Deer Crossing

The deer adore Casa de Pajaro and spend their days eating the green grass, nibling on fallen fruit and lounging in the shade of the ancient trees. They are still afraid of people, but less leary of me when I am alone. The doe will come between me and her babies, but she won't run unless I am moving toward her. Right now they are in my driveway, eating around the tulip tree and unnaturally close. I talk to her whenever I see her in hopes that she will not fear me, but its probably not a good idea. I shouldn't worry though, as the doe appears wiser than me.

First Kiss

he watches her face
studies the line
gazes into her eyes
caresses her lips

she breathes in his kiss
feels the warmth
sways with his body
safe in his arms

the embrace is close
the kiss unacquainted
yet easy, natural
hands clasped enchanted

he moans moving closer
sensual and alluring
she explores his mouth
yet knows they must part

he starts for the door
stopping to kiss again
stirring feelings
reluctantly fingertips unjoin

Laura

Please Excuse Laura . . .

I have not been posting to this blog because I am dating. That is so lame. I cannot even sell myself on this excuse, but the truth is that I am dating and it does take some time.

I can already hear the questions, "what do you mean you're dating?" Okay, I will explain.

Last year my cousins Wendy and Teresa convinced me to try an online dating service. So I joined Match.com. I went on about nine or ten dates in the course of two months. There was only one guy I would have wanted to see again, and he clearly was not interested in me. He was courteous, but when he walked me to the my car I felt like threw me in the car and couldn't get away quick enough. (Was it that bad?) The most discouraging part of the whole process was having a blind date with someone I would never talk to in a bar - never - and proving to myself that I was right about who I am attracted to and who attracts me.

So, I got discouraged and quit looking at the site and answering the online winks. I got busy with the holidays and really didn't think about dating until after the new year, but then Mom called and said she was selling the house, yes this house, Casa de Pajaro, and my world went into a tail spin until I figured out how to buy this house and move from San Diego. When I was preparing to move, I did an online search of the Oroville area on Match.ocm to see who was online and if there was anyone interesting. I didn't find anyone in particular, but after my search one person wrote to me. Since we lived more that 500 miles apart, we wrote to one another, but did not immediately meet. We had a good rapport, but I was not sure about the guy as he was nine years older than me, making him an old guy, and he seemed way too conservative, which is not a good match.

So, when I arrived in Oroville, we met. He looked better in person than he had in his pictures, and I was at first encouraged. We went to see a comedy show and had time for much conversation. There I learned that all of my suspicions were right about him. He was way too conservative politically and otherwise. I felt like I was with my dad. On the flip side, he didn't like me any better. How do I know this? Well, he didn't call me back.

Within days I had a date with another fellow. A guy from Paradise. While not particularly attractive, I kept telling myself that I should keep an open mind and remember that I am no longer the as beautiful as I was at 20. When we met, again, I was surprised that he looked better in person. I think a lot of people are not very photogenic. And, he was very liberal - and this encouraged me. We had a great conversation and a really long date, but I am not sure about the physical connection. We hugged to say goodbye and it was a bit awkward, but I think that is often natural on a first date.

He told me right then and there at my car that he liked me and wanted to see me again. The next day he called and we had a long conversation that was again very easy. We were trying to set up a second date, he was getting ready to go out of town on business and I was getting ready for the family reunion. We talked daily until he went out of town at which time he said to me that it would be easier for him to call me while he was gone. He never did. Oh, after awhile, I wrote an email to him asking him what happened, but he never replied.

Now when you've only gone on one date and had a few conversations, it is very hard to feel hurt when you get dumped, but I just can't get over the fact that there is no communication. I don't understand why he didn't write to me and say something like "nice knowing you, but . . ." or "sorry, you are not my type" or "I met someone". It seems like the courteous thing to do, but rarely does anyone take the time in the online world.

I went out with another guy, who from his profile seemed most perfect. Loved coffee houses, books, cooking and he even loved to shop. Can you imagine a man who loves to shop. And, he looked very handsome in his picture. We wrote a few emails, then talked on the phone. Conversation was very easy and effortless. I was encouraged to say the least. I asked him to meet me for coffee. I thought he was suggest some great little coffee house, but no. We met a Starbucks, which is alright, but disappointing nonetheless. I saw him in the parking lot in an older model BMW and I cringed a bit. It was not the car itself, just the whole image. I watched him wait a while until precisely the time we were to meet then he got out of the car and walked by my car. I then got out an followed.

