A few weeks ago I went climbing around in the mountains a bit near the little village of Angry Waters. The town's not really more than a scattering of houses along a stretch of valley, but it's some of the scarce reasonably flat ground in the area, being on a small plain between two rows of tall hills. The weather was still being Autumnal at the time and the strong winds hadn't started yet, so the trees still had a goodly number of leaves on them.
The area is very rocky, with all sorts of odd rock formations to go climbing around on and strange looking boulders sitting around in random arrangements. Yet the trees still manage to cope, exploiting any little crack even in sheer rock walls. And so the Appalachians have been gradually worn down to what they are today.
Not long after that day, though, Winter decided that it wanted to make an early start on things. So we had sleet, and snow, and sleet, and snow, and sleet, and more snow, and lots of wind as well. By the time the latest snow stopped falling, we had about half a foot of it piled up on the ground. The birds have not been pleased, and now spend most of the day camped out around the bird feeders squabbling. The kitten, on the other hand, is finally in her element. Sort of. At last she blends in to the scenery, which before only Abby could really do. But her amazing new camouflage abilities come at the cost of having to drag her little fuzzy tummy through cold wet icky snow. And so both of the beasties have been spending most of their time indoors of late, getting into whatever mischief they can find and demanding that one of us make the snow go away again.
The garden is pretty much no longer gardeny, being some low piles of dirt with tattered shreds of dead vegetation poking out of the snow. At least the lawn won't need much mowing now. And the grape vines keep getting turned into rather interesting ice sculptures.
I decided to go out for a walk along the same route I took on my walk in October, and to see what some of the same scenes look like after all the snow. So here are photos taken from approximately the same angle as some of the October photos. I leave it up to the reader to match picture with picture. . .
Trestle Bridge 2
Farm 2
Slope 2
Pasture 2
Trail, part 2, part 2
Crossroads 2
Lake 2
Ice Crystals 2
I also took a few other photos while I was out there.
Dragon tracks!
1
2
3
Clouds.
More ominous looking clouds.
Farm stuff.
PreChristmas tree!
You can't fence in the snow!
Last Friday was the day of Wolf Hills' big annual Christmas parade. This year it was only about half the size as it was in previous years, due to various changes in registration requirements and fees. And for a little while there was some question as to whether or not the parade would even happen, what with all the ice and snow (that's what you get for constantly playing songs like "White Christmas" and "Let it snow!"). But I took a walk around the town around midday, and saw that the various vendors and workers were out preparing for the event. So the parade was still on.
The town was all decked out in its holiday finery for the occasion. Even the trains in Necromancerville were looking festive. Nobody had bothered to decorate our newly acquired Official Town Caboose, though. It still looks as bedraggled as it has all along. But workers had been working workerishly for the last few days putting up all sorts of wreathes and tinsel and weird things around Main Street and the different parks elsewhere, which looked even more Christmasy with the scattering of snow that still remained.
One of the town inns.
The Farmer's/Farmers'/Farmers Market, some banks, and mountains in the distance (beyond which is Angry Waters and its valley).
Main Street.
The Theatre, complete with magical tree growing out of its roof.
A lurking gazebo.
The "new" Methodist church.
A door. . .to another dimension?
A house that I like.
Our renowned county courthouse, complete with generic Confederate Soldier Monument.
The view southwards down Courthouse Hill.
Mother Nature does not approve of speed limits.
It is an annual tradition that the lady whom I'm boarding with host a whole swarm of her relatives from the area. She's the only member of her close family who lives in town, so everybody gathers at her house to have a big dinner, gossip, and watch the Christmas parade. That evening the house's population went from two people, two cats, and one millipede to over two dozen people (including a large number of hyperactive kids from 4 to 9 years of age), two traumatised kitties who spent lots of time hiding, and one millipede who didn't care what was going on as long as he had his zucchini.
So we ate and talked, and talked and ate, and ate while talking and talked about eating, and I ran around with the kids a bit, and I helped the cats hide a bit, and then all the kids and about a third of us non-kids went out to see the parade. It was after dusk by then, and windy and below freezing, so we were all bundled up rather heavily. Two of the kids didn't even have Winter clothing, so they were wrapped up in pretty much every spare blanket that the house contained and sort of waddled down the street without the ability to use their arms or hands.
