The week with New Year's Eve wrapped within, Mary Ann caught a Delta flight to spend some time with her (and my) two grandchildren in Los Angeles. During most of my part of this schedule, I was at home working. Later in the week, Mary Leigh filled in this lonely time when we dine together. My daughter continues to be a brilliant person in numerous ways delighting all who surround here.
An example of her delight came when she suggested yesterday that I should go for a long walk from one end of the Cool Water Ranch to the other and back. Most of the time, this job will be handled by our big German Shepherd. But the big pup only goes walking with one person--Mary Ann herself. Absent her, our only working pet is replaced by my two cats, Satsuma and Valencia. They are always far in advance of the dogs or the people. Valencia is such a fast runner that I can barely see him at the end of the trail once he gets moving. . it's something to see.
All that said, here's another interesting phenomenon. The rain of the last two or three days has built up generous flows of water along the gravel road. Looking at the water, I find it remarkable. All the water--on both sides of the gravel, the deep spots, the places where a fallen small logstops created a small puddle--in all that water, there is a reddish-brown color. In all the colored spots, with or without leaves--the fall color is underwater.
I recalled a conversation with a guy when I was a student at UNO. He lived in Slidell and remarked that the same red-brown fallen-leaf water accumulations. "That's the same thing that happens when you make hot tea. Just like the tea gets darker and redder and browner." He had a particularly dark pine-needle versus espresso tea effect in his back yard. I have it alongside a rather full gravel-and-rock effect at my house.
It was worth taking the walk.
