Hanging Pictures



No, I didn't fall off the planet. But, once or twice, it was the fingernails that saved the day. We learned, on relatively short notice, that we were the lucky hosts of the family reunion. Note that I say "relatively short notice" that is short compared to how much needed doing to prepare for the arrival of the group. Since I got a little carried away with art shows last year and produced quite a bit of new work, that meant piles of frames collected and were stuck on the floors. I began to notice that the room once designated (only by me) as "the gallery" (any normal person would have recognized it as the formal dining room) had considerable less floor space than when we first first moved in. It had even crossed my mind that the room would soon shrink to the point of becoming a hallway to nowhere.

How could this happen, you ask? Well, for one thing, when we moved in, this house was only about four years old and the walls still had a lovely coat of mostly uninterrupted paint. This became a thing with The Husband. While I have mentioned more than once what a catch he is, he is human—yes, there is a flaw here and there. He had adopted this notion that he didn't want "a bunch of nails" in the wall. We had hung a few things that I talked him into, along with a few picture shelves, and I had used a bunch of easels as well as the fireplace mantel. Yet, we had a warehouse of frames leaning against walls and an expanse of lovely empty walls. Beautifully painted. Clean. Boring. Empty. Walls.

While we are on The Husband's eccentricities—you hear about mine all the time—the period leading up to house guests has become quite predictable in our home. I have played my part in this little ditty dozens of times in the 30+ years we have been married. If there is any notice at all, I begin making an effort to clean the place up as soon as I get the word that guests are coming. I immediately sense panic, because of course I am always in the middle of some all-encompassing project. On each occasion, I had managed to virtually overwhelm myself with ambitions and deadlines leaving no time for the routine of housework. And, equally inevitable was The Husband's response to my rising panic. "Don't be silly. No one cares what the house looks like. You make too much over it. Stop fretting and relax."

Many years ago, I would fall for that line. Such naivete. Soon however, I learned that it was a trap. A devious, seductive, but stinking trap. Every time I would be rocking along, focusing on my all important, new and wonderful adventure at whatever, oblivious to the impending storm. Then, suddenly one morning, the man I lived with would be replaced by this obsessed person who could talk about nothing except what needed to be picked up, put away, thrown away, washed, dusted, or just generally fixed. I know, you are probably saying why not let him clean and count my blessings. That is because you have never been through this whirlwind.

Soon, he's interrupting me with "What can I do with this junk of yours? Can I throw this out? Do you need this anymore? I'm taking all this junk to the dump, anything you want?" Needless to say, any possibility of concentrating on my project is impossible and I get sucked into the whirlwind.  Well, I am on to him now. When he says, "Don't worry. No one cares, but you", I smile (mostly) and continue cleaning. I am on to his tricks.

This time, the place had gone completely to pot. The end of last year was about art shows and a new web site. January was about being sick. Housecleaning? No way. To top it all off. We had family leaving on a Tuesday morning and another house guest arriving that afternoon. It was going to be interesting. But, this time there was a surprise.

About two weeks before the guests were due here—right on schedule, he walked into my warehouse meant to someday be my gallery, scanned the piles of frames, and announced, "We need to hang this stuff on the walls." Fortunately, I was near a door jamb and didn't hit the floor. I hustled to my studio, nervously grabbed the ever-ready hangers and hammer (and I was never even a Girl Scout!), and said, "Where shall we start?" I was so startled, I couldn't believe it would last.

For days, we spent part of each day hanging prints. In between, I dusted, washed, put away, and cleaned alongside this transformed creature—always anxious about when the old and familiar man might reappear. Fortunately, there was no relapse and, over several days, more nails were tapped into place until the house was transformed. At the end, he stood back and said, "Wow, the place looks great."

I am still pinching myself and periodically have to browse through all the rooms marveling at all my work hanging. It seems that the gallery spread quite a lot beyond the walls of what was built to be a dining room. When the dust settled and the last guest left, last Wednesday, I was bleary-eyed with exhaustion, but smiling. And, I am still smiling.