The kids fussed around long enough that they missed the first quarter hour of the parade (and they were most put out at the thought of all that candy being thrown around that they missed out on), but since the parade route was passing by just around the block from the house we were able to find a good spot on the sidewalk to watch the remainder of it passing by. It wasn't the best conditions for photography, but I took a few pictures anyway.
There were probably about 60 floats in all, pulled along by pick-ups or built onto flatbeds.
1
2
There was also a long line of fire trucks and ambulances from Bridgeplace, Ash Sham, Smelly Springs, and many other area towns. I have no idea how many cats remained stuck in trees overnight due to the lack of on-duty fire trucks in the region.
Then there were marching bands, who were marching along rather quickly to try to keep warm in the 15°F wind. The police cars blocking the intersections added a nice otherworldly glow to things. And if you look closely in the middle of this picture, you'll see a short girl trying to play a French horn while wearing gloves, which reminded me of a certain person whom I know of.
After much loot in the way of candy, plastic throwing discs with the names of banks emblazoned upon them, and vague rambling religious tracts had been gathered, the assembly returned home and thawed out in front of the fireplaces with hot chocolate. Eventually everybody extraneous left (much to the cats' relief) aside from three of the kids who were spending the night. And so peace once more descended upon the town of Wolf Hills.
Sunday, November 23, 2008
Saturday, October 25, 2008
Tuesday, October 14, 2008
Sunday, October 12, 2008
Over the Hills and Far Away
Well, a little while ago I ventured forth into the wild wild world on a business trip. It was lots of fun, spending about eight hours driving a van with an excessively automobileaphobic woman in the passenger side seat. Every time I'd speed the van up, she'd gasp and cringe and flail. Every time I'd slow it down, she'd gasp and cringe and flail. Every time I'd go around a gentle bend in the road, she'd gasp and cringe and flail. Every time I'd gun the engine up to 80 mph and fly along narrow mountain roads in the rain and fog, she'd gasp and cringe and flail. It would have been bad enough with that alone, but a couple times in her flailing she managed to hit the gear-shift and suddenly we'd be coasting along in neutral. And she refused to sit in the back of the van instead. But we all survived.
A brief rundown of things I got to do during that week:
1. See lots of lightning
2. Watch George Washington deliver a rousing speech to a group of militia, whereupon they marched forth against and opened fire upon a pair of defiant squirrels (at Colonial Williamsburg)
3. Go on a Williamsburg ghost tour, but not see so much as a phantom orb
4. See a bunch of disembodied Presidential heads
5. Ride in an AH-64
6. Watch surfers panic because they can't tell the difference between dolphins and sharks, and watch dolphins laugh at silly surfers
7. Heroically rescue kittens from a giant construction roller (okay, so the roller was turned off at the time, but still. . .)
8. Duel with crab claws at dawn
9. Learn that Post Offices are considered strange and mysterious and near-mythical objects in eastern Virginia
10. Goose geese
11. Watch a small airplane almost crash by trying to land with the nose pointed up at about a sixty-degree angle (Note to pilots: it's not a good thing when your airplane starts trying to fly backwards into the ground)
One day we all had to go out to an island that could only conveniently be reached by boat (they have an airfield, but it is sort of dismantled at the moment). And so we left harbour a little while after dawn and bravely set off upon the briny sea. It was a nice calm day, though a bit foggy and cloudy. There were lots of pelicans and herons and the like, and I got to watch them swooping about and catching fish. About ninety minutes out I saw a peculiar looking ship on the horizon ahead. I pointed it out to the captain, and he decided that since it was only slightly off our course he'd chase it down so we could get a good look at it. And we did.
It was a replica of the Godspeed, one of the brigantines that had been used during the founding of Jamestown. We overtook the ship, everybody waved at everyone else, and we went on our way.
Godspeed 1
Godspeed 2
Godspeed 3
Godspeed 4
Godspeed 5
I glanced back as we were leaving her astern, and I saw this view. I took a picture of it, because I thought it looked all nice and symbolic.
The journey back again was a lot sunnier at times, aside from the intervals of rain and clouds and fog and other non-sunny things. I took a nap on one of the life rafts on deck, and impressed everybody by sleeping right through one of the rainstorms (unlike everybody else, though, I had actually thought to bring along some weatherproof clothing). We didn't see any other ships until we were going through the inlet, whereupon a big menhaden fishing boat came around a headland and followed us in. Once again, there was much waving. They eventually passed by us and headed off to their fishery where a bunch of sister ships were already unloading their catch. It was interesting seeing all the huge conveyor belts covered in fish, with bright silver "waterfalls" of menhaden dropping off the ends into waiting trucks. Smelly, too.
