tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28344610115909008242024-03-12T21:26:36.291-05:00The Hired Man SaysThe hired man is co-owner of Rock Eddy Bluff Farm, a scenic retreat in the Ozark hills. He blogs about an eclectic assortment of topics: Nature, beauty, travel, interesting people, the changing of the seasons, photo, the out-of-doors, reading, writing, books. The hired man hopes to avoid politics as much as he is capable, realizing that another voice does not need to be added to this polarizing babble.rockeddyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09577459843288769156noreply@blogger.comBlogger61125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2834461011590900824.post-50048449692265426012012-05-21T15:24:00.001-05:002012-05-21T16:33:13.271-05:00Spring Critters @ Rock Eddy BluffSome just live in the woods close by and try to avoid us where possible. Others, notably the birds and squirrels, are on a welfare program that doles out needed commodities on the deck looking out over the river. But we love them -- all of them, and this spring it seems that we have seen more than our share.<br />
We keep a camera at the ready, so here are a few shots we have taken in recent days.<br />
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On the river beneath us we have had geese nesting. They are quite vocal during nesting time. Just above them in a large sycamore tree on the long island that separates the river from the slough, we have had nesting blue herons that spring.<br />
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-1GxiWMgfVUk/T7qxbgjtX9I/AAAAAAAACLE/HcIi1l47Ic0/s1600/fawns+%282%29.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="596" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-1GxiWMgfVUk/T7qxbgjtX9I/AAAAAAAACLE/HcIi1l47Ic0/s640/fawns+%282%29.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
The little fella above nudged my leg as if I were his mama and he was wanting a meal. Don't worry, Momma go them all back together after I trudged away. <br />
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The eagles are another matter. They are around here, as we see them flying out over the bluff. But their old nest is gone and we cannot discover the new one. This breeding pair of eagles has been here for more than 25 years. They have built three nests, all within view of each other on the banks of rock eddy. As the nest grows ever larger, if finally breaks out of the tree and they must begin construction of a new nest. We simply can't discover their forth nest, but it is not far.<br />
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The rains appear to be over for a while, the river is down to normal levels and recent nights have been gentle with owls calling. <br />
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<a href="https://convoyant.com/resnexus/book/select.aspx?ID=1320&ResID=10778"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-6caQINQqZk4/T7qo7xpCO4I/AAAAAAAACKk/p71i0tzncDQ/s1600/resnex+Ck+avail.gif" />https://convoyant.com/resnexus/book/select.aspx?ID=1320&ResID=10778</a></div>
If you are planning to come any time soon, check our reservation calendar. Call or email if you have questions. 573-759-6081 Welcome@rockeddy.com.rockeddyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09577459843288769156noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2834461011590900824.post-67822264257216564252012-03-23T09:13:00.008-05:002012-03-23T10:13:09.412-05:00Would A Privy By Any Other Name......?<span style="font-size:130%;">Ok</span>, I have to get this off my chest. It seems a recent prospective guest from a local village needed to come by in advance of her visit to see where she would be staying. That's fine, we love to show our accommodations. But, in her case the English language and simple logic seem to have confused her.<br /><br /> She <a href="https://convoyant.com/resnexus/book/select.aspx?ID=1320&ResID=10244">booked online</a> and the word "Privy" in our website blew right by her. Hey,<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-QqIQqVG35XY/T2yP4fA3H8I/AAAAAAAACJ8/p3yVSKHLiVo/s1600/Privy02.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-QqIQqVG35XY/T2yP4fA3H8I/AAAAAAAACJ8/p3yVSKHLiVo/s320/Privy02.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5723107427041615810" border="0" /></a> it is a well-used work in her native language.<br /><br /> "You mean outhouse," she says. Well, it is an outhouse, but so is a chicken house, a smoke house, a garage, etc. Specifically it is a privy, a crapper, a necessary room in the yard. It serves a specific function. It is a <span style="font-style: italic;">privy</span>.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: left;"> <span style="font-size:85%;"> <span style="font-style: italic;">For the record, our outhouse (privy) is not something to fear. Many folks linger there to observe the photographs and poems that line the walls. Often they leave personal thoughts in our "Privy B</span></span><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">ook' where others have been inspired to muse as well.<br /><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"> "Now, your website says that <a style="font-weight: bold;" href="http://www.rockeddy.com/aunt_phoebe.htm">Aunt Phoebe's Log Cabin</a> is 'off the grid'" and things operate much like they did in the 1880's, but will we have air conditioning?" We tried to break it to her gently, telling her that to supply A/C would require that ubiquitous power source that came into common usage around here in the mid-20th century. "<span style="font-style: italic;">No</span>," that is?<br /><br /></div></div> Today as we prepare both of our Off-the-grid cabins for Chicago city dwellers who visit routinely, we are again aware of the differences in folks. Phoebe's cabin overlooking the river valley and<span style="font-weight: bold;"> </span><a style="font-weight: bold;" href="http://www.rockeddy.com/line_camp_cabin.htm">Line </a><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-9W3ZLzpAn4A/T2yQ5aJ62VI/AAAAAAAACKU/X7WNcAuBLm0/s1600/fall%2B0340.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-9W3ZLzpAn4A/T2yQ5aJ62VI/AAAAAAAACKU/X7WNcAuBLm0/s320/fall%2B0340.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5723108542428928338" border="0" /></a><a style="font-weight: bold;" href="http://www.rockeddy.com/line_camp_cabin.htm">Camp Cabin</a> in the trees near the river are quite popular with <span style="font-style: italic;">some</span> folks. For others, we have our totally modern cottage and B&B.<br /><br /> Can you help us describe our privies more plainly, so there will be no confusion? We dislike the word "outhouse" for the reasons stated above. Perhaps we should write, <span style="font-style: italic;">"You will have complete and private access to our secluded two-holer."</span> <span style="font-style: italic;">"Necessary functions will occur at an appropriate distance from the lodging facilities." </span><br /><br /> Well as you can see, it is difficult. Good luck, and thanks for trying.rockeddyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09577459843288769156noreply@blogger.com56tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2834461011590900824.post-29407905469553483762012-01-12T12:26:00.011-06:002012-01-12T13:45:54.781-06:00A Hankering For Snow<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ce1WSr6WFfo/Tw8y0OhWr6I/AAAAAAAACII/j3znIYDLEoM/s1600/Xmas2002%2B%2B24.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ce1WSr6WFfo/Tw8y0OhWr6I/AAAAAAAACII/j3znIYDLEoM/s320/Xmas2002%2B%2B24.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5696827926479548322" border="0" /></a><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">There is a certain aura</span> that descends deliciously on you when you awake to the land covered in whiteness. It came this morning for the first time this season. Snow.<br /><br />The valley below is spread with snow, the darker river snaking a course through the land with the white skeletons of the sycamore trees lining the edges where snow meets water. It is a treat. So we move more wood into the stove and feel especially comforted this morning as the flame spreads heat into our bluffhouse home.<br /><br />We have no guests today. Were there a way to predict the date of snowfall, I am certain we would be besieged with requests for our cabins. But, not so, those folks are busying themselves in offices, cubicles, store counters and other employments. I truly wish they were able to participate in this luxury. I'll admit to my own gratitude for this.<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-QE5zeYGySV8/Tw8uc_2vMgI/AAAAAAAACHY/zjsRZv0dqvQ/s1600/IMG_1130.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-QE5zeYGySV8/Tw8uc_2vMgI/AAAAAAAACHY/zjsRZv0dqvQ/s320/IMG_1130.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5696823129359200770" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Here is a snatch of poetry that my mother -- long gone -- would quote on mornings suchs at this.<br /><br /> <span style="font-style: italic;">"The snow began in the gloaming,</span><br style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-style: italic;"> And busily through the night,</span><br style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-style: italic;"> Heaping field and highway </span><br style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-style: italic;"> With silence deep and white."</span><br /><br />The wind swirls fluffiness around the corners of the house. The birds attack the feast we have prepared for them: Suet, niger seed, sunflower seeds (oh, and we must'nt forget water). We've even laid out some ear corn in hopes the squirrels will stay clear the the feathered creatures flitting abo<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-hZNa2TGW_6Q/Tw8uGNxu9WI/AAAAAAAACHM/-Jq_pXZGS1c/s1600/Aunt%2BPhoebe%2527s.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-hZNa2TGW_6Q/Tw8uGNxu9WI/AAAAAAAACHM/-Jq_pXZGS1c/s320/Aunt%2BPhoebe%2527s.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5696822737959318882" border="0" /></a>ut.<br /><br />I am certain that Aunt Phoebe is enjoying the snowfall at her cabin overlooking the valley. And at spare Line Camp Cabin buried in the trees, remnants of past occupants who have loved this place are murmuring contentment.<br /><br />We will hope for more such snows this winter. But, until then, this one will satisfy for a time.<br /><br />Westward, across the valley we can see another snow shower rolling toward us. We will let this one pass, then be off to track the critters in the snow on a brief foray into the woods. We'll collect an armful of wood from the pile on our return.<br /><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-TzPxUC8AQp4/Tw8whfVqBZI/AAAAAAAACHw/3t4vQQ9PzqU/s1600/P1030008.JPG"><img style="float: right; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; cursor: pointer; width: 220px; height: 303px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-TzPxUC8AQp4/Tw8whfVqBZI/AAAAAAAACHw/3t4vQQ9PzqU/s320/P1030008.