Yeehaw!

Wild Flowers of the High Mountains
Last week this time I was loading our truck for a much needed road trip to Eastern Orygon. Dan had a teaching engagement out in Baker City. He was also revisiting old haunts, places and re-connecting with freinds. Lucky me, wifey, got to tag along for the adventure.

We headed up the Columbia River Gorge, also called the Rhine of the West. More on that amazing place later. We drove for an eternity, along the mighty Columbia River, past Beacon Rock, Hood River, it's apple orchards filled with blooms, bees buzzing. The Dalles, on and on we drove..Until we turned right and began to climb into ponderosa pine covered forests.



The Elkhorn Mountains( Hunting horns blow loudly, Valkyrie's fly out of the clouds)
Behold the Elkhorns. New mountains, high , and dramatic they teem with Elk, deer, Mountain lions, and Wolves. Golden Eagles soar their craggy heights, and I stood in awe of their
beauty. During the day snow squalls dusted them, at night the full moon glinted off their peaks like silver.We we're headed for Dan's friend's ranch,
"Rancho Costa-plenty". Nestled at the feet of the mountains, they own 40 acres of land, three horses, two dogs, 2 cats and several little brown bats. They build their house together, and are some of the best people on Earth.



The Rancho, horse pasture, Washington Gulch, looking down off the ranch house deck.
Coffee and yoga on the deck every morning dahling, then a brisk jog down the road. Late breakfast, hiking all day..watching the eagles soar. Thanks to Devon and Rachael's hospitality I felt like I was at some sort of spa.


The Hills dotted with junipers..




Devon on his big , huge, trail horse.
This is the man you want on your side. Excellent horseman, carpenter, husband, and friend. Oh and funny...very funny..tells stories that will curl yer hair..tells jokes that make you groan..
We discussed politics and stories of life in the outback..


Me and Rachel and her paint, Flint Stone..
It was so damn great to hang out with another strong minded, type A, talkative, mountain woman who loves the land and is deeply connected to it. Italian and Irish, fair as a flower, feisty as a bobcat. Not just a fabulous horse woman, but an engineer/auto mechanic who worked her ass off to get what she has, Rides the trails with Her handsome Devon. We had such a great time laughing , blabbing, and getting to know one another. She made me feel so welcome, I didn't want to leave.
She was off to dressage class with her horse when we took that shot.



Here's the ritual:
I hide below the rock wall. YOU, the human get a stick. Then you throw the stick. I chase it and
laugh, and then return. No I do not fetch the stick, you have to get a new one.
Iam waiting....


Copper the red dog waiting for YOU to throw a stick.
Throw it already!



No! Don't go inside! Were having a game!!!


Okay, Iam still here..Throw the stick.
Repeat until you go mad.
Copper the red dog is still a puppy, she has enough energy to light up a small city.
She loves to run, run run. Oh and steal your shoes..try to find your boot on 40 acres..so you have to out them up high, or else Surprise!




Misha, from her website, I like an idiot forgot my camera, again!!!

We also had a great time visiting and meeting our new freinds Misha, Michael, and the lovely Starr, of Cove. The little town is nestled against the foot of the blue mountains, and frankly it is as gorgeous as can be there. The own and operate Shota Fjords, where they raise and train the amazing Fjord ponies, horse of the Vikings. Misha and I met a few years back, online, when i was hunting down a Fjord horse to ride in my wedding ceremony. Yes, you heard right, I rode a horse into my wedding, and looked damn swell doing it thanks. Well Misha connected me to her friend who lived closer to us., and since then I have tried to get over for a visit, but life gets in the way.

We finally got our butts over to Eastern Oregon and so we went to their amazing ranch to finally meet! Misha, Michael and their good freind Starr treated us to a wonderful dinner, with the best homebaked bread I have ever had. There was tons of yummy food, so much it would not all fit on the tabel!! After some plate juggling we all settled in for a feast.
We brought mead to share, and after dinner Dan taught everyone how to make fire using a flint and steel..We laughed, told stories and had such a great time no one wanted it to end.
This is a household of creative, talented and wise folks, both Michael and Misha are artists, writers and music is Michaels special passion. He is also very funny. Starr just rocks!
Misha's book Magpies and Tigers resonated with me, as a woman of the Earth and Sky in ways I can't express here.
Misha, wolverine sister who I am honored to count as freind, buddy and teacher thank you for opening up your Hof and home to us. Hail to your Ancestors, and Hail to the Spirits that keep you well!

