The Fun is Done

Over the past month I constructed the trellis of Spanish cedar and teak accents. I had periods of long days, short work days, and days away until it was completed. I delivered it early and the trellis was decorated by my sister for a relative’s wedding. Yesterday I went back and removed the wedding decor to take photos of the finished work.

I’m guessing I had about 120 hours of work into this piece, but it could be a lot more. I need to pick-up a log book to get an accurate work hour compilation on upcoming projects. For this trellis, the hours involved didn’t matter–it was a present for family. The photos on this posting show the work I did–I enjoyed it and I like how it looks. The fun is done. I have more pressing projects around the home to do for now before I can go play with wood again.

©2009 Stumpar Scribbles

 

Money Trellis

 

 

Sun in progress

I have been busy on my latest wood project for a couple to be wed early October. They are family–I am happy for them and look forward to a fun celebration. Knowing I have little money to spare they asked that I make them a trellis to be used during the ceremony then for their yard outdoors. This will be their wedding present. It took me some time before I saved the money to buy the wood, and I was getting very anxious to get started on the project. J. ended up rescuing me with her money. It’s a wonderful gift from my sweet loving woman for me and for the bride and groom!  The wood I selected is Spanish cedar, for it should last outdoors for years. It wasn’t a cheap buy.

Cat with branches

As soon as I had the wood I was rattling final designs in my head to finish my vision for the piece and soon got to work. I made good progress to create basic frames of the two sides. I chose to carve out rectangular holes to receive the horizontal braces for better strength. I’m using polyurethane glue; that should keep out moisture and keep pieces in place over time (I hope). I quickly got to the artsy stuff I wanted to do and found I needed my ailing band saw.

I have an old Sears’ band saw; a very common model. What I need to fix it is a new pulley. When I went on Sears web site to order the part I found I could not buy it without buying a service guy to come and install it. Boo, shame on Sears. For the price I would pay to buy the pulley and required installation, I figured I could buy another used band saw of the same model. I was right. I found one on Craig’s list, paid $100 bucks and I was up and running with my old one as a spare band saw in the garage (more ‘junk’ out there–just what we need).

Heron Drawn

Anyhow, with the band saw back in my arsenal I have been a busy wood-chucker, creating a unique trellis with a heron, cat, cattails and branches instead of the boring old lattice stuff everyone uses. I have much more to go: a hummingbird sipping from a flower; the sun and moon are yet to be carved and mounted; more branches and all the cattails have to be done and glued on; teak plugs and designs are to be inlaid on the front posts where the screws are, etc.

Heron and plants

I have photos attached of my work in progress. I’ve needed to purchase other things to progress with this trellis, such as a 3/8″ plug cutter and more glue. So this ‘inexpensive’ gift is, in reality, over half a grand in expenses for me and J–and the time I will have spent on it over this month would be quite a bill if I were paid hourly. I hope they like it and I really hope it lasts–’cause for that kinda money I could have got lots of cool store-bought gifts for them. Who needs a money tree when they have a money trellis?

©2009 Stumpar Scribbles

 

Ma Cherie

J. has raised Maine Coon cats for years so we see many kittens grow and go. She selects kittens to keep once in awhile to try improving her beautiful cat breed. She retired a breeding male and kept a male and female kitten he sired: Machiavelli and Ma Cherie. Mac has grown big; a fine, heavy, laid-back personality that pet owners love in Maine Coons. Cherie is smaller, but has gained weight while maturing. Both have more growing yet.

Mac has a place downstairs with the breeding males–he learned quickly that he was a full male so we had to sequester him from the females he constantly tried to mate as a youngster. Cherie is a gentle soul; not as strong in personality as other intact females so she tends to run from stronger females now and then. But she has a very special character: she bonded with me.

Cherie as a Kitten

I have owned cats as pets most of my life. Most were typical cats who want attention only when they want it; some were very people-friendly and hung around wanting my lap and to be patted. Cherie’s affection goes beyond all I’ve experienced. She always wants me around, looks for me if I’m in the other room and squeaks a delicate, desperate-sounding cry for me if I’m behind a closed door. She runs up from another room and squeaks at my feet for me to pick her up.