I introduced myself inside Starbucks and we got our coffee. He is tall 6'2" and a pretty big guy, so I am pleased. We get our coffee drinks and he's complaining about how much space they didn't leave to put cream in the cup. Are you serious? This guy is too uptight I think to myself. Then we sit and he starts talking about the stock market - almost bragging about his investments and going on and on about how much he knows about the market. I kept up my end of the conversation for a while, but then confessed that talking about banking and stocks is just too much like work for me. I asked him about his family. He was critical of his grown children and the commented about the mother of his youngest as being very liberal. I said you know, I am liberal as well. He said yes, I read that in your profile.

Now, by then he had already made several comments which lead me to believe that he is a closet conservative. He called his political view point "Middle of the Road". I have noticed that the Middle of the Road people are generally just conservatives that are afraid to say so. But I just don't get it. Why would this guy want to go on a date with a liberal person and then go on and on about liberals like we are a pariah to society. By the time I left Starbucks my head was spinning and not because I was swooning. I was actually angry. I actually stopped at a bar and got a drink before I went home. I felt like I needed it so as to dispel the negative energy before returning to Casa de Pajaro.

Alas, I have found some dating success. I am seeing a nice fellow, tall slender, bearded free spirit. I don't know if we are a match, but there is definitely chemistry. And this guy is a terrific kisser. I have not made out like I do with him since I was a teenager. Heavy petting, grinding, kissing and groping and kissing and reaching and breathing hard, moaning, okay, well you get the picture - we are definitely having a good time. We shall see where it leads, but for now its very nice to have someone to kiss.

The Watering Hole

When I was growing up we always had a pool. I had forgotten how many creatures will drink from your swimming pool until moving here to Casa de Pajaro. I have observed the deer drinking from the pool, squirrels, bird, insects and even bats. Yes bats. During the summer, the bats would glide down a drink from the pool about 9pm.

What is most amazing to me is that Olive, the cat now finds the swimming pool to be her big water dish as well. In the morning when I let her out of the house, she runs for the pool. She's learned to leverage her body with one leg on the side of the pool while the other leg is on the top. The water bowl with fresh water in the house now is untouched day after day.

Middle Age

While walking to the end of the drive this morning to pick up the newspaper, it suddenly occurred to me that I am approaching one-half of my grandmother's final age. I will be 51 next month and Grandma lived to be 102. The realization immediately improved my mood. Now, I'm certainly not expecting to live to be 102, but with medicine what it is today (and tomorrow) it may make up for the abuse I have suffered my body over these first 51 years. So, why not?

I think I picked up my step a bit and I noticed that I was humming. It is so strange the way that the mind works. I had been a bit dispirited about the downward spiral feeling that I was way past middle age. And now, just possibly, if I live a clean life, exercise, diet and give up the booze, I could just be right at middle age. When I put it that way, I am not sure I am still feeling so good about this realization.

In all sincerity, its really amazing to realize that my grandmother lived 51 years beyond the 51 years that I have muddled through. She out lived her husband who was seven years her junior by 13 years and most of her 11 siblings who were all younger. Grandma had a great quality of life, living in her own home until she was 101. The catch here is that she really did live a so-called clean life. She didn't smoke, didn't drink, she worked hard and took lots of vitamins every day. Her only vice was strong black coffee.

Note to self: You can still drink the coffee!

Doe a Deer

Casa de Pajaro and the neighbors to the North host a deer family. There is a doe and her two bambinos. When I first arrived at the casa in June, the babies were very small, freckle-bottomed and less than two feet tall. Even the doe seems rather small to me. She is about the size of an Afgan hound. There are thickets where the deer are under cover all around Casa de Pajaro. They run to safety under the thicket when I approach.

The most remarkable thing thing happened when I arrived at Casa de Pajaro with my daughter who helped me make the move. The doe actively scoffed at my daughter when she unexpectedly came close to the fawns. The deer stompped and snorted and my daughter was shocked. We had always known deer to just run in the presence of humans. It is amazing what a mother will do to keep her children safe.

The fawns are much larger now, about double in size in three months and losing their spots. Their color is darkening as is the color of their mother. The light fawn color is now a dusky brown. These are more signs of the coming of fall. I wonder where the fawns will go and how long they will live here in the winter.

The Whole Fam Damily

Casa de Pajaro played host to Clara Williams Bergstrom Willman's grandchildren, who got together the first weekend in August for our annual cousin reunion. Clara is my grandmother, but I am just one of the many. Clara had 24 grandchildren between 1937 and 1971. (I'm right in the middle of the pack, born in 1957.) I've lost track of the great-grandchildren and great-great grandchildren. This year we were just a few cousins, together with our families making only 30 people or so. We have easily doubled that in other years. Aunt Zoe had to work and couldn't come out from Nebraska, Uncle Erling was not feeling well and many others had other issues with coming this year.