After a good visit, it got later and we had to go. We drove away wishing there had been more time to stay, talk, and share more of our thoughts, tales, and silly jokes. That we were lucky to have met kindred souls.


After a great time visiting, and Dan's triumphant teaching was a happy memory..at the Baker City Interpretive Center ...We had, alas, to come back home to rainy Portlandia, but on the way we had some stops.
I am unfortunately not into snapping pics at everything, I missed a lot of shots due to my non-alertness..oh well, here's some I did get.


Wheels
Outside the carriage repair shop.
Wagon wheels, don't get any westerner than that!


The tackiness that only Western Americana yard sculpture can convey..Each cast in steel..
I have to confess to liking the buffalo alot.


"No." said my husband. "Just no!"
Fine then...hmph..
So we headed out, and around john Day we encountered something pretty damn cool.



Here they come!

"Oh you're gonna love this." says my darling husband.."It's a cattle drive!"
The truck winds down to a stop.
Wiry cowboys mounted up on bay horses come riding ahead of the herd. The bawling and bugling of cattle can be heard echoing down the canyon..Cattle dogs , squinty eyes and speckled like granite trot along beside the horsemen..The herd, a red, black, white and cream colored mass it moves with a slow, chaotic intent towards us. Iam so excited I can hardly contain myself.
This is something I have only seen in movies...or read about in books..

"Paula," I say out loud, "Is gonna dig this..."

I grab the camera.


Spilling up the side of the road.
Headed straight for us, 50 some odd head of cattle..The rancher is moving them down the way, to another pasture, or range. But all along the roadside is new, tasty green grass to eat, and so the herd is reluctant to move along. The herd is mixed beef cattle. Angus, Hereford, Charolais..



On the move
Spilling up the roadside...calves squeezing through fences, cows bawling after them, cowboys flanking them..chasing them back down onto the highway..
It's like a giant mooing amoeba...



Ca-boy on the hillside



Here they come!
The mooing and squalling of calves and cows is deafening. In the pitch of the mass the calves will get separated from their mothers, and their mothers are not happy. They holler and holler, looking for their babies..the babies squeal and squeal looking for their moms..All the time the cowboys move everything along..





We roll forward...into the mass of bovines..




Cute little calf.
Momma would not be happy if you tried to get too close.






Over HEre!!!!!!
The swirling herd, the loud bawling , the mooing, the smells, the big bodies inches from my truck, okay leaning on my truck..How do I convey to you what it was like? Being on a ship in stormy sea? While Nelson fires cannons over your head? The Cowboys yelling "Hyup! Ho! Heeyah!" as they use their coiled lariats to nudge the slow along, they canter by on the hillsides containing the mass of moo..

Mister Bull
I sit astonished as the big, well muscled Hereford bull saunters past the front bumper of our truck. I fumble for the camera, and manage to snap a pick of his rump..We are rolling along forward, the herd spilling away from us like water on a ships prow.
Mister Bull hustles over to the embankment to get in on the dee-licious grass his ladies have discovered, and sets to browsing.

Mooving along



Out of the past

It all felt like we had stepped back in time. The handsome cowboys, oh and they were handsome. Dressed in their work gear, they sported mustaches and suntans. Tall in the saddle, lean of limb, and confident in the saddle. Sparkling eyes like sunlight on a mountain stream...Wolf Woman I know you would have leaped from the truck and onto their horse!
The romantic image of the cowboy intertwined with the real thing.



Handsome Cowboy
Dressed in clothes straight out of the 19Th century, the blonde cowboy came riding up alongside the truck. I could only stare wide eyed as he sat on his horse, watching the straggling cows go by. Then I locked eyes with him. Sigh. Oh Wolf Woman, you would lose your heart to this one..Why if I wasn't a sensible married woman with a wonderful, handsome husband already...
I smiled and nodded to him..the truck jerked forward, and I tried to snap a picture without seeming a tourist..
He leaned forward in the saddle, tipped his hat and winked at I me.
I could not get a good picture, he was moving fast, and we were rolling.
It couldn't have been nerves..
"Oh gawd," says the Hubbinator.." Women and cowboys!"...
The Hubbinator rolled his eyes..and off we went..
I have to admit I did turn and look back.