Cherie lives for me. In my arms she is content, safe. She rubs against my face and looks up with fulfilled eyes. I hold my arms crossed like a Genie and she lays there purring and watching the surroundings as I walk about the house. She’ll act stronger if she is on my lap on the couch in order to keep other kitties from invading her cherished space on my body. She will sleep on me: under my chin or atop my head in bed. Her fur is silky soft and the warmth on my neck is like a soothing bedtime massage. I absolutely adore her as she does me.

Cherie grown

This bond with Cherie is very rare. Who knows what she thinks, but I am grateful to be her daddy. At this moment I am in the office with the door closed; Goofy-toof is behind me on the floor and my dear little kitty Cherie is calling for me outside the door. I often call her Queaky because her call is so squeak-like. She’s my baby, and no father could be more doting.

©2009 Stumpar Scribbles

 

Fleet

A moment, a day, eternity: Something is ticking away somewhere beside me, off in the other room, all around; and echoing loudest from inside me. It is fleeting–beyond reach yet here in my grasp as easily molded as soft moist sand on the beach of  life. It is a simple thing, time. It holds no profound key to unlock, no given journey to undertake. Time is perceived; felt, but not with any of my given senses. It is an erosion process for life; entropy of my aging persona, and unstoppable by any given tool or technology I will ever possess.

Time has given me everything I have come to be and ever was. All my joy, all my pain, every waking and sleeping snippet of living is wrapped tightly within its ruling force. To me time is like a god. It cannot be controlled, it has no mass or visual presence yet omnipotently controls my universe. Time holds my known future no matter what I do to change or evolve. My death will be delivered by it. Today is new for me; not so for time. It is futile to pray to it, for it. I must live under its canopy and accept what comes or what does not occur. So, here I am a blip on an unfathomable sequence stretching backward and forward beyond all knowledge.

As I grow older time seems to speed up. What used to be long, playful summers as a child are short cycles ending before the season’s chores are done. Birthdays are gone by as small, unimportant days compared to kid days filled with balloons and gifts that seemed to expand my happiness with some sort of magic bestowed by the giver. I am content with time ever more each day. Strange as it is, I am more comfortable watching time fleet by now without worrying about leaving behind some great mark of myself before I die. Living is much more enjoyable when taken as an ever-evolving growth experience rather than a race to complete something to prove. I have  no agenda to push forth. Perhaps I should be concerned, but why? Is this not enough? Go ahead–fleet by; I am here and glad to be so.

©2009 Stumpar Scribbles

 

Tonight is for the Tiny

Tonight is humid (for northern New England) but cooling to a comfortable temperature for lounging outdoors if you have a mind to. J. and I took Goofy Toof with us tonight on the drive for an after dinner ice cream. After our snack we swung by the local supermarket to buy fresh produce to make fruit salads for our hot days. The salad will be good for our trip tomorrow to get a new kitten we’ll raise and to drop off one of our breeding females for another Maine Coon breeder.

When we returned home tonight the outside light was buzzing with flying night visitors. Moths, beetles and countless other bugs I can’t identify were flitting off the bulb, landing on the vinyl siding and clinging to the screen door. A great dance of life was in a frenzy because of those two incandescent bulbs. I wonder sometimes about such insects with their short life-cycles, fluttering through the dangerous night skies full of flying predators, doing whatever their programed minds tell them must be done. I sometimes feel sad for them as I do all the range of natural fauna and flora so easily affected by us humans. I reflect how small a man I am on this great orb of ours, and how little I feel I can help the fate of the planet’s vast variety of species. I always hope deep inside that we will succeed in finding a perfect balance as we progress in our knowledge of life. Please, let it be.

Our visiting toad

I feel for those tiny unlucky bugs that bounce off the door and land on the front deck that are caught by night stalkers like the plump toad I see out there frequently. A few days ago I took the camera and photographed that fat little hard-beaked face. As you see in the photo, that toad is healthy–good for her!

