to be outside the fence and off-leash. The Girl's idea.
Training Clover
the dog
Washing Off the Pollen
Sunday in the Park
Clover
Always ready to play.
Saturday Morning
Getting the dog’s energy out…
Neighbors’ Signs and Our Swings
We went for our typical walk this evening -- a route that wanders primarily through the neighborhood on the other side of the main-ish street off of which several neighborhoods spiral. As we walked by a house, a man came up to us saying that he'd been meaning to meet us several times he's seen us go by. It seems he's quite the border collie fan and has noticed our cute pup as we walk by. We got to talking and talk turned to corona. He pointed to a sign in his yard -- not quite like the sign at right but the same general idea -- and said, "I guess it's obvious where I stand."
I glanced over at the sign in his neighbor's yard. I found myself wondering how they get along. I know for a fact that my views are more liberal than our neighbors' views, but I tend not to talk about politics with them. When the topic does come up, I might make a non-committal comment every now and then, but by and large, I keep my views to myself.
It's not that I think they'll be angered that I have different views than they hold. It's not that I fear damaging the relationship we have (though I wonder if they might not think less of me were they to know what I think of our president). I just don't see the point in adding politics into a relationship like that.
It reminds me of Frost's line, "Good fences make good neighbors," and while I don't necessarily agree with the sentiment, I would say good fences make great backyards. As do swings, hammocks, trampolines, dogs, and tennis balls.
Working with the Dog
Aggressive Visitor
We had a raccoon visiting our property this afternoon. It was on the other side of the fence, but still technically on our property, and though Clover had no idea that that was the case, and though she is as much a guard dog as I am a potted plant, she raced down to the fence and confronted the raccoon.
The dog barked; the raccoon backed away, turning eventually and trotting along the creek upstream, toward the area where the Boy and I always explore. Suddenly, though, it turned back and came charging. It ran right up to the fence and began pushing against the fence, snarling and growling. Clover ran back to the raccoon, and soon they were running back and forth, the fence between them, Clover thinking it was a game, the raccoon furiously expressing its lack of amusement.
The raccoon became more and more aggressive, and I began wondering if there wasn’t something more going on. I decided it was time to un-welcome the little beast, so I took a great rock and heaved it toward the raccoon’s general vicinity. I didn’t want to hit it; just come close enough to frighten it.
It seemed to work: the raccoon darted into the stream and trotted away, but I know it will come back, and I worry about what might happen if it climbs the fence.
A Fire
Day 70: Flood
It started raining around two this afternoon, first sporadic rain with fat, lazy drops, then steady rain, then torrential rain.
In the past, such rain worried me because of flooding in our basement. With the leak in our roof, I now have different concerns. As the storm grew and the wind blew harder, I wonder whether or not I'd secured the two tarps protecting our roof well enough to keep them in place with such a storm. There was really nothing I could do about it at the time, of course: it would not have been remotely safe to head onto the roof in a storm to put down additional weight to keep the tarps from flying off.
In the end, my worries were for nothing: the tarps stayed in place; the sump basin didn't even have much water in it, so the basement wasn't even close to being threatened.
Yet we still had a lake in our backyard: the creek didn't crest but we had essentially one big puddle in the lowest part of our yard, so after we finished playing a game ("Ticket to Ride" -- I never play to win; I play to block other players -- you can't lose if you're not trying to win!), E and I struck out to see what was going on in the neighborhood.
We weren't prepared for what we found:
To begin with, there is a house basically in a hole that has an enormous backyard -- I thought it was a park when we first moved here.
The road that goes by it was closed because their yard, which is in reality just a drainage basin for the surrounding community, was completely flooded.
Completely.
So much so that the culvert under the road was completely submerged, creating a whirlpool as the water tried to drain.
We stood in the road looking at the whirlpool, right at the edge of the water. We're past the time of E asking questions like, "Daddy, what would happen if I fell in that water?" He knows. He likes to show he knows. "Boy, Daddy, if I fell in that..." and his voice trailed off for effect.
It gave me a little shudder, the shudder of a parent having nightmarish visions of the worst possible outcome. Once such thoughts enter my mind, it's hard to shake them. The Boy seemed to realize that. "Come on, Daddy, let's go back to the other side.
All that water -- undoubtedly the worst flooding we've seen there. It was still nothing compared to what we saw later, downstream. We walk by here almost every night -- it's K's favorite walk.
The creek that was forming the whirlpool earlier joins with another creek at this point, and the two completely covered the flat land around it.
We headed back home, still having fun on the way.
In the evening, we went for a walk to show the girls what it looked like. Of course, most of the water had subsided, but there was still enough to be impressive, and just enough to enjoy safely.
