Pictures don't lie

It was a generally crappy summer (and autumn, so far), weather-wise, and health-wise for that matter, yet I still managed to capture some really lovely photos that seem intent on discounting my opinion on the former. Enjoy.

Approaching sunset in Boothbay Harbor, Maine, Fourth of July weekend:


Fred induling in a snack on the trail at Acadia National Park in Maine over the Fourth of July weekend:


By later in July, the new guy was learning to make himself at home. Atticus, who I nearly hit with my car in May, now comfortably ensconced in the canine crew in Willsboro:


Homer found a warm spot on a cool day early in the growing season:


Jewels for the garden. Thank you, Pat!


Ridiculously cute. On the bench are Choli and Mike, Deb and Darryl's dogs. On the ground, Fred, Atticus and Homer, in the garden:


Despite the wet summer, the tomato plants did pretty well:


A bee on one of many beautiful zinnias at the Franklin Delano Roosevelt historic site in Hyde Park, NY:


You've noticed some sunshine in these pictures, but usually with the sun - and all that wet - came mosquitos. The boys had to soak up the sun where they could:


The old homestead is right pretty in the summer. My yard is amazingly park-like:


In vino veritas. Fred got so sick of the mosquitos that he took to surfing the net and, ultimately, acquiring a taste for a good dry riesling:


These fellas sure know how to put a smile on mommy's face, despite all that crap weather:

Just a Quick Update

Survived hurricane Irene. Whew. And I have a new dog. And I hope to be posting again sometime soon. The new guy is Atticus. So, from left to right above, Homer, Fred and Atticus. AKA Homer Schomer, Freddie Schmeddie and Atticus Schmatticus (their Yiddish names). Also, Homeropteryx, Fredosaurus and Atticus Rex (their dinosaur names). And Makes Happy Noise, Soars With the Wind and Sly Fox (their Native American names). Otherwise known as the most well-loved Beagle mixes in the North Country!

Lake Champlain Flooding

I realize that it's not of the same magnitude, the flooding that we're having up here along Lake Champlain or the many rivers in the Adirondacks. That is, it's not of the same magnitude...unless it's your house that is completely surrounded by water. I took a ride around Willsboro Point and Essex today. The small coves and bays of Lake Champlain that surround the peninsula of "The Point" have heaved up onto waterfront property and completely consumed some homes. Many of these houses used to be vacation homes, but many of them now are peoples' first and only homes. And yes, Willsboro Point does have some expensive homes, with pools and tennis courts and, of course, most of those homes have been spared damage as they sit high above their cove or bay. But a lot of these houses are just houses, like mine, only far too close to the lake, at least they were this year. Lake Champlain is at historic high levels, drowning houses on both the New York and Vermont sides. The lake is supposed to grow even higher tomorrow. But we have a forecast of some relief from the rains coming up, and most of the melt is complete. I hope this is so, because even for those of us who aren't in danger from the high levels of the beautiful rivers and lakes up here in the Adirondack Mountains of upstate New York, we have had enough of the rain and the wet. Today was a lovely, sunny day...for most of the day.

Here are some shots of the damage along the lake.
















This horse seems completely oblivious to the drama going on a few hundred yards away.














A house, er, estate that is seemingly untouched by the lake nipping at its feet, though if there's a basement, boat races could be underway down there...it's something to do, inside, out of the rain.


My "Ghost House". It makes me want to cry every time I pass this house and watch it fall further into ruin. Sigh.










The Essex Ferry, just a 7 minute drive from my house, had only recently re-opened after a late winter closure due to ice on the lake. As you can see, there is no getting to the ramp that would lead you onto a ferry.






At least Mister Robin seems happy with all this wet.

I Like My Blog

I just haven't had a lot of time for it lately. I want that to change. Facebook is partly to blame. I can quickly go there, dump a short paragraph on what I think of something, attach a link or photo, and it's done. Somehow, I feel the blog deserves more time and thought. And I just don't have enough time for thoughtfulness. I am working far more than I had planned, but I am hopeful that this has changed and I will be back to having time for contemplation and time for writing, which I miss desperately. Of course, the gardening season is upon us, and being in the garden has many benefits, including that essential contemplation time.

And I have a new camera, so you will be seeing more photos here, like this:


My goodness these boys are scrumptious.

Goodbye, Sweet Miller

It was the day that I hoped would never come. The realist in me knew that I would have to say goodbye to Miller one day; dogs cannot live forever. But for a while there, it seemed that Miller was intent on trying. He lived to be 17 3/4 years old, quite ancient for a dog.

Miller was a beautiful dog. I guess one of the reasons it seemed so hard to finally make the call to let him go was that he looked so damned good to the very end. He just had a light about him, from the minute I saw him at the shelter that very first time. Other dogs that I've adopted were often on a second or third look. I didn't even really realize that I'd seen Fred on the first walk-through at the shelter, he was so quiet, so meek. Miller stood out from the get-go.

I think it was those eyes.


Okay, maybe that's not the best shot of those eyes!

Miller's lived a pretty pampered life, as all Vanneman dogs tend to do. He loved being groomed, though he was never a fan of having his nails done. He slept on the bed, until he was unable to make it up, and then he had the very best dog beds at his disposal. My sisters and I laugh at how soft our dogs' elbows are; these are animals that have never had to lay on hard surfaces! One of Boo's nicknames, as it was, was "Pasha" Boo.


Miller and Boo were best buds. A lovely pair of dogs. And they, like all of my guys, had traveled a fair amount. Since Miller had been with me for so long, he got to travel the most. He has been lucky enough to stay in some of the nicest bed and breakfasts in the Catskills, the Adirondacks, Charlottesville, Virginia, Chambersburg, Pennsylvania, the eastern shore of Maryland. There were surely others. And he and his brothers enjoyed several visits to Moosehead Lake in the far north of Maine. Such a lucky boy.