I wonder if you, kind blog reader, ponder as I about how many small critters are obliterated by our car windshields, lawn machines, etc. without us knowing or thinking of them. Do you feel for the little ones? Do you try to avoid the frogs and toads that are suddenly illuminated by your car headlights as they sit and hunt atop the warm tarmac on cooling nights? Do you avoid tromping on a night crawler on your footpath? Have you instinctively swatted something that landed on you to find it was a pretty, little harmless thing instead of a mosquito or other pest and paused in regret for the loss?

I am thankful to live at this time of history where I can still see a rich abundance of life in my quiet country area. My heart will never tire of the excitement felt when I spy some interesting sign of life; whether it be a bright green moss, a majestic growing buck or a happy fat brown and white milk cow afield. The cliché is fitting: celebrate life. Tonight I celebrate the small ones I saw buzzing through humid skies.

 ©2009 Stumpar Scribbles 

 

Goofy-Toof

Goofy_Toof

My dearest doggy Deebs passed away some time ago after a long battle with cancer. I haven’t mentioned him on my blog nor written about him since–it was a heartbreak as all our beloved animals’ passings are. When I met J., she already had two dogs along with all the cats she raises. Her pug, Ely, is old and blind and not my favorite dog by far. Viggo, her German Shepherd, is my new boy.

Viggo is insecure; he doesn’t quite know what his station in life is. He wants to be reassured all the time, never wants to be left alone, and really tries to be a good kid. Since he is so insecure, he can be destructive when he’s left on his own. J. and I are slowly working with him to give him direction and I know he’ll be the best doggy ever.

I nicknamed him goofy-toof when I saw his long top teeth jutting out from under his lips. The name fits him well. He loves to play with water when you spray from a hose; he lives to play Frisbee, to jump as high as he can. He joins us when we shovel snow, catching the tosses in his open jaws and grumbling like he’s just crushed his prey. He bursts into full-bore runs with his adolescent pup energy when I play ’stomp’ with him outside on the lawn.

All told, he is a joy that heals my hurt for dear old Deebs. Goofy-toof has many adventures to share with J. and I as we grow together. He is another of the many experiences that fulfill me in life with my sweet woman, J. We are both proud parents of Toofy.

©2009 Stumpar Scribbles

 

Victorian Cats

Here in our quiet country home we raise Maine Coon cats, full of love and full of curiosity as only Maine Coons can possess. They become very closely bonded to us and to each other as they mature. They know every space a cat can peer into; they roam the nooks, bound up and down cat trees and  find everything loose and light enough to bat around rather than play with their expensive array of store-bought toys. They find all the sweet spots to leap up to new high perches where other kitties may not yet be able to climb, then gloat at their furry friends and family below while J. and I worry about the safety of these grand cats and our belongings.

Bless them all, but there is nothing more tempting for a kitty than something new in their familiar world. These Coons thirst for excitement so when we decided to redo a few tired rooms the cats were ready for change. J. wanted a sitting room; an elegant, Victorian-stuffy furniture and decor type of space in which we could welcome our Maine Coon-loving guests. She found a pristine set that fit her vision perfectly. We brought it home once we repainted the space and after I had refinished the old pine floor on which the furniture could proudly sit. The room was beginning to shape up and J. was elated with her charming set of antique Mahogany pieces.

I woke a morning just after we placed the furniture to find a tea-party of kitties lounging all over the new sitting room. As in an old Victorian setting, the cats were hobnobbing and posing ever-so-primly in our newly designed room as if it had been there for centuries. Delphine, the smallest kitty, chose the most grand chair; she was plumped down regally surveying those below her. Rina, the Maine Cooniest-Coon in the house, selected the queen’s chair. Big Blueberry parked his bulk on the rug under Delphine’s seat and played pat-a-paw with little teddy: the blues brothers. Pretty Misty lay under the light marble-top table, her own mixture of whites and silver out-shining the table’s slab of Italian stone.

I took some photos of them and laughed to myself. It didn’t take long for the cats to become accustomed to the change. Maine Coons (as I) are far from the elegance Victorian decor represents. They are goofy, clumsy and far too inquisitive for the proper behavior expected of a true Victorian. I wouldn’t change them one bit.