NEXT: Picture Gorge

Bees and blossoms

Apple blossoms awaiting the bees..
We have a small apple orchard in the backyard. I mean tiny really. It is comprised of two red delicious and two mystery trees that produce amazing, sweet, red streaked golden fruits.
They have only ever been pruned in a furtive way, as I was always afraid of really having a go at it and wrecking them.

I finally sucked it up and pruned the heck out of them this year, after consulting a friend who knows how to do such things properly. He walked me through it, and shared his knowledge of pruning, which Iam grateful for!
So, I waited, and the buds unfurled, the old , shiny cd's hung in the branches kept the bud eating birds away. Soft pink petals opened and smelled so sweet...on all but one tree.
One of the mystery apples decided to just give blossoms a miss this year: only one flower on a usually heavy bearing tree.
What gives?
Iam not sure why it's not fruiting.
Didn't like the wassailing year? Pissed that I pruned it after 4 years of not pruning it...we left plenty of growth that should have produced blossoms...the green buds were already formed and about to open when I finally pruned the tall, whip like branches from it's top..
Is it a variety that skips seasons? It never has before..Iam vexed.
Iam just starting to take this apple growing thing seriously, so more research is needed..



Little Miss Bee
Yesterday I went out to admire the garden and see if the bees were out fertilising my apple blossoms yet. It was 70 degrees, sun shining gloriously, birds singing from above... and only one valiant little honey bee flying from flower to flower. ONE.
This is a bummer because while it had been a bit cool, this was warm day, and there should have been many bees, including the Mason kind buzzing around the trees..We have plenty of resident Mason bees, they have nesting holes in the shop, fence posts, little wooden blocks we set out for them..but they were still snoozing apparently.
Iam not sure if it's colony collapse, or just the lack of local hives to explain my solitary honey bee, but there she was. All alone, systematically hitting every flower. Better than nothing I thought. Thank you little Miss Bee!
So I thought I would do my best to snap a few pics of her in action.






She was so intent on her job that she never gave me a second thought. I waited for more to arrive but it was only her all afternoon.. I hope she went home and waggled out some directions for her hive mates, and that the next warm day we have (not today, it's 50 out and raining) will find plenty of honey bees all over my fruit trees.
Or as I l like to say, "Happy bees having sex with my trees!"
Ironically as I sat hunting and pecking this out on the computer, Wolf Woman called to share with me her news, That she is now the proud owner of two bee colonies, and has started her beekeeping in earnest!
Pretty cool.
Here's to the bees!

Work! Thistle hinges...

Drawing of hinges ...
Well as I have stated before things around here have been..well ...slow. Dan still has his historical/living history empire , axes, fire strikers etc... that always trickles in, but big ornamental jobs not so much. This of course has caused us much grief, since we have bills to pay.
Student loans, start up debt. etc... Like so many we have debt that grinds on us, and unlike some, I do not have a spouse who has a decent paying job outside of this work to lean on.
It's both of us in the same boat...
Being a sensitive and moody arteest it all started to get to me...bad. Winter did not help.
The Hubby had taken to calling me Denethor...brrrr.. not good!

So I have been making a concerted effort at being more optimistic, reaching out to freinds, and trying my damndest to not get mired down in fear.
As Churchill said "If you are going through Hell, keep going!"

That said with the warm spring weather and fragrant blooms of the green, growing things I feel more hopeful ...AND we have some new jobs. That helps , alot!

One is for a historical site here in Portlandia;
The Lone Fir Cemetery, the oldest cemetery in Portland. We were contacted by the Friends of the Lone Fir to build some gothic hinges for an old utility building belonging to the Mclay family..
seeing as how they are a Scottish family, I proposed a thistle theme..Sometimes my job is so cool...this kind of project is why I don't just run off and become a hermit...:)


More of the drawings and the template...
I started with the smaller drawing for the clients aproval, and then blow it up to actual size on the steel. I used tracing paper to transfer over the other half of the hinge.



Drawing on 1/4 inch thick plate


First hinge plate cut out with plasma torch.
Now I have to clean up the slag on the edges, give the thistle flower some detail work with a chisel, and hammer texture the entire piece. We are cheating and not making the actual hinge part, but welding on some pre- made ones...I know,...I know.... not very traditional, but niether ws using an electric torch to cut it out... To be pure and true I should have forge welded the arms onto the body, or split and the pulled them out, using a hammer and chisel...However this is not even pretending to be a piece made with only 19th century methods, I didn't charge enough for that..
Can't wait to show you what they loo like all finished!