There were also the ruins of many earlier menhaden processing plants along the river, spanning three centuries. Most of them were just little jumbles of brick and rubble lurking in the underbrush or sticking out of the low water. One was entirely gone except for its smokestack, which stood all alone on a long low spit of land.
I was staying in a nice hotel for that week, at least. Instead of being one big building, it had what was basically a neighbourhood of townhouses. So I got to stay in a suite with a living/dining room, kitchen, two bedrooms, two bathrooms, a raised (I was on the second floor) patio, and an evil tea-kettle that, no matter how you handled it, would spill as much boiling water all over as it poured into your cup. There was also a free indoor and outdoor pool, tennis court, miniature golf course, volleyball court, shuffleboard court, hiking trail, and formal gardens. And a non-free spa, restaurant, and gym (not all in one, though).
Hotel 1
Hotel 2
Hotel 3
Hotel 4
Hotel 5
Hotel 6
Hotel 7
Hotel 8
And here, if you look closely, you can see that I was busy following my evil Illuminati agenda:
At one point while I was out roaming around I saw a squirrel bounding madly straight down the road. I have no idea where he was coming from or even where he was going, but he was going down the wrong side of the road and ran at least one stop-sign.
I made use of the shuffleboard court and the miniature golf course. I always enjoyed shuffleboard. I think that it is one of the great underappreciated pastimes. The miniature golf was okay, too. I played it through from start to finish in about an hour, and even made several holes-in-one. Then, since I had unlimited time there and was all alone on the course, I played it backwards (both from the last hole to the first, and backwards on each off the little greens). Then I played it using the golf club like a billiards cue, which actually works amazingly well (a number of holes in one go, and I averaged two shots per hole). And then I spent a while just whacking the ball around wildly. At one point I managed to make a hole in 1/3: I hit the ball, it bounced off that green onto the next, hit an obstacle, leapt into the air, landed on yet another green, and rolled into the hole. Beat that, Tiger Woods!
And here, for all your enjoyment, is a self-portrait from in my suite's little foyer.
The drive home again was pretty much a repeat of the earlier one, but with the sun in my eyes instead. I think that more vehicles need to be made with driver-selectable ejection seats.
A few further things of note, not related to the trip:
1. Abby now loves me. We are friends.
2. Here's a photo of Gustav doing a Tarzan impersonation. There are several digital thermometers on his terrarium, and they have sensors on wires that go into his lair. He managed to get one so that it was dangling down loose, grabbed onto it, and started swinging.
3. Smerk is a total hottie. I mean, wow! Woohoo!
A brief rundown of things I got to do during that week:
1. See lots of lightning
2. Watch George Washington deliver a rousing speech to a group of militia, whereupon they marched forth against and opened fire upon a pair of defiant squirrels (at Colonial Williamsburg)
3. Go on a Williamsburg ghost tour, but not see so much as a phantom orb
4. See a bunch of disembodied Presidential heads
5. Ride in an AH-64
6. Watch surfers panic because they can't tell the difference between dolphins and sharks, and watch dolphins laugh at silly surfers
7. Heroically rescue kittens from a giant construction roller (okay, so the roller was turned off at the time, but still. . .)
8. Duel with crab claws at dawn
9. Learn that Post Offices are considered strange and mysterious and near-mythical objects in eastern Virginia
10. Goose geese
11. Watch a small airplane almost crash by trying to land with the nose pointed up at about a sixty-degree angle (Note to pilots: it's not a good thing when your airplane starts trying to fly backwards into the ground)
One day we all had to go out to an island that could only conveniently be reached by boat (they have an airfield, but it is sort of dismantled at the moment). And so we left harbour a little while after dawn and bravely set off upon the briny sea. It was a nice calm day, though a bit foggy and cloudy. There were lots of pelicans and herons and the like, and I got to watch them swooping about and catching fish. About ninety minutes out I saw a peculiar looking ship on the horizon ahead. I pointed it out to the captain, and he decided that since it was only slightly off our course he'd chase it down so we could get a good look at it. And we did.