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5696825405553116562" border="0" /></a><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-UHR01uewYJs/Tw8yU6niQfI/AAAAAAAACH8/8RQ0a5aFkDQ/s1600/Xmas2002%2B%2B14.JPG"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 337px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-UHR01uewYJs/Tw8yU6niQfI/AAAAAAAACH8/8RQ0a5aFkDQ/s320/Xmas2002%2B%2B14.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5696827388560818674" border="0" /></a>rockeddyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09577459843288769156noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2834461011590900824.post-40710631824772782602011-09-22T08:47:00.005-05:002011-09-22T11:00:26.620-05:00The Italian cyclist in AlaskaEncounters while traveling are most interesting and invigorating when they occur without plan. Random, haphazard, chance meetings of people always flavor our wanderings.<br /><br /> Here is an example from our recent trip to the far north: It was in Seward, Alaska. She sat alone in the coffee shop, studying a laptop computer intently. He was slightly disheveled, wearing pieces of bike riding togs. I gently inquired, "have you come here by bicycle?"<br /><br /> She regarded me quizzically, studying my face and uncertain of how to respond. Finally she answered, each word coming slowing, as if she were leafing through her mental dictionary. It was then<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-94tpbGufXLo/TntXmUa8ZUI/AAAAAAAACGU/WeODVxqnz4w/s1600/DSC_7560.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-94tpbGufXLo/TntXmUa8ZUI/AAAAAAAACGU/WeODVxqnz4w/s320/DSC_7560.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5655210072922154306" border="0" /></a> that we began a halting conversation which left me scratching my head and wondering again about the human spirit.<br /><br /> Her name was Micky and she was Italian. She spoke very little English, but, she was somewhat fluent in Spanish, so we proceeded as best we could.<br /><br /> "Where did you begin?"<br /> "Patagonia," was her astonishing reply.<br /> "How long has it been?" I asked<br /> "A year and a month," she replied.<br /><br /> Enter now another woman who had recently discovered her on an Alaskan byway and invited her to stay in her home. She had discovered Micky on a camping trip one morning, seeing her struggle out of the trees and onto the road. They connected, and Micky stayed with her some few weeks, taking a job washing dishes in a local restaurant to save money for a ticket back to Italy.<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;"> "Este Viaje, escribe?" </span> I asked Micki, wanting to know if she would write about her experiences.<br /> <span style="font-style: italic;">"No, pero esta en mi corazon,</span> she replied. (It lives in my heart.)<br /><br /> Between the two women we pieced together the story. She made the complete trip <span style="font-style: italic;">alone</span>. She bicycled from the tip of South America to the northern most road-linked point in Alaska, Prudo Bay. She did it for someone she loved and who is now gone. She did it in memory of them.<br /><br /> She was a remarkable woman, unpretentious, forthright, yet proud of what she had done. She and people like her are why I feel energized after traveling.<br /><br /> From her email after arriving home in Italy: "......<span style="font-style: italic;">thank you all if I spent an unforgettable year</span> <span style="font-style: italic;">thank you for all the emotions that I experienced, and fortunately</span> <span style="font-style: italic;"> very beautiful</span> <span style="font-style: italic;"> thank you thank you</span> <span style="font-style: italic;"> heart</span> <span style="font-style: italic;"> micky"</span>rockeddyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09577459843288769156noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2834461011590900824.post-31753538858857881242011-06-26T10:14:00.003-05:002011-06-26T10:30:27.093-05:00China Comes to Rock Eddy Bluff FarmA wonderful couple departed today. We were entranced by them. We could not talk to her as her English is quite rudimentary. However she had a pocket translator and she and Kathy held a prolonged conversation by passing the translator back and forth. She wrote a comment in our guest book in Chinese characters, then used the translator to convert into English. Here is the translation:<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">"I arrive at here with my husband today. When me go under sedan. Look around all around. Very surprised very beautiful. That feeling. It is a besides lifetime peach garden. In a fairy tale to say. Melt at one body with nature. At last enthusiasm. I and husband appreciated woman host very much receive."</span> <span style="font-style: italic;"> Wei Wei</span><br /><br />Her husband, an American, told us that she has been in the USA only 30 days. But, he says, "By tomorrow evening Rock Eddy Will be known in the whole southern part of China. <br /><br />Our guests keep us interested in the world. <span style="font-style: italic;">Thanks Steve and Wei Wei!</span>rockeddyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09577459843288769156noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2834461011590900824.post-85620647605842676212011-05-17T12:10:00.004-05:002011-05-17T13:02:32.276-05:00Blackberry WinterThe temperature was forty one last night and is predicted for the high thirties tonight. According to Ozark natives, this cold snap is to be expected. "It almost always gets cold when the blackberries are blooming," they say . That is what's called "Blackberry Winter".<br /><br /> The problem, of course, is that in some years the cool "winter" weather dips belo<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-JUW-Mkce1pI/TdK1K2wdULI/AAAAAAAACA8/ILXo1XzKFZE/s1600/IMG_0446%255B1%255D"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 239px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-JUW-Mkce1pI/TdK1K2wdULI/AAAAAAAACA8/ILXo1XzKFZE/s320/IMG_0446%255B1%255D" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5607743684131770546" border="0" /></a>w freezing and spells doom for many of the blackberry blooms. Then too, if the blooms make it through the Blackberry Winter, the weather can turn dry and the berry crop will suffer from lack of moisture. Big blackberry crops are quite dependent on the vagaries of weather.<br /><br /> The other major problem is human: folks cleaning up their pastures will "bushog" everything down, including the patches of blackberries.<br /><br /> Here at the Bluff, conditions are good so far. We have a great start with lots of blooms. If the temps stay in the upper thirties at night, we will have passed that hurdle. The neighbor has not mowed his pasture this spring and there are huge patches of berry canes. The weather could cooperate as the canes mature into mid summer. That would mean a huge crop of berries.<br /><br /> Should conditions converge for a good crop, the only remaining detriments to great berry pies and cobblers are <span style="font-style: italic;">ticks and chiggers</span>. They love blackberry patches. You can scratch while you are eating. <br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">If you go berry picking spray yourself well.</span> But if, while speaking to a friend, they comment about how cold it is tonight, just tell them, "It is supposed to be cold; its blackberry winter!"rockeddyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09577459843288769156noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2834461011590900824.post-32001720496297967312011-04-23T21:31:00.021-05:002011-04-24T13:55:00.264-05:00Still much like it was<span style="font-size:100%;">It was a wild place when I was a boy.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Folks said an old hermit </span><span style="font-size:100%;">had lived up there in a cave. I never saw him but I thought about the man they called 'Old Red' and how it would be to</span><span style="font-size:100%;"> live up that long, deep hollow where there w</span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-pkFipcyiqek/TbQp30ADohI/AAAAAAAAB-M/QnbY3jViwek/s1600/closeup%2Bat%2Bthe%2BNatural%2BBridge.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-pkFipcyiqek/TbQp30ADohI/AAAAAAAAB-M/QnbY3jViwek/s320/closeup%2Bat%2Bthe%2BNatural%2BBridge.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5599146275556794898" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:100%;">as no evidence of civilization.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>No farming, no timber cutting, no cattle, just pristine Clifty Creek running cool under limestone bluf</span><span style="font-size:100%;">fs , rippling and glinting over the rocky Ozark stream botto</span><span style="font-size:100%;">m</span><span style="font-size:100%;">. </span><span style="font-size:100%;"> </span><p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>It is still wild up there.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Oh, there is a little more evidence of human activities - an occasional hiker, a lone person lugging a camera.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>But, the place still retains its essential character</span><span style="font-size:100%;">.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>It is a s</span><span style="font-size:100%;">pecial setting.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Looking westward from our lofty perch atop the bluff,<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>your gaze follows the course of Clifty Creek up the hollow until it divides at the location of the natural bridge.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Often we watch storms moving</span><span style="font-size:100%;"> toward us</span><span style="font-size:100%;"> down the length of Clifty hollow, anticipating the minutes remaining until the deluge breaks over us at the Bluffhouse.</span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-x5lj79HzpSk/TbQr65tKJUI/AAAAAAAAB-U/B8-b3gVKmlU/s1600/Clifty%2B02-08004.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-x5lj79HzpSk/TbQr65tKJUI/AAAAAAAAB-U/B8-b3gVKmlU/s320/Clifty%2B02-08004.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5599148527651005762" border="0" /></a></p><span style="font-size:100%;"> </span><p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Two things have happened which may keep Clifty Creek wild for years to come.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span></span><span style="font-size:100%;">First, the L-A-D Foundation (that is Leo A. Drey) acquired a section of the hollow that includes the natural bridge (often called the Natural Arch).<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Later the <a href="http://mdc4.mdc.mo.gov/applications/moatlas/AreaSummaryPage.aspx?txtAreaID=7309&txtAreaNm=Clifty%20Creek%20CA&txtCounty=&txtRegion=&txtUserID=guest&txtDivision=">Department of Conservation </a>acquir</span><span style="font-size:100%;">ed an adjacent piece of land.