Also, as Mayday is fast approaching, and being a huge folky nutball, I wanted to remind everyone to go on and get up before dawn on May 1st. to celebrate the coming in of Summer with your local Morris men and women!
The above hot link will take you to a great site to check out Mayday/Beltane events in your area, ours is with the Renegade Rose and Bridgetown Morris, at the Rose test Gardens..
It's great pre-dawn fun.
Check out this article allabout our local event, a certain fruit growing lady blacksmith is interviewed in it...

http://www.portlandtribune.com/features/story.php?story_id=120940177025452000

Life

The Twins=Finn(on top) and Ulrich Aka Oolie
Last summer, in early July, we rescued two brothers from a life of crime on the streets. They are now officially one year old, and while not big cats, packed full of rambunctious energy . Their odd little ways, and different personalities bring me hours of entertainment...
Oolie likes broccoli and will go to what ever ends he must to procure it...Finn fetches toy mice and brings them back to you, He will continue to bring them back when thrown until you get sick of playing the game. Somewhere I recall reading that the Egyptians trained cats to hunt game birds, so I suppose he is just presenting a latent skill, that if I were clever , would exploit in the feild..alas...Iam not that ambitious to go duck hunting with my Finn.

,
Alice, Queen of All
The twins share the digs with Alice, who is seen here looking gorgeous, and Ludwig,

Luwig, named after the Bavarian King..with Finn looking on..
Viggy is the best damn cat. He is rides around on Dan's shoulders, talks loudly, likes to complain about the food, the service, and the other guests, but is always happy to see YOU.
Why am I spending time posting my cats pics and bios?

Well things have been so grim here and slow I have nothing to report really blacksmithing wise.

There are not enough jobs coming in at all. Last week a client canceled their remaining project, and so we are staring down the real fact that we might lose our home, shop and all.
I wish I could be all" stiff upper lip" and brave about this but Iam being worn away like rock on the shore..

Lambs Toungues

Hellebore, or" Lenten Rose" blooming outside the smithy..
Spring!
Things are beginning to look like spring. Here in Orygon, on the West side of the Cascade range, spring arrives a little earlier than on the East side. We have more moderate winters, and so by the end of Feb. Mother Nature is starting to wake up. It's been a weird weather week, hail, snow, frost, warm sunshine, 55 degress, the bees show up, and then more hail. Bees retreat. I put on another sweater. I start the day in the shop wearing three layers of wool, by midday Iam down to a t-shirt. Oh and my work jeans. Don't want anyone to think Iam going all nudist blacksmith...Anyways, my point is that spring time weather has arrived, changeable and whacky. Soon the chocolate Easter/Ostara eggs show up in the stores(Cadbury dark chocolate with fudge center please.Mmmm...) and the red shafted Flicker's begin their rat-at-tat- tatting on the metal chimney covers...Go Spring! yeh!
Along with the weather's obvious turn to a new season, my shepardess friends(and Ewe know who you are) have all started to see the arrival of cute little lambs on their farms, and as this is lambing season I thought I would get into the spirit myself. Check out my lambs toungue:


Drawing out the "toungue"
Now a lambs toungue is that nice swooshy bit at the end of a handrail. It's pretty to look at and much better for the hand than , oh...a sharp cut off bit of metal. It looks like, well a toungue. Hence the name, given Iam sure by some smith of antiquity who made the first one. Probably a Roman..
Iam building these as We are working furiously on a straight forwardhandrail this week. No more artsy roses, herons, or fish. They languish on the work table. It's back to basic hand forging . The client needs this railing for his house inspection, and we need his money for the mortage payment. Then it's back to the artsy stuff.


Lamb Toungue, fresh from the forge. Note tounguelike shape... I draw out the steel, that is lengthen it, making sure it's thickness is constant all the way to the tip of the ..toungue. Then I put the curl into it, and bend it in the legvise. ViolA!



Finished Toungue

Note toungue-y shape...I have achieved my goal!Waiting to be welded onto the handrail, and then hauled over for installation.

