Long Hollow

No Red Moonbeams for Me ... A Long Hollow Update

"It's starting to feel more like Christmas to me. The temps are staying low, there's the smell of wood smoke in the air, my tree is up and decorated, cards are trickling in, and TG is home."

I wrote this several days ago - just one of many posts that wither on the vine because I run out of time to finish them before they're outdated. Those low temps are a mere memory for me now ... today might have been the first day of the winter solstice, but it felt like shorts and flip-flop season here again.

Even so, I do feel Christmas with all of the twinkling lights, the Merry Christmas wishes everywhere, get-togethers with friends, and the anticipation of having all of my kids back in the nest in just a few days...

And though it's not much, I've gathered a few gifts for others - just thinking of giving helps bring on the Christmas spirit, doesn't it? 

I think it's the power of the Christmas spirit that has kept me from caring too much about my camera lens or worrying about replacing it or being too upset about all the cloud cover that kept me from witnessing red moonbeams last night during the lunar eclipse.

I captured a few okay photos of the moon, some before the eclipse started and a half dozen during the partial, but during the total eclipse, the paparazzi clouds crowded around so close I couldn't even get a glimpse! I'll post the ones I snapped on Confessions later - and I'll resist tinting them. (Well, I might play with one or two, but I'll 'fess up about it.)

Meanwhile, here's a quick Long Hollow update:

....We're officially in a drought again - the bill has arrived for all of those beautiful, sunny days we've been blessed with the last few weeks, I guess. It's hard to believe just a few months ago the creek and ponds were flooding, and now they're drying up by feet a day.

In the mornings on the back deck, I can still hear the little waterfall, but it's barely a dribble now and will soon be gone. There's no promise of any significant rain for months.

....Rocks have appeared on the side of the damn dam - not just piles of rocks, but orderly rocks, reminding me of the old stone bridges in Virginia. If the stonework is continued all down the side, it wouldn't be such a sore sight. Still not as beautiful as the pond we had before, but not quite the scar we've had on the edge of our property, either.

....There are still a few small flowers blooming along the road...or at least there were a couple of weeks ago when I took these. I've been walking in the dark lately!

....The bad news is, these vicious burs are also growing, in the field where Belle and Max like to chase mice. We pulled dozens and dozens out of Max's fur a few weeks ago - like velcro on velcro!

....We're heading into Cedar Fever and Major Allergy Attack Season here in Austin. Juniper berries are ripe, waiting for the pollen explosions that look like a tree has caught on fire - poof! These warm temperatures just feather that love nest along.

My challenge this year is to capture one of those explosions on my camera. Tough to do! You never know which one is about to blow! And part of the challenge will be keeping my camera focused while I'm sneezing!

....The rest of this week I'm just focused on Christmas, though - on the simplicity of love and of giving, exemplified by the birth of Jesus so many years ago. I'm going to send cards out to those who I know look forward to them (and will forgive me if they arrive a day or two after Christmas Day), wrap up a few gifts that I hope will bring smiles to faces I love, and tomorrow I get to visit Hope House again, witnessing and recording the youth of our church bringing smiles to the faces of others - of strangers - with pizza, gifts, a few off-key carols, but mostly with the proof that someone cares.

I hope you have a beautiful Christmas week, simple and full of love.

 

 

Relieved to be wrong... this time, anyway

Another gorgeous autumn morning, crisp and clear. The puppies were frisky and darted into the woods after something, in the direction of an upstream pond. I followed, relishing the tall grassy field, laughing at Belle hopping through it, and sighing when I saw the reflections on the surface of the water...

We made our way back to the road, back to our own driveway and headed for our pond, keeping an eye out for more photo-worthy beauty, like this...

I took my standard daily documentary photo of the damn dam, then glanced at our pond, surprised to see several white squarish blotches floating on the surface. They hadn't been there the day before and I saw nothing like them on the upstream ponds. I couldn't get close enough to touch one and didn't have time before work to find something to rake them toward me with, so I took several photos with my zoom. This is what I saw, only from farther away...