It was a replica of the Godspeed, one of the brigantines that had been used during the founding of Jamestown. We overtook the ship, everybody waved at everyone else, and we went on our way.
Godspeed 1
Godspeed 2
Godspeed 3
Godspeed 4
Godspeed 5
I glanced back as we were leaving her astern, and I saw this view. I took a picture of it, because I thought it looked all nice and symbolic.
The journey back again was a lot sunnier at times, aside from the intervals of rain and clouds and fog and other non-sunny things. I took a nap on one of the life rafts on deck, and impressed everybody by sleeping right through one of the rainstorms (unlike everybody else, though, I had actually thought to bring along some weatherproof clothing). We didn't see any other ships until we were going through the inlet, whereupon a big menhaden fishing boat came around a headland and followed us in. Once again, there was much waving. They eventually passed by us and headed off to their fishery where a bunch of sister ships were already unloading their catch. It was interesting seeing all the huge conveyor belts covered in fish, with bright silver "waterfalls" of menhaden dropping off the ends into waiting trucks. Smelly, too.
There were also the ruins of many earlier menhaden processing plants along the river, spanning three centuries. Most of them were just little jumbles of brick and rubble lurking in the underbrush or sticking out of the low water. One was entirely gone except for its smokestack, which stood all alone on a long low spit of land.
I was staying in a nice hotel for that week, at least. Instead of being one big building, it had what was basically a neighbourhood of townhouses. So I got to stay in a suite with a living/dining room, kitchen, two bedrooms, two bathrooms, a raised (I was on the second floor) patio, and an evil tea-kettle that, no matter how you handled it, would spill as much boiling water all over as it poured into your cup. There was also a free indoor and outdoor pool, tennis court, miniature golf course, volleyball court, shuffleboard court, hiking trail, and formal gardens. And a non-free spa, restaurant, and gym (not all in one, though).
Hotel 1
Hotel 2
Hotel 3
Hotel 4
Hotel 5
Hotel 6
Hotel 7
Hotel 8
And here, if you look closely, you can see that I was busy following my evil Illuminati agenda:
At one point while I was out roaming around I saw a squirrel bounding madly straight down the road. I have no idea where he was coming from or even where he was going, but he was going down the wrong side of the road and ran at least one stop-sign.
I made use of the shuffleboard court and the miniature golf course. I always enjoyed shuffleboard. I think that it is one of the great underappreciated pastimes. The miniature golf was okay, too. I played it through from start to finish in about an hour, and even made several holes-in-one. Then, since I had unlimited time there and was all alone on the course, I played it backwards (both from the last hole to the first, and backwards on each off the little greens). Then I played it using the golf club like a billiards cue, which actually works amazingly well (a number of holes in one go, and I averaged two shots per hole). And then I spent a while just whacking the ball around wildly. At one point I managed to make a hole in 1/3: I hit the ball, it bounced off that green onto the next, hit an obstacle, leapt into the air, landed on yet another green, and rolled into the hole. Beat that, Tiger Woods!
And here, for all your enjoyment, is a self-portrait from in my suite's little foyer.
The drive home again was pretty much a repeat of the earlier one, but with the sun in my eyes instead. I think that more vehicles need to be made with driver-selectable ejection seats.
A few further things of note, not related to the trip:
1. Abby now loves me. We are friends.
2. Here's a photo of Gustav doing a Tarzan impersonation. There are several digital thermometers on his terrarium, and they have sensors on wires that go into his lair. He managed to get one so that it was dangling down loose, grabbed onto it, and started swinging.
3. Smerk is a total hottie. I mean, wow! Woohoo!
Friday, August 22, 2008
Fuzzball Attack!
Meet Marshmallow.
Kitty 1
Kitty 2
Kitty at play video!
Marshmallow is a Siamese-ish kitten, probably. She has white fur, brownish eyes, a pink nose, and a tail that's longer than the rest of her body and that has a mind of its own. She's been spayed, but not declawed.
She's about three months old, or thereabout. She was born in the nearby town of Necromancerville, and was picked up by Dixie's daughter Bev because Dixie had always wanted (and never been able to manage to keep) a white cat. For the past month she's lived in Bev's house in Bridgeplace, where she's managed to pick up all sorts of bad habits.
She's very squeaky, very curious, and has a tendency to fall into toilet bowls. We'll find out soon if she knows or cares what a litter-box is for.