Here is some of the Heron gate, in parts waiting more work=

Heron wings, body and tail all in a jumble...
The rusty colored piece is waiting to be chiseled, shaped and goes on the other side of the bird's body. She is a three dimensional piece...


More Heron, breast feathers, wing...Time consuming chiselwork...sigh...if only I was getting paid enough for this work. Iam not. The bane of all craftsfolk=underbidding our work..undervalueing our work. You try to estimate fairly, but somehow it always ends up being more time, money, effort than you thought.
Marketing, Self promotion..being a business person. It's not something that goes with being an artsy type generally, there are the exceptions to this, I am sure.
Iam proud of the work I do, it's the business end Iam wobbly on. See previous post on introspection and wanting a mentor...
Oh well, off to the shop, the morning is slipping away.
I hope spring is making some inroads where ever you may be!

Roses

Rose Insitu
One of things I love(and hate) about about blacksmithing is being challenged. How does one go about making something they have never made before? Yes, it's a pain in the ass, but it is also good for educating yourself. I always bemoan my lack of training, so many others have way more training in this than I. Years of fancy arts college, then working for some awesomely talented established smith, learning their chops at the knee of some Olde Worlde Master in Czech, Germany or England. Slaving away as an apprentice, gaining the vast and arcane knowledge of this craft that I have only just scratched the surface of...Gawd it makes me nuts!!!!And bitter apparently...ha!
When Iam not being bitter and jealous, I have to invent, research and just come up with things on my own. Sometimes out of my own wild imagination...that's where the "artistic" part of artist blacksmith comes in.
Roses for a shop sign. I did some research, and dug up all the many ways one can make roses.
There are a lot. Some mind boggle-ingly cool and time consuming..Some I need to see made in the flesh first so I could ken the tecnique...Some just too.. well...ugly. Some kind of what I was wanting..In the end I just figured it out for myself.

Wild Roses
So I got some pipe, heat it and did things to it. Cutting out petals, shaping them with the hammer, fussing about until I had what I wanted. I used the large lobes of my brain, and figured out how to make wild roses..I didn't want to spend a million years on them, but I wanted them to look nice. Now I don't know if this is how they make roses in Praugue, but it worked for me.
All the pics I took were blurry, so no step by step Iam afraid. I can't take a pic to save my life, it seems to be a genetic affliction...
That all said,
There is nothing as good , well maybe laughing with friends or smooching the Hubbinator, as successfully creating something . When the image in your head is made real , your holding it in your hands, looking at it in this dimension..It's so satisfying.
Thank the Gawds I only had to make three.

Introspection..

The Fish Gate in situ.

Things here at the smithy are chugging along, albeit slowly. The economy has tanked, so new jobs are getting pretty scarce. Things have slowed way down cash flow wise. It's not just us, other friends in various construction work (stone masons, carpenters) are having to scramble for new jobs. The jobs we do have we are backlogged on, causing clients to become cranky, add to that our savings drying up as we used it to maintain our house and home.
This is a bummer to put it mildly.
This all comes on the heels of a fairly crappy three years health wise for me. My lower back got so bad last winter it slowed production down to a near halt.

Working was excruciating. After welding a panel on a railing I was so cramped up I actually just slid to the ground to lie on my back. I couldn't stand up straight. It was all too painful. Anyways, I tried my best to be tough, but when your body revolts...well..
After enduring severe back pain for three years I sucked it up and went to the doctor(all out of pocket, apparently national health care would turn us all into Commie Pinkos which is much worse than bankrupting the working class for eternity....) to find I have degenerative discs smooshing into my nerves. Gra-a-a-te!
Then the depression set in, the frustration at not being able to run, lift weights, or just bend over to tie my fecking shoes.
This malaise led to a backlog, and cranky clients. We tried to catch up, but honestly, it's just we two little worker ants in the shop. I can't afford to hire anyone, so we got behind, and this lost us a job. So I have noone to blame but my own lack of fortitude.
Then the economy crashed, people freaked out and stopped spending money on house jewelry.
All of this drama has led me to do some serious introspection.