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Together, these public use properties total 486 acres. </span></p><span style="font-size:100%;"> </span><p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Guests at <a href="http://www.rockeddy.com">Rock Eddy Bluff Farm </a>often enjoy hiking the 2.5 mile hiking loop that will bring them to Natural Bridge.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>They can also choose to go and come via the same trail portion.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>The shorter section (one mile) perhaps covers more diverse terrain and lends itself to some <i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">ad lib</i> hiking as you can drop down into the creek bed and follow it downstream to the natural </span><span style="font-size:100%;">bridge.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>The longer section (1.4 miles) maintains the r</span><span style="font-size:100%;">idge top for much of its length and traverses interesting O</span><span style="font-size:100%;">zark woodlands before dropping into the hollow and crossing the </span><span style="font-size:100%;">creek well upstream of the natural bridge.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-XVqSj8ScV6I/TbOMn21FKaI/AAAAAAAAB-E/t2pLZpb35QI/s1600/Clifty%2BNatural%2BArea.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 552px; height: 348px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-XVqSj8ScV6I/TbOMn21FKaI/AAAAAAAAB-E/t2pLZpb35QI/s320/Clifty%2BNatural%2BArea.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5598973378112596386" border="0" /></a></span><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">(click on the map to enlarge)</span><br /></span></p><span style="font-size:100%;"> </span><p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>A small parking lot is nestled in a cedar grove at the trail head on Maries Country Road 511 (Yes, that also brings you by </span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Idkji8nN_BE/TbRtudGa35I/AAAAAAAAB-k/_wMu7QsCe88/s1600/RockEddy-fog2.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 201px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Idkji8nN_BE/TbRtudGa35I/AAAAAAAAB-k/_wMu7QsCe88/s320/RockEddy-fog2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5599220881581334418" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:100%;">our mailbox.) </span></p> <p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Clifty hollow has been a constant feature in our lives here in the hills, so we can direct you to the clear pools, the big curving line of bluffs where ferns cling to the rocks.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>And, if you are interested, we can put you on to where you will find the cave where Old Red once </span><span style="font-size:100%;">lived.<br /></span></p><p class="MsoNoSpacing"><br /></p><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">The Ol' Hired Man at <a href="http://www.rockeddy.com">Rock Eddy</a><br /><br /><span style="font-size:100%;">p.s. Thank you guests for these photographs</span><br /></span></span> <p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span></span></p> <p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span></span></p> <p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span></span></p>rockeddyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09577459843288769156noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2834461011590900824.post-40130429224883304762011-04-14T08:34:00.005-05:002011-04-14T08:54:12.029-05:00Guest Blog: Line Camp vs. Chicago Hotel<div id="wrapper" class="hfeed"> <div id="header"> <div id="masthead"> <div id="branding" role="banner"> <div id="site-title"> <span> We enjoyed this commentary by a recent guest at<a href="http://www.rockeddy.com"> Rock Eddy Bluff Farm.</a><br /><br /><a href="http://observationalequivalents.com/" title="Observational Equivalents" rel="home">Observational Equivalents</a> </span> </div> <div id="site-description">Just the occasional observation on encounters with the world as it flys by.</div> <img src="http://observationalequivalents.files.wordpress.com/2011/01/cropped-img_0230.jpg" alt="" height="198" width="940" /> </div> <div id="access" role="navigation"> <div class="skip-link screen-reader-text"><a href="http://observationalequivalents.com/2011/04/01/contrasts-in-luxury/#content" title="Skip to content">Skip to content</a></div> <div class="menu"><ul><li><a href="http://observationalequivalents.com/" title="Home">Home</a></li><li class="page_item page-item-2"><a href="http://observationalequivalents.com/about/" title="About">About</a></li><li class="page_item page-item-11"><a href="http://observationalequivalents.com/about-me/" title="About Me">About Me</a></li></ul></div> </div> </div> </div> <div id="main"> <div id="container"> <div id="content" role="main"> <div id="nav-above" class="navigation"> <div class="nav-previous"><a href="http://observationalequivalents.com/2011/03/16/california-interlude/" rel="prev"><span class="meta-nav">←</span> California Interlude</a></div> <div class="nav-next"><a href="http://observationalequivalents.com/2011/04/09/mumbais-crawford-market/" rel="next">Mumbai’s Crawford Market <span class="meta-nav">→</span></a></div> </div> <div id="post-99" class="post-99 post type-post status-publish format-standard hentry category-traveling"> <h1 class="entry-title">Contrasts in Luxury</h1> <div class="entry-meta"> <span class="meta-prep meta-prep-author">Posted on</span> <a href="http://observationalequivalents.com/2011/04/01/contrasts-in-luxury/" title="19:34" rel="bookmark"><span class="entry-date">01/04/2011</span></a> <span class="meta-sep">by</span> <span class="author vcard"><a class="url fn n" href="http://observationalequivalents.com/author/observationalequivalents/" title="View all posts by Observational Equivalents">Observational Equivalents</a></span> </div> <div class="entry-utility"> <p>I am logging in from Chicago, where I am comfortably ensconced in the Sofitel on E. Chestnut. I recommend it highly. It is a stark contrast to last weekend in the amenities offered but not in the luxury it offers the mind and body. Last weekend, we spent several nights in the Line Camp cabin on Rock Eddy Farm. Not only does it not have room service, a flat screen television, and turn down service, it does not have running water, electricity, or centralized heat. There is an outhouse, a hand pump outside for water, and a wood stove for heat, though. So where is the contrasting luxury you may wonder.</p> <p>Let us compare.</p> <p>First, the Sofitel is some 32 floors tall and made of much glass and steel.</p> <p><a href="http://observationalequivalents.files.wordpress.com/2011/04/sofitel.jpg"><img class="aligncenter size-large wp-image-113" title="sofitel" src="http://observationalequivalents.files.wordpress.com/2011/04/sofitel.jpg?w=740&h=1024" alt="" height="1024" width="740" /></a>It has a number of excellent restaurants and bars to accompany its very modern appearance</p> <p>Line Camp cabin, by contrast, is one floor and one room only. Though to be fair, our room in the Sofitel is one room only, too, but with an additional bathroom.</p> <p><a href="http://observationalequivalents.files.wordpress.com/2011/04/line_cabine2.jpg"><img class="aligncenter size-large wp-image-108" title="line_cabine2" src="http://observationalequivalents.files.wordpress.com/2011/04/line_cabine2.jpg?w=1024&h=768" alt="" height="768" width="1024" /></a></p> <p>In the foreground, just to the left of the window is a wooden box with an upside down bucket “suspended” over it. The bucket covers the hand-pump, which is the water source. And off to the left, half out of the photograph is the outhouse.</p> <p>The views are not comparable from the two, either.</p> <p>The Hancock Tower in morning light from our room:</p> <p><a href="http://observationalequivalents.files.wordpress.com/2011/04/hancock.jpg"><img class="aligncenter size-large wp-image-105" title="hancock" src="http://observationalequivalents.files.wordpress.com/2011/04/hancock.jpg?w=1024&h=768" alt="" height="768" width="1024" /></a></p> <p>Late evening snow from the front porch of Line Camp cabin:</p> <p><a href="http://observationalequivalents.files.wordpress.com/2011/04/porch_view_line_cabin.jpg"><img class="aligncenter size-large wp-image-100" title="porch_view_line_cabin" src="http://observationalequivalents.files.wordpress.com/2011/04/porch_view_line_cabin.jpg?w=1024&h=768" alt="" height="768" width="1024" /></a></p> <p>And a short walk from the porch is the Gasconnade River. After the previous evening’s snow it made for a nice bit of quiet solitude:</p> <p><a href="http://observationalequivalents.files.wordpress.com/2011/04/gasganade.jpg"><img class="aligncenter size-large wp-image-101" title="gasganade" src="http://observationalequivalents.files.wordpress.com/2011/04/gasganade.jpg?w=1024&h=768" alt="" height="768" width="1024" /></a></p> <p>And what of the amenities they each offer? A very wonderful shower with limitless hot water in the Sofitel and a bucket bath in Line Camp. Hmm. Again, each has much to offer. The first is a great refuge from the mind cluttering assault of city and people (especially when you are locked into a conference). But the latter is wonderful in its own right, to be cleaned of the grime from basic living and then to wrap yourself in fresh clean clothes is a great pleasure in itself. They are both rejuvenating. No need for graphic evidence.</p> <p>The food prospects are an interesting contrast, too.</p> <p>Breakfast in the Sofitel: fresh papaya and coffee:</p> <p><a href="http://observationalequivalents.files.wordpress.com/2011/04/papaycoffee.jpg"><img class="aligncenter size-large wp-image-110" title="papay&coffee" src="http://observationalequivalents.files.wordpress.com/2011/04/papaycoffee.jpg?w=1024&h=693" alt="" height="693" width="1024" /></a></p> <p>Breakfast in Line Camp: home fries and coffee (there were eggs, too, just not at this moment):</p> <p><a href="http://observationalequivalents.files.wordpress.com/2011/04/cabin_breakfast1.jpg"><img class="aligncenter size-large wp-image-107" title="cabin_breakfast1" src="http://observationalequivalents.files.wordpress.com/2011/04/cabin_breakfast1.jpg?w=1024&h=768" alt="" height="768" width="1024" /></a></p> <p>I can’t decide. Maybe a closer comparison?</p> <p><a href="http://observationalequivalents.files.wordpress.com/2011/04/papaya.jpg"><img class="aligncenter size-large wp-image-102" title="papaya" src="http://observationalequivalents.files.wordpress.com/2011/04/papaya.jpg?w=1024&h=768" alt="" height="768" width="1024" /></a></p> <p><a href="http://observationalequivalents.files.wordpress.com/2011/04/homefries.jpg"><img class="aligncenter size-large wp-image-106" title="homefries" src="http://observationalequivalents.files.wordpress.com/2011/04/homefries.jpg?w=1024&h=768" alt="" height="768" width="1024" /></a></p> <p>They are both excellent, like each of the accommodations. They offer their own forms of comfort, which are very nice so long as you are in a state of mind that is ready to appreciate the strengths of each: urban splender and business in the former and calm, uncluttered quiet in the latter.