Music and Farm

Rick and Lavinia Ross Farm & Music Newsletter for August 2015

Our feature photo this month is of one of our red roses entertaining a couple of bee guests. The rose garden is finally recovering somewhat from the heat earlier this summer, and has decided to chance another round of blooms.

News from the farm

It is the season of Dust Devils, those carefree vortices spawned by heat and rising air, and fed by exposed fine, bare soil. The large grass seed farms and wheat producers have harvested their crops, and in many cases tilled and pulverized the soil with impressively large machines. The dusty soil of Oregon farmland spins slowly across the fields, spiraling upward in the heat of August, and the pale blue, milky sky takes on an additional tan hue. Smoke from forest fires, near and far, ride the winds through the valley and mix with the airborne dust. The air has a distinct burnt scent to it from time to time, and sunsets are more colorful and deeper in hue. A few passing storms have only barely wetted the surface, releasing the pungent aroma of baked earth and thirsty vegetation. It is late summer in the Willamette Valley.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dust_devil

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Last light of sunset on the farm.

I am looking forward to the end of summer and the return of the autumn rains on our little farm in the Cascade foothills. We have experienced all too many days over 90 degrees, on top of insufficient snow pack in the mountains and winter rain to see us through the normal dry season. Several wells in the area have already run dry. At roughly 800 feet, we are fortunate to be in a bowl of sorts, as opposed to up on the hills that encompass our farm, with a deep well and good water. We are still careful, and only spot water and drip irrigate enough to keep water-stressed trees, blueberries and gardens alive and producing. Grass is allowed to go dormant during the summer dry season, as we do not raise livestock requiring pasture here.

Veraison has begun in the table grapes and pinot noir, and Rick has begun netting. As you can see, the grass in the vineyard is dormant, and bleached to a light tan in the heat. Even yellow jackets, those pesky, stinging members of the genus Vespulaseem to be struggling a bit this year, and we have not seen the usual mobs of them on the plums, although I did spy a possum feeding in the plums one night after dark. Two bright silvery little eyes caught in the beams of the flashlight revealed a nighttime visitor to the farm, the one most likely leaving nibble marks on fruit that has dropped. Fallen fruit he will clean up for us, and is welcome to his share. Rick will climb the tree and harvest the rest, hopefully without to much interference from yellow jackets.

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View down the rows of netted table grapes. Veraison has started already!

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View of ripening table grapes.

Old Seabisquit the Subaru is closing in on 428,000 miles now. Still a dependable old workhorse and traveling companion, rarely grumbles about the next outing. Waves a fender and smiles on good days.

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Old Seabisquit the Subaru, closing in on 428,000 miles.

 

News from the Cats of Salmon Brook Farms

Our feline correspondent this month is Mr. Lucio, official spokescat for the Boys of Salmon Brook Farms. They are outnumbered by the six girl cats, and the boys felt they had to spin off their own division of The Cats of Salmon Brook Farms in order to get work done. We are still not sure exactly what work they are doing, but Mr. Lucio would like to acquaint our readers with the boys. The girls will have their turn later.

MrLucio-08132015

Lucio T. Ross, official spokescat for the Boys of Salmon Brook Farm, wondering why I have disturbed his nap time for a photo.

The Boys Of Salmon Brook Farm

Early days of the Boys of Salmon Brook Farms, actively watching for gophers out the east window. The house is our old doublewide, dubbed the “Glorified Mouse Hotel”. Left to right: Lucio, Nano, Marcus

Boys of SBF

Current day Boys of Salmon Brook Farms, older and more settled in the new house. Engaged in the serious business of napping and loafing. Why bother watching for gophers when a good group nap is in progress?

Lucio was out “home shopping” back in 2006, and decided three square meals and a soft bed at our house fit his requirements, even if he did have to live with a couple of Abyssinians who didn’t understand his wild west view of life.  Along came Mr. Marcus and sibling Hope back in 2008, and he happily took on the role of Big Uncle Lucio. I happened to catch Mr. Lucio in mid lick. and little Marcus looks pleased to have an older mentor who will groom him and guide him through life.

Way back when Marcus was a kitten...

Way back when Marcus was a kitten…

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Mr. Marcus, sidekick of Big Uncle Lucio , as an adult, now 8 years old. Wondering why I am disturbing an all-important nap.

