I found a baby kitten a few days ago trapped in the floor my old derelict hotel. The little guy had somehow found his way into the space between the floor of the old hotel and the ceiling of the grange hall downstairs. I had just arrived for my weekly opening of my rock shop and had gone into the living area of the grange hall to start a fire in the wood burning stove. It was close to zero degrees outside. I could hear a kitten crying for help somewhere. I built the fire then grabbed a flashlight and went searching for the cat. I finally located it in the space between the ceiling of the grange hall and the floor of the hotel It was very cold and the light frightened him and he ran away. I left him where he was and the next morning while cooking breakfast I turned the heat down low so the food wouldn’t burn, grabbed a cooked bratwurst and went back upstairs. I opened the access doorway to the pipes and electrical works under the floor and and it took about 15 to 20 minutes of me meowing, calling “Here kitty, kitty”, patting my leg and waving the sausage into the hole in the floor to convince the kitten to come close enough for me to get my hands on him. He was skin and bones, about half lethargic and one of his hind legs wasn’t working very well. I put him inside my shirt. He immediately started purring and I took him downstairs and fed him. He ate half of a bratwurst all by himself. The first day he stayed inside my shirt. The second day he would venture out to sit on my shoulder but at the smallest little sound he was back inside my shirt. Now it is five days later and his separation anxiety is going away. He is playing around the house and as long as he can come find me occasionally he is happy.
He is an adorable little fuzzy black and white baby, just out of the nest. He still nuzzles and roots around for his mommy’s breast when he feels fuzzy blankets. I have named him Ice Cube after the black musician and the fact that the little guy was nearly frozen (suffering hypothermia) when I finally got ahold of him.
I am taking him everywhere with me. In the car, etc. I want him to be my rock shop cat figure I have to take him in the car all along to get him used to it.
Christmas Gift December 14, 2009
swallows nest August 23, 2009
Earlier this spring I had a family of swallows above the door to my rock shop. About the time those babies were getting ready to learn to fly and leave the nest another young pair of birds started building a new nest right next to the original one.
The second pair were younger and slenderer than the first. I’m assuming they were last summer’s babies. The young couple worked tirelessly for probably a week, maybe more, patiently building the nest out of grass, mud, feathers and even some horse hair. The young mother finally settled onto the nest to lay eggs and incubate them. The expectant father brought her food faithfully several times a day.
Once the babies hatched both parents kept busy feeding the babies. It was cute when one of the parents flew into sight four wide open mouths appeared at the edge of the nest. Mom and dad poked food into the babies faces.
They are finally gone, flew away this past week but were fun to watch while they were there. Even if they did leave droppings on the door step. It’s a small price to pay for the entertainment. I do love to watch them swooping and catching mosquitoes in the evenings.
Check out the natural creativity the parent birds displayed in building this nest. Note the horse hair hanging down. There is a feather caught in it and even the bird droppings that have coated a couple of the horse hair strands. It looks almost like a dream catcher doesn’t it? Wish my creativity was that spontaneous and natural.
King and Queen’s crowns July 5, 2009
I’ve added two more stained glass windows to my rock shop Kounting House located in king Hill, Idaho. The windows represent the king and the queen in the nursery rhyme “Sing a song of sixpence” and contain the king’s crown and the queen’s crown. The blackbirds and the pie they were baked in are on the front double doors to the shop. A picture of them is shown in the December 2008 post. Come by and check them out whenever you are that direction.
Grand Daughter’s Trip April 20, 2009
White House
Viet Nam Memorial
Revolutionary War Historic site.
I was right, the granddaughter was much too busy to email me photos while she was on her trip. However, she did bring her camera to me over the weekend, three weeks after she returned home, so I could download all her photos to my computer and print up copies of the pictures for her. She had nearly 300 snap shots — some good, some not so good. I am now sorting through them and will print up those that are worth making copies of and give her CDs of all them (good and bad included). Here are a few of the sights she saw.
Discovering The Old Is New February 2, 2008
New is a relative term. Just because something is new does not mean it is better. Nor does it mean it was just created. All it means is it was recently discovered by the beholder. That fact was reinforced recently when Hubby and I drove to Arizona for some summer sunshine in the middle of January. We’ve traveled the same route for ten maybe 15 years and although I always look forward to the tee shirt weather I always dread the stretch of freeway that goes through downtown Las Vegas. My husband is diabetic, lost his eyesight a few years ago and no longer drives so I am the official chauffeur in our family.
Locals call the city center’s intersecting freeways “the spaghetti bowl” and no matter what the time of day traffic is always snarled and congested there. Last year construction and confusing directional signs complicated the trip. I missed a connector, ended up on the wrong freeway headed toward the wrong city, got off the freeway, drove about a mile along The Strip, found an on-ramp, got back on the freeway and discovered it was the exact same freeway headed the same wrong direction. I got off again on the exact same exit, drove back along The Strip to the same on-ramp, then drove another block or so to another on-ramp and took it. That time I was on the right freeway headed toward the right destination. By the time we got out the other end of the city my hands were shaking I was so stressed.
I told friends about how I’d taken “the scenic route through the heart of Las Vegas not once but twice” and was advised of an alternate route through the city that everyone but me seemed to know about — a route along Boulder Highway that avoided downtown and the freeway completely. I tried that route this year and actually enjoyed my trek through Sin City.
When my children were little, my daughter came home from a friend’s birthday party once all excited about what she called “the newest fashion in theaters. … It’s a big building and you park your car in the parking lot and walk inside and sit in seats and they show the movie on the wall in front.” She explained. I realized she’d only been to drive-in theaters.
After this year’s pleasant trek through Las Vegas I discovered that it was the original route through the city before the freeway was built. Now I feel like my daughter when she discovered walk-in cinemas. Somehow everyone knew about my shortcut but me. It was the old route but it was new to me.