</p></div></div><br /><div id="comments"> <h3 id="comments-title">One Response to <em>Contrasts in Luxury</em></h3> <ol class="commentlist"><li class="comment even thread-even depth-1" id="li-comment-13"> <div id="comment-13"> <div class="comment-author vcard"> <img id="grav-b30c0eb3a226540da7de2cb3f15ebc8f-0" alt="" src="http://1.gravatar.com/avatar/b30c0eb3a226540da7de2cb3f15ebc8f?s=40&d=identicon&r=G" class="avatar avatar-40 grav-hashed grav-hijack" height="40" width="40" /> <cite class="fn">Peg</cite> <span class="says">says:</span> </div> <div class="comment-meta commentmetadata"><a href="http://observationalequivalents.com/2011/04/01/contrasts-in-luxury/#comment-13"> 13/04/2011 at 13:24</a> </div> <div class="comment-body"><p>Line Camp Cabin will always be my favorite spot to getaway. I hope you get to go again sometimes in late spring or fall. Each season offers so much change that it’s like an entirely new place. I’m very jealous of your trip.</p> </div> <div class="reply"> <a class="comment-reply-link" href="http://observationalequivalents.com/2011/04/01/contrasts-in-luxury/?replytocom=13#respond">Reply</a> </div> </div> </li></ol> </div></div></div></div></div>rockeddyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09577459843288769156noreply@blogger.com44tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2834461011590900824.post-1175444645753544612011-04-09T12:05:00.007-05:002011-04-09T12:38:21.542-05:00It's one of those special days in the OzarksAs they would say in the hills, "I think we have it whupped now!" They would be talking about spring and the shedding of winter. They would be taking to the woods carrying a poke (that's a sack) for the mushrooms that are akin to ghosts on the floor of the forest. (And ever so yummy.)<br /><br /> These photos from our morning walk are fresh. They depict a spring of 2011 that is still in its infancy, but coming on like <span style="font-style: italic;">gang busters</span>.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-PORYyDzCDFc/TaCTaEUKcKI/AAAAAAAAB8E/fTG_Zqu46V8/s1600/100ND40X1.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 651px; height: 172px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-PORYyDzCDFc/TaCTaEUKcKI/AAAAAAAAB8E/fTG_Zqu46V8/s320/100ND40X1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5593632813238349986" border="0" /></a>We were able, this morning, to catch dogwood blooms in stages of development. Soon those trees will appear like white smoke drifting through the pale green woodlands. <br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-QmCplE2JMY8/TaCVOiRzj2I/AAAAAAAAB8U/47si0DNwYOE/s1600/DSC_6775.JPG"><img style="float: right; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; cursor: pointer; width: 291px; height: 195px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-QmCplE2JMY8/TaCVOiRzj2I/AAAAAAAAB8U/47si0DNwYOE/s320/DSC_6775.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5593634814146350946" border="0" /></a><br />Guests in the cabins<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Er3qvykGsik/TaCUzUtzfLI/AAAAAAAAB8M/AzQBuNq478M/s1600/DSC_6774.JPG"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 290px; height: 195px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Er3qvykGsik/TaCUzUtzfLI/AAAAAAAAB8M/AzQBuNq478M/s320/DSC_6774.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5593634346649222322" border="0" /></a> this morning are trying their hand at fishing in the river. We will await a report later today.<br /><br />It is a rare day at <a href="http://www.rockeddy.co,">Rock Eddy <span style="display: block;" id="formatbar_Buttons"><span class=" down" style="display: block;" id="formatbar_CreateLink" title="Link" onmouseover="ButtonHoverOn(this);" onmouseout="ButtonHoverOff(this);" onmouseup="" onmousedown="CheckFormatting(event);FormatbarButton('richeditorframe', this, 8);ButtonMouseDown(this);"><img src="img/blank.gif" alt="Link" class="gl_link" border="0" /></span></span>Bluff. </a><br /><br />On our next foray we will be looking for mushrooms. We will let you know how that turns out.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">The Hired Man and Missus</span><br /><br /><a style="font-style: italic;" href="https://convoyant.com/resnexus/book/select.aspx?ID=1320&ResID=6863">Check availability for spring.</a> We have several openings for you..rockeddyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09577459843288769156noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2834461011590900824.post-52163259087975751692011-03-28T09:55:00.008-05:002011-03-28T10:55:11.050-05:00A Spring SurpriseThe weather report says to expect warm, sunny weather for the coming weekend. But Monday morning we awoke to a wondrous early spring snow that clings to every limb and twig in the woods. It is a lacework of snow covering the hills beyond the bluff.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-VCOwRhdNZ4I/TZCqYRszTvI/AAAAAAAAB6k/Q14JIvb-vKE/s1600/DSC_6678.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 231px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-VCOwRhdNZ4I/TZCqYRszTvI/AAAAAAAAB6k/Q14JIvb-vKE/s320/DSC_6678.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5589154471611682546" border="0" /></a><br /><br /> In the cabins, guest are snug and warm and being treated to a memorable scene outside their door. There are pets in both cabins that no doubt enjoy scampering and dancing in the fluffy whiteness. Kathy and I and our pups actually envy them.<br /><br /> Our friends in Aunt Phoebe's Cabin tell us that the Farmer's Almanac has predicted every snow storm that has occurred in this snow-filled winter. They say it has been a perfect record for the Almanac for the Columbia, Missouri location. I suppress my natural cynicism and say, <span style="font-style: italic;">"That so?"</span><br /><br /> Well, we are past the vernal equinox, so this must be spring. Once this snow melts, I say <span style="font-style: italic;">"Let's get on with it."</span> Under todays snow the daffodils along our lane are wildly in bloom. Service berry and redbud have begun blooming in the woods. On milder days the spring <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-F-pKJsXS3EM/TZCq4aIzKxI/AAAAAAAAB6s/yMIt1kONVyY/s1600/DSC_6679.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-F-pKJsXS3EM/TZCq4aIzKxI/AAAAAAAAB6s/yMIt1kONVyY/s320/DSC_6679.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5589155023632411410" border="0" /></a>peepers grow hoarse from calling.<br /><br /> Warmer and bright on the weekend is the prediction. . That will mean a healthy dose of both winter and spring in the span of a few days. Typical Missouri weather!<br /><br /> A recent guest at Aunt Phoebe's log cabin sent <a href="http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=111735&id=1186913082&l=a94fb492cb"><span style="font-weight: bold;">these photos</span></a>. There are clues to spring in each photo.<br /><br />Right now I have to put another log on the fire.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">The Hired Man</span><br /><br /><ul style="text-align: center;"><li><a href="https://convoyant.com/resnexus/book/select.aspx?&ID=1320&ResID=6767"><span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">Check available spring days her</span>e</a></li></ul><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div>rockeddyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09577459843288769156noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2834461011590900824.post-22630556818154311602011-03-16T10:53:00.006-05:002011-03-16T12:03:22.125-05:00Spring comfortIt is the time of year that the weather does not quite know what it is up to. It is erratic. It is like a teenager entering puberty. Things change day to day, hour by hour. It seems there is no reasoning with March weather. <p class="MsoNoSpacing">Still, as the brown hills begin to awaken and dream of the coming green, there is comfo<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-MGNFOdumpqc/TYDpYpovvHI/AAAAAAAAB44/iZsYd3F46pg/s1600/DSC_6621.JPG"><img style="float: right; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-MGNFOdumpqc/TYDpYpovvHI/AAAAAAAAB44/iZsYd3F46pg/s320/DSC_6621.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5584720147642301554" border="0" /></a>rt to be obtained during the lengthening days.<span style=""> </span>Here is one: <span style="font-style: italic;">Fire</span>.<span style=""> </span>A gentle blaze is always a comfort here at <a href="http://www.rockeddy.com">Rock Eddy Bluff</a>, but when cool March winds envelope the hills, a fire in the stove or fireplace is certain to provide a special comfort. <span style=""> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=""> </span>Here is a prescription for relaxation at The Bluff: A long walk in the woods and then a fire.<span style=""> </span>Outside, the buds are swelling, daffodils are poking their shoots upward, while inside the cabin there is the crackle and the flicker of fire.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=""> T</span>here is also comfort food.<span style=""> </span>We now propose to add to your recipe collection for Pie.<span style=""> </span>Coming through New Mexico recently, we stopped at Pie Town, a small, mostly abandoned village on the historic cattle drive route.<span style=""> </span>There, the drovers could always depend upon pie for all the hands.<span style=""> </span>“Get into Pie Town and bring us some Pie”, the foremen would command. <span style=""> </span>So, we stopped there at the Daily Pie Café.<span style=""> </span>A scrumptious breakfast was followed by a piece of New Mexican Apple Pie.<span style=""> </span>It was top notch and slightly modified from ordinary apple pie.<span style=""> </span>And, they were willing to divulge the recipe.</p><p class="MsoNormal"> _________________________________________<br /></p> <p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style=""> </span><span style="font-size:130%;"><b><i>New Mexican Apple Pie</i></b><b><i><span style=""> </span></i></b><i>(From Daily Pie Café, Pie Town, NM)</i></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNoSpacing"><br /><span style="font-size:100%;"><b style="">Ingredients</b></span></p> <p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin-left: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size:85%;"> 4 large granny smith apples, peeled, cored and sliced<br />1 c. sugar<br />4 T. flour<br />2 t. cinnamon<br />¾ t. nutmeg<br />2 ounces of New Mexican (Hatch) green chili, hot or mild or more! to taste<br />2 ounces of pinon nuts<br />1 T lemon juice</span></p> <p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br />Peel, core and put apple slices into large mixing bowl. Add all other ingredients mix well.