and then there's the OWLS

Yup ... the nest-that-gets-reused-year-in-and-year-out has TENANTS ... Great Horned Owls !!!

It's been quite the Springtime around Quail Oaks, that's for sure.

Yesterday, friend Victoria came by mid-day with her friend, nature photographer Chris Mayne, to pay the nesting GHO's a little visit.

I captured this, using my oh-so-lowly Canon G9 {which, as digital cameras go, actually quite ROCKS ...}.

It's just that Chris totes a bazooka-sized CANON with a lens you can't believe ... too bad I didn't get a pic of him. ANYWAY. {and as an aside, it's Chris' wife CAROL MAYNE that did two paintings in our home ... one of Figueroa Mountain near Santa Barbara, and the other of the original house that was right here at Quail Oaks ... but that's another story!}

We couldn't detect any owls sitting in the nest in the hot sun, BUT Chris said 'hmmm ... we're being watched.'

It was rather spooky, 'cause just one minute later he says 'there she is' and he pointed to a nearby Torrey Pine tree {in neighbor Louis' yard} ... and here's what I got:

Wow. Great Horned Owls one day; Coyotes the next. Not to mention the daily ... hawks, finches, sparrows, Phoebes, Towhees, hummingbirds, bush tits, White Crowned Sparrows, etc etc etc ... it's PARADISE around here.

I now fear leaving the house without my camera -- you never know what's going to show up next around here!

-- Davielle

The Day the COYOTES Came to Play

Just when you thought I'd abandoned my blog(s), here I am ... I'm back!

As I stood at the master bedroom window this morning, appreciating the abundance of Wisteria blooms on our vine {the one that's planted outside the breakfast nook that is now up to the 2nd story and draping our balcony off the Master - THAT glorious vine} ... something caught my eye.

WHOA. A coyote, at 8:45 am - in the misty remains of our morning - hunting just behind our "barn" {where the pumpkin truck lives}.

I called Mark to come up and we both took a good look with the binoculars, just enjoying the sight.

look closely ... there's TWO of 'em

And then - Coyote Number Two {the one we now call 'Wounded' ... you'll see why shortly} appeared. A PAIR. In broad daylight. Right there, out back. Within shouting distance. Whoa.

OUCHY ...

"Where's Rocky," I asked. Not to worry - he was at our heels, wondering what all the fuss was about.

I then took a run downstairs for the camera {Canon G9, in case anyone's wondering} and thank God, the pair was still there ... I got some shots before they moved over to a spot ... get this ... CLOSER to the balcony, so I could get even better photos. Whoa.

'LOCK THE DOORS and DON'T LET ROCKY OUT' ...

This pair proceeded to visit the very same woodpile that Rocky visits DAILY, seeking lizards. I now know what else he's seeking: the SOURCE of that SCENT they're leaving behind. You'll see.

Coyote at Rocky's fave woodpile ... which is positively teeming with Lizard Life

And then - get this. They drank from our MISTY BIRDBATH, one of three on the property. You'll see.

And then - one of them ran across our driveway, right over to our front lawn. Then changed his {her?} mind and the pair of them went down the driveway a bit ...

Moments later, a very large, very fast RABBIT came bounding up the drive, into sight -- shortly thereafter followed by two galloping coyotes, who lost the chase. Whoa.

WHAT A MORNING !!! my last shot of the AM was this, which I call 'Coyote in Camo' ...

Thank God for the blooming WISTERIA, eh ???

Morning Glory

Woke up to the blooming Pink Jasmine and Wisteria this morning, and after a terrible night's sleep, let me tell you - there's nothing quite so lovely.

Rocky hasn't adjusted to DST yet, so slept in 'til 7:15 am ... but he's up for his day now.

Just wanted to post some other happy images I awakened to, so you'll see that when I 'clarified' my position last evening on here, you see that I mean it ...

This blog is NOT intended for airing of all our laundry, not by any means. It's INTENDED for random musings, mostly uplifting & happy ones, and to STAY IN TOUCH with family & friends.

But I was reading some of a book last night in the bath about ART JOURNALS as HEALING and they do point out, over and over, that if WE {the actual, collective WE .... not some vague "they"} SPEAK OUR TRUTHS, be it about an unhappy situation, or an illness, or a troubling spot in our life -- then OTHERS {all - those close to us and those strangers to us} can find RELIEF in the speaking. If those of us who HAVE A VOICE are willing to SPEAK OUT, so that others see that they're not alone -- then isn't that what BUILDING COMMUNITY is all about?

Okay, stop me before I ramble further ... I need my morning coffee with Ovaltine!

-- Davielle

Clarification

Lest you think that this blog has turned DARK and MOODY, it hasn't. It's just what's happening lately. I apologize.

But let me clarify, in case anyone's interested.

Mark is angry with me for not clearing out a certain corner of our garage -- that has an old file cabinet in it, which has housed my {late} mother's paperwork / poetry / family writings in it for the last 5 years. I've procrastinated, true. I am making progress, but slowly. I'm trying, as often and as best as I can, to sort through all that so that all the children & 'grands' will have copies going forward. It's not finished yet. So he is angry.