Back at the house, I transferred the files to the computer and cropped the images to get a closer look at the things, hoping they weren't what I thought they were... but the close-up photos convinced me it was what I feared - pieces of toilet paper....

Workers have been camped out there for weeks now... maybe even months, already. I never thought about this factor of camping out. Could they have dumped... ? I hated to think it, but after pumping oily water from their pond into ours even when we said no, it was easy to believe they did, and where else could it have come from?

Right away I made phone calls and sent the photos via email. I had learned not to waste any time on pond issues. Throughout the rest of the day, all I could think about was this nastiness in my pond, the clean-up, the time and expense of getting a lawyer.

The nastiness. 

I had trouble catching my breath.

I came across a post by my blogging minister friend Pete about faith and I tried to focus on what he said, reminding myself that God would give us strength to deal with it, to do whatever needed to be done. I still couldn't catch my breath and I noticed a nagging pain beginning in my chest.

"They're leaves, not toilet paper," Tom told me as soon as I stepped in the door. He had gone down to examine them himself.

No way. I know a leaf when I see one. Not convinced, I followed him. He used a yucca spear to pull one close, but in the afternoon light, I could already see for myself: leaves.

But I still couldn't reconcile what I now saw with what I had seen that morning. Yes, these were leaves, but I just knew I'd seen toilet paper. I trudged all around the pond, looking close at the splotches with binoculars and checking the edges to see what had washed up.

Just leaves. Why ours is dotted with so many leaves when the ones upstream are clear, I don't know. But I couldn't deny it - they were just leaves and leaves alone, floating on the surface of our pond.

Normally I hate being wrong about anything, but this was such a relief. No nastiness in our pond. Just leaves. Well, still some crud flowing through the culvert from our neighbor's pond, plus some cans and bottles washed in from the flood a few weeks ago (thanks a lot), but otherwise, it was just a natural mess, not anything as nasty as I'd feared.

Such a huge, huge relief! I realized I could breathe again and the pain was gone. Right away, I sent out follow-up emails admitting my mistake. Humble, but happy. Mostly.

A sadness lingered... still lingers... that it was so easy for me to believe someone would do that to our pond, especially when I look at the photos now and see leaves...

 

 

Thursday: a flood, a drought, and happy birthday, Pop!

Max headed off in front of me for our walk this morning, unusual for him these days, with his bum elbow. He usually lags behind until we're up the hill and on the road; otherwise Belle jumps all over him, adding intensity to the challenge of the climb.

It's been two days since we took our regular route down the road, thanks to Hermine, and you'd think it was a crisp autumn morning as frisky as he was, rather than a post-tropical-storm steam bath. I guess he was suffering from cabin fever. Or doghouse fever, in his case.

It might have been the water calling him. Max loves water, and he knew the long walk to the corner would be rewarded with a cool drink, at the very least, after all this rain. He didn't have to wait until the corner, though. Rivulets cut through the caliche, streaming out of the woods from the hill toward the creek on the other side, sometimes traveling a bit along the road with us first. I could hear the creek, although I couldn't see it through the trees; I could imagine the typically dry stone bed we'd walked so many times before now filled with fast water, rushing down toward our pond and on to the lake.

The sky was a washed-out, diluted blue above us, but it was blue, at last. Hermine finally tired of us and moved on after one last downpour, heavy enough to wake me at 4:30 this morning. I was grateful that the only clouds left were wimpy, wispy white ones, barely discernible.

I'm feeling a little like those clouds and that sky these days... wimpy and washed out. Tom's feeling it, too. We've been sleeping a little later every morning, which doesn't make us feel any more rested, just more rushed. We feel tired. Blah. Overwhelmed.

Lately I feel like I'm wading in deep water - I see where I want to go, but it's such a struggle to get there. Or, you know how in a dream you try to run from something, and your legs are moving, you're trying your best, but you realize you haven't budged - you're frozen to the same spot? It's like that, too. 