Mr. Nano joined the group back in 2010 when he moved inside. We are not exactly sure where that scrawny, starving, snow-white waif came from (that is why he was called Nano), but from the start he was like a third twin to Marcus and Hope, and his good-naturedness allowed him to accommodate Mr. Lucio’s rough play.

MrNano-08132015

Mr. Nano, hard at work. Note that the antennae are paying close attention to what I am doing behind him.

And finally, Mr. Lucio would like us to pause for a moment of silence to remember the Cats Emeritus: Old Klaatu, Mr. Austin, and Mr. Beaucastel, the black cat on the cover of my CD.  These beloved old souls may have passed on, but will live forever in our hearts and memories. The story of Old Klaatu initiated this blog back in June of 2013 as a tribute to this very special cat and his all too short time with us.

Old Klaatu on his barrel dining station

Old Klaatu on his barrel dining station

Mr. Austin

Mr. Austin

keepsake1

Music news (schedule posted on the Performance Schedule page)

I had an enjoyable evening playing outside at PanezaNellie Breadstick Shoppe up in Sublimity, Oregon this past Friday evening.  If you are in the area, please stop in and help support this venue which is a very, very good supporter of the performing arts.  The food is great and these are some of the nicest people you will ever meet!

I will be taking a break from performing for a few months after my last show of the season, which will be at the Corvallis Saturday Farmers’ Market on September 5th. I will hopefully wrap up, or at least make some progress, on projects that have been moving at a snail’s pace, including the YouTube site. I look forward to resuming performances in January of 2016. Stay tuned!

In your area, wherever you may be, please do all you can to help keep your own local music alive. Go out and see someone you don’t know, host a house concert, download songs or buy CDs. Or even just stop for a minute to hear someone at a Farmers’ Market. Live, local musicians provide a wealth of talent most people will never hear about in this age of iPods, Internet and TV.

Bookings and home-grown produce:
Lavinia and Rick Ross
Salmon Brook Records / Salmon Brook Farms

http://home.earthlink.net/~redwine5

https://salmonbrookfarms.wordpress.com

My early days of non-conformity, age 5, captured by my mother. Wearing big brother’s boyscout uniform and knapsack, and quite proud of it! I started a new branch of scouting, calling myself a “Bird Scout”. We did not live near other children during my earliest years, so unfettered by peer-pressure, the limits of my imagination at that age knew no bounds. The stars were mine!

LaviniaBirdScout

Lavinia as a “Bird Scout”, age 5, wearing big brother’s boyscout uniform and knapsack. Quite proud to have started a new line of scouting! Snapshot in time captured by my mother. Those were the days….

 

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Music and Farm

Rick and Lavinia Ross Farm & Music Newsletter for January 2015

Our feature photo this month is Rick hard at work in the table grapes.  The annual pruning of the vines is already underway here, beginning in the long rows of tables grapes on the north side, and will end in the pinot noir vineyard behind the deer fencing to the south.  Vines are trimmed back to the two healthiest looking canes, which will be trained horizontally along the trellis wire.  These two chosen horizontal canes contain buds which will produce this years shoots and fruiting canes.  Some cuttings will be taken in the pinot noir vineyard to start new replacement vines for those killed by gophers, drought or cold snap. Grapes vines will root readily on their own when stuck directly into the ground, or into pots of native soil.

After bud break, when the shoots (deer candy) start to grow, vines outside the deer fencing will be ripe for attack by roving cervids (mammals in the deer family) after dark.  In the early stages of growth, deer will eat new shoots right back to the trunk.  When the shoots start to grow, Rick will treat the them with Deer-Off, a commercial repellent mix, until the canes are old enough the deer lose interest in snacking on them.  See http://www.havahart.com/about-deer-off

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This vine is ready for spring and waiting for bud break.

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Rick working his way down the row, pruning and attaching canes along the trellis wire.

News from the farm

Winter Solstice has come and gone, and the sun is finally making the long journey back north.  We’ve experienced more than one cold snap so far, and January has only just begun on our little farm in the Cascade foothills.  It is the season of thick, white mists that have writhe and curl under the porch lights at night, the cold, heavy breath of the mountains.  Yet the daffodils have already started their annual climb from the cold, wet clay soil towards the growing light.  Intrepid gold-maned dandelions have been braving the elements all winter long, keeping their blooms low, close to the protection of their leafy rosettes.