I make plans to attend an art class or workshop, often registering for same weeks {and sometimes, months} in advance. Like he does for his bike races or backpacking trips. One PLANS and one GETS ORGANIZED with advance notice. Usually. Only Mark gets angry THE DAY OF the class, making it clear to me that there are "Things To Be Done" and that I have let him down {again}. Ouch.

Hence yesterday's "don't rain on my parade" blogpost before I headed to Poway for the day.

Am I guilty of letting him down? I sure am.

Is he guilty of doing his best to let me know how disappointed he is in me? He sure is.

How do we come to a place of acceptance and closure on an issue like this? It seems so -- ongoing. So amorphous. So ever-present, yet ever-changing.

I'm a terrible housekeeper, by the way. That in itself doesn't make me a bad person, nor a bad wife. It does, apparently, stack up against me.

I am quite good with laundry and keeping the shelves of the pantry stocked, however {although there's always, always too little of 1 thing, too much of another}. I'm a decent cook, although he prefers I cook for him in BATCHES, so he always has a meal to pull out of the refrigerator.

To his credit, Mark is a terrific PROVIDER. In this rough economy, it's getting to him -- all the trauma our friends, family, and his clients are going through.

Is there more I could do to KEEP HIM HAPPY? I'm sure there's plenty.

All I ask in return is an appreciation {of sorts} for the person I am -- instead of the expectation and request that I become the person -- I am not.

-- Davielle

Key Lessons from One's Parents

"It is not what you do for your children but what you have taught them to do for themselves that will make them successful human beings."
-- Ann Landers

Wise words from one of the queens of advice columnists.

If our parents had brought us up to COMMUNICATE with our loved ones, wouldn't we all be better off?

If our parents had brought us up to RECOGNIZE another human beings' intrinsic value, simply by their "being", wouldn't we all be better off?

If our parents had taught us, well and good, that "What goes around, comes around", wouldn't we all behave differently, and therefore, wouldn't we all be better off?

So where does a parent "fail" in those basic Life Lessons. How do they go about instructing their offspring to treat others as they would like, in turn, to be treated?

And how does a parent teach their children to be LOVING, even in the face of adversity, so as to avoid TEARING THOSE CLOSEST TO THEM ... up? How?!

Where did my parents fall down on the job? And where did Mark's parents fall down on the job? Hard to say.

But they did.

-- D.

Don't Rain on My Parade

This one's for Karyl, 'cause she likes it when I blog about a PET PEEVE or something. I'm all into the 'airing it out' zone this morning ... here we go.

I'm about to head to Poway for two much-anticipated ART WORKSHOPS and I get a phone call from my sweetie {and this morning, I use the term loosely, tongue in cheek} that he's on his way to a friend's house. So I remind him that I'll be gone when he returns and there's this palpable PAUSE ... then comes the SIGH ... then he waits. For me to ask 'what's wrong?'. Stupid me!

Then he sits there, silent again. Don't you just love getting the SILENT TREATMENT when you are on the PHONE? You cannot tell what's going on.

So I ask 'by any chance are you MAD that I'm heading out for the day?'

BINGO. He says, with that deep {make that DEEP} sigh-tone in his voice, 'it's not that I'm mad - I'm just very disappointed'.

GIVE ME A BREAK. Do not call to rain on my parade, do not try to RUIN my mood when I'm on my way to HAPPY TIMES. Art classes and workshops are like THERAPY for me ... it's FUN, it's ENJOYABLE, it's RELAXING, and it's MY FREEKING THERAPY. Do NOT try to mess with my head when I'm going there.

As Charlie Brown or Snoopy or whichever Peanuts character used to say:

Aaaaaarrrrrrrrrrgggggghhhhhhhh !!!!!

-- Davielle

PONY boy

The words "pony boy" recently took on all new meaning for me.

In those olden days, my Nana {mother's mother} used to sing to me ... "Pony boy, Pony boy, won't you be my Pony boy? Don't say no, here we go - far across the plains ... Marry me, carry me, be my honeydew ... Giddy-up, giddy-up, giddy-up, WHOOOOOA ... my Pony boy."

Well, each time I see a notation in the calendar that "grand" Trevor has a PONY practice or game, it reminds me of Nana, and that silly little jingle from my childhood.
But PONY {as in baseball} is quite different, I've found. It's not always a nice, neat little jingle-like experience. It can be rough, it can be heartbreaking, it can seem unfair {if one draws a really 'off' ump, anyway} ... but heck, that's baseball. That's life.

So PONY SEASON opened on Saturday, February 28, 2009 for Trevor and his team - the Tennessee Volunteers. I missed opening ceremonies and their first game {they won, 3-0}, but did get down to El Cajon for their second game, on Sunday 3-1 {they lost, score not worth mentioning - remember my comment above about the "off" umpire?!}.

But oh, the Church of Baseball. And those meatball sandwiches from the snack bar {which, ahem, I did NOT partake of --- but Kristi & Kiara sure did !!!}. Me, I stuck with a nice, chilly can of Diet Coke.

And it probably goes w/o saying, but I'll say it anyway -- you DO know what a new team means for Kristina & I ... right? It means we {oh, yes} need to find ORANGE / shades of orange clothes to wear to the games. For while Pony might not have cheerleaders, the families DO have team spirit. Yes, we do !!!