The Big Row
Schuyler's Co, a French and Indian War reenacting group is making a stunning trip from the Mohawk Valley to Fort Ontario for a weekend reenactment. They will be rowing a reproduction boat from the period, and sailing when they can. I offered to meet them on the way since they are rowing through Oneida Lake as part of their journey and nearly past our house(albiet on the other side of the lake) and bring them some fresh supplies (vegs, fruit, eggs, etc.) They said they'd probably be at Sylvan beach near 2pm and Godfrey Point by 6pm. So, I packed some things, including awesome orange cranberry scones, and went to meet them at 2. I waited awhile and since the wind and weather was favorable, wondered if they had already passed Sylvan Beach and gone on the Godfrey Point. So, I drove the 10 miles to the landing. No sign of them. I waited awhile. Got an ice cream. Read a book. No sign of them.
So, back to Sylvan beach. It rained and I waited and watched. Nearly 5:00 I got a call from my darling daughter to say she'd be out to visit after work and stay the next day. I mentioned that I had a Wed. 10am appt. for the car... and she said, "Mom. It's Monday." I insisted it wasn't; that I was meeting Schuyler's today and Tomorrow was actually Wed. No. I was wrong.
Slunking home, I realized I'd spent a beautiful day hanging out at Sylvan beach, enjoying the views, my book, the quiet, the solitude, thinking of my friends, and our funny hobby. A lovely afternoon.
Today when my daughter comes I'll take her with me to meet the crew. Nice day ahead.
I've been checking flights to visit another daughter in Montana. It is so frustrating to me I should just ask a travel agency. rrrrrrr. I bet they could just hook me up in a minute! How much does it cost to hire one? My brother could do as well, and I'm sure he has a million flying hours saved up. His daughter is working in Germany at architecture firm. cool.
Humingbirds are all around my garden lately. They sound like squeeky toys!They're so funny. Two had a 'battle' outside the window one day. They were, like, diveing at each other and one flew behind the firepit to hover-hide from the other one! Hilarious.
I was working in the garage the other night and heard an odd shuffling noise in the roses next to the front door. It was crazy, like an old Laurel and Hardy movie where the bushes are thrashing like mad, or the Julius book and the Gorilla throws the football back. I went to get a flashlight and when I came back there was a squirrel on the grass... weaving and snuffing, listing weirdly to the starboard. He was Not right. Lucy (the cat) was a couple feet away watching him intently but not going near; strange, as she is an animal goddess hunter. I figured he was sick and plunked a soda crate over him til Steve got home.
Well, the verdict was that he was really sick or hurt because he was even suffering more when Steve got home. We called a couple neighbors to tell them not to mind the shot and Steve dispatched him with a .22. boohoo. Later, Steve buried him in the field. A fitting place. It bothered him to have to kill the squirrel. For all the man-things he loves, he has the tenderest heart.
The next day a small squirrel came to the glass door... he sat looking in for several minutes. Steve spoke to him and crouched down just a couple feet from him. He looked in and slowly walked away. Hm...