right) in Wetumka, Oklahoma, in the spring of 2005, and we spoiled her completely rotten. One result of this is that she has to be the center of it all, like in this photo of her "helping" Abby crochet.

Amber Light in the Morning

I saw the morning sunshine coming through the window while Abby and I were sharing breakfast today. The vase, which sits in the kitchen window, had a flower in it, one given to Abby in the hospital by our great friend Jamie. I thought it looked really beautiful in the early sunlight, so I photographed it.

Time, the Rain, and Finally the Spoils

With Abby so sick, there was a period in which I at least partially neglected the garden. As luck would have it, however, the rain set in, and my cucumbers, tomatoes, bell peppers, marigolds, and cantaloupe are all okay, albeit a bit wild. Here is the first harvest, from last night...

The Longest Day

Our son has repeatedly pointed out that I own a disproportionate number of war movies. Furthermore, I watch them more than any other genre. I love war movies, and the more realistic and historically accurate they are, the more I like them. I guess my dad's love of war movies played an important part in imparting this preference. When I was growing up, most Friday and Saturday nights, long after Carol Burnett or Monte Python, Dad would have a war movie on. Anzio, The Battle of the Bulge, Midway, Hell of for Heroes, The Green Berets, Stalag 17, They Were Expendable, In Harm's Way, To Hell and Back, The Big Red One, The Bridge at Remagen, The Sands of Iwo Jima - and many others - whatever cheap, stereotyped, easy-to-produce actioners the TV stations in Lawton or Wichita Falls could afford, would prattle on while my dad fell asleep on the couch.

It wasn't until I was an adult that I could start to rent, and in turn appreciate, really good war films. The Longest Day, The Bridge on the River Kwai, The Great Escape, Where Eagles Dare, Tora Tora Tora!, and others that spent more time and budget on history and realism than on John Wayne and Henry Fonda, came into my lexicon. More recently I have enjoyed Saving Private Ryan, The Thin Red Line, Das Boot, We Were Soldiers, Black Hawk Down, Platoon, Full Metal Jacket, Band of Brothers, Patton and scores more.

Arguably, my all-time favorite war film might be Apocalypse Now.

But this entry isn't about war films. It's about today being the summer solstice, the longest day of the year. Enjoy!

Febrile Pyrexia

Both Chihuahuas, Max and Sierra, have tenderness at their injection sites from yesterday's rabies and DHLP-P vaccinations, and Max has been running a bit of a fever. As a result, he is very lethargic, and hurts all over. It does not, however, make him less cute, as this image of him cowering under one of Abby's afghans shows.

Chumley's Rest

To start the day, Mitchell and I had a court appearance. Five weeks ago when Abby was in the worst throws of her illness, I petitioned the court for emergency guardianship of Mitchell, which was granted. That day, our lawyer arranged today's appearance, to have me assigned as permanent co-guardian along side Abby. As we were getting ready to leave the house, I asked Mitchell, "Why are you putting on those shoes? I thought you only wore them for playing tennis."

"These are court shoes," he answered.

We stopped by the public library for a couple of books for Mitchell and three movies, including the classic Jimmy Stewart comedy Harvey.

Next on the agenda was a visit to Abby, who had happy news: today she goes home! We stayed and shared lunch, then left her to do the last of her physical therapy and exit interviews.

Mitch and I drove home and gathered the dogs to take them to the vet for their shots and nail trimming.

Abby called about 4 pm and said it was time. We drove the dogs home, then got Abby, said goodbye to the hospital she's called home for the past five and a half weeks, and stopped for some supper to take home. We all sat and watched Harvey together, and were where we belonged, slumbering peacefully at Chumley's Rest.

Abby is home.

Best quote from that movie: "You have a lot to learn, and I hope you never learn it."

Business Advice

"I mean, why sell sea shells by the seashore? At least take them inland!" -Mitchell

A Sort of Homecoming

Abby got a pass to leave the hospital for six hours today and then three hours tonight, so she is at home. She feels happy, but also a little lost, since, as she put it, she's "lost a month."

Hospital staff are talking about dismissing her Monday, Tuesday, or Wednesday.

Pictured: Abby and Sierra at home this morning.

"Oh don't sorrow, no don't weep
For tonight, at last
I am coming home
I am coming home..." -U2

Sunshine and Smoke

Today was the annual 2008 Ada Air Expo - Ray Stout Memorial Warbird Fly-in. I shot it for the newspaper and my magazine. In the morning it was cloudy (we had 1.9 inches of rain last night), but by midday, there was abundant sunshine, and the actual air show began, and included to usual Pitts aerobatics and jet passes. I saw about a thrillion people I knew, and shot really well. I was particularly amused by this photo, a self-portrait in the spinner of a handsome yellow warbird.

Bursting with It

The new edition of our magazine, Ada Magazine, is out, and it looks great. The best thing about it is that this edition features some photography by Abby, including the cover! I brought her ten copies at the hospital yesterday, and she was practically dancing with excitement. The stuff she shot, of rock drummer Johny Barbata, looked great, too.