Abby has not yet entered her vote on the new family member.
Kitty 1
Kitty 2
Kitty at play video!
Marshmallow is a Siamese-ish kitten, probably. She has white fur, brownish eyes, a pink nose, and a tail that's longer than the rest of her body and that has a mind of its own. She's been spayed, but not declawed.
She's about three months old, or thereabout. She was born in the nearby town of Necromancerville, and was picked up by Dixie's daughter Bev because Dixie had always wanted (and never been able to manage to keep) a white cat. For the past month she's lived in Bev's house in Bridgeplace, where she's managed to pick up all sorts of bad habits.
She's very squeaky, very curious, and has a tendency to fall into toilet bowls. We'll find out soon if she knows or cares what a litter-box is for.
Abby has not yet entered her vote on the new family member.
Monday, July 28, 2008
Home is Where the Refrigerator Is
Well, I have moved to a far and distant land. Not distant from where I moved to, obviously, since it's the same place. But far from where I'm not living now. Assuming that the place in which I am not living now is not nearby, in which case it would be a far and near land. And that simply wouldn't do.
Ahem. . .anyway. . .
So, here I am now in the smallish Appalachian town to be known here as Wolf Hills, billions and billions of centimeters from where I used to live. So far, the change seems to have been worth it.
I packed up all my belongings on a Sunday and drove for fourteen hours, and unpacked things on a Monday. The process of moving was about as straight-forward and uneventful as such an event can be. It was rather amusing to see at one point that the road I was driving down was at the same time highway 81 South and 77 North simultaneously. . .so East and West may never meet, but North and South do so at least once that I know of.
Wolf Hills is a somewhat odd town. It's partly the stereotypical backwoods Appalachian mountain town, while at the same time being very cosmopolitan (there are at least three Starbucks within five minutes of me, oh joy) and at the forefront of American culture. Our local theatre is regarded by the theatre world as being at the same level as Broadway, and all sorts of Very Famous People linger around on the streetcorners (my neighbour is a famous Oscar-winning actress of about my own age, who comes to town to work on her hobby of painting between acting jobs).
Here are some views of Main Street, which I wandered up and down.
Around town 1
Around town 2
Around town 3
Around town 4
Around town 5
This is a little parkish sort of place, where they occasionally have live bands and suchlike to terrorise the pedestrians passing by.
Park
Here's the hotel just around the corner from me.
Hotel Not-California
And this is the town theatre (for live performances; the cinema is down at the end of Main Street I didn't get to this day).
Theatre
Another town park, with a big hill in the middle of it.
Town park
Looking from the top of the hill back at where I took the previous picture from.
Hill 1
And more views from the hilltop.
Hill 2
Hill 3
Hill 4
I'm currently boarding, until I decide on a more permanent residence. The house I'm staying in is about 250 years old, and like pretty much every building that age on this continent George Washington did indeed sleep here. In fact, it was his headquarters building for a while, though most of the time it was just the local tannery. Luckily, all the tannery smells have long faded.
The house is currently owned by a moderately elderly lady, Dixie. It is also often over-run by her enormous clan of sisters, brothers, cousins, children, grandchildren, and the like. I shamelessly take advantage of the huge piles of cooking that result, and hide away in my lair when things get too exciting. Or else I lurk in the enormous garden and lounge around in the sun.
The house and its environs:
The place 1
The place 2
The place 3
The place 4
The place 5
The place 6
And for those of you of botanical mindset. . .some flowers!
The Garden of Good and Mediocre 1
The Garden of Good and Mediocre 2
The Garden of Good and Mediocre 3
The Garden of Good and Mediocre 4
The Garden of Good and Mediocre 5
The Garden of Good and Mediocre 6
The Garden of Good and Mediocre 7
The Garden of Good and Mediocre 8
The Garden of Good and Mediocre 9
The Garden of Good and Mediocre 10
The Garden of Good and Mediocre 11
The Garden of Good and Mediocre 12
The Garden of Good and Mediocre 13
And here is the cat, Abby.
Abby
Abby does not like men. This is due to the fact that the last few men who have stayed here had dogs with them, and Abby does not like dogs. That is due to a dog eating Abby's bright white sister about a year ago, while Abby was sitting about twelve inches away and camouflaged by her colourings. So this is what I generally see of Abby:
Abby's disdain
And that is where I live now. Later on I'll get ambitious and post something about the wondrous things going on around here, but for now I think that this is enough.