Our Grandma lived from May 1893 to October 1995, (yes, she lived 102 years) and she was the matriarch of our family. She married twice and basically had two families. With her first husband, Aaron Bergstrom she had three children born in 1914, 1918 and 1920. Clara married her second husband Erling Willman in 1928 and had four children in 1929, 1931, 1933 and 1937. Of the seven children, four are still alive. The oldest of the seven is Ruth who is 94 years old this year. Bea is 90. She and Ruth live in Wyoming. Cliff was child #3 and he passed away in 2002. Zoe will be 79 this year and she's still working (yes full time) running a teaching program in Nebraska. Erling, Jr. just passed away two days ago and Russ (my dad) passed away in 2004. Howard is 71 and still going strong (also still working like his big sister).

Our reunion this year was great fun for those of us in attendance. We started the celebration on Friday evening with cocktails, mojitos, BBQ and an evening swim. Saturday was all about the pool and games. The main events were a keep away game in the water and horse shoes under the old oak tree. The guys bar-b-qued a couple of times, hamburger, hot dogs, chicken and all the amenities. we enjoyed Homemade potato salad, Mom's macaroni salad, fruit salad and much more.

In the evening, we brought out the Karaoke machine to the spa deck, which we use like a stage. For the last three years, I have run the Karaoke show. Mom and I started the show with a duet of California Dreamin', followed by my youngest brother Andrew who sang his signature song, "Friends in Low Places". The highlight of the show is as always the men who are called the "Boston Whalers". The group is comprised of my brother Rich, brother-in-law James and cousin Matt. Missing this year is the leader of the group, cousin Bob who couldn't make it out from Boston this year. I always put up a medley of southern rock songs like "Sweet Home Alabama" and "Ramblin Man".

We wrapped up the night with s'mores and categories game called Frazzle. Some of the kids were still in the pool at midnight and the water was still warm. Everyone was ready for a good night's sleep.

Sunday morning was filled with folks gathering their belongings and hugs and kisses goodbye. By noon, there were just a few of us left, including my brother Rich and his family, my sister Kat and her family and me and my kids. Rich cooked up hot dogs, hamburgers and steaks for lunch. My kids took off for San Diego and the rest of us headed out to the cemetery to visit our dad. The skies were clear and the view magnificant. We all teared up a bit, but felt somehow Dad had been with us all weekend.

Gossiping Church Ladies

California's official pajaro is a quail. They are large terrestrial game birds about half the size of a chicken. They are predominantly blue-grey in color with a head plume that curls forward. They remind me of little old ladies in dark suits with feathered hats. They waddle when they walk and their head feathers bob up and down.

The quail seem to spend most of the day hiding in the thicket in the yard North of Casa de Pajaro. Every time I set the sprinkler at the end of the big front lawn, the "ladies" come out to run through the sprinklers, search for worms and fallen seeds. As I approach, I notice them huddle together as if gossiping about me and then run off in a huff when I get too close.

Olive the cat is a bit leery of the quail, and they are definitely wary of her. Olive followed me down to the big lawn, but wouldn't get near the sprinkler. She waited by the driveway. When I startled the quail, they ran to the driveway near where Olive was in repose. The quail surprised Olive, who jumped and ran and the birds took flight to the cedar tree and I was left alone in the sprinkler.

Zen and the Act of Pool Cleaning

In the summer of 1969 I was eleven, going on twelve and living at Casa de Pajaro. In those days, it was Uncle Robert and Auntie Zoe's house. I lived there with my brother Mark; cousins Bobby and Teresa and Robert and Zoe. It was hands down the very best summer of my youth.

Most days were spent in the swimming pool, playing "keep away" with a frisbee (boys against the girls); seeing how long you could hold your breath under the water, who could swim the farthest under the water without taking a breath; making funny hair styles and even skinny dipping a night. All good things do not come without cost. Auntie Zoe had each of us kids take a turn skimming the pool for leaves. At age eleven, the huge 10' pool skimmer pole was difficut to manouver and I would do just about anything to get out of doing the job. I just couldn't stand looking at the pool, skimming leaves with the big clumsy pole and net, while what I really wanted was to dive into the crystal blue pool water. I would pay my brother to take my turn or trade other duties like gardening to get out of the skimming chore.

