The Weekend Wasn't All Poo This Weekend

 

I did see more than poop this weekend. This house sits atop a hill off Prillaman Switch Road and while I pass it on my way to and from the cabin, I'd never stopped to take a picture until today.

It's for sale. The ad I saw online said "beautiful home with great view!"  While I agree it's a great view, I do think this house is more of a fixer-upper.  But I do love it.

 

Before I left the cabin, I strolled down along the pond. It was even colder today and the top of the water is frozen over.

 

I walked over to the old cabin and snapped a picture of the view from the porch.

It's part of the reason I use to justify my belief that the cabin is worth saving.

It's not much to look at now...but with a little bit of work, it could be a lovely guest cottage.

This would be the spa bath...A big clawfoot tub would overlook that view of the woods above.

And we'd need to re-wire...

But what a view...

 

Okay, so maybe it's only in my imagination.

Alright, Now Who Did This?!

So, I'm out walking across the lane, along the path leading up toward the mountain top when I started coming across some animal tracks.  In light of the scat attack out by the woodpile, I thought this might bring further enlightenment to the quest for certainty.

But the more tracks I followed, the more I found. And they were right large.

So, if any of you out there have any idea what any of these are, please let me know! I'm beginning to think Big Foot is hosting an animal convention outside.

 

 

 

This was the first one I found and I was just sure it was Coyote, but after looking at charts, pictures and graphs online I now think bobcat looks very much like coyote. In fact, they're all beginning to run together!

 

The Things We Do...

He's a sweet boy, really he is.  And now that he's a senior citizen, he's downright civilized. 

If this is true, why then do I feel the need to periodically take him out onto the sun porch and do this to him?

Wish You Were Here...or Hairy Wasn't

 

 

If you'd been here a few moments ago, the scent of roasting chicken would've infused the warm cabin kitchen when you stepped across the threshold.

I would've said, "Oh, good! You're just in time for supper!" And insisted you stay to eat.

As you warmed your hands in front of the toasty wood stove, you'd look around and see the dog sleeping on the ottoman by my chair and think, all is truly well with the world tonight.

If you'd been here tonight you, too, could've heard the loud ker-thunking sound outside my kitchen window as the Visitor from Last Night returned!

Once again the Hairy Pooper eluded my attempts to capture him with the scant blade of yellow light my flashlight provided. But don't worry- tomorrow's another day.  Perhaps more fuzzy poo-poos await our morning trip to the woodpile.

Shoot! The fire's low and I need another log...Hope Hairy didn't smell the chicken...

Who Scat That?

 

Pardon the graphic detail but inquiring minds just have to know...who scat that?

It's frigid here in my neck of southwest Virginia but thanks to a killer woodstove, the dog and I are right cozy.  We haven't ventured out much and reserve our trips for tooling around to the side of the house to grab another load of wood for the fire.

In fact, so hurried were our trips in this below zero windchill, we weren't entirely careful about how we grabbed the logs or whether or not we rearranged the pile in perfect balance.

So last night when it sounded like all hell was breaking loose outside by the woodpile, Maggie and I barely looked up from our warm nest in the overstuffed armchair.  I figured a few logs had come tumbling down, knocking against the side of the house as they fell.

Maggie, who'd already been fooled one too many times into barking at crackling wood in the stove, merely lifted her head, pricked her ears half-heartedly and then fell back asleep.

This morning, when she finally convinced me to take her out for a quick explore, we found the above pictured pile of hairy poop.

There are entire websites devoted to the identification of animal leavings and some even invite the curious to send in their photos, so of course I did.  I'm thinking it looks like coyote but we'll see what the experts at the University of Poop have to say when they write back.

Until then, I'm wishing I had one of those motion-activated trail cameras with an infrared flash so I could catch the little feller in the act.

It is a little creepy to think something that leaves a calling card like the one pictured could've been lurking just outside the circle of light surrounding the house, waiting for his golden moment, while I had my back to him and was innocently gathering wood for the fire.  Makes me kind of feel like Little Red Riding Hood skipping off to Grandma's...

What poop by yonder kitchen window drops...

sorry, couldn't help myself!

Reality Check

 

 

It's back to school and work for those of us who've been off on holiday break for the past almost-two weeks. 

Holidays and vacations are like living in an alternate reality- your perception of time changes, you stay up late, wake up late and eat crazy foods that at all other times of the year are forbidden.

Days are filled with games, wanderings, weird cleaning and organizing fits.

 

 

 

Lights and decorations come down from the attic, go up everywhere and then get repackaged and re-attic-ed- usually accompanied by a lot of grumbling and under-the-breath comments.

Today's return to harsh reality is suitably accompanied by fog and rain- mourning weather. I will miss the cocoon of family and warm, snuggly throws.

 

Christmas Cookie Nirvana

Well it's that time of year again...the annual Decorating of the Christmas Cookies.

Mr. Bill snowmen. Vividly realistic images of our animal menagerie.  Everything and everyone was represented-from true love to inaugurations- it was all there.

 

 

 

The scent of cookies wafted through the house and sent the littlest schnauzer, Boo-Boo Baby, into a coma of foodie ecstasy.

It seems Christmas may finally come together around here...Maybe.

Hanging Chicken Wire Light Balls

When it's time to hang your chicken wire light balls the goal is to hang 'em high- as high up in the trees as you can possibly get them.

Some folks use fishing rods. Others go for slingshots. But around here, the gun is mightier than the rod. We use a potato rocket launcher.  Nothing like overkill for the holidays.

We load a specially made "bullet" into the gun. The bullet has one end of the big twine ball attached to it. The weighted bullet shoots the wire up and over the tree limb.

 

 

The gun makes a loud "burp." It frightens neighborhood joggers- but that's just a side benefit.

 

It is a manly art- the hanging of the balls. There is shooting, smoke, bullets, cussing and spitting...

 

With 20 balls to hang, the process can go on for hours, especially when the bullet gets hung up on a branch.

People get a little crazy...

We plug and juggle circuits.

Night falls. The moon rises.

And eventually there is light....