<br />Set aside to blend flavors while the crust is being prepared. </span> </p> <p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><b style="">Pastry crust</b></span> (makes four crusts)<br />This recipe will use two crusts.<br />The other two can be frozen for future use always handy and makes for a speedy pie.</span></p> <p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin-left: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br />3 cups of flour<br />¼ t. baking powder<br />1 t. salt<br />½ c. salted butter<br />½ c. shortening<br />1 egg<br />1 T. white vinegar<br />1/2 c. ice cold water</span></p> <p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-size:85%;">Combine flour, baking powder and salt. Cut in butter and shortening to pea sized pieces with pastry knife or fork and knife(do not use your hands yet). In separate bowl, mix egg, vinegar and water. Add wet mix to flour mixture small amounts at a time and blend with spoon or pastry cutter until dry ingredients are moist and form a ball (more or less water may have to be added depending on moisture content of flour).<br /><br />Roll into a ball wrap with plastic wrap and refrigerate 1 hour. Divide dough into four sections. Roll out one section on a floured board to fit 9” pie pan. Put crust into pan. Place apple mix , mounded in the center. Top with one rolled section of crust. Flute edges, cut vent holes into top crust. Brush with egg wash and sprinkle natural sugar on top (optional). Bake at 425 degrees for 15 minutes, turn, then 400 degrees for 45 minutes to an one hour. Pie is done when golden brown and juices bubble thickly around the outer edge. Serve with vanilla ice cream (highly suggested).</span></p><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-size:130%;" ><span style="font-style: italic;">They say it is the little things in life...... The Hired Man</span></span> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:85%;"> </span></p>rockeddyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09577459843288769156noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2834461011590900824.post-87658331511871527462011-01-29T11:08:00.005-06:002011-01-29T11:33:50.136-06:00En Todos las playas en todo el mundoThis always happens when I come to a beach. I consider a <span style="font-style: italic;">number so larg</span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_py1fRlUmRc0/TUROUzjg5wI/AAAAAAAAB3U/emcCa0GtdUk/s1600/DSC_6382.JPG"><img style="float: right; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 198px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_py1fRlUmRc0/TUROUzjg5wI/AAAAAAAAB3U/emcCa0GtdUk/s320/DSC_6382.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5567661158680291074" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">e</span> that I cannot conceive of it. Yup, it is the sand that does it.<br /><br /> No wait! Stay with me. It is a little exercise for the mind. Move your mind from the beach to the universe. Still with me? Now, scientists have estimated -- postulated, roughed out, even SWAGed (that is a scientific wild-assed guess) -- that <span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">the number of stars in the universe is roughly equal to all the grains of sand in all the beaches in all the world</span>.<br /><br /> I can't count the number of grains in my hand. I can't conceive of the numberof grains on this beach within my view. My mind hiccups when I try to think about all the beaches in all the world.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_py1fRlUmRc0/TUROVFJrubI/AAAAAAAAB3c/HduEjosiEJo/s1600/DSC_6359.JPG"><img style="float: right; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_py1fRlUmRc0/TUROVFJrubI/AAAAAAAAB3c/HduEjosiEJo/s320/DSC_6359.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5567661163403786674" border="0" /></a><br /> Carl Sagan called this number a googleplex (I think) and it was a number so large that it confound any attempt to consider it.<br /><br /> Well that is the universe we live in. <span style="font-style: italic;">And we think we are so smart.</span><br /><br /> Please think of this when you go to the beach.<br /><br />Los Tres Vagabundos in Mexico, Tom, Kathy & PeeVeerockeddyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09577459843288769156noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2834461011590900824.post-62306091903012404612011-01-26T17:17:00.007-06:002011-01-27T09:58:07.901-06:00Pollo Muerto<span style="font-weight: bold;">What are we going to eat?</span><span style=""> </span>An old comic reply: <i style="">“Dead chicken”.<span style=""> </span>T</i>hen, the chicken somehow loses some off its taste appeal.<span style=""> </span>But, here in the Mexican town of Puerto Penasco, we believe the lowly bird died for a good cause.<span style=""> </span>Here they do wondrous things with dead chicken.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_py1fRlUmRc0/TUGVQLYTA2I/AAAAAAAAB28/3ILSUA0iGDo/s1600/DSC_6349.JPG"><img style="float: right; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 229px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_py1fRlUmRc0/TUGVQLYTA2I/AAAAAAAAB28/3ILSUA0iGDo/s320/DSC_6349.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5566894719571788642" border="0" /></a> <p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style=""> </span>It is called <i style="">Pollo al carbon</i>, a type of roasted chicken, but not cooked with any type of flame.<span style=""> </span>It must be roasted on a wood fire.<span style=""> </span>And then there is the seasoning…. <span style=""> </span>My Spanish is not good enough to discover much of it, but I know the marinade is chiefly orange juice.</p> <p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style=""> </span>We have recently returned from the chicken joint on <i style="">Calle Benito Juarez</i> and we need a nap.<span style=""> </span>We are likely going to skip supper tonight and go directly to the hot tub where we will watch the sun sink into the sea.</p> <p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style=""> </span>I am really disappointed in myself, but my attention seems to have slid toward<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_py1fRlUmRc0/TUGVP-rLm1I/AAAAAAAAB20/OpU567LV4mk/s1600/DSC_6350.JPG"><img style="float: right; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_py1fRlUmRc0/TUGVP-rLm1I/AAAAAAAAB20/OpU567LV4mk/s320/DSC_6350.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5566894716161334098" border="0" /></a> <span style=""> </span>gluttony and other pleasures of the flesh. Already we have planned breakfast.<span style=""> </span>Awakening slowly in The Minnow to the sound of the waves, we will lightly pan fry in butter some huge, fresh local scrimp, some asparagus, and a few new potatoes.<span style=""> </span>Yes, that is breakfast, or perhaps we should call it brunch.</p> <p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style=""> </span>We promise to do better….in a day or so.<span style=""> </span>Meanwhile, every day here on the beach is an awful struggle.</p> <p class="MsoNoSpacing"> </p> <i style=""><span style="line-height: 115%;font-family:";font-size:11pt;" >Los Tres Vagabundos gordos</span></i><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_py1fRlUmRc0/TUGUL_s3xkI/AAAAAAAAB2s/g5hPpA7Hl4k/s1600/DSC_6348.JPG"><img style="float: right; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 160px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_py1fRlUmRc0/TUGUL_s3xkI/AAAAAAAAB2s/g5hPpA7Hl4k/s320/DSC_6348.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5566893548205753922" border="0" /></a>rockeddyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09577459843288769156noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2834461011590900824.post-54440858003514508422011-01-26T17:17:00.003-06:002012-05-21T16:33:31.646-05:00Pollo Muerto<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:WordDocument> <w:View>Normal</w:View> <w:Zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:TrackMoves/> <w:TrackFormatting/> <w:PunctuationKerning/> <w:ValidateAgainstSchemas/> <w:SaveIfXMLInvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid> <w:IgnoreMixedContent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent> <w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText> <w:DoNotPromoteQF/> <w:LidThemeOther>EN-US</w:LidThemeOther> <w:LidThemeAsian>X-NONE</w:LidThemeAsian> <w:LidThemeComplexScript>X-NONE</w:LidThemeComplexScript> <w:Compatibility> <w:BreakWrappedTables/> <w:SnapToGridInCell/> <w:WrapTextWithPunct/> <w:UseAsianBreakRules/> <w:DontGrowAutofit/> <w:SplitPgBreakAndParaMark/> <w:DontVertAlignCellWithSp/> 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cause.<span style=""> </span>Here they do wondrous things with dead chicken.</p> <p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style=""> </span>It is called <i style="">Pollo al carbon</i>, a type of roasted chicken, but not cooked with any type of flame.<span style=""> </span>It must be roasted on a wood fire.<span style=""> </span>And then there is the seasoning…. <span style=""> </span>My Spanish is not good enough to discover much of it, but I know the marinade is chiefly orange juice.</p> <p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style=""> </span>We have recently returned from the chicken joint on <i style="">Calle Benito Juarez</i> and we need a nap.<span style=""> </span>We are likely going to skip supper tonight and go directly to the hot tub where we will watch the sun sink into the sea.</p> <p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style=""> </span>I am really disappointed in myself, but my attention seems to have slid toward <span style=""> </span>gluttony and other pleasures of the flesh. Already we have planned breakfast.<span style=""> </span>Awakening slowly in The Minnow to the sound of the waves, we will lightly pan fry in butter some huge, fresh local scrimp, some asparagus, and a few new potatoes.<span style=""> </span>Yes, that is breakfast, or perhaps we should call it brunch.</p> <p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style=""> </span>We promise to do better….in a day or so.<span style=""> </span>Meanwhile, every day here on the beach is an awful struggle.</p> <p class="MsoNoSpacing"> </p> <i style=""><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%; font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif";">Los Tres Vagabundos gordos</span></i>rockeddyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09577459843288769156noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2834461011590900824.post-12301557451857046192011-01-26T17:17:00.001-06:002012-05-21T16:33:31.611-05:00Pollo Muerto<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:WordDocument> <w:View>Normal</w:View> <w:Zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:TrackMoves/> <w:TrackFormatting/> 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mso-ascii-font-family:Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-fareast; mso-hansi-font-family:Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;} </style> <![endif]--> <p class="MsoNoSpacing">What are we going to eat?