I know there are other more successful ironmongers out there, who are doing just fine. Most of the ones I admire(okay, am green with envy of) have been around for decades, have big shops, employees and more education, skills and business sense than myself. They do awesome work, obviously make good money, and enjoy what they do.
Lately I find myself wondering what the next step is for me is. Comparing what I do to the other smiths I admire, I feel like a complete amateur. How do I evolve myself into a successful, skilled blacksmith? What are the things I do that keep me from evolving and growing as a craftsperson?
Am I willing to put the energy and sacrifice into this business that it takes? Or am I fooling myself? Do really want to do this work at all?
I find myself thinking , Okay, if I asked for a mentor in this work, architectural ironwork, how would I do it? Offer to work for free at a successful smith's shop? Time is money, and no smith is going to want someone underfoot who can't contribute. I have plenty of self doubt about my skills, being primarily self taught.Then there is the "training your competition" issue...More education? -How do I pay for it when we are tapped out?
Well, It's time to act on this stuff. Find the answers, and make the changes that will enable me to move forward in my life. She says with a nervous grin.

Soothing the tired soul..by rocking out.

Well, after this last few days of blizzards, house fires and general mayhem I am taking a day off to recharge. I got up today and decided that I needed to do nothing involving work if I was going to get my mojo back in order. Iam a tomboy type of woman, who enjoys physical activity to bring myself around to equilibrium. Like a good jog around the neighborhood, bench pressing heavy weights, or hiking. BUT the roads are way too sloppy and dangerous to go running, the gym is closed, so I fell back to plan B.
Music and film therapy.

Film therapy means watching Lord of the Rings from beginning to end, not in one go mind you, but over several evenings with the Hubbinator. If anything can get me feeling triumphant and uplifted it's watching the defeat of the Dark Lord and the return of the King to Gondor.
Hunky pants heroes overcoming peril, massive battles, gorgeous sets, gorgeous New Zealand, love triumphs over fear..blah blah blah..
I try not to go all swooney over the surly type A Boromir, but hey, it is Sean Bean, and Iam only mortal. Yes, Viggo is lovely, but I like them bad boys.- but not too bad.

I just liked the song, not the dude..
The music part involves me, the computer, and the groovy site called LastFM. While I blog away the dulcet tones of the sounds of the 70's burble along in the back ground. For some reason it's all those damn soft rock songs and Glam anthems from my pre-teen years that are making me feel less, oh weirded out by the days events. Bands like Sweet, 10 Cc, Pilot, Bread, Bay City Rollers, and Peter Frampton. His tune " I'm in You" brought me out of my funk..

Upon hearing the opening chords of that song I was transported back in time, back to a day when I had feathered hair, ugly glasses and my virginity..Back to those groovy days, when my best friend The Blonde Biologist and I would sit in her room listening to the lastest hits. On a transistor radio. AM yet. One tinny speaker, and a broken antenna patched with scotch tape.
As the tunes kept coming We'd discuss boys, how to catch a boy, which boys were "foxy" and, being country girls: horses. We were after all 12 . It was all about horses and boys in those preteen days...Hunters, jumpers and that cute guy who sat behind me in homeroom...No cares except homework, days of freedom riding horses, camping, and hunting. Simple days.
So it's no wonder that the Ball Room Blitz by Sweet can still make me feel like jumping up and down with estatic, happy joy. There is a time for Zeppelin, and a time for Sweet. Today it was Sweet.

Fire and Ice

Off a snow shoeing...

The Neighbors House Before...
Some of you may have noticed my lack of blogging, or emailing, or commenting on your blogs as of late. Or not. Part of this has to do with the gigantic snow storm that hit us the week before Yule. Part of it due to a fire. We had almost two feet of dry, fluffy snow turn Portland into a Nordic wonderland. Temps hovered around 20 degrees f. during the day. We broke out the snow shoes and went on treks through the neighborhood, marvelled at how a snow fall can utterly transform the landscape into something magical. It was all very Currier and Ives, we were cozy in our house, a fire in the grate, gluhwien in my cup, a fully stocked larder of Yuletide goodies to eat.

Then the ice storm came and massive limbs off of the Doug fir trees started crashing down, ripping out power lines. Small trees fell over from the weight of snow and ice. Roofs caved in, thousands lost power. The falling trees blocked roads, and gave the already harried power company more work to do. Meanwhile the roads became passable only for those with tire chains and four wheel drives(like we have on our truck).
I know, people who live in Michigan and Oslo deal with huge amounts of snow every winter, but this is Portland Oregon. Snow down here in the valley is a rare thing, so when we do get blessed with the stuff the city shuts down, and everyone goes snow mad.
We had a wonderful Solstice/Yule evening. The Hubbinator, the cats, and Myself. Many dear and wonderful friends called to send their greetings of the season, warm wishes and regards.
The snow fell softly outside on the longest night of the year...

