Day Hike To King's Canyon

Today we decided to celebrate the last day of the kid's Spring Break with an outing to King's Canyon, which sports a pretty little waterfall, on the outskirts of Carson City.

It's a short hike, only about a half mile each way.  There's a fair bit of rise in elevation to it though, and the trail is steep in spots.

There's some room to park at the trailhead, and judging by the number of cars we weren't the only ones with the idea of a hike today.  But off we went anyway!

There is a nice memorial to three firefighters who died in 1976, people in our area take honoring and caring for the firefighters very seriously as we have serious brush/forest fires around here every year.

A little way up the hill, looking back at the parking area.  I have no doubt that the poor guy who lives in the house on the left is constantly beseiged with people knocking on his door and asking to use the bathroom, the phone, can I get a drink of water, yada yada yada...

Gaining a bit of elevation...

The kid with her trusty walking stick was enjoying herself...

A little further up, looking back again...

The kid channels her inner Muir!

...while her parents cop a squat, rest for a few and enjoy the view.

We get to the top where the cleft and waterfall are and gawk at the pointy, angled rocks on the hill above.

Sadly for me, this is where I am thwarted by the inability to scramble over a small rockfall in order to get to the waterfall.  I have no doubt I would have taken the quick way to the bottom if I'd tried.  Not wanting to end the day at the ER I chose to wait here while J. and the kid explored the waterfall.  It was disappointing, but maybe someday I'll be able to make the climb all the way to the top.

Husband and kid climb the rocks and find the waterfall!  My kid immediately turns into a mountain goat and climbs the rocks.

It's a pretty little thing, from here the water spreads onto the rocky ground to the depth of a few inches, then continues on down the gorge.

The base of the waterfall...

...and where it spreads out before flowing down the gorge, this is looking back at the rockfall I couldn't manage.

People over the years have carved their names into this tree.

The upper part of the waterfall...

We had plenty of company, people taking their kids to enjoy the day.  To everyone's credit, we found absolutely NO trash on our hike.  People are awesome about packing out their trash and the area is pristine.

The kid explores closer...

The moss is inspected...

 ...and pronounced 'slimey and slippery'.

Yup. pretty much.  Anyone who's ever hiked and discovered a waterfall can attest to how treacherous this stuff can be!

After enjoying the waterfall and the view for a while, it was time to head back down.

We'll definitely be back!

Eggs And Onions

So this afternoon I'm getting dinner started, and asked the kid to pass out some kitchen scraps to the chickens as she passed by.  After last weekend's chicken butt trimming I've been keeping a close eye on the fertility of the eggs I've been cracking for cooking--I'd been seeing anywhere from a 50% to a 25% fertility rate.  Today they were three for three, all fertile!  Great job, boys!

So she grabs the little dish with the eggshells and a few other odds and ends in it, and casually asks what I'm doing as she cruises out the back door.

"Getting ready to cut an onion." I tell her.

I get a grunt of acknowledgement in return.  I realize onions aren't all that exciting at the best of times, though.

"We who are about to cry, salute you!"  I call out as the screen door closes, thumping my chest with the handle of the knife.  She actually opens it again just to give me the classic teenage eyeroll and sigh "Really, mom?" before leaving again.

"Hey," I grumble.  "You try and come up with an onion joke on the spur of the moment."

Feathered Foremen, Or, Why My Husband Can't Get Anything Done

When my kid was younger, she LOVED sidewalk chalk.  Like LOVED it, and would color anything that stood still.  The 'Welcome' picture on the front page of my chicken site is thanks to her artwork, here she is just getting it started.

As she worked, Wild Child, our Head Hen at the time, came along to watch.  After all, this appeared to be a project, and all human projects require Immediate Chicken Supervision--which means they have to be right there, on the spot.  It's in their union contract or something.  I'm actually surprised that she was the only one to come over, since roosters are well known to be nosey as old ladies and you can normally count on them to stick their beaks right into your business.

She stood there quite a while, soberly observing like she was southern California's pre-eminent art critic.

 Meanwhile, the chalk was spreading...

...and I think Wild Child realized that hey, SHE was a dark object that might look good with streaks of green, purple and pink...and wisely beat feet outta there before the kid noticed her.

She was a smart old bird and knew when to quit while she was ahead.



