Looking out over the bay the smoke is thicker than yesterday and will be even more so tomorrow.
Getting my London cough back, shallow, irritating, eyes burn- They say to keep everything closed , windows, doors- and to leave the floor undisturbed, that is where the residual settles, so just leave it for a few days . After the smoke clears then it will be OK to clean the floor.
I can see across the street pretty well, but anything beyond their roof top is a blur.
and in the yard. The babies have lost their spots and knock knees. I keep meaning to buy apples for them, They must be hungry, I have left the hose trickling so at least they have a cool drink.
They are so used to people now, they do not move even when I get close. Their ears go back and twitch, but that is the only reaction I can get out of them.
Rummaging through old papers found this , The red star points to My Great Grandpa's roll in cowboy / Indian shenanigans.
He was born and raised in Gloucester, Not sure how he made it to the States but when he arrived he and his brother hooked up with the Mormon folk and trail blazed across America to the promised land, or whatever- By the time he got to Wyoming he ditched them claiming that they were crazy as a bag full of rattlers.
After coyboying for a while- took a bride from Sweden, settled down , sort of, and became Marshall .
This is their shot gun house, in the dirt of the new BIG rail road town of Rawlins, Population must have been something a little over twenty.
They look well fed and comfortable .
When my Dad was eight years old, Grampa said, " Let's go on a trip to Utah" grabbed little Dad by the hand, boarded a train and off they went . " this will be fun, I sure do love my Grampa, maybe we will go fishing, hope we catch some rainbow", When they arrived at Gramp's brothers house, they were greeted warmly- then Grampa said, " Hello, brother, I have come here to die"
Scared , shocked, surprised and traumatized, little Dad stayed and Grampa true to his word, died a few days later.
Dad never did tell me how he got back , pretty sure he was just loaded on the train alone , and pointed in the general direction of home.
Tough folks back then- living in Rawlins Wyo, was challenge enough. When their youngest boy child was fifteen, he was reaching for a coin under a RR car, the train rolled and off came his arm! All the way to the shoulder. Why did he not bleed to death? Medical aid was so primitive then. He lived to be an old man and very capable with only one arm, A great photographer, married a beauty , moved to the Washington coast. where he died not that long ago.
His remaining arm and hand became impressively developed. His fingers ,like tree trunks, maneuvered even the most delicate tasks, threading a needle, latching a necklace, buttoning tiny buttons...
Like I said, tough folks, back then. And I whinge at a hang nail.