Groundhog Day

                             

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Forgetting about Groundhog Day is typical for me. Having grown up south of the Mason-Dixon Line, Spring almost always seemed to come fairly early. Besides, it wasn't something you looked forward to with intense longing, almost desperate to escape long, dreary days of snow and ice. Our winters were fairly mild. Although we have four seasons up here, we still can't complain about long, bitter winters. We get off quite easy compared to those of you in the north.

So far this year, Old Man Winter has pretty much ignored us. We have had cold days and hard freezes at night —our lowest temperature of 9.6 degrees one night; yet, over all, winter has felt more like an unusually cold autumn. All that rain last year must have depleted our five-year supply, because we are sorely needing moisture here. Of course last year we had enough snow to last me a couple of years; but, this year we have so little it isn't worth mentioning. Since the old-timers in our valley tell us the colder winters are more typical up here, last year was a throwback it would seem.

I am not forgetting, however, that we still have February and March to go, and last year that is when we had the majority of our snow. I am not going to pack the snow boots away just yet. 

Molten Lava Sky

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Absolutely minimal processing. One tweak of exposure. A tiny bit of noise reduction because it was shot with the G7 at ISO 400, at least. Maybe 800. No Kidding.

We were on our way back from Los Angeles, Thursday, and The Husband decided on a whim to take the all-freeway route back home. We had both just commented on what a beautiful day it had been with the air still clean and fresh from the rain earlier in the week. We were crossing the Mojave Desert when the sun began to dip to the horizon and we could see we were headed for a lovely sunset. We couldn't have known we were in for this treat. The Husband pulled off the freeway in the Mojave Desert and we stood, for some time, gaping at this giant cloud looking more like molten lava than any cloud I have seen. I wish I had been carrying a wide angle lens and a camera to do this justice, but just watching this marvel was reward enough. Any record at all was a bonus for me.

What the Heart Can Imagine

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"In art, the hand can never execute anything higher than the heart can imagine." 

—Ralph Waldo Emerson

Another iPad Cover for the Art Show

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Tomorrow is the first day of our Art Show. I have sorely missed the web conversation going on without me and apologize for not even finding time to respond to some posts here. Naturally, I have been buzzing around finishing all the last minute jobs, so I will be ready for tomorrow morning—rested, and prepared for two long days of fun.

Today's photo is another from Highway 58, taken along the road to Bakersfield and featuring one of those oak trees that are such a dominating theme in my photography.

The December Art Show prompted the purchase of additional gear. When I bought the iPad I ordered a Smart Cover and have been quite satisfied with it. Then, I began doing these small art shows and using my tablet outside the house as a portable portfolio. The Smart Cover just seems a bit flimsy for that use.

I decided to try something a little heftier for those occasions. I chose a Bear Motion leather cover and, so far, I am quite happy with my decision. It feels good in the hand. The texture of the leather makes me feel a little more secure about handling the iPad with a number of people moving about in my vicinity.

Furthermore, this stand appears to be more stable. Since I place the tablet on a table during the show and run a slide show, I will breathe more easily now. People who are drawn to my display often linger to watch the slide show and frequently someone requests to see one of the pictures again. A couple of people have come close to bumping the screen when gesturing and this cover will, I think, minimize the potential for the tablet taking a fall. I have read that the iPad is amazingly resilient, but would rather not test its ability to survive a tumble off a table onto a tile floor.

At this early stage and with no test "in battle", I would recommend Bear Motion's cover. Good price, prompt shipping, fits perfectly, pleasant to handle. I bought mine through Amazon.

Final Step with the Camera Connection Kit

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After a Wednesday late-afternoon drive around Bear Valley Springs with the trusty old 40D, I decided it was time to trot out that camera cable and connect to the iPad. It was simple as pie. Of course, the RAW files from the 40D aren't 21 megapixels, but the operation went smoothly. I can see that it chews up quite bit of battery juice. I decided what the heck. I had come this far without using the desktop I may as well complete the exercise and process the small set of photos with Snapseed and FilterStorm.

In the interest of full disclosure, I didn't download more than half a dozen files on this trial run. That means I have no idea how this would work if I had attempted to transfer 50 or 60 files. I have read that this sometimes causes the computer to freeze up. I have also read that your RAW files are converted to jpg's as they are transferred and they are downsized. Both of those things make sense to me. Earl, have I got all this right? I think I read all this on Terry White's Adobe Photoshop tech blog.

