Our commonwealth

Well, since we are introducing ourselves to the world wide web (why don't we call it that anymore? it just trips off the tongue), I thought we should debut the real charm in the family.


This is Kentucky. We got him in May 06. He was about this big then:



He also looks dapper in Santa garb:


He generally believes in the goodness of life and doesn't notice when stealthy cats are stalking him (Hint: look behind the flowers).


He enjoys long, long, long runs (on the beach is a bonus, but not necessary) and would rather swim beside the canoe than sit in it. He steals vegetables away from the kitchen floor (oops!) and away to his special spot in the bedroom where he can ponder the carrot or green bean for a good long while, giving it a nibble every now and then, but leaving it for us to find.

We think he is such a great dog because his older brother Toccoa (who died last spring) tells him what to do and how great it is to have a family (both were rescues).


Kentucky also would like a friend. Another dog. Tell Bryce you agree with me (because I know Kentucky does, he just can't speak English to say it).

Summer Abundance

Nobody has told our garden about the drought, apparently. Bryce has put a ton of work into it and it really shows. Last year we had a few measly plants that I plopped into the ground pretty late... I was shoveling with a big cast on my foot, so I'll use that as my excuse. Well, the Bryce has gone wild over this 4'x15' plot by our house. It's in the front yard because our back yard is shady shady and full of glass (don't ask). He has tilled manure from my grandmother's farm, starting back in March. We planted our vegetables in May (just after that awful frost!) and they have gone crazy!



Last year, pests got fifty percent of what I planted (you could see little toothmarks in the strawberries). It is so true that healthy plants are the best pest-deterrent. This year, you could see that something was eating the leaves of the peppers just after we got them in the ground. Once the plants settled into the good soil, though- forget about it! They just shot up. We used some organic fertilizer in the first month or so, but haven't done much of anything lately. We haven't even had to weed, because of the cloth we put down between the plants (what is that stuff called?)

Last week, Bryce picked about 15 pounds of veggies out of our little garden (mostly cucumbers and green beans and squash) and you can see 20 or 30 tomatoes that will be ripe soon. We are going to turn into vegetables ourselves! (I will be a tomato- Bryce is clearly a watermelon). Have I introduced you to the guardian of our little vegetable wonderland?

I think he has a little something to do with the lack of rodents, too. Here he is hanging out on the prolific cucumber vine, enjoying some shade. So- if you live in the neighborhood- come on over and pick some for yourself (and say hi to the snake)!

Bryce hearts bikes

So, here is an essay that Bryce wrote for a contest.... the prize (as you can see) is a Seven bike. Not that I know what that is, but Bryce is so sincere and earnest about it, I know I would give it to him.

"Very few cyclists deserve a custom made Seven road bike. The fact is, most riders who spend the money on a high quality bike fail to put enough miles on the bike to make their investment worth the expense. It is a travesty and a shame that countless beautiful custom made bicycles sit in storage around the world. A bicycle is meant to be a dynamic work of art, and the rider is meant to be “bello in sella,” or “beautiful in the saddle,” as the Italians say. But the work of art is incomplete if the rider refuses to pour energy into the bike.

My introduction to the world of road cycling arose out of just such an example of a rider’s inattention to his bike. While helping a friend clean out a his garage, I stumbled upon a vintage 1984 Cilo 12 speed. The bike is a simple red steel frame complete with downtube shifters. An example of pure minimalist beauty that had been left to rust in a garage. At 22 lbs, the bike was light enough, but I was sheepish when I set out with it on group rides. Compared to the bikes surrounding me, my mount looked ancient. But a wise and accomplished ex-racer gave me sage advice, and when I complained that my performance would never measure up to the more technologically gifted riders around me, he replied, “That’s not the bike’s fault… its yours.” The truth of this statement became clear to me one day on a 40 mile hill work out. A rider was with us who for a year had owned a full carbon piece of art that seemed to weigh as much as my helmet. But in a year he had not put 50 miles on that bike, and we were forced to drop him at mile 20. I vowed never to make the same mistake, and decided I was not allowed to spend any more money on a bike until I did not suck. I have put 600 miles on my vintage bike over the past 5 months. I have worn my butt out on epic hill rides and heart busting speed work. I have fought to remain in draft with much better cyclists than I. I have pushed my Cilo to the limit, and now it is time for the next step. I need a bike that fits my geometry and that is geared to the geography I ride. I deserve a custom made Seven road bike precisely because I have learned not to need the latest technology. I have learned to depend on my own heart, lungs and legs before putting my faith in technology. I have proved that I will ride, that I will pour myself into the bike and thus complete the art which the bike was meant to serve. I will be bello in sella, and a Seven road bike in my hands will be ridden for the rest of its life and to the best of my ability. I deserve a Seven road bike because I ride from the heart!"