Our friends Don and Donna came for an overnight visit last weekend in order that Don (a lifelong citrus nurseryman) could help the good judge to prune his 58 olive trees before they start to bud.
Donna and I spent our time washing our chicken and white bean chili down with rose wine, taking an invigorating walk, sharing our love of art, and then drinking hot coffee. Donna is one of my most eclectic friends–a landscape designer, tennis player, pastel artist, and serious reader (among many other hobbies). She even had the fortitude to work in my office years ago.
We wandered into the olive orchard but no husbands were working. We became suspicious. Then up on the hill, out of the orchard, we saw that they had escaped their labor and had shrunk with their pruning knives and shears on belts and in hands. They had become miniatures! What would Donna and I do with two tiny men, the size of gophers?
I suggested to Donna that we leave the property immediately and escape dinner preparation while the mini-men figured out how to enlarge themselves.
Besides, I wanted to show Donna a tree that I had discovered on my last walk up our road. In all of my writing on this blog, have I ever shared my love of dragons? When I was a young girl, I read every story I could get my claws and fangs on that concerned a fire-breathing dragon. ( I’m sure Jung would have something to say about this odd fascination).
Here is my dragon tree.
We walked up the road, our bodies warmed by pillow parkas, wool gloves and mufflers made of the softest wool.
I observed to Donna that the Escobars and Bettencourts (ranchers) had placed two outstanding bulls in their herds…Bull #301 and# 403. After all, that time was coming.
Here is Bull #403
And farther up the road is Bull #301.
I told Donna that by the time we returned for cocktails, our miniatures would have become bulls.
We reached the top of the hill and were rewarded with this view.
I showed Donna my finished piece titled ” A Penny for Your Thoughts,” a 16×20 oil painting of a Quarterhorse named Penny that I photographed in December.
Back to business. Where were our guys?
They were coming along.
At last, out among the herd, two men emerged ready for cocktails.
At the end of the weekend, the good judge and I settled back into a familiar routine.
To disabuse you of any notion that the good judge likes Dinah, she is there by his feet and easy chair only because he often drops crackers, nuts, and pretzels (accidentally of course) and someone must clean up the mess.
To think this is only March 1st!