Ahem. . .anyway. . .
So, here I am now in the smallish Appalachian town to be known here as Wolf Hills, billions and billions of centimeters from where I used to live. So far, the change seems to have been worth it.
I packed up all my belongings on a Sunday and drove for fourteen hours, and unpacked things on a Monday. The process of moving was about as straight-forward and uneventful as such an event can be. It was rather amusing to see at one point that the road I was driving down was at the same time highway 81 South and 77 North simultaneously. . .so East and West may never meet, but North and South do so at least once that I know of.
Wolf Hills is a somewhat odd town. It's partly the stereotypical backwoods Appalachian mountain town, while at the same time being very cosmopolitan (there are at least three Starbucks within five minutes of me, oh joy) and at the forefront of American culture. Our local theatre is regarded by the theatre world as being at the same level as Broadway, and all sorts of Very Famous People linger around on the streetcorners (my neighbour is a famous Oscar-winning actress of about my own age, who comes to town to work on her hobby of painting between acting jobs).
Here are some views of Main Street, which I wandered up and down.
Around town 1
Around town 2
Around town 3
Around town 4
Around town 5
This is a little parkish sort of place, where they occasionally have live bands and suchlike to terrorise the pedestrians passing by.
Park
Here's the hotel just around the corner from me.
Hotel Not-California
And this is the town theatre (for live performances; the cinema is down at the end of Main Street I didn't get to this day).
Theatre
Another town park, with a big hill in the middle of it.
Town park
Looking from the top of the hill back at where I took the previous picture from.
Hill 1
And more views from the hilltop.
Hill 2
Hill 3
Hill 4
I'm currently boarding, until I decide on a more permanent residence. The house I'm staying in is about 250 years old, and like pretty much every building that age on this continent George Washington did indeed sleep here. In fact, it was his headquarters building for a while, though most of the time it was just the local tannery. Luckily, all the tannery smells have long faded.
The house is currently owned by a moderately elderly lady, Dixie. It is also often over-run by her enormous clan of sisters, brothers, cousins, children, grandchildren, and the like. I shamelessly take advantage of the huge piles of cooking that result, and hide away in my lair when things get too exciting. Or else I lurk in the enormous garden and lounge around in the sun.
The house and its environs:
The place 1
The place 2
The place 3
The place 4
The place 5
The place 6
And for those of you of botanical mindset. . .some flowers!
The Garden of Good and Mediocre 1
The Garden of Good and Mediocre 2
The Garden of Good and Mediocre 3
The Garden of Good and Mediocre 4
The Garden of Good and Mediocre 5
The Garden of Good and Mediocre 6
The Garden of Good and Mediocre 7
The Garden of Good and Mediocre 8
The Garden of Good and Mediocre 9
The Garden of Good and Mediocre 10
The Garden of Good and Mediocre 11
The Garden of Good and Mediocre 12
The Garden of Good and Mediocre 13
And here is the cat, Abby.
Abby
Abby does not like men. This is due to the fact that the last few men who have stayed here had dogs with them, and Abby does not like dogs. That is due to a dog eating Abby's bright white sister about a year ago, while Abby was sitting about twelve inches away and camouflaged by her colourings. So this is what I generally see of Abby:
Abby's disdain
And that is where I live now. Later on I'll get ambitious and post something about the wondrous things going on around here, but for now I think that this is enough.
Sunday, July 27, 2008
Days of the Dragon, continued!
Now that I have my Internet up and running (or at least staggering gamely in the right direction), I can amaze and awe the world with the further exploits of Smerk & Co. in the Americas!
After her many adventures in foreign and fascinating places such as Baltimore, Smerk sadly started to feel a bit under the weather, which put something of a limit to her depredations across the countryside. All the same, we managed to keep her well occupied. Even if sometimes it took the efforts of everybody involved to get her up and out of bed.
Droopy dragon
You know how dragons can be in the morning, after all. . .
Since we'd missed being able to celebrate Easter together on the 23rd of March, we decided to go wild for Orthodox Easter on April 27th. I boiled up some eggs, and we tried to figure out how to use the weird egg dying kit that I'd picked up in some store. We got rather creative, though I do say so myself.
