Our plans this weekend usually involve Woody's annual Labor Day party, but we had to go down to Mom's place to get some plants in the ground. Erica has a serious hosta collection, many of them expensive collectibles, and many other plants she's not giving up when we sell this house. If they're going to make it through the winter, we had to get them moved as soon as possible to give them a chance to recover and establish themselves before winter comes.
We arrived Saturday afternoon to an empty house, unloaded the truck, and plopped on the patio. With drinks, fresh bread, and fresh tomatoes drizzled with some olive oil at our side, deep breaths were drawn. It's been a long time since I've done nothing. As in nothing. Work and house projects have kept me all kinds of busy and sleep-deprived.
Mom gets home from the a clam-bake at the firehouse, and Don, a volunteer, followed soon after. A little more food, another drink. Mom announces that they have to go to a show put on by the local historical committee, because they're on the board. Do we want to come?
Angelos (on the inside): no no no no no no no no.
Erica: at first was with me, but they managed to turn her against me.
OK, off we go. Good thing I pounded four beers before we go to a church and sit for an hour and a half.
Aaaaaaanyway, it was nice. Three local folk-artists sang songs of Catskill Mountain and Hudson Valley region history. From the towns that were razed to make room for reservoirs to provide NYC with water, to the Anti-Rent War, to the bluestone quarries, to the defunct railroads (many sunk under reservoirs), this was folk story-telling at its finest. This is how history got passed from generation to generation. One of those glad-I-went/would-have-been-fine-on-the-couch-too things. But overall, glad I went.
Sunday morning... WORK TIME! Midnight, Tufts, Ginger, and Sylvia
Don does the tilling, I do the shit-shoveling, Erica is planning away.
Eeeeee-chinecia where the wind comes sweepin' down the plain...
Mmm... soon, my pretties.
Sylvia exhausts herself. Scratching on warm flagstone is tough work, you know.
Meeko decides I've had too much water. He'll take over from here.
OK, the sofa and console table over here, the loveseat over there...
Hey! A new garden. FOR ME TO POOP IN!
Ginger is the guard kitty. She was at Erica's side the whole afternoon. Supervising, and such.
While Erica was figuring out what went where, Don and I headed into town for a gun show at the firehouse.
Ooooooh, shiny.
Only two tables, nothing really exciting. But for Andes, what the heck. It's something to do.
Check out those two pop-gun-looking things. Old Quackenbush .22s. I wish the pictures conveyed just how damned small and flimsy-looking they are. The one on the right, though, weighs more than any of my long guns - solid iron. $650, too! Must be just a bit collectible. As for me, I'm not in the market for anything right now, because I have all the guns I need for practical purposes. A pellet gun, a .22 for plinking/varminting, a shotgun with both slug and shot barrels, and a 30-06. All my hunting needs are covered. Now, I'd like a .270 for longer-range shooting, and I'd like an over-under for shooting the elusive clay pigeon. But need-wise, and budget-wise, I'm good for a while.
Macro-lensing
Done!
Spot, the old-timer. He gets grayer and slower and more rickety every time we see him. He lost his brother Duke a few months ago to a farming accident, hence the arrival of Meeko. But Spot is still the man. Always outside barking at any noise, protecting the family from evil-doers. Meeko assumed beta-dog status right away, and for good reason - even Duke knew Spot was boss, and they were brothers from the same litter. Inseparable for 15 years, Duke would frolic, Spot would guard. Always. We hope Meeko learns his lessons quickly, because he'll soon have to train a youngster himself.
Can't an old man get some rest around here?
or
Fucking tourists.
or
Damned city-folk.
Wrapped up Sunday with some Scrabble and tennis on the TV.
Today, slept in, packed up, and came home laden with cucumbers, tomatoes, and squash from the garden, as well as some fresh fruit from a local farm.
Tomorrow, back to the grind.