The chickens also supervised the rototilling of the back yard years ago.  We figured they'd naturally stay out of the way, since the rototiller was a noisy, scary goddamned thing, and bright red to boot.

Well, pretty quick Bear figured out the the Big Red Thing was SCRATCHING AND DIGGING UP WORMS, and anything that was doing that, was A-OK in her book.  She dutifully got right on my husband's heels to have first dibs on any yummy bugs he dredged up.

Hell, after a while the Big Red AutoChicken became their best buddy.


And after that, I had to put down the camera as they became outright enthusiastic when they figured out that when he tilted the front end up to get the tines to dig in they could SEE Digging Ground Zero, and they wanted to get in front of AutoChicken and stick their heads into the tines.

 
No amount of shooing would dissuade them, I had to get a broom and keep waving it in front of AutoChicken to keep anyone from getting mulched.



Once my husband was helping me out and cutting a hole in a piece of wood for a project I had underway. Suddenly I heard him complaining that Geraldine the tortoise was underfoot, which is what Geraldine did anytime you were out trying to do anything but pay attention to her.

An evil thought occurred.
"Hey,"  I told my three year old daughter, "Go see if dad needs any help."
So she did, gently laying her hand on his arm in sympathy to his Tortoise Situation.

"Dad, do you need any help?"

"No," he sighs, "I'm OK."  While shooting me a 'thanks a lot' look.  Meanwhile, Geraldine isn't going anywhere in any big damned hurry.

I can't stop laughing, because I ain't done with him yet.

"Wait," I tell him.  "Something's missing.  You need more help!"
"CHICK CHICK CHICK CHICK!"
From the back of the yard, out of sight, comes a loud burst of excited cackling and the thud of 42 sets of chicken feet.
*cue a chicken stampede as they all come tearing over, flapping to go faster*

They just keep pouring in from all over the yard, looking ashamed not to have been involved right from the get-go, like they've commited an unforgivable social gaff by not providing Immediate Chicken Supervision before now.  At this point he's leaning his head against the board and looking beaten.  Geraldine is helpfully standing on his foot, just in case he really thought he was going to get anything done without all this nonsense.

I'm laughing so hard I can hardly stand up.
Finally I take pity on him and call the kid back indoors, relocate the tortoise to the back of the yard and scatter some chicken goodies away from the work site.

Arg Fargl...

So the kid has been out back playing in the little bit of snow we got today, and just came in the back door while I was making enchiladas.  I hear her ask from behind me, "Do I have snow on my head?"

I cringe.  I know my child well enough to know that I probably do not want to turn and look. *sigh*  I do anyway.  "Yes, you do.  Go OUTSIDE and brush it off."

She does so, then returns and races down the hall.  "Imgoingrightbackout!" she calls over her shoulder.

Meanwhile I shove the enchiladas into the oven to do their thing.  I glance at the sliding door and outside is Dusty, covered in snow.  "Geez, the dog is covered in snow, too!"

The kid calls out, "That's because she's been rolling in it!"

Oh, swell.  I leave the kitchen and head into the living room.

"I have, too!"  chirps my child.

AUUUGGGHHHHH...  I don't realize that I have actually voiced my anguish aloud until the kid says, "What?"

"Nothing."  I grump.  "I'm sure there isn't an ounce of dirt in your hair."

...so does anyone make industrial-strength shampoo?

Here's Your Morning Activities...

So we're getting all settled in to watch the MAVEN launch this morning...husband on the couch with the NASA feed running, I'm putting the finishing touches on some pumpkin bread before tossing it into the oven.

It's times like these that all Hell seems to break loose, when you are least expecting it.

Three things happen nearly simultaneously.  The brand-new washing machine (I consider any appliance less than 2 years old 'brand-new' and it damned well better WORK with no problems, goddamn it) suddenly starts to gleefully make godawful, LOUD 'BANG BANG BANG' noises.  Jesus, it sounds like 4 maniacs with 25 pound sledgehammers are tearing the roof off the house.  It's the kind of thing that scrambles your brain for a few seconds and makes you run around like a cockroach after the lights have been turned on.  We  both rush to the hallway where the laundry machines crouch in a large closet and fling open the doors.  There is the washer, leaping about, out of balance and clearly trying for a murder-suicide pact with the BRAND NEW water heater sitting innocently next to it.  It couldn't go the other way and aim for the 20 year old, garage sale bargain, battle-scarred dryer, oh no.