<span style=""> </span>An old comic reply: <i style="">“Dead chicken”.<span style=""> </span>T</i>hen, the chicken somehow loses some off its taste appeal.<span style=""> </span>But, here in the Mexican town of Puerto Penasco, we believe the lowly bird died for a good cause.<span style=""> </span>Here they do wondrous things with dead chicken.</p> <p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style=""> </span>It is called <i style="">Pollo al carbon</i>, a type of roasted chicken, but not cooked with any type of flame.<span style=""> </span>It must be roasted on a wood fire.<span style=""> </span>And then there is the seasoning…. <span style=""> </span>My Spanish is not good enough to discover much of it, but I know the marinade is chiefly orange juice.</p> <p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style=""> </span>We have recently returned from the chicken joint on <i style="">Calle Benito Juarez</i> and we need a nap.<span style=""> </span>We are likely going to skip supper tonight and go directly to the hot tub where we will watch the sun sink into the sea.</p> <p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style=""> </span>I am really disappointed in myself, but my attention seems to have slid toward <span style=""> </span>gluttony and other pleasures of the flesh. Already we have planned breakfast.<span style=""> </span>Awakening slowly in The Minnow to the sound of the waves, we will lightly pan fry in butter some huge, fresh local scrimp, some asparagus, and a few new potatoes.<span style=""> </span>Yes, that is breakfast, or perhaps we should call it brunch.</p> <p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style=""> </span>We promise to do better….in a day or so.<span style=""> </span>Meanwhile, every day here on the beach is an awful struggle.</p> <p class="MsoNoSpacing"> </p> <i style=""><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%; font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif";">Los Tres Vagabundos gordos</span></i>rockeddyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09577459843288769156noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2834461011590900824.post-78774187617472251472011-01-26T17:17:00.000-06:002012-05-21T16:33:31.659-05:00Pollo Muerto<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:WordDocument> <w:View>Normal</w:View> <w:Zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:TrackMoves/> <w:TrackFormatting/> 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mso-ascii-font-family:Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-fareast; mso-hansi-font-family:Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;} </style> <![endif]--> <p class="MsoNoSpacing">What are we going to eat?<span style=""> </span>An old comic reply: <i style="">“Dead chicken”.<span style=""> </span>T</i>hen, the chicken somehow loses some off its taste appeal.<span style=""> </span>But, here in the Mexican town of Puerto Penasco, we believe the lowly bird died for a good cause.<span style=""> </span>Here they do wondrous things with dead chicken.</p> <p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style=""> </span>It is called <i style="">Pollo al carbon</i>, a type of roasted chicken, but not cooked with any type of flame.<span style=""> </span>It must be roasted on a wood fire.<span style=""> </span>And then there is the seasoning…. <span style=""> </span>My Spanish is not good enough to discover much of it, but I know the marinade is chiefly orange juice.</p> <p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style=""> </span>We have recently returned from the chicken joint on <i style="">Calle Benito Juarez</i> and we need a nap.<span style=""> </span>We are likely going to skip supper tonight and go directly to the hot tub where we will watch the sun sink into the sea.</p> <p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style=""> </span>I am really disappointed in myself, but my attention seems to have slid toward <span style=""> </span>gluttony and other pleasures of the flesh. Already we have planned breakfast.<span style=""> </span>Awakening slowly in The Minnow to the sound of the waves, we will lightly pan fry in butter some huge, fresh local scrimp, some asparagus, and a few new potatoes.<span style=""> </span>Yes, that is breakfast, or perhaps we should call it brunch.</p> <p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style=""> </span>We promise to do better….in a day or so.<span style=""> </span>Meanwhile, every day here on the beach is an awful struggle.</p> <p class="MsoNoSpacing"> </p> <i style=""><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%; font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif";">Los Tres Vagabundos gordos</span></i>rockeddyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09577459843288769156noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2834461011590900824.post-26167494018649000212011-01-26T11:40:00.003-06:002011-01-26T12:13:36.893-06:00En la playa<span style="font-style: italic;">"El Peccecillo" esta en la playa del Mar de Cortez, Sonora, Mexico. </span> Hey boy, this is the life. We have "The Minnow" nestled into a lovely spot right on the beach. The surf lulls us to sleep at night and awakens us in the morning. I have a picture for you but forgot to bring the photo card with me to the wifi spot.<br /><br /> <span style="font-style: italic;">Aqui quiremos muchos mariscos.</span> Already this morning, without leaving the Minnow, we have purchased a pound of the largest scrimp you ever saw. <span style="font-style: italic;">Camarones mas grande.</span> (Ok, so I can't spell in spanish either.) Our mouths are watering.<br /><br /> We plan to reopen Rock Eddy Bluff Farm on March 1 in time to enjoy a wonderful Ozark spring. But right now we are beach bums in Mexico. The pervasive fear of Mexico by Americanos has hit this place hard. We were here a year ago and find, this year, that the number of turistas is down be more than half.<br /><br /> I must tell you this: The temperatures are in the 70's --maybe low 80's in the day and then cool off with the sinking of the sun to perhaps the mid-to-high 40's. We have our nests made in The Minnow and snuggle down into our sleeping bags.<br /><br /> We have come back here for the beach, the seafood, the scenery and also for <span style="font-style: italic;">pollo al carbon</span> (wood fire cooked chicken) It is nothing like <span style="font-style: italic;">pollo asada</span>. This is stuff your mouth will remember. It is found in a little cabana somewhere in town, if we can find it again.<br /><br /> Hope we have made you snowbound folks sufficiently envious. Rest assured that some serious relaxing will occur here in Puerto Penasco. If I can shake myself loose I will send photos next.<br /><br /> We will see many of you in the spring at the Bluff.<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Los Vagabundos del Mar</span>, Tom, Kathy, and PeeVeerockeddyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09577459843288769156noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2834461011590900824.post-36200895891331562382010-10-25T09:34:00.007-05:002010-10-25T10:21:14.982-05:00A Fall Day AfieldSeems like my recent postings here could be called, "<span style="font-style: italic;">Reflections of a mature gentleman</span>", subtitled, "<span style="font-style: italic;">musings of an old guy"</span>. Well, let's suffer through this one more tim<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_py1fRlUmRc0/TMWdh-XxiAI/AAAAAAAABwM/XI1b1hFPxXk/s1600/DSC_5662.JPG"><img style="float: right; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_py1fRlUmRc0/TMWdh-XxiAI/AAAAAAAABwM/XI1b1hFPxXk/s320/DSC_5662.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5532000924298479618" border="0" /></a>e.<br /><br /> Yesterday I climbed on my four-wheeler and went for foray out over the countryside hereabouts. Now, to do this you must be familiar with the land, where the old logging roads wind through the timber, where the wire gaps are in the fences, and where the old home places are hidden in overgrown pastures.<br /><br /> I had my camera with me and decided to take some photos of the old wrecks of houses and barns, the collapsed cabins that have settled to earth in a grove of trees, the faint marks of humanity on the land. Then it hit me: All these structures were standing when I was young.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_py1fRlUmRc0/TMWdDGxXUSI/AAAAAAAABwE/gayToStbakg/s1600/DSC_5661.JPG"><img style="float: right; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_py1fRlUmRc0/TMWdDGxXUSI/AAAAAAAABwE/gayToStbakg/s320/DSC_5661.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5532000393977352482" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_py1fRlUmRc0/TMWd_yQXofI/AAAAAAAABwU/QTlp-EpF8oc/s1600/DSC_5654.JPG"><img style="float: right; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_py1fRlUmRc0/TMWd_yQXofI/AAAAAAAABwU/QTlp-EpF8oc/s320/DSC_5654.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5532001436442272242" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /> The old relic of a house was inhabited then, a family tending the fields in the creek bottom. This pile of boards and logs was a place, though abandoned then, had the traces of children in the upstairs bedroom where I sifted among their scant leavings. I realized out there yesterday that I have experienced a broad span of years in the surrounding land. Let's just say that yesterday I felt <span style="font-style: italic;">experienced</span>.<br /><br /> Twas a beautiful fall day and I gloried in it, accepting my continually broadening span of years as something more than simply a relentless aging. History resides in me. I know these things personally. They don't come from old books. In fact, in a certain way I wish I was older.<br /><br /> I wish I was personally acquainted with the folks that lived in that sunken house. I would like to see their faces in my mind, perhaps have attended a spare one-room school with their rambunctious offspring.<br /><br /> Then, I would have even more to muse about on a clear fall day in the Ozarks.<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">The Hired Man at Rock Eddy Bluff Farm</span> www.rockeddy.comrockeddyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09577459843288769156noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2834461011590900824.post-39415304516989620922010-09-22T11:00:00.004-05:002010-09-22T12:10:03.491-05:00Electronic connections between peopleEvery once in a while the depth of changes that have occurred in recent years really smacks me along the side of the head. The internet and electronic instruments have certainly changed the world -- even how we think. Further, they have drastically changed relationships between members of our species (humans).