A rant revisited

Humor me and go back and read this post from last February. Remember that? It still cracks me up to read it, but I got myself into such a mess at work that I almost don’t dare to bring it up again. A few coworkers who’d never previously had any interest in what I write here suddenly came out of the woodwork convinced that I was accusing them of being the source of my ire. I suppose there’s some lesson for me in that, but mostly I think I learned a great deal about the character of particular people and how little interest I had in working with them any longer.

I’m thinking about this now because it occured to me today how happy I am to be working with a new group of people and in a new position. I took quite a leap into the darkness with this job and it’s worked out okay and I’m finally feeling sure that I made the right choice. The job itself is far less glamorous than my old position (that’s a laugh) but I’m seeing the benefit of surrounding myself with good, smart, professional, self-assured people. I’m also enjoying that none of them are too very interested in me or my life outside of the office – it’s nice to be anonymous! Also wonderful is that we’re all too busy for gossip or that chattiness that makes me nutty about women who work together. Oh and my new boss (who retired just last week) visited today and brought each one of us (20+ social workers and our small army of secretaries) a bouquet of roses as a thank you for sending her off into retirement in such a nice way.

Six month pupdate

“It’s difficult to decide whether growing pains are something teenagers have — or are.” – Author Unknown

Luka has unofficially arrived at that stage of puppyhood considered the beginning of adolescence; the haphazard sum of many parts: nose, elbows, long velvet ears, and heart, all fueled by a limitless supply of enthusiasm. Brains, so far, appear to remain optional.

Suddenly he’s big and strong enough to go all day dragging me along behind him, but lacks judgement and any sort of focused concentration, like most teenagers. This time in raising him requires lots of patience and the challenge of seeing past the immediate irritations to appreciate the dog he’ll one day mature into.

At least Luka, like all Labs, comes with the built-in means of endearing himself to those around him, no matter how trying he often is. He always manages to convince me that he never intended any harm. He radiates charm, even as he spills a full cup of coffee all over my iPod (ruining it) and then pulling the same trick a few days later by jumping into my lap and sending another cup of coffee all over the laptop. One day soon I’ll learn not to drink coffee around him! Most of his antics do not produce such destruction; instead they make me laugh in a way that begs an official pardon for his misdoings.

The beginning of his adolescence marks a period of transition that will last for at least the next two years. Right now he’s little more than an overgrown puppy, all random energy and unfocused enthusiasm, but if he ever matures (god help us!) he’ll be a wonderful and playful companion. Hopefully he will have learned something between now and then, and will be trained well enough to resist the temptation to misbehave. For a while, at least.

First snow and a photo assignment

Little more than a dusting before it turned to rain this afternoon, but enough to make things especially pretty in the neighborhood. I love the juxtapositions in this shot – it was autumn only yesterday, yet someone lucky enough to have their own dock on the river has set out a little Christmas tree to hold back the darkness some and cheer up my view. And it’s all dusted with just a hint of snow. This is one of my favorite spots to pass by when I take the long way home from the beach; a little cove on the far side of the river where wigeon call from the shoreline. I don’t think there’s any sweeter sound until February when the oldsquaw are courting.

Signs of Christmas are popping up everywhere but here at home; there was snow on my porch pumpkins this morning and on the red peppers and gourds that I haven’t gotten around to picking from the garden yet. I’ll catch up one of these days, honest I will!

I’ve dreampt up another assignment for the camera happy among you. Find something festive and quirky that makes you smile. Send along a photo and we’ll laugh together at the goofy ways peole like to display their cheer for the season. Would two weeks be long enough? A deadline for Friday, December 14th? Quirky is the key word, please!

Visiting with trees

What did the tree learn of the earth to confide in the sky?” –Pablo Neruda

Another of Neruda’s questions to ponder on a Friday night. This is one of the local trees that I keep track of and photograph now and again. Nice tree, nice view. I like to see it as the landscape around it changes. The fields just out of view have woodcock or meadowlarks in season. Maybe a bluebird or two. And harriers, usually, or a kestral. The day I took this pic I sat myself down in the tall grass there and watched a harrier for an hour or two with the sun on my face.

The leaves have finally fallen and there’s talk of a bit of snow for the weekend. Only just enough to be a nuisance, though.

The Festival of the Trees should be up and running by the time many of you read this tomorrow. Be sure to stop by for a visit.

The sun’s most gentle rays

The low light caught the velvet fur of Boomer’s ear while he dreamed bunny dreams late this afternoon. His sleepy eyes smiled at my hand against his nose… and he nudged me… a persuasion to again run my happy hand through his dark coat.