Husband whips open the lid of the washer, growling 'Why the Hell didn't this thing stop itself when it went out of balance?!' and as it finally, begrudgingly gives up and stops, plunges his hand into the thing and rearranges the clothes.  Closes the lid and we both stand there, poised to leap at it again as it restarts...peacefully, thank God.

We no sooner walk back and sit down with our coffee to watch the launch, which has 1 1/2 minutes to go, when suddenly the feed blinks out and is replaced by a feed from 'Eagle Cam'.  Coffee cups halfway to lips, we freeze.  WTF?  Husband leaps for the remote and within 15 seconds has it back to the NASA feed...


...which now shows MAVEN computer animation with the launch narrator talking about how many miles downrange the thing is.  I think we've discovered time travel, here.  This is now also the time when Dusty the dog suddenly goes into a positive frenzy of barking--because, you know, someone is riding a horse down the street, which is cause for total canine panic/property defense with extreme prejudice.  Meanwhile husband is roaring four-letter words at NASA, UStream and the universe in general while charging back and forth from the TV to his computer, trying to figure this out.

Clearly we've magically somehow missed the launch.

Luckily all is resolved by screaming 'Shut up, Dusty!' at the dog and waiting for NASA to rerun all the camera angles of the launch, which they always do.

But lord, things happen when you least expect it.  Weird shit, Maynard.

My Mother Has Impeccable Timing

...and has for years.

When my daughter was a baby, I could practically guarantee that the minute I was elbows-deep in a poopy diaper, the phone would ring and it would be mom. My husband and I got to the point where we'd joke about it--until it really, truly started happening all the time. I even told mom about it and asked her to just wait 5 minutes whenever she wanted to call me.

Today was no exception. I'd spent the morning cooking and baking, not doing a whole lot. Later on I went out, intending to resume pickaxing the trench around the small run, and instead discovered that Wiggles, one of our tiny Belgian d'Uccle hens, was covered--and I mean covered-- in blood. Her head, neck, breast, legs and feet. So much so that I couldn't tell where it was coming from, her head or her foot. I did see that she kept scratching her head, though. She'd been fighting with another hen, the little snot.

A quick check revealed no other bloody combatants, so I scooped up Wiggles and headed for the house to take care of her. Meanwhile I'm getting a good coating of chicken blood, too.

As I near the house, I see my kid at the back door, and she cheerily sings out, 'Grandma's here!'

Oh, PERFECT. She has to show up now. My mother already thinks I'm crazy for keeping chickens, and this little episode won't help. Oh, well, into the house I go, telling my confused mother as I sail right by her that I've got a bleeding chicken and will be with her in a minute. Myself, my husband and the kid go into the bathroom to clean up Wiggles and try to play 'Where's All That Damned Blood Coming From?', which takes us a few minutes. Poor mom probably thinks I'm performing a ritual sacrifice in there or preparing that chicken for dinner at this point.

Eventually we get Wiggles fixed up and discover that she was missing her face muff feathers on her left side, which while this gives her a rather lopsided look and she's sporting a raw patch there, isn't serious. So we dry her off and set her down to roam the living room and dry out for a few minutes before she goes back out into the coop.

My mother, meanwhile, is standing there trying to hold a conversation with me while Wiggles twines around her feet asking to be picked up--obviously she felt that mom needed to be wearing gore like everyone else--and my mother politely ignores her and pointedly tries to not stare at my chicken-blood-smeared shirt. All this while the kid is excitedly asking grandma if she'd like to play with the older chicks, and is helpfully on her way to let them out so they can run around the living room like complete psychos. Thankfully I was able to head her off before my life suddenly morphed into some kind of fever-dream version of 'The Egg And I'.

But lord, mom has impeccable timing.

Carson Valley Days!

What a huge difference from slick, regulated, large budget big city parades to those in small towns. I think I prefer the small town variety.

Our parade started off with a walk/jog/run up the parade route and back. Since they had to close the highway for an hour before the parade started anyway in order for traffic to clear, they ran a race.

This lady made everyone grin and got a huge cheer. I love people who are fearlessly silly. To her credit, she ran the entire race.

Even dogs participated!

Then the parade started. The cops had their glamour cars out...

...including their monster truck!