<br /><br /> I was reminded of this only this morning after receiving an email from our friend, Marta Fuster Roca. Marta lives in the southern Mexico town of Oaxaca. But, we did not meet her there. We met her while strolling around Pompeii (the ancient Roman town that was covered b<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_py1fRlUmRc0/TJo2r32krlI/AAAAAAAABvI/vbaP9KJnriU/s1600/7+Pompeii025.JPG"><img style="float: right; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; cursor: pointer; width: 230px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_py1fRlUmRc0/TJo2r32krlI/AAAAAAAABvI/vbaP9KJnriU/s320/7+Pompeii025.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5519784420651085394" border="0" /></a>y the volcano, Vesuvius). During our afternoon together we found we had much in common. Later, we exchanged addresses and went our separate ways; we back to Rome and she continued on to Florence.<br /><br /> With my trusty pocket camera I took a photo of Marta. With the help of my computer I later sent the picture to her in Mexico. But astoundingly, I could also send that photo anywhere in the world instantly.<br /><br /> I will admit that perhaps I am so astonished by all this because <span style="font-style: italic;">The Hired Man</span> has become a little '<span style="font-style: italic;">long of tooth'</span>, meaning I am now an older fellow. Heck, I can remember the use of old crank telephones. There, instead of a phone number or an email address, folks were identified as "two longs and a short."<br /><br /> These days, folks who want to know about <span style="font-weight: bold;">Rock Eddy Bluff Farm</span>, simply go to <a style="font-weight: bold;" href="http://www.rockeddy.com/">www.rockeddy.com</a><span style="font-weight: bold;"> </span> If they would like to book a vacation or getaway here, they can check availability and reserve right on line. The system then sends them a confirmation with lots of information, including driving directions. Then, it also informs us so we can prepare for their visit. All of this takes place in <span style="font-style: italic;">the cloud</span>; we can access any of it from any computer anywhere.<br /><br /> Well, Marta's missive this morning was to show us a Chinese version of Swan Lake. <a href="http://www.nzwide.com/swanlake.htm">http://www.nzwide.com/swanlake.htm</a> It is beautiful and quite different from what you might expect. (Oh yes, it is a video. <span style="font-style: italic;">It shows people moving!)<br /><br /></span><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">Thanks Marta!</span>rockeddyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09577459843288769156noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2834461011590900824.post-6355299570010930722010-07-25T07:46:00.004-05:002010-07-25T09:36:53.953-05:00Toad StranglersI don't want to start an argument, but is sure does seem to me that the weather is changing. <span style="font-style: italic;">Toad stranglers</span> present an excellent example. For the uninitiated, a toad strangler is a very heavy rain. That is a rain that could drown little garden toads and make most amphibians fear for their lives. We are having lots of them now. We're talking a pouring rain. Or, in the words of hill folk hereabouts, "It rained like a cow pissin' on a flat rock."<br /><br /> Road are washed out, swollen creeks tumble across low water bridges. "Thunder Storms" the weatherman calls them, but thunder seems to be the least of it. Deluges of water and heavy winds cause the damage. One of those lil thunderstorms visited us a couple of weeks ago. So far we have spent one day with the chain saw cutting out the road to the river. Trees were twisted down in several spots. Then there was at least two days of work clearing a tangled mess of trees that partially rested on the garage. There will be no shortage of firewood this fall from trees knocked over out in the timber. But, cleaning those up will have to wait....wait until we have the time and the temperature cools a little.<br /><br /> Now, consider what all this rain has done to farmers (mostly cattle farms in our area). Here it is late July and the folks in the valley across the river from <a href="http://www.rockeddy.com">Rock Eddy Bluff</a> are just now getting their hay baled. That is at least a month later than usual and a month and a half later than needed for good quality hay. The problem, of course, is that farmers won't cut the hay if it looks like it could rain on it.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_py1fRlUmRc0/TExHRFEjNYI/AAAAAAAABtA/TSKjJmEcCGg/s1600/DSC_5474.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 504px; height: 268px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_py1fRlUmRc0/TExHRFEjNYI/AAAAAAAABtA/TSKjJmEcCGg/s400/DSC_5474.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5497847603857143170" border="0" /></a> Our next job will be hooking the blade to the tractor and working on the roads here. Water has put some ditches where they shouldn't be in our lane and up the track to the bluff house. Oh, I have tried to divert the storm water with those little "hoopdedoos" or "dead men" as they are often called. You know, those things that give you a jostle when you drive over them. But, these toad stranglers often overwhelm them.<br /><br /> All this sounds like a lot of whining and complaining, I know. But, just a few years ago we didn't have anything like this weather. On the news last night we heard that Chicago got a deluge of seven or eight inches that is causing all kinds of grief. The weatherman says that the weather here is sorta indefinite in the next few days but has advised all toads to seek higher ground.<br /><br /> Now it seems to me that folks who hold with the global climate change scenario have warned of this kind of stuff for some time. I know there are lots of folks sniping and arguing with one another about that. But, I suspect that down here in hill country you'll find most folks believing that <span style="font-style: italic;">"things is different now."</span>rockeddyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09577459843288769156noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2834461011590900824.post-36490157895001674122010-05-10T11:13:00.006-05:002010-05-10T12:40:25.714-05:00Pursuing Prairie<span style="font-size:130%;">It is cold, raw outside and the wind is coming off the prairie at 20 - 30 knots, whistling into the small town where we are parked with our camper. It is a dark, raw day, so we keep mostly inside except to walk our dog PeeVee. For the last few da</span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_py1fRlUmRc0/S-g8Ogos1aI/AAAAAAAABl8/QaNWapX-_u4/s1600/DSC_4936.JPG"><img style="float: right; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 162px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_py1fRlUmRc0/S-g8Ogos1aI/AAAAAAAABl8/QaNWapX-_u4/s320/DSC_4936.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5469687967417947554" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:130%;">ys we have been in pursuit of prairie.<br /><br /> I don't understand it myself, but there is </span><span style="font-size:130%;">something about prairie the seems to draw me, to stir my imagination. I suspect it has something to do with orderliness; coming away from the country of precise rows of crops and the almost manicured appearance of improved, permanent pastures. Here in t</span><span style="font-size:130%;">he prairie there is none of that, just </span><span style="font-size:130%;">miles of rolling green grass stretching to the </span><span style="font-size:130%;">horizon. There are trees, yes, but they are mostly confined to the draws where small creeks and rivers support massive cottonwoods.<br /></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_py1fRlUmRc0/S-g8OwyU8jI/AAAAAAAABmE/aRW-46Q0CkU/s1600/DSC_4930.JPG"><img style="float: right; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_py1fRlUmRc0/S-g8OwyU8jI/AAAAAAAABmE/aRW-46Q0CkU/s320/DSC_4930.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5469687971753292338" border="0" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size:130%;"> We started in Missouri a few days ago and made a brisk march to one of </span><span style="font-size:130%;">ou</span><span style="font-size:130%;">r favorite spots in the state, Prairie State Park, located nearly astride the Kansas line. There, a herd of some 150 buffalo roam a space of roughly 4,000 acres. There is a space for dry campi</span><span style="font-size:130%;">ng in a grove of tree surroun</span><span style="font-size:130%;">ding a small creek. There are few people, little regimentation as is normal in state parks. I am free to be in the prairie -- to imagine I am on the way west in the sea of prairie. Or, perhaps I might just want to find a spot on a knoll and become "Pa", resting from building a soddy for Ma, Mary and Laura.</span><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_py1fRlUmRc0/S-hA5BIcPrI/AAAAAAAABmM/LU5_UaUHrQM/s1600/DSC_4937.JPG"><img style="float: right; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 152px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_py1fRlUmRc0/S-hA5BIcPrI/AAAAAAAABmM/LU5_UaUHrQM/s320/DSC_4937.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5469693095742029490" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"> Presently we reside smack in the middle of the Kansas Flint Hills, a geologica</span><span style="font-size:130%;">l formation that runs the north/south length of the state. Prairie exists her</span><span style="font-size:130%;">e </span><span style="font-size:130%;">because of the thin soils that reject plowing. T</span><span style="font-size:130%;">he result is a carpet of native blue ste</span><span style="font-size:130%;">m prairie grass sweeping over the rolling countryside, that provides perhaps the best cattle grazing in the nation.<br /></span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"> We have days ahead for prairie, so to spend today in what the missus calls a</span><span style="font-size:130%;"> "jammy day" is not an extravagance. And, I h</span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_py1fRlUmRc0/S-hDWEx7_oI/AAAAAAAABmU/SZnoqNO9824/s1600/Tom+in+indian+paintbrush.jpg"><img style="float: right; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 151px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_py1fRlUmRc0/S-hDWEx7_oI/AAAAAAAABmU/SZnoqNO9824/s320/Tom+in+indian+paintbrush.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5469695793960844930" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:130%;">ave time today to muse about prairie. Friends will likely find us here in the next day or two and we'll add some "catching up" to our prairie experience.<br /><br /> Tomorrow's to be a bright day and we intend to use it.