©2009 Stumpar Scribbles

 

A Skydive

I have always been somewhat of an adventurer; not too crazy-daring but willing to try many things other people might not. As with many of us in life, I have been limited by free time, financial status, life-partners, opportune timing and so forth.

This year (in my mid-forties) I got a birthday present that allowed me to participate in one of those adventures I may never have paid to do myself: skydiving. Mom coughed-up the funds and I was surprised not only by the gift, but that my sister would be joining me. After talking with J., I found she wanted to skydive as well and she paid so she could come along on the plunge.

The day arrived and we were to be at the facility for diving early morning. Lots of family and a friend came to watch us. We went through a brief skydiving training, signed a wad of releases and learned about the tandem jump we were about to enjoy. Then the wait began.

Our skies were threatening showers that day, so we were on standby until a proper cloud clearance occurred. We didn’t get off the ground in the plane until late afternoon. All three of us had purchased a video package and we were filmed and photographed through our skydive–well worth the extra money. The plane ascended as did our excitement level until we reached the 14,000 – plus feet for jumping.

Just out

I had not been nervous until we got close to jumping out and then I was but mildly nervous. I got tenser swaying in the doorway of the plane; attached to a stranger I was relying upon to bring me safely back to earth. I would rather have been in control myself, but I was not qualified to jump alone.

The plunge out the door was the scary part–my heart was beating fast but quickly settled as we free-fell through the sky. I was surprised how easy it is to free-fall; not like a plunge on a roller-coaster, not scary. We flew through clouds, my jumper pulled the cord, deployed the parachute and we drifted down slowly. I got to steer us, enjoyed the beautiful sight below us and wished the adventure would not end.

Flying

We hit the ground rather rough but painlessly and the realization soon hit that my adventure was done. I got to see J. come in and land with her jumper, but my sister had gone before me. We thanked our jumpers, did a wrap-up for the videos and got the DVDs of our adventure before we left the facility.

My sister has gone on to become certified–she like it that much. J. and I agreed that it was fun but once you’ve done a jump it isn’t that exciting to repeat; certainly not for the money it costs. I’d do it again if I had the money to dispose of, but for now I am fulfilled with another life experience I have been fortunate to have enjoyed with those dear to me.

©2009 Stumpar Scribbles

 

The Cape Crusaders

J and I recently took a few days for relaxation at Cape Cod, MA. She had relatives we stayed with and we lucked into great weather (for a change) while there. J’s family members there were a fun lot and we shared quite a few laughs–good for the soul. They had many toys for the water and we played in the warm Atlantic waters a few times. We had a kayak trip, a swim or two, and I blubbed around on a boogie board while J caught up on news and gossip with her sister beachside.

I had no idea cherrystone clams could be dug there, nor that horseshoe crabs were present. There were no periwinkles as I was familiar with from the colder Atlantic shores I grew up around; instead, there were other similar shelled critters to discover. Even the seaweed was a bit different. Such is the southern influence on that side of the Cape’s horn.

J and I were moved by the perfect hydrangeas that bloomed all ’round in such deep, beautiful blues. I almost disbelieved what flowers I saw c0uld be real. At the end of our stay I took my leave with camera in hand and sought flowers and interesting things to photograph. I was not disappointed in my search–no wonder there are so many artists living there.

Too soon it was time to take the long auto trip back to our home. That time passed so fast is the best measure of the joy we shared at Cape Cod. We will return.

©2009 Stumpar Scribbles

 

Many Happy Returns

This morning I took a few moments to revive the plants thirsting for their life-blood: water. J and I were gone this weekend and the sun beat down the greenery over a few days till flowers withered and thinned, waiting for a reprieve. I hope my hand and garden hose has brought back the beauty that I adore so much in those plants.

Now I must be off to return a borrowed car and visit with mom. Catch-up chores are always a must after a trip. I have lots to do and now I have restored public access to my writing on this blog too. My blog is more of a joy than a chore though. I’m not sure I will write as often as I used to, but I have stories to tell and I hope you out there will take some time to read and comment as you please.  Cheers.

©2009 Stumpar Scribbles