I now pronounce myself ready to move to the next phase. Time to refine the basic skills I have acquired and begin planning a weekend trip. The fundamentals are in place. Soon I will be travel-ready and that means ready for traveling light. Should I tell The Husband? Yeah, I think he is already on to me.


- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

What is the Emergency at UPS?

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When you are expecting prints (or any package, for that matter), this is not a message you want to see at the UPS tracking site: "Emergency conditions beyond UPS' control. / Delivery rescheduled." I had an order of prints that was scheduled to arrive Friday.  The package had left Mojave for delivery early Friday and ordinarily would have been here around 5 or 6 PM. Now, I have no idea when, or if I will see the package. Meantime, the window for framing is slowly creeping shut. No where near urgent, at the moment; but, certainly not comforting.

A Short Trip with the iPad

Okay, I didn't process this while on the road. It was a very short trip. But, the photo is a drive-by shot taken on Highline Road—part of the back roads route we take to Los Angeles. This was taken with the G7 on the way home and I did process it on the iPad.

By the time we got home, I had this bug to use the Connection Kit to get some files from the SD card to the iPad and then process at least one using the apps I have been experimenting with. Call it a dry run in anticipation of some travel in my future. Boy, it felt good to feel up to getting out and seeing some of the world. Our house is comfy. I love my views, but gee whiz I do get a bit of cabin fever.


- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

Or, Fat and Happy Hens

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No sooner did I whine about never getting a remotely salvageable picture of quail, then I got my best opportunity to date. Heaven help me if I never improve on this; but, I take it as a hopeful sign. Next time I hope the topknots are visible.

The Husband and I stood inside watching the quail and marveling at how fat they are. I suppose all the fattening up might well indicate that we are in for a long, cold winter. I love watching these birds even if do they thwart my photographic ambitions. There is something about the rhythm of their movements that I find charming and mesmerizing.

I am most often silent on days such as Veteran's Day. Others write eloquent tributes, I am left tongue-tied. The radio station we get devotes a great deal of time to observation of the day and its meaning. I tend to keep the station on all day and appreciate the interviews, music, and tributes. I am grateful that others find words to express what is in my heart and hope you all found a satisfactory way to observe the day.

Madder Than An Old Wet Hen

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Do old hens really get ticked off when they get wet? Can't say I know that for a fact. But, this hawk—busy shaking out his still damp feathers from the rain the day before—appeared impatient and  hungry. A rough morning for field mice near our back yard.

Snow on the Tomato War Battlefield

We had our first snowfall yesterday. It was a mere dusting, but a clear death knell for our lovely Autumn. It certainly was a far cry from the days of "The Great Tomato Wars of August".

Back then, I wrote about The Husband's tomato plants and the critters that were munching on the fruit. In spite of the caterpillars and ground squirrels, many of the tomatoes survived. The Husband continues to enjoy the bounty of his labors. While I can no longer eat tomatoes, I have enjoyed watching him reap the rewards of his labor. I am not certain he will put in the effort again next year; but, he certainly feels that it was worth fighting off the marauding enemies this year. My pleasure is doubled by the sight of the last of the red beauties still decorating the kitchen island.

Overdue Answers on Art Show Adventures

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A while back, Ken asked which pieces of work sold in the recent art shows and here I am finally getting around to the answer. Ken has probably forgotten why he cared to ask, but he is going to get an answer—just not all in one post.

The piece above pre-sold the second show. (I had a couple of prints displayed at the venue as a preview of the show.) Printed on metallic paper, that background was a shimmering gold and made for a piece that was eye-catching. During the first show, I sold two pieces and I could have sworn that I had already posted one of them, "Blue Horse Dreaming"; but, I was dead wrong. The third piece is very new. I will post both of those over the next few days.

About the same time Ken asked his question, PJ asked if I planned to write a bit more about my experience with art shows. Frankly, I hadn't planned to since my experience is extremely limited. But, I have no pride. I will reveal how little I know. I have not pursued juried shows, nor have I submitted to prestigious galleries. Mostly because I am a hard-core realist and recognize that my work doesn't exactly fall in line with what is hot these days. (And maybe because I am chicken.) My work  embodies the opposite of edgy and I have visited enough of the galleries in Los Angeles to see that my work does not come close to fitting in any of those venues. Although they might be the logical market for me, the type of outdoor art shows often done in parks would be far too rigorous an undertaking for me. The galleries in the nearest town are really co-ops. The artists pay for their space along with a commission to the gallery owners.