Eggs 1
Eggs 2
Eggs 3
Eggs 4
Eggs 5
Smerk was quite pleased with her dragon eggs, I believe.
Dragon egg
Though she did still have a tendency to flee in terror whenever a camera was pointed in her own general direction.
Run away!
But here you can see the fruits (errrrrr, the eggs) of our labours!
Fruity eggs
I even have a brief bit of video, if I can ever figure out how to get it onto here. . .then you, too, can hear the dulcet siren allure of Smerk's sultry Southern voice!
Keeping a wild young dragon occupied is a full-time job, I assure you. When roaming around the countryside terrorising the locals was out of the question, it was often time to pull out the cards or other games. Jenga turned out to be a valuable tool for keeping Smerk tamed. . .more or less.
Jenga 1
Jenga 2
Jenga 3
Jenga 4
Jenga 5
We also got a bit creative in designing our own carefully engineered structures.
Jenga 6
Jenga 7
Jenga 8
Jenga 9
Some designs were. . .even more unsuccessful than others.
Jenga 10
I also made sure that she got outside on occasion to experience that nice healthy Maryland carbon monoxide and to tan her freckles. On one sunny day, we decided to venture out to the City Park to test out that most devious of Aussie inventions: the boomerang.
Smerk had been thoughtful enough to provide a small pair of them.
Weapon of Mass Destruction
Since Smerk is a warmth-loving critter, the weather decided to be nice and calm and sunny and rather cool. All in all, though, it was a good day for being out.
Park 1
Park 2
Park 3
Park 4
There were even a number of moving target available for us to try out our boomerang skills upon.
Geese 1
Geese 2
Here is Smerk, demonstrating for us all the proper form and technique for miniature boomerang flinging:
Smerky form 1
Smerky form 2
Smerky form 3
As you can see, she has an excellent form indeed. . .
After about half an hour of practice, we managed to successfully work out the proper method to throw the boomerangs in such a way that they sort of flopped loosely to the ground after flying in perfectly straight paths and then loose themselves in the grass. We figured that that was skill enough for kangaroo hunting, as the roos would be so confused that they'd be easy to catch. Or else they'd die of laughter, and we could scavenge the bodies.
As all good things sadly seem to do, though, Smerk's travels in the Northern Hemisphere had to come to an end. For her last full day here, she decided that she wanted to venture to the beach again. And so once more we drove out to the wilds of Assateague Island, where we explored the "Life of the Dunes" nature trail.
There were plenty of dunes, but not much in the way of nature other than shrubs. And one killdeer that eyed us rather curiously for a while, perhaps wondering if adding Aussie hair to its nest would give it that cosmopolitan flair.
Killdeer
Smerk had fun exploring the ruins of the town that had been built on the island, clambering about on the old highway. It would probably not be the best road to try driving along today.
The high road
The town was built by some rather over-optimistic developers who forgot about little minor things such as storms, which tend to do rather drastic thing to small sandy islands.
After a few hours the day got cloudy and cooler, and it looked as though another storm might pay the island a visit soon.
A little atmosphere
And so it was decided to take Smerk home and thaw her out again.
The next day was the first of May. The day of the Smerk's departure. M'aider indeed. Once more I ventured forth into the perilous world of the Baltimore Metropolitan Area, to take her to the airport there. In spite of the obligatory confusion and snarl-ups involving the checking in of her baggage, we managed to get her to the security checkpoint well before her flight took off. For the rest of the news on her return to civilisation, you'll have to get the information direct from the dragon's mouth.
All in all, and in spite of nefarious germs making their presence known, I think that the occasion was most successful indeed. I got to admire Smerk's freckles in person. She got to be introduced to the world of Indiana Jones movies (even if she did fall asleep halfway through the first one). Maryland got to learn just what it's missing by not being part of Australia. When my fiendish plot to kidnap Smerk and lock her away in my basement finally comes to fulfillment, I think that all should go well.
Here's hoping that that reunion comes soon!
(And I hope you all had as much fun seeing Smerk in her nighties as I did. . .)
After her many adventures in foreign and fascinating places such as Baltimore, Smerk sadly started to feel a bit under the weather, which put something of a limit to her depredations across the countryside. All the same, we managed to keep her well occupied. Even if sometimes it took the efforts of everybody involved to get her up and out of bed.
Droopy dragon
You know how dragons can be in the morning, after all. . .
