Eventually Sarah got some down time and looks pretty comfortable holding Desert Girl while she reads to Troy a book about the desert southwest. (See, you can handle two just fine!)
Exploring the desert and what it takes for plants, animals, and people to survive (with a touch of humor).
Tuesday, March 30, 2010
Catching Up
Eventually Sarah got some down time and looks pretty comfortable holding Desert Girl while she reads to Troy a book about the desert southwest. (See, you can handle two just fine!)
Sunday, March 28, 2010
Doctor's Visit
Saturday, March 27, 2010
Rambo Cutie Pie
Oh my, he's so cute. And this may become great blackmail material in future years.
Friday, March 26, 2010
Bathtime
Desert Girl's baby acne is fading. It hasn't bothered her a bit. And her eyelashes are coming in, at least the top ones. She doesn't have much in the way of eyebrows yet, at least they're not easy to see because they're so blonde.
She's an extremely sweet baby, and she just keeps getting more interesting as she starts watching us and smiling. Those smiles are priceless!
Thursday, March 25, 2010
Sunday, March 21, 2010
Scenes from the Desert
The cracked earth shows how dry it is. This is the terrain that Samuel Clemens, aka Mark Twain, traveled in 1861 on the Overland Stage to get to Reno, Nevada, where he worked for a newspaper. In the book Roughing It, he wrote of his adventure. Apparently he didn't like the backroads as much as I do (although I admittedly had the convenience of modern transportation and March temperatures). This is the description he uses for this part of the trip:
And now we entered upon one of that species of deserts whose concentrated hideousness shames the diffused and diluted horrors of Sahara—an “alkali” desert. For sixty-eight miles there was but one break in it. I do not remember that this was really a break…there was a stage station there.
We plowed and dragged and groped along, the whole livelong night, and at the end of this uncomfortable twelve hours we finished the forty-five-mile part of the desert and got to the stage station where the imported water was. The sun was just rising. It was easy enough to cross a desert in the night while we were asleep; and it was pleasant to reflect, in the morning, that we in actual person had encountered an absolute desert and could always speak knowingly of deserts in presence of the ignorant thenceforward…All this was very well and very comfortable and satisfactory—but now we were to cross a desert in daylight. This was fine—novel—romantic—dramatically adventurous—this, indeed was worth living for, worth traveling for! We would write home all about it.
This enthusiasm, this stern thirst for adventure, wilted under the sultry August sun and did not last above one hour. One poor little hour—and then we were ashamed that we had “gushed” so. The poetry was all in the anticipation—there is none in the reality. Imagine a vast, waveless ocean stricken dead and turned to ashes; imagine this solemn waste tufted with ash-dusted sage bushes; imagine the lifeless silence and solitude that belong to such a place; imagine a coach, creeping like a bug through the midst of this shoreless level, and sending up tumbled volumes of dust as if it were a bug that went by steam; imagine this aching monotony of toiling and plowing kept up hour after hour, and the shore still as far away as ever, apparently; imagine team, driver, coach, and passengers so deeply coated with ashes that they are all one colorless color; imagine ash drifts roosting above mustaches and eyebrows like snow accumulations on boughs and bushes. This is the reality of it.
The sun beats down with dead, blistering, relentless malignity; the perspiration is welling from every pore in man and beast, but scarcely a sign of it finds its way to the surface—it is absorbed before it gets there; there is not the faintest breath of air stirring; there is not a merciful shred of cloud in all the brilliant firmament; there is not a living creature visible in any direction whither one searches the blank level that stretches its monotonous miles on every hand; there is not a sound—not a sigh—not a whisper—not a buzz, or a whir of wings, or distant pipe of bird—not even a sob from the lost souls that doubtless people that dead air…
…At last we kept it up ten hours, which, I take it, is a day, and a pretty honest one, in an alkali desert. It was from four in the morning til two in the afternoon. And it was so hot! And so close! And our water canteens went dry in the middle of the day and we got so thirsty! It was so stupid and tiresome and dull!...and truly and seriously the romance all faded far away and disappeared, and left the desert trip nothing but a harsh reality…
Saturday, March 20, 2010
More Cows in the Yard. Ugh.
So when I looked out my bedroom window and saw this scene, I was not pleased. The cows in the big group were eating Henry's old straw/hay doghouse. Something had to be done.
The first step was to get the cows out of the yard. Henry isn't much help in this, he usually chases the cows in the wrong direction. They panic and break through the fence. Here's one cow that's spotted an opening.
My husband removed the straw bale doghouse. By the time he got to it, the cows had demolished the bales and it was pretty much just straw spread out. Desert Boy and Henry "helped." Desert Boy was very adept at telling his dad how to do it. He's already ready to be a boss.
Wednesday, March 17, 2010
Bike Riding Adventure
And Ava has only been riding for about a week, so Jenny figured out a way to tether the bike and pull her along. She's pushing the stroller with one hand and pulling the bike with the other. All I can say is wow! She is truly getting a good workout!
Ava and Desert Boy seemed to enjoy most of the adventure. It won't be long until they are racing each other and we won't be able to keep up with them.
Saturday, March 13, 2010
Secret Desert Canyon
This is the start of the canyon. It has beautiful rocks, and if you know where to look, you can spot...
...petroglyphs! These old rock carvings are a bit worn and not the easiest to see, but still it's really neat imagining the people who made them. Did they ever come in March? And if they did, what did they wear to stay warm?
Further on, Desert Boy enjoyed scampering up the rocks. He loves to climb, so we had to rein him in a bit or he would have been to the top with us trying to catch up.
Eventually we got to the end of the canyon section. Above that is a wash that curves and bends and eventually reaches a mountain range. I went ahead and was able to get a wider view. Then Desert Boy and Grandpa decided to join me.
Most of the snow had melted at this elevation, but there were still patches on north-facing slopes.
Grandpa was most impressed with how desolate this section of desert looked. At this time of year it sure looks like desert, with so many earth tones in all the rocks and vegetation.
We sat down to get a new profile pic for my blog. My favorite ended up being the unposed one (above).
But the posed one does show off the desert scenery behind us.
On the way back down the canyon, we found a little pocket with icicles. Desert Boy was intrigued.
He touched one and found out it was cold. Then he tried licking one.
Desert Boy and Grandpa continued down the canyon, enjoying the adventure.
We even found a little tunnel for Desert Boy to climb through. He liked it so much he did it twice. We made a number of analogies to Dora the Explorer since that's one of his favorite shows. Sometimes it makes the hiking much easier!
Grandpa and Grandma near the end of the hike are all smiles. Because "we did it, we did it!"
We took advantage of the scenic location for a photo op.
And then it was time to drive back out to the paved road. Grandpa was quite curious why there was a Stop sign right next to the gate. We stopped at both. Then it was time for a rest before we began the next adventure.