As parents we felt morally obligated to cheer LOUDLY for the school buses, much to our child's disgust. Which only made us laugh all the more. They did a nice serpentine down the street.

The good lookin' cowboy banner carriers got loud fangirl shrieks from the crowd around us.

Although the float for the swim center had NOTHING whatsoever to do with swimming and received well-meant but confused applause.

By the way, a 'float' around here consists of the following elements: Your buddy Jim's pickup, the neighbor farm's flatbed hay trailer, your kids and their friends, and the kid's cobbled together costumes and construction paper decorations. Plus maybe some of mom's gingham tableclothes. Hardly anything store-bought, just lots of creativity, group effort and imagination. Plus as they proceed, friends and family members along the route yell out hello's, family members run out and hug participants, friends walk along with the truck driver and have conversations...

It's awesome.

The local roller derby girls raided their closets for the weirdest stuff they could find and skated along with huge buckets of candy for the kids.

These girls were good. They'd get up a bunch of speed, then go down on one knee and quickly slide to a stop RIGHT in front of the kid they'd picked out, hand outstretched with candy at the ready. The kids were awestruck. Nothing but style.

Also, they were recruiting and I had to sternly remind myself about the state of my knees and left ankle, cause OMG I'd love to do this.

The local gymnastics studio was a hit with their trampoline-on-a-truck. Lots of the floats were an insurance company's nightmare. The guy in the sumo outfit was great, the guy perched on the sign over him took over right after this.

The local public health office float was one of the nurses' cars with posters from the clinic taped to it, including the one with the BIG SCARY NEEDLE made of a cardboard gift wrap tube. Don't ask me who thought that having a poster with a big, scary needle hung in a clinic thought it might be a great idea.

The guy with the WWII era motorcyle was cool with this little one, who ran out with his aunt and STOPPED him so he could touch the bike.

His mom was sitting next to us, she nonchalantly said, 'Yeah, he loves motorcycles...'

The guy swung around for a better picture later on.

One of the local off-road clubs, with the judge's stand in the background.

The judge's stand, by the way, was another flatbed hay truck with a few chairs and what seemed to be a few people of all ages rounded up at random to serve as judges. We watched them setting up the two canopies, they were too wide for the trailer so the each of the poles at the rear are supported by two chairs borrowed from the local casino, stacked on top of each other. Like I said, insurance company nightmare. It mostly worked and only one of them started to slip off near the end of the parade. Everyone just ducked down and ignored it in a hilariously 'Meh' way.

Vintage tractors!

Another homemade float.

..except I'll bet 'even' the tractor could spell better.

Tiny and cute!

Bigger and NOISY. Oh my God, was it ever loud. The round thing on the side was a spinning flywheel of death, just begging for you to stick yur hand in there so it could eat it.

*juvenile giggle*

The local theater company had a trailer set with a saloon scene, with a full-blown bar fight going on. No safety gear of any kind, fall off the trailer and everyone'd just laugh at you and help you back up.

But let's talk about the greatest thing on this float...

CACTUS GUY.

Cactus Guy's costume was an old cardboard box covered in a single layer of green bubble wrap with TOOTHPICKS STUCK IN FOR SPINES. Disney, I've seen your expensive parade costumes, are you paying attention?

The resident steampunk group's vehicle was powered by biofuel.

I'm thinking this thing sees time out on the playa at Black Rock every year for Burning Man. The thing on the back was a HUGE water cannon that had more than enough range to reach everyone.

Cool old fire truck. This one is mostly covered under a tarp during the year, they broke it out for the parade, though.

The democrat's float. Mostly polite silence from the crowd with a few, 'Aw, poor misguided souls' sighs. They smiled in a disheartened way and waved their flags, but had clearly forgotten the candy to toss out. We felt bad and cheered for them, which got a big grin out of the driver.

The republican's float, complete with obligatory Reagan poster and a COVERED trailer. This float got the biggest roar from the crowd all day, which was a bit creepy. They'd roped in the Boy Scouts to hand out candy.

The Red Hats. The horse and wagon are the same one we rode at the local ranch that does the fall festival every year. Horse sporting nifty hat, as is the supportive husband on the bike bringing up the rear.

Sadly right about then my camera battery died, I missed the last 1/4 of the parade. Next year we may participate and load the Jeep with chickens and stick a 'Jack's Henhouse' banner on it and make people wonder what the Hell we are on about.

It's tempting...