Early on, Gandy had a friend, Jessie–a 130 pound Golden Retriever–who came down for play dates every week or so. But she did something about a year ago that has made Jessie not willing to even get out of the Jeep when his owner comes down for a visit.
There was the neighbor’s dog, Feather–a wispy wavy-white dog of Gandy’s age and size that she did not tolerate. Let Feather show up along the edges of our pasture and Gandy aggressively drove the intruder home. Until a few months ago.
Since then, Feather is pretty much around all the time. She slept on our back porch again last night.
Feather followed a cyclist up out of the valley last Wednesday and did not come home. She was missing for three days, and Gandy was bewildered. We did not expect to see Feather again when we learned she had been seen on Daniel’s Run–one of the busiest roads in Floyd County.
Saturday (we don’t know the full story) she came down the hill in the back of her owner’s pick-up. Ten minutes later, she appeared at the back door asking if Gandy could come out and play. And they have been tussling and running together ever since.
I would have been inclined at such junctures in blogging years past to put up a “randoms” assorted bag of things I’ve been reading, researching or thinking about. Meh. I already have that kind of stuff stored where I can get to it when the time comes, and links are generally not clicked with this kind of potpourri post.
So you get dog. Two, actually. Going round and round and round. Until (wait for it) they are instructed to do otherwise.
The source of my greater-than-usual distraction is the fact that I am in the early stages of gathering information for a book of fiction. While I seriously doubt it will ever see the light of day, its construction is giving me an excuse to explore current events related to methane hydrates, Black Snow, thermal expansion of the oceans and an ice-free Arctic Ocean.
Then, as they say, some other stuff happens.
Today’s fact is stranger than yesteryear’s fiction. Amazing details of the workings of the world and of nature that we now know, and more amazing what we now know that we don’t yet know. In my novel, we come to our senses. Also fiction.
Now wait a minute. Those of you who once snarked that Fragments had become “all Gandy all the time” have no paws to stand on. It’s been a while. And over the intervening years since Tsuga passed three years ago December 5, my dog lover-readers have wandered off to Facebook anyway.
Meanwhile, Gandy of Goose Creek (Gandy, ostensibly the female counterpart of gander) has become the Dog of the House, her eyes ever-watching from her throne–the loveseat where Tsuga could go with permission, and now, where we might rest–with permission. The dog and I make a great napping pair, when she grants me access.
In the early months of Gandy’s tenure here I wrote often about our doubts about her long-term residence with us. We discussed giving her back to the Humane Society more than once. Needless to say, we are glad we didn’t.
She is high-maintenance, although she can endure hours of snoring from a sunny patch on the sofa. But at some point, she says ENOUGH! and begins bumping my elbows, sending my hands flying into the computer keyboard.
When the persistent barking begins, I know I might as well relent and go. And she’s right to remind me that two of my age-peer friends have suffered pulmonary emboli. (She’s a very bright and articulate animal. I told you!)
Too much sitting is bad for Gandy’s health. Too much Gandy is not great for mine, mentally –until I relent and get up and get gone with the dog.
She turned 3 the middle of October. She joined us December 18, 2012.
So we have the usual fall pot-spotter-copters.
And we have the new Mountain-Valley not-yet-a-reality pipeline right of way we’re-gonna-take-your-land copters.
And we have once again the scary-as-heck AEP powerline-clearing blades of death I first wrote about in 2002.
This isn’t much of a video, but it’s the best you can get with no warning, and in your socks.
You can see how very close this massive 10-blade sword comes to the powerlines in this video. How the pilot keeps the thing from twisting and kicking back I cannot figure.
Fragments From Floyd: UFO in Floyd County!
Goose Creek Air Traffic Control | Fragments from Floyd
Well, you can, but it ain’t easy. No straight shot, that’s for sure. You might have heard of the crooked road. Here ’tis.
I once counted the blind curves between the house and the hardtop east and west of us, as we live in betwixt two real roads.
Buckle up. Hang on. I seen’em do this onest on Dukes o’ Hazard. I think I kin do it. YEEE HAAAA! (It really needs some traveling music. Suggestions? Maybe Born to be Wild. Gotcha motor running…)
Going west that you travel in this HyperLapse video, you’l cover a five minute 1.7 mile drive at 20 mph condensed in just 1 minute.
That’d put the apparent speed at about 100 mph, during which you will carefully negotiate 11 blind curves, with or without rises so steep you can’t see anything but the hood of your car for a brief second, during which interval you hope an approaching vehicle has not entered that particular blind spot.
Mostly, you meet somebody coming the opposite direction (even a regular sized car) somebody is going to have to back up. Meet the UPS man or a logging truck, it gets interesting. Put snow or ice on the road, well…
This is the direction we don’t go for months at a time between first of December and the end of March, as it’s northy, as they say. Get’s at best two hours of sun. Less in some places. It’s 500 feet higher up in the sunshine than it is down here in the holler of Middle Earth.