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Dandelion in Winter – keeping a bright but low profile amid the budding daffodils.

My garden bed preparations have taken a back seat to unplanned repairs to outbuildings and water drainage projects.  While the pocket gophers have been busy tunneling away in various locations, I have been busy tunneling out by the old garage.  I thought I might be able to go under the sidewalk, but was soundly defeated by the hard-packed and heavy, wet clay soil.  A kindly neighbor brought over a saw and chopped through a section of sidewalk to make way for the drain pipe.  I have new respect for those heavily muscled little rodents.  The Oregon Department of Fish and Wildlife describes the local Camas Pocket Gopher as being one of the most vicious animals known for its size.

See http://www.dfw.state.or.us/species/mammals/gopher.asp

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Sure sign of a Gopher at Work. Mounds dot the back of the property like a small city.

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Sure sign of a Human at Work. Does not have the built in functionality of the resident rodent population and must use saw, pickaxe and shovel.

Along with giving thanks to good friends and neighbors who have helped us out here on Salmon Brook Farms over the years, I would like to express our appreciation to all who have stopped by this website and given their positive comments, likes, follows and even just passing page views.   You will see their comments (click on comments on the left hand side of any page) as well as their avatars at the bottom of various pages on this blog site.  Some of the most beautiful photographs, poetry and prose I have ever seen and read are posted by WordPress bloggers.  Please do have a look at their sites!

A very special thank you goes to Tom  at Cats at the Bar and Doug at Weggie Boy’s Blog for putting together a joint list of the top 23 blogs they follow, and giving us a mention along with those other awesome folks!  It was totally unexpected, and a pleasant surprise.

http://catsatthebar.org/2015/01/01/the-weggie-list/

http://phainopepla95.com/2015/01/01/the-weggie-list/

A few members of our cat crew….

Abby-12262014

Abby “Abba Dabba Doo” Abyssinian. Her 13th birthday coming up this year! She is blind in her right eye, but does not let this stop her from enjoying life.

Double-Decker-Hope-Marcus-12152014

Hope (top) and brother Marcus (bottom). Usually found together or with third twin Nano.

Nano-Marcus-Hope-12112014

And the “third twin” Nano…

 History of this site – this section was posted in our April 2014 newsletter

If you have ever seen any episodes of Ray Bradbury Theater, you may recall the intro where Bradbury is seated at his typewriter in his office, surrounded by all kinds of interesting objects collected during his life.  He scans the room, looking for something to catch his eye, and his imagination, and then begins to type.   Here on Salmon Brook Farm, between the all too numerous gopher mounds, assorted critters wandering through, family, friends and travels, I can find plenty of material to get a newsletter started.  The newsletter itself has changed radically over the years.  Its roots started in Connecticut, beginning with just a brief list of gigs, and later grew into to sporadic reports on the list of upcoming gigs, and what was in season on our farm here in Oregon.  I took over writing them in 2007 when Rick tired of the task.  The content and scope continued to change as I worked at finding a way to verbally paint in email what we saw, and what life out here was like to people back east.  It finally became a blog in 2013 when Rick retired from playing music, and I tired of keeping an email list.  With some encouraging feedback on content from readers of the email newsletters, I dove into the murky, unknown realm of blogging, figuring this might be a good place to archive the writings, and readers beyond the realm of the old mailing list could help themselves.  A few photos would augment the archives, filling in the cracks.  Old Klaatu had passed away in May of 2013, and I wanted to tell the story of this unusual feline that wandered into our lives, a memorial of sorts to that wild, elusive spirit of his.  Thus was born salmonbrookfarms.wordpress.com in June of 2013.  It is still evolving, a work in progress.  Learning as I go!  Writing, or even playing music, for me is like working with a unruly or skittish horse – sometimes rears, bucks or outright throws me, sometimes stops dead in front of a gate and I go sailing head over heels, reins still in hand, crashing on the other side – but it is always an interesting ride of discovery.  When the two finally do manage to work together, the ride is smooth and synchronous.  Horse and rider both feel the rhythmic connectivity, understand each other, and move as one over the terrain.  I feel nothing but joy.

*********

Note – to read about an unusual goat encountered on our travels, please visit the April 2014 newsletter.

