Scorching!

I think we topped out at 110 yesterday! This heat is just not healthy for man, beast or plants. All our plantings are drooping, no matter how much we water, and several have died.

At 7:30 AM, it's already in the 90's. Scottie's out working on the drive "before it gets hot". Ha, I say, Ha,ha.

We are going to be getting the driveway fixed soon, but it had gotten so bad we could barely get up it in my little car, so The Man has elected to do some hand work as yet another temporary fix. I'm staying in the a.c.


This cutie-pie is a scrub jay. Not as bright as the standard blue jay I grew up with in the Mid-West, and way less exotic looking than the Stellar's Jay I got to know in New Mexico. Lots of folks consider them pests, but I like them (yes, of course I do). See the little patch of gray on his back? Color is scrubbed out there, making it easy to remember scrub jay. That's not what they are named for, they hang out in scrub brush, but it's a good memory trick.


You can see one of the water flumes in this picture. Those were built decades ago and run for miles and miles. I simply can't imagine how tough the men and women who populated this area had to be! We drove up to Mineral King on the 4th. 25 miles and 90 minutes. Very winding and steep. And that road was built back in the days of mining by mules way before all the heavy equipment we now have.

I love the topography here! Maybe it's my mid-western upbringing. The hills we thought were big would not qualify as foothills here. I find such majesty in the mountains.


These are are few of our own big oaks, for whom the name "Sheltering Oaks" was chosen. The lot next to us has grasses that show the condition of the hills right now in any area not cut, plus you can see a close up in the photo of Mr. Jay. We are a wildfire waiting to happen! In our case, the small brush has been cleared from beneath trees, and because we are new construction, there is really nothing flamable near the house, but with the local winds (down canyon in the morning, up canyon in the evening) it would be near impossible to protect structures in the event of a big fire.


I look around and wonder how I got here. I think I have a bit of gypsy blood. It's funny how some of my old high school friends (and some of my family) get a bit away from "home" and can't wait to get back. I get out there and want to go further, see more, learn more, do more. So, here I am. Illinois to Mississippi, back to Illinois, to San Diego, to New Mexico and now to Three Rivers, CA. And, within those several smaller moves - farm to Peoria, to Brimfield, top of the mountain in NM to the Ranch, etc. I met a gal once who, when I asked here where "home" was replied, "an airplane seat." I'm not quite that extreme, but I do get itchy and start to feel stagnant. But, I'm hoping, not promising just hoping, that this is IT. If I'm to move again it will require major downsizing. This hauling crap from one home to the next is exhausting! I'll need to be like Mr. Turtle, moving slowly and carrying my home on my back.