Despite the rivulets, the mud, the rushing creeks and overflowing ponds around us, mentally I've slipped into a drought, all creativity dried up and blown away, and I'm not sure why. I wonder what kind of rain I need to 'green' me up again? Time would help... big chunks of time before the day has worn me thin would be the best, but I know those are scarce, and I've never really had them, so what's different now?

I thought about it as I walked down the road to the house, but couldn't come up with an answer. Just a lot of analogies. Not the same as creativity.

Belle and I walked down to the big pond for our daily photo session (Max usually just wanders back to the porch to wait for breakfast.) The breach had been patched with dirt and rocks, and the only flow came from a metal culvert. A big pile of suds still floated in our pond where the discharge slowed, and nearby, a couple of cans and plastic water bottles . Very disturbing. Reminded me of the old pollution commercials of the '60's.

But another dragonfly posed for me and a huge, beautiful yellow butterfly flew past; I wished it would stop and rest somewhere so I could snap its photo, too, but I was grateful for the sight of it, anyway, and for the paparazzi-loving dragonfly.

Today was Pop's birthday, Tom's dad. He turned 81. I didn't talk to him today - a neighbor called and before I knew it an hour and a half had gone by and it was too late, by then. But Tom called him a couple of days ago and I spoke to him, then. Does that count? I'm not sure. It doesn't feel like it.

He told us he's borderline stage 4 kidney failure and will be starting dialysis soon. I don't like hearing that, of course, and it makes me realize it's been almost a year since we've seen him and Tom's mom. That's way too long. How do we let Time sneak by us like that? It's time to plan a trip to Florida.

So that was my Thursday. How was yours?

To discover what an amazing man Pop is, read The Leader of the Pack.

 Here he is in Gruene this past November with the newest Mr. and Mrs. Tom Shallue (our nephew) and Mom... he loves having a pretty woman sit on his lap, that sly fox... and a generational photo with two sons (Kenny, #1,and Tom, #3) and grandson, Matthew.

 

10 to 12 inches of rain later...

The roar of crashing breakers on the beach. That's one of my absolute favorite sounds and, right now, it's just outside my back door. If I close my eyes and step onto my back deck, I'm instantly whisked to the balcony of a condo in Port Aransas... the sound of the waves filling the air around me... because that's exactly what our little creek sounds like at this moment, rushing down to Lake Travis.

It's still raining, but the puppies and I squeezed a walk in this morning when the clouds took a break to reload... here's what we saw...

There's a breach in the neighbor's dam in the exact same spot as last time... not a huge surprise.

Our pond is overflowing our dam, but no breach, and Tom's little bridge held again, although it's obvious the water went over it, too. Now that's an engineer, for you!

We're not sure where all the suds come from - I've sent an email asking the environmental expert. 

Okay, Hermine, you can move on now!

(For "before" photos of my little pond, click here to read "Seasons of a Tiny Pond" over at Confessions of a Photography Addict.)

The Damage is Done

I could hear the pump running as I walked down my driveway this morning toward the ponds; my heart dropped and my blood heated up at the same time, dreading what I would find when I rounded the curve.

I was relieved to see that yesterday's flow into our pond had stopped, despite the pumping sound I heard. I'm not sure where the water was going, but it didn't appear to be going into our pond any longer, thank goodness.

The green loogie-blob was gone, but the oil and diesel were still there. Stepping close to the edge, I could see the sheen on the surface of the water. I guess it's not as bad as it would have been if they'd kept pumping... if we hadn't spoken up... but it's bad enough.

I'm grateful Belle is such an obedient dog - she wanted to jump in, but with just a word from me, she returned to my side.

I wish I could protect the minnows, frogs, turtles and birds as easily.

Oil and diesel won't hurt a pond, will they?

They asked. We said no. They did it anyway, accompanied by giggly snide remarks in Spanish.

Rudeness transcends the language barrier, did you know that? I'm sure kindness does too, but unfortunately, that's not in this story. But not by my choice.