Music news (schedule posted on the Performance Schedule page)

I’ll be kicking off my winter season at the Corvallis Indoor Winter Market in January on the 17th, followed by my favorite coffee house Cornerstone Coffee up in McMinnville on January 31st.  Always glad to see you!

In your area, wherever you may be, please do all you can to help keep your own local music alive. Go out and see someone you don’t know, host a house concert, download songs or buy CDs. Or even just stop for a minute to hear someone at a Farmers’ Market. Live, local musicians provide a wealth of talent most people will never hear about in this age of iPods, Internet and TV.

Bookings and home-grown produce:
Lavinia and Rick Ross
Salmon Brook Records / Salmon Brook Farms

http://home.earthlink.net/~redwine5

https://salmonbrookfarms.wordpress.com

GuildJumbo

Rick and I share this guitar, shown from three views. It was built at the old Guild factory in Westerly, Rhode Island. Fender bought Guild and eventually moved operations to the west coast. Rick calls this guitar “The Hammer”. “Rings like silver and shines like gold”.

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Music and Farm

Rick and Lavinia Ross Farm & Music Newsletter for April 2014

News from the farm:

We are entering the budbreak time of year on our little farm in the Cascade foothills, and are “watching the grass grow” as the trees and vines prepare to bud out.  Where we are, that old expression takes on a whole new meaning.  As one enters Linn County, on Interstate 5 there is a large road sign that says “Welcome to Linn County – Grass Seed Capital of the World”.  They are not kidding.  There are many large grass seed farms here, representing over half of the use of cropland in the Willamette Valley.

http://oregonstate.edu/valleyfieldcrops/grass-seed

Back in our native New England, grass was fairly easy to control with edging and weeding, and winter helped keep it in check.  Here?  It needs a whip and chair, and a lot of work to keep it back from where it is not wanted.  Mowing starts in late winter on drier days, and will stop for a while when the skies clear, and the grass turns brown as the hot and rainless summer takes over.  Garden maintenance will keep us busy, and the local markets will be full of fresh produce.  One of our local farmers, who is also a science fiction fan, had a matted print of Gourdzilla proudly displayed on her table at market last year.  Anyone who has ever grown zucchini, and discovered it is very prolific and can be hard to even give away, might enjoy this print by Alan Beck:

http://www.alanfbeck.com/Gourdzilla.html

It also reflects how I view my own ability to keep the grass here under control. Totally inadequate, and keeps me running…

So what else is new here this month?  If you have ever seen any episodes of Ray Bradbury Theater, you may recall the intro where Bradbury is seated at his typewriter in his office, surrounded by all kinds of interesting objects collected during his life.  He scans the room, looking for something to catch his eye, and his imagination, and then begins to type.   Here on Salmon Brook Farm, between the all too numerous gopher mounds, assorted critters wandering through, family, friends and travels, I can find plenty of material to get a newsletter started.  The newsletter itself has changed radically over the years.  Its roots started in Connecticut, beginning with just a brief list of gigs, and later grew into to sporadic reports on the list of upcoming gigs, and what was in season on our farm here in Oregon.  I took over writing them in 2007 when Rick tired of the task.  The content and scope continued to change as I worked at finding a way to verbally paint in email what we saw, and what life out here was like to people back east.  It finally became a blog in 2013 when Rick retired from playing music, and I tired of keeping an email list.  With some encouraging feedback on content from readers of the email newsletters, I dove into the murky, unknown realm of blogging, figuring this might be a good place to archive the writings, and readers beyond the realm of the old mailing list could help themselves.  A few photos would augment the archives, filling in the cracks.  Old Klaatu had passed away in May of 2013, and I wanted to tell the story of this unusual feline that wandered into our lives, a memorial of sorts to that wild, elusive spirit of his.  Thus was born salmonbrookfarms.wordpress.com in June of 2013.  It is still evolving, a work in progress.  Learning as I go!  Writing, or even playing music, for me is like working with a unruly or skittish horse – sometimes rears, bucks or outright throws me, sometimes stops dead in front of a gate and I go sailing head over heels, reins still in hand, crashing on the other side – but it is always an interesting ride of discovery.  When the two finally do manage to work together, the ride is smooth and synchronous.  Horse and rider both feel the rhythmic connectivity, understand each other, and move as one over the terrain.  I feel nothing but joy.

