kitchen window ...

  Tho not quite the view as my Wisconsin kitchen window had, this one still offers promise.  My bird feeders are best viewed out the kitchen door window, but I may add some squirrel feeders here in the side yard at some point.  I'm already planning and plotting for hostas and other shade-loving plants in the spring.  My cherished lillies-of-the-valley, however, will be planted where I can see them from the kitchen door while I'm watching birds and adding to my eBird count.

   I broke down and bought myself a tiny European Cypress Christmas tree and found an origami tutorial on YouTube to make a star for the top.  My overachiever paperwhite is blooming.  I've wanted to force paperwhites for ages and finally found some.  When this season is over, I'll save them for next year and find a proper glass vase for them.  Ditto the Amaryllis.  My jade plants are slowly recovering from the freezing drive down, but the jury is still out on my Hens & Chicks.  

... all is calm ...

    A co-worker recently asked me how my dog liked the new house and state, and it occurred to me that there has been a significant change in Charlie since we arrived.  A reflection, I was told by a friend, of the change in me also.

    In Wisconsin, he barked constantly.  At every sound, every car door slam, every dog bark, every shadow of someone walking past the house.  He was constantly on edge and defensive.  Which when I thought about it, made sense.  He never knew who [or rather what] would be coming through the door.  An angry man, a drunk man, a high on meth man.  He never knew if someone would slam in the back door, the front door, break a window, rip out a screen and come in a window.  He never knew if the man would be alone or with other drunks, and high, angry men.  If they would play loud, electric guitars all hours of the night with amps that popped and terrified him.

    Here, he has rarely barked, and even the few times when a stranger was at the door or in the house to make repairs, he was quickly forgiving and welcoming.  He is relaxed.  Peaceful, and sometimes I catch him just sitting calmly on the back patio, enjoying a spot in the sun, watching the world go by.

    There is a dog one lot over that barks constantly.  Charlie could care less.  Cars come and go on the street, much closer than they did in Wisconsin.  People get in and out.  Charlie could care less.  Although he does still hate the UPS driver.

     When we go for rides around the area, he has a sense of curiosity about him, rather than apprehension.

     The birds here seem to be a little unsure about my intentions with feeding them.  I've had feeders out for the past two weeks and they still appear to be full.  I finally put some food in a tray on the patio table to see if they just didn't like what I was offering.

    I think it is just that there is an abundance of 'wild' food available.  I haven't seen any chickadees, but tufted titmice are the local comedians.  There are three of them that I've seen at one time, and they sneak down to the tray like they are little thieves, grab a sunflower seed and dash off like they are afraid of getting caught.

    The cardinals, however, just settle in and eat their fill, completely ignoring the other birds.

    Carolina wrens are really the only ones I've seen at the feeders, and they are pretty happy with not having any competition.  I'm hoping that I will see more birds in the spring and that I can finally identify the trees in the back yard.  It is a toss-up between green ash or dogwood.

St. Nick's Day ...

Image Source: Pinterest

 

 One of my favorite childhood memories was of waking up the morning of December 6th to see whether or not I got candy or coal in my shoes.

  As an adult without children, I would try to evoke those memories again with (ex)-husbands.  New slippers.  Annual tree ornaments.  Fishing lures.  Guitar picks & strings.

  This year, I unpacked a little.  Decorated a little.  Got happy a lot.

  The tree topper angel on the wall is holding a place for what will be a wall tree with no-damage Scotch hooks.  The TV table is doubling as a fireplace mantle for my stocking.

  My futon arrived a week early, Charlie approved.  I still need to get a rug and after doing some rearranging, I realized that there will be room for a bar height dining table and four bar chairs.

  The office is slowly coming together.  The wall to the right, across from my desk, is my "goals" wall, which is currently featuring photos and mementos of places I've been.  My goal is to travel again.

  Behind where I sit are photos and "encouragers."  Words of wisdom that will be seen in the BigBossCam that watches me while I work.  I'm still hopeful for a supervisor slot.  

  Here's to holidays filled with happiness, growth, and new beginnings.

Lost on mountain roads...

  Charlie and I decided that today would be a good day to continue exploring our new home, and on a whim after dropping mail off at the post office, I decided to go see the White Sulphur Springs National Fish Hatchery since a sign across from the post office said it was only four miles away.

  When committing to a narrow, winding mountain road with hairpin turns, one-lane bridges, and tunnels you must be sure to have a full tank of gas and not a full bladder of coffee.  There are usually no gas stations on the road, no restrooms, and not many areas wide enough to make a U-turn.

  A quarter tank of gas into the drive, when it felt like the coffee was backing up into my kidney, I backed the truck up onto a 90-degree angle dirt driveway and reversed our route. 

  We stopped briefly at Tuckahoe Lake (hoping for some privacy for a lakeside bladder break, which was not to be).  We never did find the fish hatchery, even though there was another sign pointing towards it along the road.

  Once home, Google Maps showed that the initial sign I saw for the fish hatchery was facing the wrong way, and if I had turned left instead of going straight, it would indeed have been just four miles from the post office.

  Instead, we went 38 miles into Virginia and very nearly into North Carolina.    Note to self:  GPSs are only as good as the idiot drivers that use them.