In the summer of 2008, I am here on my own most of the time, so I am the only one skimming the pool. It really needs to be done at least once a day as the grounds of Casa de Pajaro are covered with trees. The trees are beautiful, but the leaves fall daily. I don't mind skimming the pool anymore. It is a very "zen" action, like raking sand. The water is calm and still when I begin. I like to start in a corner and work my way aroung the pool skimming the leaves, grass seeds, fallen bees and flies into the basket on the end of the pole. It has become my meditation time. I think of nothing else but the next leaf to skim. The result is very rewarding - a clean pool and a calm mind.

Build a Better Bird House

At Casa de Pajaro there are bird houses in every low lying tree close to the house. My mom and dad loved feeding the birds and watching them play from the dining room window. Since I bought the place, the birds have gone hungry, well not exactly hungry, as it is summer and food abounds, but I have not put out any seed. I have also been neglectful about adding water to the bird baths.

The last time I put water in the big bird bath, Olive the cat jumped up on the edge of the bath, scattering the birds who were having a spa party and knocked over the round saucer that sits on the old pedestal comprising the bird bath. The saucer broke in half. I tried to glue it together with a super-duper-fail-safe new kind of epoxy that should work on ceramics, but it didn't hold properly. So a bought some stuff called "goop" to fill in the gaps. It looks awful and smells toxic. I am afraid to put water in for fear of killing the birds. Now, I'm off to find another saucer. This time, I will try gluing the saucer to the pedestal.

The bird house situation worries me. The houses my mom left here are too close to the ground and I know Olive can get to these houses with ease. I need to build a sturdier house and install it either on a high branch or on its own pole. I figure the birds are okay now, there are bugs and worms and seeds everywhere, but when fall sets in, I better have a bird feeder and a house or two that are cat-proof. There is definitely a part of me that says "just leave the birds alone and let nature take care of them". But, I reply to myself "Mom and Dad have fed and housed these birds and their ancestors for 20 years - they won't be able to survive without my help." Okay, I have to admit that statement is pretty lame, but I really did have this conversation with myself and the mama bird part of me is winning out.

While I am looking for a giant saucer at the local nursery, I will also seek the wild bird feed and materials to build a better bird house.

Olive vs. El Pajaro

Olive is a city cat who was rescued from a storm drain in San Diego. She lived most of her nearly two years inside our house in the San Diego area. When I moved to Casa de Pajaro a month ago, I gave Olive the opportunity to spend days in the sun, enjoying the outdoors. She has new cat friends and loves chasing butterflies.



Every morning upon waking I start the coffee maching and head out the door to walk down the driveway to get the morning paper. Its a leisurely 400 ft walk down the drive past the big front lawn and the twin cedar trees to the main drive lined by ancient fig trees. Olive follows me on my morning stroll, but stops short of the end of the drive. Instead, she sits and waits for me to pick up the newspaper and head back to the house. The past few mornings there is a bird that is clearly disturbed by Olives presence. The aggressive little pajaro dive bombs Olive and not just once. The bird dives beak first down on the unsuspecting cat, who jumps startled and turns to look at me as if to say "what the hell?" I don't think my little city cat Olive never had a bird attack her in San Diego.



I was not familiar with this pajaro and did not have a bird book handy, but upon describing the bird to a friend, he looked up the pesky pajaro in his bird book and thought from my description the the bird could be a Grey Jay. This made sense to me because the bird behaved like a blue jay, but was a sort of taupe color and white with a touch of black. I Googled "Grey Jay" and I do believe this is the species that wants Olive to stay away from the tree lined drive.



Tomorrow I will be armed with a camera in hopes of capturing an image of the pajaro with the lens, perhaps during her kamikaze lunge at Olive.

What is Casa de Pajaro

There is this house on the Feather River that has been in my family for over a half century. The house is on the old Henry Bird property, so I've dubbed the property Casa de Pajaro; the "Bird House". For so many reasons the name seems appropriate to me. My father spent hours watching the birds in the bird bath outside of the dining room window. He liked to call a group of bathing birds a spa party. There is always an owl living in the cedar tree above the old shop and black hawks that circle the orchard in search of their next meal.

Animals abound on the property. I brought with me a scrawny black cat named Olive, but she's not the only feline on the property. There are three other cats that visit daily. A timid calico, a grey and white alpha tom cat and a shaggy black and white cat who has taken particular interest in Olive. There are also deer, a doe a two fawn. The doe looks at me so inquisitively and won't run unless I really get too close. Moreover there are squirrels, skunk, raccoon, opossum, and numerous reptiles, plus the horses and dogs on the property to the south and the chickens to the north.

Most of the time there are no other humans here and it can be lonely. With all the life abounding around me, I can still feel very alone.