So, while things are budding out and getting underway this month, we will emerge from our Gopher Hole of tales from about the farm, and tell the story of a goat.  Not just any goat, but one that could have come straight from the imagination of Ray Bradbury or Rod Serling.  We encountered this very unusual animal during one of our travels up to Washington in 2005.  Ladies and Gentlemen, I present to you the story of Thelonious Goat.

TheGoat

Saddle up a trusty vehicle and go north up the Willamette Valley to Portland, Oregon.  Turn east along the Columbia River, where  the vegetation transitions from the lush greens, and lichen dripping Ent-like trees of home into much drier grasslands and sagebrush of land in the rainshadow of the Cascades.  Sculpted by the Great Missoula Floods, the region bakes in summer and freezes hard in winter.  From Route 84 on the Oregon side, the hillsides over in Washington appear to have a strange velvety texture, and look like giant tan-colored lion paws where they come down to meet the mighty Columbia as it rolls on by.  Cross the river around Hermiston and head on up to the Tri-Cities area, or perhaps further on to Spokane and points east.

We were staying with a very gracious couple that put us up during the Tumbleweed Music Festival in Richland, Washington that particular weekend.  The four of us were sitting on the front porch in late afternoon, enjoying good company and conversation, when we heard the sound of hooves coming up the driveway from the road below.  Much to everyone’s surprise, a lone billy goat appeared.  He appeared to be familiar with the place, like he owned it, coming right up onto the porch!  Our hosts were perplexed, never having seen this goat before, and not knowing of any farms with such animals in the immediate area.  His lower jaw appeared to be deformed, or had been broken at some point and healed in a strange position.  The jaw, coupled with his wild-eyed goaty stare, gave our horned visitor a slightly demented look that was both alarming and endearing to behold.   Being an intact male, he stank, adding the dimension of ripe male goat odor to his persona.  He laid down by my feet, like a dog, joining the group as if he had stopped by for afternoon tea with friends.  Not wanting to keep referring to our strange, stinky visitor as “The Goat”, I thought he should have a proper name for the evening. “Thelonious” came to mind, and it stuck.  Strangely enough, the goat responded to it as if it were his own name.  Our hosts’ full-grown Airedale Terrier was not pleased, however, at the goat’s intrusion onto his property, and rushed at Thelonious, barking furiously.  Undeterred, the goat calmly leveled an evil-eye at his assailant, backed up a few steps, and gave the dog a swift ramming with his horns.  This sent the Airedale packing behind his owners chair, whimpering curses from a safe position.  Goat “1”, Airedale “0”, Thelonious settled back into a comfortable position and rejoined the party.

GoatOnPorchGoatOnPorch2

After a bit, our hosts took us on a tour of their property, thinking the uninvited horned guest might leave of his own accord.  Instead, the goat joined us for the tour, sticking close to me.   We all went in for dinner after the tour, leaving Thelonious to his own devices on the porch for the evening.  Our mysterious visitor was gone by morning, disappearing into the night without a trace.  Why he came to visit us, and where he came from will forever remain unknown.  In mind’s eye, however, I picture his departure ending like a Twilight Zone episode:

“The day, with all it strange events, has ended.  The house is now dark, the inhabitants sleeping.  Outside, an unusual goat quietly scans the heavens, perhaps looking for a sign among the myriad stars that span the sky.  A light breeze stirs the darkness, and a thick mist slowly creeps into the lower end of the driveway, down past the gate posts through which he had arrived earlier that day.  Nostrils quivering, his ears turn in the direction of a voice.  A voice calling from somewhere beyond sight, from somewhere beyond the writhing fog.  Eager with anticipation, he rises, disappearing into the beckoning misty tendrils that await him.  He has answered a call to return home.   A call that could only have come from…the Twilight Zone.”

Music news (schedule posted on the Performance Schedule page):

I’ve continued to expand and rearrange the sub-pages under music.  The full listing of songs on the CD, the stories behind why some were written, or chosen to cover, are now there.  Help yourself!

In your area, wherever you may be, please do all you can to help keep your own local music alive. Go out and see someone you don’t know, host a house concert, download songs or buy CDs. Or even just stop for a minute to hear someone at a Farmers’ Market. Live, local musicians provide a wealth of talent most people will never hear about in this age of iPods, Internet and TV.

