Ok...I must admit I have been looking forward to this day since day one. I am not a newbie at this so I did know what was ahead in the long days till Day 5. It is not merely that I have a fondness for eating my farm friends. It really, primarily boils down to TEXTURE. Slime be gone. I want something to chew and taste, savour and comfort me. OK... that last one was reaching for it because no animal should die just to comfort ME. The point is I am not evolved enough to get all my needs met by Cabbage-head and his friends...put me on a desert island or send me back to the bush and I could do it, I would have to. For now I am enjoying some chicken, cow and probably fish over the next two days. I will also be dining on tomatoes freshly picked out of the garden...handfuls of them and lets not forget the star of the show CABBAGE duh SOUP. OK...short post this time, gotta go find the cats. I have a plan, a plan so cunning you could pin a tail on it!
picnic
July 12, 2011
July 08, 2011
June 03, 2009
Teddy bear's picnic
Have I ever shared that The Kiwi has a rock fetish? Stuff the common rice crispies, The ROCKS have to speak to The Kiwi before she will even flex her aging muscles to pick them up. That factoid said, I'll continue my story. Yesterday we packed up "FLICK" our trusted fire engine red jeep and drove off into the mountains to our beloved Forest Falls, the home of many a rock slide, ensures the valley is littered with rocks, choc of granite, minerals of pink and stripes of green. I am sure there is one with the complete outline of the Virgin Mary somewhere out there, however The Kiwi is leaving that for one lucky rock loving Catholic. Before I go on, Ranger Bob, actually it was Ranger Sheila, at some time said " There's plenty of them, isn't there?" when we asked if we may take some for our garden. That being said, did set a precedent in The Kiwi's mind. It gave universal permission to cull the rocks and bring a little bit of the mountain range back to our Riverside garden. Whilst we know the old adage of leave nothing behind but footprints in the sand, yadda yadda yadda and take nothing but sweet memories or however it goes, we decided it was OK. The Yank and The Kiwi are very much nature conservationist types of folks and dammit we were going to at least have the rocks to prove it. OK...
Hours passed blissfully in the mountain range. A rainbow cloud like no other ever seen by The Kiwi appeared not long after arrival. The air was fresh and crisp. It was going to be a good day. The Yank was breathing with two nostrils and the sun was shining minus the burn. We took our Greek pal Elli along. We had long been meaning to go together and had never quite been able to gel on a time to suit us all. If Elli were here with me as I write, she would tell you she had a ball. She had never been to the mountains here in CA. She too is a lover of rocks and is now herself in PIG HEAVEN. With the learned wisdom of The Yank and The Kiwi we had two vehicles at the falls = more rocks. We snacked with the squirrels and scrub jays then donned gloves and heavy duty footwear suitable for such an adventure then stepped forth each in our own direction, wherever the rocks were calling. Hours later, excitement still oozing we decided to call it a day and drive around the perimeter on the lookout for the ONE last BIG rock each. The piece de résistance, Mama rock, THE rock, whatever you want to call it. We parked in a small space, bum facing the rock field for ease of loading and went off we went, eyes peeled for the tallest, thinnest most gorgeous rock with attitude that could be carried by the now exhausted gals. THEN...out of nowhere came the words. "BEAR, BBBBEAR BBEAR" The Kiwi looked around her and yelled "WHERE, WHERE, WHERE?"
Thinking The Yank was playing a prank, as she has been known to do, The Kiwi's usual, rapid response was somewhat quelled, pondering the validity of The Yanks words. Still hearing "BEAR, BBBBEAR,BBEAR" did get The Kiwi looking around and thinking "Its all very well for you up there to call out, Indeed, YOU must be looking directly at said bear." The Kiwi couldn't see no bear from where she was and hopefully the bear couldn't see The Kiwi. So The Kiwi did what The Kiwi hates to do... She ended up running, in a Kiwi sort of way, towards the excited voice of The Yank and Elli. ANDDD...sure as eggs are eggs, there was da bear. Granted it was a young bear, nevertheless, it was a bear, claws and all, guesstimation of age, around 2yrs. Of course The Kiwi had to get closer, whilst mindful of a potential mama bear lurking. One must always practice commonsense when out in the wildness. "NO, get closer Kiwi" said the crispie within. "CLOSER, It's just a baby, you big girls blouse." The voices were loud and clear. "ITS A BEARRR!" said The Yank. "SOOOO?!" said The Kiwi. The desire to get just that bit closer and maybe touch it's fur gave me that overpowering uncontrollable urge that I can only imagine heroin addicts must experience. Then, The Kiwi's brain age finally caught up with her and she stopped. Shared a moment with the bear, with a respectable 20' distance between them. The bear and The Kiwi sniffed the air searching for a whiff of each other, licked their lips, posed for The Yank and then parted ways. The tune of "Teddy Bears Picnic" filled the valley floor and was THE singalong song on the trip home. Another memorable adventure shared by The Yank and The Kiwi and their sidekick Elli. Now...what to do with all the rocks and who is going to unload them all?