That's Bailey laying there with his head on Fred's shoulder. Miller was very patient with Bailey. We all, dogs and people alike, learned to be patient with Bailey. But Miller being Miller seemed the most able to manage it...even an unfortunate diarrhea incident on a drive up here to look at houses didn't really phase Miller much. Didn't make me very happy...

That wasn't the first time Miller had something inadvertently slopped all over his lovely coat. One time, at the Fire and Ice Festival in Mount Holly, NJ, Miller and I, along with Deb's little Menolly, I think, were waiting outside for our "fire" part of the festival: a chili contest (the ice part was an ice sculpting contest). Deb and Dana crossed the street with some chili for me (dogs were not allowed in the fire hall where the chili contest was taking place). As they handed the cup of chili over to me, Miller jumped up to get some for himself. His nose hit the cup, which flew out of my hand, flying way above our heads. As you can imagine, this entire event seemed to be happening in slow motion, but not quite slow enough for any of us to stop the inevitable: the chili landed smack dab on Miller's back. Oy. Again...it's funny in hindsight only!


Miller was so welcoming to all of the dogs who came and went from my household during his long lifetime. Such a sweet boy. And the other dogs just loved Miller.


And even in his older years he was more than willing to welcome a young punk into the family. Homer adored Miller...he would often just walk over to Miller as he lazed in his bed and plop down on the floor right next him, happy to just spend time with his older brother, though, on his first day here, he was happy to take Miller's bed. And true to Miller's gentle nature, he let him, and took the smaller bed right nearby.

The fact is that I could go on for pages about Miller. He was a special boy. Though all of my dogs are nice, Miller (once he was out of his terrible twos! Boy did I lose a lot of wood at that Oak Road house!) was just the most perfect combination of sweet and kind. We called him The Empath, and he really was able to read our minds...he always knew when I needed a little extra lovin'.

Miller, like all well-loved dogs, earned many a nickname in our family. The Golden Bear, Blondie, Blond Bombshell, his Native American Indian name, Walks in Sunlight, his dinosaur name, Tri-Miller-Tops. To me, he will always be my golden boy.

Goodbye, Sweet Miller.

A Banner Day

And it is done. Why it took so long, I'm not sure. And we all know what would have happened under a McCain administration.



The U.S. Senate did just exactly this today, and if it meant compromise on other legislation to get us to this point, I say...that's exactly what these men and women who were voted in to serve should be doing. I am proud of this vote.

Happy Holidays

I just love the Christmas season. The lights and the snow and the Christmas trees, the candles and the dogs whirling around the backyard making a right mess of the formerly pristine snow. The trees are gorgeous right now, all snow covered.

And I really, really love that silly concept of "peace on earth, goodwill toward men". I just wish we could figure out a way to make it so.

I have a new camera and hope to get some new pictures over the course of this holiday season, but to go along with this fantasticly rockin' recording from Bobby Darin's great Christmas CD...




...I have the following photos to share from Christmases past. Enjoy.

I Stand With Aaron Sorkin...

...on the question of Sarah Palin. Here is what he said about Palin's reality show...and other things:


In Her Defense, I'm Sure the Moose Had It Coming
by Aaron Sorkin


"Unless you've never worn leather shoes, sat upon a leather chair or eaten meat, save your condemnation."

You're right, Sarah, we'll all just go fuck ourselves now.

The snotty quote was posted by Sarah Palin on (like all the great frontier women who've come before her) her Facebook page to respond to the criticism she knew and hoped would be coming after she hunted, killed and carved up a Caribou during a segment of her truly awful reality show, Sarah Palin's Alaska, broadcast on The-Now-Hilariously-Titled Learning Channel.

I eat meat, chicken and fish, have shoes and furniture made of leather, and PETA is not ever going to put me on the cover of their brochure and for these reasons Palin thinks it's hypocritical of me to find what she did heart-stoppingly disgusting. I don't think it is, and here's why.

Like 95% of the people I know, I don't have a visceral (look it up) problem eating meat or wearing a belt. But like absolutely everybody I know, I don't relish the idea of torturing animals. I don't enjoy the fact that they're dead and I certainly don't want to volunteer to be the one to kill them and if I were picked to be the one to kill them in some kind of Lottery-from-Hell, I wouldn't do a little dance of joy while I was slicing the animal apart.

I'm able to make a distinction between you and me without feeling the least bit hypocritical. I don't watch snuff films and you make them. You weren't killing that animal for food or shelter or even fashion, you were killing it for fun. You enjoy killing animals. I can make the distinction between the two of us but I've tried and tried and for the life of me, I can't make a distinction between what you get paid to do and what Michael Vick went to prison for doing. I'm able to make the distinction with no pangs of hypocrisy even though I get happy every time one of you faux-macho shitheads accidentally shoots another one of you in the face.

So I don't think I will save my condemnation, you phony pioneer girl. (I'm in film and television, Cruella, and there was an insert close-up of your manicure while you were roughing it in God's country. I know exactly how many feet off camera your hair and make-up trailer was.)

And you didn't just do it for fun and you didn't just do it for money. That was the first moose ever murdered for political gain. You knew there'd be a protest from PETA and you knew that would be an opportunity to hate on some people, you witless bully. What a uniter you'd be -- bringing the right together with the far right.

(Let me be the first to say that I abused cocaine and was arrested for it in April 2001. I want to be the first to say it so that when Palin's Army of Arrogant Assholes, bereft of any reasonable rebuttal, write it all over the internet tomorrow they will at best be the second.)

I eat meat, there are leather chairs in my office, Sarah Palin is deranged and The Learning Channel should be ashamed of itself.

Wow.