The Haunted House

I used to live in a little brown house in Alexander valley on hwy. 128. Next door was an old big mint green house. Both houses were owned by the same family and the big house was known for it’s bright green color

and the swastika shaped window on the front door which was really an arts and crafts motif since the house

was built before WWII yet the owners were German and were kind of nazi-like in their behavior.

We were usually friends with the many different tenets who passed through the big house and we shared

parts of the property. The houses had been built by a man named Abshire who had once owned large areas

of the valley and even been secretary of agriculture to the U.S. Anyway, at one point the only neighbor left

was this guy named Jim who then had a mental breakdown. He got crazier and crazier and started

sleeping outside in a tent because he said there were ghosts in the house. He was also drinking heavily and

he didn’t have a job so eventually he was evicted with lots of drama. Well here is where the story gets scary.

Imagine, if you will, a winters night in the country. It’s dark and quiet and still and in the early early morning

and you’re deeply asleep and suddenly the person sleeping next to you wakes up screaming a blood-curdling

scream. This is what started happening regularly. and that’s not all. My wife Sandra and I started dreaming the

same dreams, or nightmares. The dreams involved chickens and Italian field workers who wanted raw chicken.

They would be in our kitchen asking for the chickens. We both dreamed this. There was a peacock who lived

on the property, (Mr. P, more on him later) and sometimes I would dream about just his legs, giant peacock

legs walking, toom toom toom. There was also times I would dream there creepy people standing on the side

of the bed watching us we slept. I would wake up suddenly but I wouldn’t be able to move my body and I would

just lay there frozen looking around the dark room. This went on for awhile and I fell into a pattern of waking

up every night around the same time, 3 or 4 in the morning. It got to point where we were both exhausted in the morning. We decided to contact a local psychic, Pam Bolton, and asked for her help. She brought over

her spiritual woman’s group and they did a reading on the house.

Part II next time

no casual chainsawing

ripped my shorts with a chainsaw-Duh!

I did something the other day that I don’t usually do and I got away with it but now I’m telling you;

Don’t Do It! I had been using the chainsaw in the morning on a watershed restoration project in the

backcountry and when we broke for lunch we left the equipment there. When I came back later

I had changed out of my safety gear and I was wearing my new favorite pair of carthart shorts. As I loaded

the equipment into the truck I noticed something I had missed and rather than put the chaps back on

I (you guessed it) decided to chainsaw in shorts. This is not recommended. Everything was going fine until

I held it just a little too low and literally one cutter just grabbed the top of my shorts and put a big L-shaped rip in the front. No blood, no skin, and I knew I had been lucky. That’s when you promise yourself to never

ever be careless again until the next time you’re careless. A certain blogger from Roshambo winery has been

known to use a chainsaw while wearing shorts and flip-flops. He only burned his leg on the hot engine.

So the moral is: this is a dangerous game!

still more acorns

Hi there!

so many they’re coming out my ears

acornmania

acorn extravaganza

fruit of the oak

It seems we have another masting year here in Sonoma county. Masting is a heavy nut crop and in this case it

applies to oak trees producing acorns. All day long I

can hear the crunch crunch crunch as cars drive over

the nut covered road or “pop” as one falls on the roof,

or my head! Scientists aren’t exactly sure why some

years there is a heavy crop of acorns and others not

but from my own personal observation I believe the

timing of the winter rain has a lot to do with it. Most years

when the oaks are flowering it’s also during the rainy

season and the pollination is average to poor but the last

two years have been dry and I’ve seen oak trees buzzing

with bees for weeks. That’s my theory and I’m full of ‘em.

It’s been said that I’m full of other stuff too but believe me

I’ve got acorns coming out of my ears. The deer like them so that should mean an increase in the deer population plus an increase in things that feed off of deer including ticks. I know some people who eat acorns too and one of them told me that black oak acorns were

the best. They are the biggest and roundest to be sure. The textured cap that holds the nut looks like a fairie

Hat and if you take out the acorn and turn it around and hold it between your thumbs and blow it just right

you can make a loud whistle. Fun on the trail.

Fall foxes

I’ve eard a lot of talk about foxes the lately. People have been seeing them more often and I am wondering if

the foxes are getting desperately hungry at the end of a long dry summer. They are probably watching us all the time.

A visitor to my booth at the plaza arts and crafts fair was telling me she saw one casually resting on a branch

in her big oak tree, ignoring two barking dogs below. Going in the house to fetch a camera, the fox was gone

when she returned. That’s the way they roll. Margie from Red winery Road,(say that like Elmer Fudd) heard a

fox bark for the first time. Hack Hack. It’s more like part bark part hack. She thought it was a bum in the

bushes which I thought was strange since she lives out in the country. In San Francisco it’s fairly pedestrian

to have a bum hacking in the bushes but in Geyserville right out your front door? She does live by the casino.

Anyway, foxes are all the things we think they are; sly, quick witted, lovers of tasty chicken. They also will

bark/hack at you if you’re near their den. When I lived up on the Mill creek ladder one of my ranch hand jobs

was to check the spring-fed water tank and there was a fox that would block the path and bark. I would just throw some rocks at it. (not to hit ) For awhile I was seeing a certain large headed fox on the slope above the

house at night. One night I came home with my two-year old son asleep in the car. I wanted to unload the car before I brought him in, so I grabbed the groceries and I left the door open. When I came back out, just

minutes later, sure enough there was the fox, one foot up in the car sniffing at my toddler. Good thing Rocco

was still strapped in or I wouldn’t be receiving any father’s day cards.

Here comes the rain

The first rain of fall is apparently on the way.  I see flatbeds hauling wattles and other erosion control material

scurrying  to construction sites and newly planted vineyards. The rain may not amount to much but it’s a good thing to have your hillside ready. Evolution.

Recommended reading: “Collapse” by Jared Diamond

Reporting from the land-meet the ranch hand

they call me the Ranch Hand. I’m a local guy who works on different properties,

mostly near westside road outside of Healdsburg CA. Yup, plenty of work out here. I’ve been know to fix fences, dig holes, prune fruit trees, prune many

other kinds of trees, prune shrubs, cuts lots and lots of grass. I can water the

grass too and then cut it again. I install and fix irritation, I mean irrigation.

I move rocks, brush,soil, dirt, shovel dirt, move the dirt in a wheel barrow,

dump it, spread it. I can take a load to the dumps. I can stack branches

high in a pile and then burn that pile. I make a compost pile and turn it. chip

wood. I can find a hole in the fence where the goats are getting out and mend it.

I can bury a stinking dead animal. I’ve killed many mice. Not because I want to

but because I have to. I plant vegetable gardens. Rototill. Fertilize it, weed it,

mulch it, water it, avoid spraying round-up but spray just a little on that damn

bermuda grass. I can whistle a happy tune while I dig more holes. I can maintain

a small engine. Asexually propagate plants. Yes-siree, sometimes I’ve got to hand it to myself…it gets lonely out here!