Since we'd missed being able to celebrate Easter together on the 23rd of March, we decided to go wild for Orthodox Easter on April 27th. I boiled up some eggs, and we tried to figure out how to use the weird egg dying kit that I'd picked up in some store. We got rather creative, though I do say so myself.
Eggs 1
Eggs 2
Eggs 3
Eggs 4
Eggs 5
Smerk was quite pleased with her dragon eggs, I believe.
Dragon egg
Though she did still have a tendency to flee in terror whenever a camera was pointed in her own general direction.
Run away!
But here you can see the fruits (errrrrr, the eggs) of our labours!
Fruity eggs
I even have a brief bit of video, if I can ever figure out how to get it onto here. . .then you, too, can hear the dulcet siren allure of Smerk's sultry Southern voice!
Keeping a wild young dragon occupied is a full-time job, I assure you. When roaming around the countryside terrorising the locals was out of the question, it was often time to pull out the cards or other games. Jenga turned out to be a valuable tool for keeping Smerk tamed. . .more or less.
Jenga 1
Jenga 2
Jenga 3
Jenga 4
Jenga 5
We also got a bit creative in designing our own carefully engineered structures.
Jenga 6
Jenga 7
Jenga 8
Jenga 9
Some designs were. . .even more unsuccessful than others.
Jenga 10
I also made sure that she got outside on occasion to experience that nice healthy Maryland carbon monoxide and to tan her freckles. On one sunny day, we decided to venture out to the City Park to test out that most devious of Aussie inventions: the boomerang.
Smerk had been thoughtful enough to provide a small pair of them.
Weapon of Mass Destruction
Since Smerk is a warmth-loving critter, the weather decided to be nice and calm and sunny and rather cool. All in all, though, it was a good day for being out.
Park 1
Park 2
Park 3
Park 4
There were even a number of moving target available for us to try out our boomerang skills upon.
Geese 1
Geese 2
Here is Smerk, demonstrating for us all the proper form and technique for miniature boomerang flinging:
Smerky form 1
Smerky form 2
Smerky form 3
As you can see, she has an excellent form indeed. . .
After about half an hour of practice, we managed to successfully work out the proper method to throw the boomerangs in such a way that they sort of flopped loosely to the ground after flying in perfectly straight paths and then loose themselves in the grass. We figured that that was skill enough for kangaroo hunting, as the roos would be so confused that they'd be easy to catch. Or else they'd die of laughter, and we could scavenge the bodies.
As all good things sadly seem to do, though, Smerk's travels in the Northern Hemisphere had to come to an end. For her last full day here, she decided that she wanted to venture to the beach again. And so once more we drove out to the wilds of Assateague Island, where we explored the "Life of the Dunes" nature trail.
There were plenty of dunes, but not much in the way of nature other than shrubs. And one killdeer that eyed us rather curiously for a while, perhaps wondering if adding Aussie hair to its nest would give it that cosmopolitan flair.
Killdeer
Smerk had fun exploring the ruins of the town that had been built on the island, clambering about on the old highway. It would probably not be the best road to try driving along today.
The high road
The town was built by some rather over-optimistic developers who forgot about little minor things such as storms, which tend to do rather drastic thing to small sandy islands.
After a few hours the day got cloudy and cooler, and it looked as though another storm might pay the island a visit soon.
A little atmosphere
And so it was decided to take Smerk home and thaw her out again.
The next day was the first of May. The day of the Smerk's departure. M'aider indeed. Once more I ventured forth into the perilous world of the Baltimore Metropolitan Area, to take her to the airport there. In spite of the obligatory confusion and snarl-ups involving the checking in of her baggage, we managed to get her to the security checkpoint well before her flight took off. For the rest of the news on her return to civilisation, you'll have to get the information direct from the dragon's mouth.
All in all, and in spite of nefarious germs making their presence known, I think that the occasion was most successful indeed. I got to admire Smerk's freckles in person. She got to be introduced to the world of Indiana Jones movies (even if she did fall asleep halfway through the first one). Maryland got to learn just what it's missing by not being part of Australia. When my fiendish plot to kidnap Smerk and lock her away in my basement finally comes to fulfillment, I think that all should go well.
Here's hoping that that reunion comes soon!
(And I hope you all had as much fun seeing Smerk in her nighties as I did. . .)
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