So fast forward to Christmas morning. The exact opposite of the serene solstice..
"Wake up! Wake up! The neighbors house is on fire!!!!" Iam being shaken awake by the Hubby.
Jolted out of a deep dream I awake to see my neighbors 5 year old boy, dressed in his pyjamas, standing by the bed, wide eyed and scared. Oh crap. They run back out of the bedroom. I follow.
When I enter the living room I see the neighbor's two boys sitting on our sofa, watching their house burn.. I don't know how to put it any other way. The teenage son is on his cel phone calling family. He sits next to his little brother, holding him. The adults are all outside watching in stunned horror, when I hear the fire engines roaring down the hill. Lucky we have a fire house just blocks away.
"Our kitties!" cries the 5 year old...He looks at me with those big eyes, and starts to cry..all I can do is hold him, and tell him he's safe..Try to distract him..."Look at the brave firemen fighting the fire.. watch them being so brave!" Brave like he is right now..His brother tells me their Aunt is on the way to get them..I go and round up some warm sweaters, some snow boots for their bare feet. Their Aunty arrives, and whisks them away to their Grandmothers up the road.

I see my Hubby and the Father of the boys jump in to help a lone fireman drag a huge fire hose to the fire hydrant half a block away..the snow makes it hard for them to walk.....the trucks hoses didn't charge at first..the flames leap higher...everyone looks panicked...Then the hoses leap to life, the flames are belching from the windows of the house as the water hits them. The black smoke turns to steam...

People come and go from my house. Endless cups of coffee. Shock, tears. Hugs. Trying to comfort our friends...making sure everyone has what they need..
I stand in my kitchen, the drama playing out before me drags me back to a cold, icy winter night. I was 12, standing in a sleet storm watching our house burn..the wind whipping our night clothes, the ice stinging our skin. The flames reflected in my Mother's tears..
The blaze beautiful in it's fury..Our lives changed in an instant that stormy night so long ago..

Iam snapped back to the present when I see our neighbor standing in the blackened door of his house. In his arms he carries the still, limp form of their beloved calico cat. He carries her out, and lays her down gently beside the two blanket covered bodies of their other cats.
Oh hell...I know he's heartsick..but he's being so strong..

The rest of the morning passes.. By early afternoon the fire is out for sure, the house is boarded up, the family is safe. They head out to relatives houses, thanking us for our help. We assure them it was nothing, it's what you do for folks when something like that happens.
The entire event brought up some old scary memories for me, but showed me that when the shit hits the fan I know I will respond calmly. My Hubby, well, he was amazing. I know that our Neighbors have a long road ahead....they lost their home, their beloved pets..They are rich with family who care, and friends. That's so important now...
How did it happen?
Our neighbors had just opened their gifts on Christmas morning. When someone heard the electric breaker box trip with a loud "Click!" Within in minutes the house was engulfed in smoke and fire. They had enough time to get themselves and their dog out. They tried to save the cats but they ran back in, and by then the heat and smoke was overwhelming...
The fire inspector suspects an overloaded power cord...but who knows for sure. The space that it started in is a total pile of charred mess..
So, go and hug your beloveds, check up on all your electrical, and make sure you have a plan. It can save lives.

Winter Comes...

Frost and Fire
Winter is here, nature tells me this, not the Astronomers..Frost covered everything one cold morning last week.. It sparkled like sugar on the roof of our smithy, the fallen leaves, the branches of our apple trees.
The above picture captures it as it began to melt, the twisted damascus billet caught my eye with it's contrasting lines.
Our bellows and upturned forge were completely frosted. but it soon melted off.

Now we await a big , Arctic air mass to descend, and plunge us into Winter proper. With 5 inches of snow here in the valley, several feet of snow up in the mountains, and 20 degree temps. I know.. some people have long, dark, cold, snow filled Winters that would put our moderate ones to shame, what you have to understand is I love snow. I like it when the ponds freeze over so thick you can go skating. When the snow stays awhile.. school is called off, snowmen last more than an afternoon, the woods become cathedrals to Winter's beauty...so I say Wassail! Bring it on! Snow a blanket of white , the great equalizer.
Good thing we have a fresh stack of firewood!