<br /><br /></span><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:130%;"> <span style="font-style: italic;">From Cottonwood Falls, Kansas, the Hired Man and Missus</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;"><a href="http://www.rockeddy.com/">www.rockeddy.com </a> </span></span><br /></div>rockeddyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09577459843288769156noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2834461011590900824.post-11991835746562595672010-05-05T08:45:00.003-05:002010-05-05T09:05:00.540-05:00Blues Men at Line Camp Cabin in the woods<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_py1fRlUmRc0/S-F6ISx-6iI/AAAAAAAABlE/F_0F_B_LVz8/s1600/October+0201.JPG"><img style="float: right; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_py1fRlUmRc0/S-F6ISx-6iI/AAAAAAAABlE/F_0F_B_LVz8/s320/October+0201.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5467785705503517218" border="0" /></a><br />It was kinda odd. In our Line Camp Cabin last week there were two parties, both with fellas who play in Blues bands. Now, you have to know that the cabin is "off the grid", meaning that when you stay there you give up at least eighty years, and you are secluded in the trees on the slope of a ridge not far from the river. You pump your water, you light the lamps at night, and there is a worn pathway to the little house in back. In modern terms, the place is "green."<br /><br /> Now, I am not saying that playing the blues might bring one to a need to retire to the woods and shed the skin of city life for a while. But, it could be! What might also be the case, is that those intercity folks may be more receptive to going green-- to returning to the old ways -- just for a time to see how it might be. Perhaps they are a little more adventurous.<br /><br /> Whatever the case, both of these guys and their women have been to Line Camp Cabin repeatedly. And, in one case they reserved a year from now. We can hardly hope that we will hear those blues riffs coming from around the campfire at the cabin then. I suspect during their time here they would much rather hear the birds outside in the day and the coyotes and owls at night.rockeddyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09577459843288769156noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2834461011590900824.post-12679219325459018892010-04-25T13:59:00.006-05:002010-04-25T14:33:06.692-05:00The Afterglow<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_py1fRlUmRc0/S9SU9GT1NkI/AAAAAAAABk8/l-fCvLeCrX8/s1600/oakpollen.jpg"><img style="float: right; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 202px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_py1fRlUmRc0/S9SU9GT1NkI/AAAAAAAABk8/l-fCvLeCrX8/s320/oakpollen.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5464156025293977154" border="0" /></a>Recently I wrote using the metaphor of <span style="font-style: italic;">estrus</span> for the world of springtime flora here in the Ozark hills. (<span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">OK</span>, estrus is commonly referred to as "heat" in animals, as in "my dog is in heat.") I thought the metaphor was apt, so I will continue it. Children cover your ears.<br /><br /> The stage we are now in I could describe as post-coital. Pollen has covered roofs, cars, decks and the interior of lungs for a couple of weeks now. The oak trees are spent. Catkins (see photo) litter the ground and clog gutters. They are everywhere, but then we are in the woods and have been surrounded by this sexual frenzy.<br /><br />For the oak trees - the most dominant species here - I suspect the fun is complete and they are now to get down to the business of growing and photosynthesis. Perhaps it is the afterglow and time for a cigarette.<br /><br />The transformation of the hills is nearly complete. Dull brown is changed to a brilliant green. This never fails to impresses me. Each year the surroundings here overlooking the valley and the hills are altered so dramatically. Our world is new.<br /><br />An in hills turkey gobblers are strutting for the hens. Birds are nesting. Turtles are on the move. Maybe the fish are biting. It is a regular circus. Come see it. <a href="http://www.rockeddy.com">www.rockeddy.com<br /></a>rockeddyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09577459843288769156noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2834461011590900824.post-29716105434252341772010-04-04T10:05:00.006-05:002010-04-04T12:55:12.968-05:00Spring souvenirs<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_py1fRlUmRc0/S7jFRutJKnI/AAAAAAAABkY/_ShmEIMEKLY/s1600/DSC_4891.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_py1fRlUmRc0/S7jFRutJKnI/AAAAAAAABkY/_ShmEIMEKLY/s320/DSC_4891.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5456327856945179250" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_py1fRlUmRc0/S7jFRAIPiBI/AAAAAAAABkQ/RvT4HJRsyHk/s1600/DSC_4896.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_py1fRlUmRc0/S7jFRAIPiBI/AAAAAAAABkQ/RvT4HJRsyHk/s320/DSC_4896.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5456327844442376210" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_py1fRlUmRc0/S7i-noP1ljI/AAAAAAAABjo/qtma20OVbK8/s1600/DSC_4893.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_py1fRlUmRc0/S7i-noP1ljI/AAAAAAAABjo/qtma20OVbK8/s320/DSC_4893.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5456320536587376178" /></a><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Back home in Missouri now, I was inspired this morning to photograph a few of the flowering trees and plants surrounding our home. And, as I was doing this, two thoughts occurred to me.</span></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><br /></span><div><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> First, it occurs to me</span></span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> that many of these plants are </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">souvenirs, reminders of pleasant places we have visited, or pieces of flora taken from treasured local spots that seem to inspire us each time we visit. </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> For example: the golden daffodils are certain to have come from one of two abandoned farms we have visited each spring for years. It may have been the old "Doyel Place" that sits high on a timbered hill overlooking a cedar-strewn creek bottom. Or, those particular flowers could have been removed from clumps growing at the old "Algerine Place" that sits behind the decaying school house up on what was known as "Clifty Dale Road."</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> The Japanese Quince almost certainly came from a broad thicket of it on the hill where is has become nearly out of control since folks last lived in the cabin, now a pile of rubble. And most assuredly, those folks got their start of that plant from another site, perhaps a neighbor's garden. No one paid money to Walmart or Lowes for those daffodil bulbs that now stream in clumps down the hill and into the timber. Dug-up starts of quince were once carried in pails to a new home site where they now flourish, abandoned. </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> And the tulips that are just too red - they are remnants of a wonderful European trip years ago. These are products of Keukenhof Gardens in the Netherlands.</span></span><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Our visit to the gardens was wonderful, but the sight of these tulips brings memories of the complete trip - Amsterdam, Edam, the North Sea, and England, Scotland, and Wales. I guess that is what </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">souvenirs should do, bring back vivid memories of travel.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:Georgia, serif;"><img src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_py1fRlUmRc0/S7i-pdrdQ2I/AAAAAAAABkI/dOfveKTUlH4/s320/DSC_4894.JPG" /><img src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_py1fRlUmRc0/S7i-oU4vh-I/AAAAAAAABj4/3OFr1IGpdFM/s320/DSC_4895.JPG" /></span></span></span></div><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></span></b></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">My second thought</span></span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> this morning is sexual, I'm afraid (well sorta). Notice the red bud and service berry blooms above. Spring is much like estrus in the world of flora. The world is flowering, open, receptive, primal. In the world of animals, especially domestic animals, estrus occurs many times in a year. In the world of plants, it happens generally only once per year, spring. At any rate, perhaps while in the outdoors in spring, aside from the feeling of newness and awe, we should perhaps also turn our heads and blush.</span></span><br /></div></div></div>rockeddyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09577459843288769156noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2834461011590900824.post-58552045502765692952010-02-15T16:07:00.003-06:002010-02-15T16:36:58.205-06:00Even Cowboys Get the Blues<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_py1fRlUmRc0/S3nK_MIzr9I/AAAAAAAABgU/Gf6ppOmDLOQ/s1600-h/DSC_4576.JPG"><span style="color:#000000;"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 211px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5438601211965321170" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_py1fRlUmRc0/S3nK_MIzr9I/AAAAAAAABgU/Gf6ppOmDLOQ/s320/DSC_4576.JPG" /></span></a><span style="color:#000000;"> It is a little-known fact, but even innkeepers need to go on vacation. (And, as with other things, more is better). We missed the Missouri Innkeeper's Conference because we were intent on beating the rotten weather. We are now in the California desert enjoying the fruits of our endeavor: temperatures in the 80's during the day, falling to the 50's at night. Of course we beat the chill at night by cliimbing into the hot mineral pools. Life is so hard here...<br /></span><br /><br /><span style="color:#000000;"></span><br /><span style="color:#000000;">This winter we are traveling in the RV mode. The photo shows how our camper is set up at our present location near the Salton Sea. We have most of our solar panels tilted, giving us plenty of electricity during the day and quite a bit after dark. Note the TV satillite stuck on the side. This gives us TV when we want. Through the use of an AT&T aircard we are hooked to the internet. We have our cell phone for communication. (All calls come to our cell phone as we no longer have a land line, even at home.)</span><br /><br /><span style="color:#000000;"></span><br /><span style="color:#000000;">Our first guests of the spring come on March 24, so we will be back in the Ozark hills at least a few days ahead of that. Meanwhile, enjoy your weather.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;color:#000000;"><strong><em>The Hired Man and Missus</em></strong></span><br /><br /><div align="center"><span style="color:#000000;"><br /></span></div><br /><span style="color:#000000;"></span><br /><br /><span style="color:#000000;"><br /></span><br /><br /><span style="color:#000000;"></span>rockeddyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09577459843288769156noreply@blogger.com2