I don’t pick out sweet rabbits; they don’t come here silly, jumping figure-eights at my feet. They’re dumped, neglected, frightened. Or worse, like Boomer and some of the others here, sent to slaughter. I pass by that slaughterhouse on my way to work most days and wonder how many others come and meet their death in that place without ever knowing a gentle hand. I look away of course; I don’t have the courage to see what actually goes on there or to do the really hard work of going in and choosing which rabbits to rescue. But I’m glad to be able to support a local rescue that does.

Boomer is a survivor! A Flemish Giant, bred for show but not perfect, so he was sent to slaughter and netted his breeder about $10. His sister and companion, Cricket, passed away last May. A new slaughterhouse Flemmie, Sunshine, found her way to me shortly thereafter and has slowly worked her magic on Boomer’s broken heart. The big news here is that finally (after 6 months!) the two are spending the night together.

😉

Where everything is smaller than usual

Firstly, get out your granny glasses because the type on this page has gone all wonky again. Why does Blogger do that?

In addition to the fire tower incident on Friday, I finally drove far enough south to see some of the damage from the Warren Grove fire back in May. There’s a gunnery range there and well… an F-16 dropped a flare during target practice that set fire to 15,000 acres or so. Oops! It all ended well, with no one hurt, and the pines got a taste of fire again.

I took this pic along Rt. 539 and you can sort of get an idea of what the pine plains are like – those are dwarf pines growing in the distance – stunted and twisted from the dry, sandy, nutrient-poor soil to reach no more than 10 feet tall, but mostly they’re shorter. The trees grow so closely together so as to be impenetrable, but here or there is a way in.

It’s worth looking for an opening because there’s a subtle beauty to the plains. There’s pleasure in the absence of people and the stillness. The soil underfoot crunches with reindeer lichen and if you‘re patient enough to look for it, there’s bearberry, a neat little arctic plant that stayed behind when the ice retreated.

I didn’t spend very much time that day, mostly I was in a hurry to be somewhere else, but it was a worthwhile detour. I think my favorite time to visit the dwarf pines is in the middle of winter with a cover of snow and the company of a few chickadees searching the pine cones for a tasty morsel.

Spare me!

The pic has nothing to do with this post, exactly. Just my brother Kevin and I the other day after a pomertini or two. (Pomertinis are healthy and full of antioxidants, you know, or at least that’s what my SIL said when she kept pouring them!)

Anyway, maybe it was the vodka, but at some point on Thanksgiving we got to talking and laughing about Christmas and gift-giving. Kevin has a way of making everything funny, yet the gist of what he said was pretty depressing. Each of us, in my family anyway, spend an awful lot of time stressing about Christmas and wasting money to buy each other stuff we don’t need. We all make enough money. If we need something (or heaven forbid want something) we buy it for ourselves. Simple as that.

We wised up somewhat with gifts for my dad before he passed away. For a few years we rented a big stretch limo to take the bunch of us into NYC for dinner and a visit with the Rockettes, each of whom my dad was (not so) secretly in love with. Those gifts weren’t about money, but instead time. Time spent with his kids and grandkids doing something that made him happy. Much more meaningful than a silly tie or gadget for his computer.

We often talk about doing something similar for ourselves. Just planning a day to do something fun together, rather than buying gifts, but we always cave in and end up at the mall in a frantic dash with the rest of humanity. Hard to resist, I guess.

So… I’m hoping to be spared the craziness this season. I just need to come up with some ideas for things we might like to do together. And I need lists for the kids… cause they shouldn’t be spared and no Christmas is complete without at least one awful afternoon in a toy store.

Apple Pie Hill

Ever climbed a fire tower? Well… DON’T!

Wandering around the Pine Barrens today looking for a Northern Shrike or two that have been reported, I came across Apple Pie Hill. It’s supposed to be the highest elevation in Southern NJ (at a whopping 209 feet above sea level) with a terrific view of the Pinelands. I’d always thought you had to hike in on the Batona Trail to find it, so hadn’t worked up the courage to try it alone yet. I often get lost (every darn road down there looks the same – sugar sand and pitch pine – how can you not get lost!), but as often happens, I stumble across something I’d been meaning to find at one time or another.

Anyone care to guess how far up those rickety stairs I got before having a panic attack? Vertigo to the point that I was afraid to move? Very weird. The wind and the dog barking from the car below didn’t help any.

Here’s the view from the bottom of the tower (when I wasn’t afraid to let go of the scaffolding and raise my arms to take a pic!). Worth clicking for a view of nothing but trees stretching all the way to Atlantic City 30 miles or so to the southeast and Philly 30 miles or so to the southwest.

Just me rambling about birds, books, bunnies, or whatever!