dry season

My sister took this pic of our fresh water pond. I have never seen it this dry before. OMG!
Meant good beach days, though.
WSJ article about Chinese food delivery on BI.
A video of a whale frolicking off BI.
Article about Cape Cod with pix by Hannah's friend Rachel.
Pal Dr. Bobrow debuts his Huffington Post column with one about babies and allergies.

another day, another home

Find the Freedom Tower

the last supper

Well SOME people were sorry to say goodbye! For those who want to know, I am just across the border of Ohio.

closing up

The tomatoes are over, the apples are starting. This morning the temperature was 56 degrees in the Ozarks. Time to pull up stakes and roll. Got the river float tubes deflated. Need to move the outdoor furniture indoors. Same thing every year, as regular as the seasons. Shutting down.

happy birthday isaac

IZEE is 2 today! I guess I better B there or B square next year. He doesn't quite get it yet. But, ah, the cake. The motorcycle cake. He gets that!

end o' summer

Often, when the produce becomes overwhelming, I go to gazpacho. This summer, I tried a modification of the New York Times best gazpacho in Spain. I like it with a bit of lime, heirloom tomatoes and somewhat less olive oil. It's particularly good when you can't eat.

on the road again

The Texans prepare to depart the Goose after a gala adventure through Yukon Territory and Alaska.

so

So. This is my life. Writing about the woman who just dumped me for the third time.
Oh Boy. She is going to be So Sorry!

how she rolls

I forgot to post these pix from CBA's visit. Even without the four cats, she does not travel light. She brought her down quilt, pillows, reading light, sugar (for her coffee), paper towels and all of these bags (plus another row not visible in picture) full of I-don't- know-what. Personal possessions. For four days.
Puts my What's-In-the-Truckloads of couches and chairs and food to shame.

art news: knapp is back

Well, you've missed the opening on Block Island, but there's still time to see the show.

And here's Kate Knapp herself on the very same porch: hers on Block Island.
In other publicity news,
An incredibly moving book by Darcy Padilla, a photographer I have worked with called Family Love is out—pretty much her life work. Watch the video. And a story about her story.
On the latter website is a story by our own Donna Ferrato as well. I wrote copy for the exhibition of this work at Vanderbilt University last year.
Also, my daughter, Hannah, has posted an article about her struggle with postpartum depression you can read here.
Maybe look at Kate's cheerful pix after watching Darcy's story and reading Hannah's.

droning in the gloaming

The rest of us used  conventional photographic techniques.

A couple of park employees continue their project of flyover films in Arkansas parks. We stumbled over them after some fine catfish at Fred's Fish Fry in Mammoth Springs, Ark., when we headed over to admire the spring and the wildlife (ducks, muskrat, sandpipers) at the park.
  The pair expertly flew their craft up and down the river and over the falls for more Visitor Center footage. Here is an article about how drone flyers have been getting in trouble lately.

humdingers

My life has shrunk to providing nectar for a dozen or so birds who suck down approximately four cups a day. And they sure do become angry birds if not fed promptly. They remind me of Gasners. What are they going to do when I depart the hinterlands?

out of ice

And if ever there was a summer we all needed cooling, this is it!
In other news, CBA has rejoined her desolate cats and her movie crew (casino scene) back in Georgia, I can't keep the damn hummingbirds fed, and we had a hella storm last night during which Dianne and Frank lost their electricity. The Goose (aka bunker), however, is still sitting pretty.

ozark eats

After a fine breakfast of cold steak and quail eggs, we headed off on an expedition and wound up at the Stray Dog barb-b-q. Frankly, menu items like The Dog Pile did not entice me, although the bite I had of a fellow diner's sandwich was unexpectedly good. We then explored the substandard housing market in several Ozark towns (not on my account—I already have my very own piece of substandard housing!), topping off the gastronomic journey with a soft serve ice cream cone.

catherine's world

In her continuing search for derelict properties, CBA has located yet another dream house, in somewhat better shape than the prior House of Her Dreams (pic tk). This one is in the backside of beyond, not far from the Goose. The interior has a dog trot hall with a room and porch on each side. Not sure what this kind of architecture represents or how it functioned. (Cookhouse in back?) But it's pretty old for this neck of the woods. I warned her about chiggers (and about getting shot), but she did not listen!

fine merchandise

We attempted to rearrange the FREE display for more traffic, but seeing as about three logging trucks and two cars pass per day, with nary a soul on foot, we did not have great success. Though one lone customer tried to take the peanut free sign home for the kids. We are now guarding it carefully. . .

the advent of cba

 I turned the house out of doors to clean up for Barrett.
All was ready.
And she arrived and unpacked all her stuff.
Thank goodness she did not bring the four cats in their cages!
Stay tuned for the free-table setup, which is bound to be a winner. That CBA can sell snow in midwinter.

full moon luna

On the night of the full moon, I had an unexpected visitor. The moth came tap tap tapping on my bedroom window and stayed as long as I kept the light on.

during

 It was a fine day for monkeying around in trees, but small dogs were wise enough to stay well out of the way of falling limbs. Once the danger was over, Oscar emerged from the truck to join the rest of the crew, Tree Monkey Sr. and Tree Monkey Jr., who was testing out his climbing skills after having his skull caved in and being pronounced dead a year ago. He did not find it a walk in the forest.

before

If all goes as it is meant to today, this is a before picture of the north side of the Goose. Tree Monkey has said that he will come to trim the branches so that they do not fall on my (fairly new) rubber roof and perforate it. However, my experience in the Ozarks leads me to take this promise with a grain of salt. Still, the guy is from California, so maybe he does have a work ethic.

caught

So Debby went to look up the hours of the Boat Basin Cafe on their website, and lo and behold, there were were, dining, in their slide show. But no, I am not in New York. You may wonder where I am, Barb sends this definition of the street use of Claud.
In other news: Here is a very interesting set of photographs of tears. And speaking of grief, this is great article in the NYT.
A friend, Karen Emmons reports a story on the hideous abuse of domestic workers in Asia that goes right along with the Times story on abuse of crew on fishing boats running now.
And speaking of boats, here is a WSJ article on Block Island. Such articles mean that people are trying to book for next summer. And, an article on Block Island's disputed wind farm.

i miss the pepsi machine!