Both my partner and I felt that the gallery/co-ops weren't our cup of tea. My problem is that the bottom line costs pretty much go through the roof with that arrangement. Most of all, I know myself well enough to know that the predictability of First Friday every month would become routine for me and wear thin. Being in the same place month after month would cease to be fun and stimulating for me. Yes, I am undisciplined in some matters; but, at least,I have learned to face my quirks and work with them.

Although we weren't interested in pursuing the other local opportunities,  neither did the once-a-year Cultural Arts Spring Art Show satisfy our appetites. Ultimately, we decided to make our own opportunities. I am okay with having sold three pieces in three days of shows. My prices are reasonable (I think), but I definitely don't sell myself short. I figure my costs—minus labor, unfortunately, then multiply for a mark-up. I love sharing my work and want it to be accessible; but I am not going to pay people to take my work home with them.

As I had already mentioned, our operation is unsophisticated and not a high profit venture. Hmm. Sounds like me. I have never been in a high-profit business and unsophisticated certainly fits me, as well as the area we live in. In another location, I might do things differently. Who knows? So far, our venture has turned out well. Our "What's-next situation?" suits me. At least for now.

No New Address

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Someone new to my blog might deduce that I live either in a horse barn or somewhere on Highway 58. Nope. I haven't moved. No pun intended there. Calling what I feel "restless" would be a disservice to the English language. At least, I can find a small silver lining. Whenever I can sit at the computer, I do spend time combing through old folders for those files that I passed over for one reason, or another. I am clinging to that old wisdom (or is it wishful thinking): "When one door closes, another opens." Heck, I am up for testing the windows at this point!

Looking forward to the next small show in the teeming community of the Tehachapi Valley, I have purchased some metal easels through Amazon. they are sufficient for my needs, but gee, could they only find beginner welders? Not ready for prime time. Another two easels that The Husband picked for me when he was in LA will have to be returned. They are too heavy for me to handle. It is difficult for him—or anyone else—to imagine how little weight I can muscle around.

Since the latest two purchases are a bust, I am reluctantly returning to the Internet solution. The easels are to help me be more independent with my little art show obsession, and I am still a couple short. I have a little time to research, but burn out pretty quickly shopping online. Let's face it. I burn out quickly with any sort of shopping. It is a nasty chore.

Like a Hawk

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Off and on for quite while, I had grieved over our loss of Betty. For a little history of Betty, see the Bitchin' Betty post. Finally, another hawk appears to have taken official ownership of Betty's perch on our roof. This fellow is big, aggressive, and appears rather young. Just this morning, I watched him drive another hawk of "his" fence south of the house. Yes, it seems this fine-feathered friend of ours has declared our fence his territory and that effectively makes the large open space west of our house his hunting ground.

Later, when I took this photograph, the hawk sat on the roof occasionally showing me those yellow eyes that you don't forget once you look into them. Periodically, he calmly checked on me, uttering that "guh-runk" I had never heard. If this fellow had let rip one of the shrieks for which these the Red- tailed Hawks are famous, I would have immediately abandoned my post. There is a reason that movie makers almost always use the screech of these hawks when they want any sort of raptor to curdle blood.

In spite of some interest in keeping track of me, this hawk was mostly attentive to signs of movement in the grass below. Eventually, when he flew away, he soared all the way to the edge of the road. That means his prey was at least one hundred yards away. Makes you think about that phrase watching like hawk.

Still Here and Smiling Now

I am late with this and have no energy for an ambitious post, but wanted to thank all for the encouraging words. We never saw the fire in the valley. It was over the western ridge. But the ridge isn't far away; the smoke was a nasty reminder; and, what news we could get was not comforting. Waiting and watching, searching for updates with details—all were less than entertaining. Having always had a healthy respect for firefighters and a much more personal sense of the role they play in my life since living in southern California, my respect for these people has grown another notch.