Dreams Lead Me Places

Dream: Two buddies and I were visiting our friend Michelle (the flight controller) at NASA. We met up in a museum type park, and she told us the fastest way to her office was via the third stage of a Redstone rocket on display. We all crammed into the capsule, but I realized that the third stage couldn't lift four of us, so one of my buddies and I got off to let her go first. I hid behind some flowers to protect me from the rocket blast. She pulled the "Crew Actuation" handle and the capsule lifted off gently with a bright blue flame. A parachute popped out and the capsule drifted to a nearby road, where the rocket motor caught a hay cart on fire. We all helped put out the fire.

The Ones that Get Away

On my way home from the hospital last night, I spotted a Basset Hound playing in a huge puddle in a yard with the sun going down behind him. I figured I would at least try to get a shot, maybe from across the street with my 300mm. The instant I stopped, however, he wanted to be friends, and trotted over, barking the whole time. Animals are always hard to photograph because the presence of a photographer, or any other people, tends to get their attention.

The problem, in my photographer's mind, is that people, when being photographed, should know better. You'd think that with the drillions of cameras around that people would get used to being photographed and relax. But I challenge you to try to photograph someone (other than Abby and me) and see if you can get them to relax and be themselves. I actually have to tell people all the time to stop posing.

Pictured: friendly but confused Basset last night.

Weak = Week

Abby hoped she might be able to go home today, but alas, it was not to be. Her primary physical therapist thinks Abby needs another week of exercise and care before she is strong enough to come home and be safe and capable. Early in the day, Abby and I were disappointed, but as the afternoon and evening wore on, we realized they were right. Abby has been working SO hard to get stronger. When the time comes, she'll really be ready, mentally and physically.

Pictured: cool tree Abby photographed in Washington, D. C., earlier this year.

The New Travel Blog

I have been chewing on a travel blog for many months, and now it's complete. Please have a look, bookmark it, and enjoy!

http://richardbarron.net/traveller/

Shuffle Off to Extreme Coolness

I think anyone like me (meaning people who sat around dreaming instead of studying in college) has a penchant for dreaming up band names, especially funny ones that are very unlikely to ever get used. I guess the underlying fantasy is that someday we would be the famousest musical group ever (and the first one ever that absolutely no one thinks is lame), even though we weren't musicians. I have a vast cadre of these made-up titles and band names here.

There is a REAL band name that trumps all of my made-up ones, and if I had access to a time machine (and another machine that would render me rich and musically talented), I think I would use the exquisitely perfect name This Mortal Coil.

It comes, as you know, from Hamlet's "To be or not be" speech: "What dreams may come, When we have shufflel'd off this mortal coil?"

Even without the time machine, I can still revel in the fact that the group This Mortal Coil is one of my all-time favorites, though never as popular as it should have been.

Pictured: Abby visiting Mitchell and the dogs, Max and Sierra, at Valley View Regional Hospital this morning.

Send in the Clown

Since there are no physical therapists on duty Saturday afternoon and Sunday, Abby asked me to help her do some of her exercises with the hospital's approval. In the physical therapy room, Abby first asked for two white padded heel supports for her first exercise, which looked to me very much like hats.

(I personally believe that being embarrassed by your husband is an important part of getting well. Maybe.)

Fate is a Cloudy Hunter

This might be the strangest severe weather page I've seen from the National Weather Service in Norman. This depiction shows a giant swath of thunderstorm warning, in what kind of looks like one giant thunderstorm warning.


As I write this, I am hearing amateur radio operators reporting that there is no power in Altus, Oklahoma, and that there is substantial damage, like roofs missing from buildings, and other structures completely destroyed.

A Thousand Miles

I was really missing Abby tonight. I miss her every night while she is in the hospital, but tonight I made a sunset image while I was out checking on the goats and the garden, and the image really reminded me of a picture I made with Abby on our first vacation together, the High Road, in Tsegi Canyon near Kayenta, Arizona. Normally I would come in from the back yard on nights like this and show her what I just shot. Tonight, though, I had to settle for a phone call.

Pictured: top, Tsegi Canyon in 2003; bottom, Byng tonight.

How the Fallen Have Mightied

I stopped by the hospital between photo assignments today just in time to

1. Eat the remainder of Abby's fruit plate (she doesn't care for strawberries) and
2. Help her move from regular hospital care on the second floor to rehab care on the third floor.

Her attitude is excellent, and she is totally putting on her game face for getting well. Yesterday, in fact, she said, "You know what I've been thinking about? Hiking back up to Delicate Arch this October."

She rocks.

Pictured: Abby hiking to Delicate Arch on our wedding day. (Update: Abby looked at this photo and said, "I look tough!")

Furry Laughs

As my readers know, Abby has really been missing her Chihuahuas. Today Mitchell and I loaded them up and brought them to the breezeway outside the hospital, where he watched them while I loaded Abby into a wheelchair and brought her down for a visit. Without missing so much as a beat, Sierra leaped into Abby's lap and made herself at home.

Abby was so happy to see them. We hope that she might be able to come home to them, and us, some time this week.

Coming Out of the Closet

Since Abby is better, this seems like a good time to share this with you: a project she conceived and we executed together. Background: a couple of years ago Abby's employer, Pre-Paid Legal Services, was compelled by the Sarbanes-Oxley Act to move Abby's department, cash reports, to a secure area. The only one they had on the floor where it was needed was a large supply closet, which they converted. So Abby dreamed up this parody.

Click it to view it larger.