At least the cafe is still open. For now.

road trip!

Getting my kicks on Route 66

I been beat by the rain, slayed by the heat
Went through lightening storms, but I’m still my feet
 And I’m still
willin'.
 And I’ve been from Thomasville to Tucumcari
But the last part really got hairy.
There was lightning all around, and it really got weird.
Times when the truck just couldn't be steered.
But if you'll give me
Gas, lights and time
And you show me a sign
I'll be willing  To be movin'

#thefunniestgrandson

Getting into the spirit of cleanup before leaving Hannah's on Block Island. . .
. . .and a gala time with the fam.

no more pepsi machine

Today: No Pepsi machine

I am desolated, the light of my nights—the Pepsi machine—is gone from across the street. Gone before I ever made the perfect picture of it. Also gone: The former gas station/general store. Soon to be gone, if I'm any judge of the traffic they're getting, is the cafe across the street. However, the Shady Lane church across the street has sold to someone who is making a house out of it again—looks like that's what it was in the first place. I guess this depressed town suits my mood.

In April: Pepsi machine.

on your mark, get set, float!

OK, we're ready. A freak storm yesterday that brought inches of rain and hell to paying if you were  haying—and a funnel cloud that never touched down—also kept the already full river floatready. Having acquired the correct pump (for a "Boston outlet"—who knew?), Treyton and I are ready for the plunge. As it's meant to be 90s and humid, I think this is the weekend.

from where i sit

Hunkered in my bunker. Rt. 66, not far away

angry birds

The hummingbirds were so annoyed with the state of their feeder that they swarmed me when I filled it, trying to sip from the bottle as I poured. Then they engaged in fights among themselves and with the bees and wasps who were also, apparently, starving.

visitors, wanted and unwanted

Bill and Carla came bearing gifts—organic hamburger, spaghetti squash, mint, cukes. And, as always, Art.
  Sadly "Spring Clean" is composed of the sticky traps I gave Bill (who has a morbid streak) a few months ago. He said he would donate it to me rather than the Met. Having just scored a whole new crop of this "art" in my absence (see earlier post), I can't really think of anything I'd less rather look at. The frame's nice, though. Maybe I'll give the Met a shot at it.

somebody loves baby river

. . .or "Ribba," as he calls her.

roundup

And what more approriate pic could there be than this one taken during Dianne's ATV roundup to move the cows from one field to another.
Anyway. . .
Paula is the lede—and a leader— in an article about the crusade to save the New York Public Library from mass destruction/renovation. Be sure to read her letter in the link.
On a much lighter note, there is a kickstarter campaign for a hammock that is also a hot tub. Don't miss the video narrated by a guy from Block Island who we used to call Lovey Ben.
An exhibition of Philip Jones Griffiths' life work opened at the National Library of Wales, attended by his daughters Fanny Ferrato and Katherine Holden, who founded the collection of their father's work.
In more local news, Denise Vaughn has a St. Louis Post-Dispatch article on the exploration of Devil's Well, an outrageous cave in Missouri.
A wonderful podcast, There are Worse Places to Die with the wonderful Maggie Steber, a photographer known for her work in Haiti, among other places, is available on line.
Another photographer, Lynn Johnson has been much interviewed about her hate crimes project in the wake of the shootings in the South Carolina church.
A nice article about Nancy Andrews, who recently left the Detroit Free Press for a post in academia—and to live together with her wife Annie O'Neill for the first time.
And finally, an article we should probably take to heart from the Harvard Business Review: How to Know if you Talk Too Much. Ouch!

#nofilters

Many people complain that they cannot see their screens as they take phone pix. One of my many photographer friends suggests to her students that they take pictures with their eyes closed. Point being, sometimes serendipity is better than anything you could frame up.
   Take this snap of Dianne's  Caspian mare in her barn. I saw the beautiful animal and the beautiful scene, but I could not see my screen. I blindly snapped away. What resulted is a blown out yet, in my view, beautifully composed picture I probably could not have taken had I got off the ATV, run around to get into position, focussed and framed the shot. Dumb luck. I'll take it.

summer bounty

Maybe a baby tarantula? And a blue-tailed skink. How did it get in? But mostly roly-polies (pill bugs), dirt daubbies (wasps), crickets and beetles. And not a single brown recluse! Either they've learned to avoid the sticky stuff or they are not living here. No dead squirrels behind my bed. 
These are the perils of absentee homeownership in the Ozarks. Different ones in Block Island.

can you hear me now?

Pardon the radio silence. I am at the Goose. Having some communications issues here. .  .
And actually, kind of in general.

meet julia child

Julia Child is the latest and youngest addition to the ragtag collection of strays that certain people (dog people) n the countryside seem to collect. The feed and seed store owner who found her, sad and starving, named her Julia Child because she had always wanted to meet Julia Child. And now—she has!