The Comanche complex (four smaller fires that came together) is largely contained as of 8:00 AM, today. I found these facts interesting and thought I would share them. This complex was tamed by 35 crews utilizing 30 bulldozers and 136 engines. A total of 1586 people faced the four fires and won. By the time the smoke had begun to clear, 30,000 acres were devastated by the Comanche complex alone.

Here are my favorite facts: All evacuation orders have been lifted in the Tehachapi area; full containment is expected by September 15; injuries—0; structures destroyed—0.

Galen was sick during the night. It would seem that he picked up on the "local" anxiety. He seems quite cheerful now. By tomorrow, I should be ready for puppy stories and gardening tips-or something in that general neighborhood.

Have a wonderful day everyone.

Where There's Smoke or If it Ain't One Thing....

No, it isn't a damp, foggy afternoon in sleepy little Bear Valley Springs. That haze is smoke from the Comanche fire to the west of us. This one has razed 15,000 acres already and, at 2:30 PM, it was 30% contained. We thought it had been wrapped up last night, but no such luck. By 10 PM last night, there were 50 fires burning in Kern County. Today, several are 80% contained, some 30%, and many we can't find figures on. The wind in our vally is still ESE, blowing against the fire. But, a few miles the other side of the ridge, the wind comes from the west. Tonight the wind here is supposed to switch around and come from the west. There wasn't much rain in our immediate area last night unfortunately, but the forecast offers hope once again: 30% chance of showers, tonight.

We are on Bear Valley Road and this afternoon I have watched bulldozers being hauled in, and fire engines rolling out with sirens blasting. Still, because I am not your intrepid reporter from channel whatever, I took this from the shelter on the safe side of my bathroom window. I am already breathing my allotment of smoke. You deserve a better photo since I chatter on about this, but chalk it up to lazy reporting. Hey, I am still worth every penny of my salary.

The Husband has sprinklers soaking the west side of the house. He is taking another load of lumber scraps to the dump. Is his work more than likely unnecessary? Yes. But, he takes this fire business seriously. (Not that I don't.) Not long after we met, many years ago, he faced a fire in Malibu Canyon fighting to save a house he had in the non-chic part of Malibu. More recently, he returned to help a friend and trailered horses out of that canyon during yet another fire—one that roared right down to the Pacific Coast Highway. He stood, on the beach, with horse owners trying to soothe their nervous and exhausted animals, while the flames danced just across 5 lanes of asphalt. He is not a man to take this lightly.

We hope our listeners will tune in the next few days for the latest on cute dogs and photos of flowers. Fashion stories and fishing news may be delayed, but we are looking forward to a moratorium on drama. Maybe a feature on square dancing, or a documentary on the latest Zumba workout videos. Sorry. No film at eleven.

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While I was proofing this, it began to rain. It is the most beautiful rain I have ever seen. If I could be tap dancing, I would out be there dancing and singing in that rain. The sun is still shining, so it will be a brief shower, but this stuff is wet! Wahoo!

Good News Update

Things are looking good at the moment. No flames licking up over that ridge to the northeast. The fire on the opposite side of the valley over the western ridge is still going, but it doesn't appear to have grown and the best part of all is that some of that early darkness was about rain clouds—I hadn't dared to hope. The wind, still coming from the SE, has picked up; but, it is pushing a slight sprinkle of rain. The wind is expected to shift a couple of times during the night. Who knows how many directions it may come from before it is over. 

It was lightning that set all this off, now we can hope that rain will help to tamp it down. I am pulling for enough rain to douse these things. The poor members of the Kern County Fire Department had just proclaimed the Canyon fire (the first one) 90% contained yesterday and they are back at it. They barely had time to catch their breath before starting on this round. For this many fires, they will have help coming from surrounding counties.

Galen has been jumpy all day. I knew something had changed a few minutes ago when he suddenly became agitated and let me know that I had to follow him.  I assumed he was ready for another opportunity to "tend to business", and I couldn't move quickly enough for him. He urged me to pick up the pace and was in full emergency mode by the time we hit the door. I thought I had come close to waiting too late. It turned out he must have smelled and sensed the change. We had to go outside and verify the rain. It was coming down harder—not just the sprinkles we had earlier. That calmed him down. No need for "business" after all. The rain lifted my spirits, too.