Got Wood?The Big Dead Doug Fir Awaits Our Saw..
The wonderful Eileen offered us some firewood that was standing on her property. All we had to do was come and cut it down..So we did. For the last few days we took a break from forge work to go fetch firewood. It was truly a community effort. Eileen, Mother Hen, Big Phil, the Hubbinator and Myself chainsawed, bucked, split, loaded, un-loaded and stacked two trees.
Eileen owns one of the nicest chunks of Oregon woods you'd ever like to see. It's secluded, and tranquil and when I am there I never want to leave. It was cold and not raining when we got there, which is a happy thing.It stayed dry too, and the sun came out to warm us.
This brought out the fungus..

Fungus on the Forest Floor
The forest floor was covered in little mushrooms of every variety, some edible, some will surely send you straight to the underworld with liver failure..So we just admired them and skipped the potential dying part..

Long ago woodsmen used what was called a "Misery Whip", or a big, long two handles saw. Two men on either end of the saw would whip back and forth, putting their entire bodies into motion to get the saw through the tree. It took great endurance, will, and was miserable work. Hence Misery Whip. We however used a chain saw instead. Sure we love our living history nerdiness, but sometimes that can be impractical..
Dan elected to run the saw, manly man that he is..The rest of us stood back, well back and spotted the top of the tree. If it moved, even a bit, we had to yell so Dan (and the rest of us)could get the hell out of the way.

TIMBER!!!-Well, sort of...
Dan ran the saw, as Eileen gave him moral support, and direction on the cuts needed. I would have gotten a shot of him sawing, but I was too engrossed with the suspense of it all and completely forgot I had a camera in my pocket.....Some photo journalist Iam...
Chainsaw growling and buzzing like a mad hornet Dan made the proper cuts in the truck that would get the tree to fall in the right spot. He was calm on the outside, but I knew inside he was nervous..It's a dangerous thing sawing down a tree.
The tree began to gently sway, we all shouted "There it goes!" Dan and Eileen scampered quickly out of the way.The mighty fir began to fall, we all watched breathlessly when suddenly it stopped. It leaned like the Tower of Pisa, not moving.This was kinda of shitty to be honest.
We stood gaping open mouthed in amazement. Why was itn't falling? Seconds passed, Dan walked up to the thing and pushed it. Mother Hen gasped, I nearly had a fit. Another nudge with his boot, He backed away. We all heard a creaking sound...Then slowly, it began to fall again, heading exactly where we wanted it to fall, with a huge KeeeRunch!!! Of limbs, and branches.
Huzzah! We all shouted in unison. Smiles all around, back patting, gratitude for my Husband (or any of us) not getting squished.

Big Log
So the sawing continued unabated as Dan and Eileen cut the thing up into rounds. Mother Hen, Big Phil and I drug the things out of the woods. Eileen the Mighty and I split them into manageable logs for stacking. Phil drove the little tractor and loaded them into our truck.
Everyone worked their butts off. A group effort well done!

Isn't it gorgeous?
I loved this pic. They look like stars, the golden red wood , the lichen covered bark..
It is Lucia's day. Prior to the calendar reform - from the Julian to the Gregorian calendar in 1582 - Saint Lucia's feast day fell on the shortest day of the year, the Winter Solstice.
Hmmm...interesting...firewood, light, candles, the Solstice, Yule...
As I sit here a fire burns brightly in the hearth. It crackles and snaps merrily, warming our home. The cats vie for the warmest chair to sleep on, the one with the golden, creamy, silken sheep fleece from lovely Devon. All the way from Locks Park Farm. On the mantle stand two handsome straw Jul Swine, positively radiating ancient Nordic Yuletide prosperity..
On the sideboard in the kitchen brilliant yellow, sweet saffron dough waits. Soon to be made into Lussikatter, to celebrate the return of the light and the promise of returning life to the land.
How lucky am I to have such wonderful friends, old and new, near and far?
Thank you Paula, and Marie. Thank you Hubbinator,Eileen, Mother Hen, Big Phil and the land herself for giving so much to us all. May all my friends and strangers who read this little blog o' mine, know light and joy this St. Lucia's day!
Wassail!