Bookings and home-grown produce:
Lavinia and Rick Ross
Salmon Brook Records / Salmon Brook Farms

http://home.earthlink.net/~redwine5

https://salmonbrookfarms.wordpress.com

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Music and Farm

Rick and Lavinia Ross Farm and Music Newsletter for June 2013

News from the farm:
The two of us have been out here almost 10 years now, and our lives and our farm have undergone many a change during that time.   We’ve grown older, the seasons seem to pass more quickly each year.   The old farmhouse was rebuilt, and gardens have moved or been reconstructed.  Various animal friends have come and gone, and Rick’s mother has come to live with us.  Life’s eternal cycle, punctuated by changes.  Yet it is the animals who wander through our lives, I find most intriguing.   Friends for a short time, remembered for a lifetime.  Wise old souls and teachers, comforters in hard times,  playful little elvish creatures who help us see the lighter side of life.   They teach us how to be better people.  Their lives, and all the memories they leave behind after they depart, are all woven into the fabric of our own, becoming part of the legends and history of this place we call home.

Old Klaatu came to us some years ago in the cold, grey time of November’s wind, rain and fallen leaves.   A wild, ghostly white feline, he looked more like a visitor from another world, sitting under the apple tree.   His eyes were quite slanted, one blue and one green, evoking images of  the Roswell Alien.  Thin spikes of fur at the ends of his ears gave the appearance of sensors one sees on the tips of airplane wings.     Our little ET  sat under the apple tree long enough to make sure I noticed his presence, then quickly returned to his private domain under the old house where he had been living, unknown to us in the warm comfort above.

Klaatu quickly taught us he preferred cream to milk,  and fresh gophers over the home-made cat food I labored over for our inside cat clan.    An empty cream bowl would prompt a silent visit to the sliding glass door,  where he would sit and look in, but disappear as soon as he saw the obedient human carrying his bowl emerging.    His dining station was an old wine barrel up on the porch, which suited his preferences for security.   Stopping periodically, cream dribbling down his chin, Klaatu would carefully scan his surroundings, then return to sipping cream as if he was enjoying a fine old wine.

Although Klaatu was wild and never let us near him, he kept us company in the garden, staying well out of reach.   We fancied he also liked us,  not just the cream.  At night, he would sometimes sit under the window,  yowling a rather long diatribe about something amiss in his world, or perhaps just catching us up on the local news.  He often went off on long business trips, sometimes returning in less than optimal condition, and  I worried and fretted every time he left until his return.   And then worried plenty more.   The lifespan of a rural feral cat tends not very long, and the veterinarian had estimated he was probably already 4 or 5 years old at the time of his arrival.

Old Klaatu  disappeared again in late winter, for the last time.   He finally returned one day, in very bad condition, but still mobile and wiley enough to evade capture.   One night in early May, we heard him outside the window, a long, soulful discourse in the wee hours.    I went out with the flashlight, but couldn’t find him,  and he remained silent the rest of the night.   In the morning, Rick spotted him, very weak but still alert.   I was finally able to catch him,  and promptly took him down to our veterinarian.   Age, hard living and travel had taken their toll, however, and our little ET was found to be beyond repair this time.   He was peacefully euthanized while still under sedation from the examination, and brought home for burial.

Old Klaatu – I can still see him in mind’s eye, out there in the tall grass, hunting.  It was his eyes that really struck me, in the still portraits of life and death.    He was an old soul, who could look right through you.   When I buried him under the tree, I looked into those eyes again.  The life force now gone, they had become dark orbs, deep pools of blackness.  It was hard to tell they had previously held color, and light.  That wild spirit had fled one last time, leaving nothing behind for anyone to follow.

Music news (schedule below):

We are finally getting back to some light gigging again, around elder-care and work on the farm, and slowly returning to making progress on the rest of life’s fronts, including a new website.   Watch for changes!

In your area, wherever you may be, please do all you can to help keep local music alive. Go out and see someone you don’t know, host a house concert, download songs or buy CDs. Or even just stop for a minute to hear someone at a Farmers’ Market. Live, local musicians provide a wealth of talent most people will never hear about in this age of iPods, Internet and TV.

Bookings and home-grown produce:
Lavinia and Rick Ross
Salmon Brook Records / Salmon Brook Farms
http://home.earthlink.net/~redwine5
Sweet Home, OR

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