We weren't surprised they did it anyway. That's been their method all along, to just do what they wanted to do, damn the permits, damn the inspectors, damn the effect on anyone else. And would you believe they blame us for the money in fines they've had to pay, because we reported them? Uh, how about doing your homework and making the right phone calls yourself... get the right permits to begin with... then whaddaya know? No fines!

It wasn't enough that we had to put up with the road near our house being piled with dirt and rocks (even if unintentional, it was still thoughtless!) and to watch this wall of dirt climb higher and higher - they even drove cedar posts in the ground and ran an erosion control fence between them at one time to try to hold more dirt. (The day after a confrontation with us, the posts and fencing suddenly vanished and permits were posted in the proper method. I'm sure they thought we were calling inspectors again. I'm guessing the posts and fencing weren't condoned by an inspector or engineer after all, as they told us.)

What's that saying about character? Oh, yeah. "Integrity is doing the right thing even when no one is watching." Ahem.

Anyway, one day last week, one of the workers, in the sticky-sweetest not-even-remotely-snide voice you can imagine, asked me if they could pump water from their pond into ours (Ours was still on the dry side, but theirs had a lot of water for some reason, perhaps filled up from sprinklers they used to water the grass seeds.)

I said, "I'll ask my husband, but probably not because I think he has some projects planned for our pond while it's low like this".

The worker went on to explain that an inspector had told them they had to slope the inside pond wall more, but they couldn't with the water in it. (Another instance where a little homework and the proper planning and pre-inspections would have helped... although, actually, you'd think they could have figured it out themselves that a vertical wall wouldn't be as strong as a sloping wall when the force of all that water pressed upon it.)

Anyway, two days ago they asked Tom himself about pumping the water and he said, "No, that water is dirty and I don't want it in my pond." As he walked away, they smarted off to him in Spanish, laughing. I guess they knew they were going to ignore his wishes and do it anyway. Yes, rude is rude in any language. It needs no translator.

Tom's point is that the dirty water gets filtered by the caliche ground and earthen dam before it reaches our pond. We didn't want water that had bypassed that natural purifier.

But then they got the bulldozer stuck in the water and tried to get it out with a couple of Bobcats. We have a backhoe, and we know how heavy machinery leaks oil and diesel. Yuck! Talk about dirty water. We for sure didn't want that water in our pond after that! (Taken with a zoom lens - boy, it comes in handy!)

 

Despite telling them no, Tom wasn't surprised when he heard the pump running this afternoon. By the time he got down there, they realized he was home and had shut it off, but the water was still running through the culvert down into our pond where a green glob was forming. Did they think we wouldn't notice?

It looks a lot like a big loogie, doesn't it?

They have a hose from the pump going into a culvert on their side (thank goodness again for that zoom lens!) The water comes out of the culvert on our side, flows along the erosion control fence (I wondered why they had straightened it up again) and then out into our pond.

So now I've had to spend my evening making phone calls, sending emails and photos to different agencies, filing environmental violation reports, hoping someone in Texas cares about these little pockets of nature that spill into Lake Travis (our drinking water!) before it's too late and they have to spend fortunes trying to clean up what they could have prevented in the first place with a little more diligence. Don't they realize it's these little spots that are the heart of the environmental issue? An ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure, right?

I guess it would be easy to assume that someone who bought acreage out in the country like this cared about natural resources, about the waterways and the animals (including my dogs) who drink from them, as well as the frogs, the birds, the fish, the lake. Obviously not. Perhaps they just don't see the connection. When they toss a stone into the water, they don't see the ripples rolling away from it, on and on and on.

I'd feel sorry for them, except it's already late and now I need to start on what I needed to do tonight in the first place. And my pond is filled with a big green loogie of diesel and oil. My pond is probably dying.

But before I got to work, I needed to get this out with another request - if you have any information or know of any resources please let me know. If you have any connections, please forward this. I do know the agencies overseeing these things in Travis County, and perhaps all over Texas, are all understaffed and underpaid - please speak up to our representatives to get this changed.

And please say a prayer for our pond.