Here We Go Again

I fear that I will become known as the "drama queen", but as we shifted into gear this morning, we discovered another reminder that fire season has begun and with a vengeance, this year. Last night, we had thunderstorms with lightning strikes galore. At 6:30 AM, I took Galen out and admired the beautiful clouds and drank in some of that sweet mountain air. Within less than an hour this is what we discovered. This fire is, unfortunately northeast of us and the howling wind is coming from directly behind that fire. It turns out that we have forty, yes, you read that correctly 4 and 0 fires now burning in Kern County. What appears in the photo to be one fire (that is what we thought) is, by now, four fires, all moving west right for our valley. Thank goodness the winds are supposed to shift tonight. Forgive me for sounding shamefully selfish. I want the fire to be turned back on itself not on someone else.

By the time I am finishing this post—it has been a strange disjointed day—the smoke fills the valley. In spite of our tight windows it has seeped into the house. No more of that delicious and fresh mountain air. The Husband is mowing as fast as he can. He was checking the tractor manual a while ago. Maybe checking to see how long he can run it without wrecking the engine? I have no idea. I said a fond farewell to what was left of the daisies this morning. It was a small price to pay for a smidgen more peace of mind. It is eerily dark for 5:00 PM and not still. The wind blows and the those beautiful early autumn clouds are barely visible. The canopy that was full of promise this morning is smudged with a dirty gray.

The drama queen comment is heartfelt. It is odd that we have for long led such a humdrum existence—quiet little lives and certinly not of desperation. Then, suddenly, almost literally all hell breaks loose. I talk about these things because they are, after all, what is now and I ask you to please know that I am not whining, "poor me". We are not in any imminent danger, only alert. We are perfectly safe and sound. We have been extremely fortunate and relished a handsome share of good fortune. There are so many truly suffering today. But to some degree my blog is reporting on life in our little mountain valley—telling stories about what I see here. Therefore, this post isn't completely personal then, just reporting what I see and what little I know.  Sometimes we are swept along by currents we didn't prepare for. It keeps life interesting, but may I order some boredom, please? And another order to go, if you don't mind.

Update to the Update

My slowness to respond to all the deeply appreciated expressions of concern and good thoughts is due to my back issues, rather than personal safety concerns. First, the fire is far enough from us to be comforting. Second, the prevailing winds here come from the west, occasionally north, and the fire is southeast of us. Still, I won't deny that the fire is distracting. (It doesn't help that The Husband's surgery happens this week. He is in LA today for a consult with the surgeon.) The Bakersfield radio and TV stations have begun to cover the blaze and it is difficult to put it completely out of one's my mind.

Even though this doesn't begin to compare in scale to the devastation in central Texas, it remains a concern for the community. Over 13,000 acres have now been consumed, a dozen homes have been destroyed, and 650 homes are threatened. Over a thousand firefighters are on the job now and the latest report says they have it only 10% under control. Not very encouraging. We are constantly being reminded in one way or another how little control we have over our environment and when it is even this close, it does tend to get one's attention.

Paul Lester asked about causes. There are dozens, but mostly it comes down to the conditions in which the fires start. The major factors are thousands of miles of kindling in the form of dry underbrush, extremely low humidity, and fierce winds. It is a recipe for disaster. As I mentioned a couple of days ago the winter and spring rains produced the kindling. Then, on the day the fire started, the humidity was a scant 25%. (You may remember I have mentioned that the Tehachapi Mountains sit at the edge of the Mojave Desert). As for the winds, they are a constant.

Steve Skinner would know far more about this than I, but the conditions are daunting for the firefighters. Steep, rocky terrain; erratic winds; low humidity; high temperatures; a seemingly endless supply of fuel; near impossible access. Steve could certainly add more that I have overlooked.

The fires are begun in almost any way you can imagine: lightning strikes; sparks from vehicles or tools; carelessness in hay-filled barns; stoves, lanterns and candles; campfires; plane crashes; and, of course in some cases, arson. Once again, Steve could point out how incomplete my list is. But the most important factor is conditions that are "ideal" for an out of control blaze.

My sincere thanks to all who left kind comments wishing us the best. I appreciate the concern and good thoughts. I have hopes of being able to work at the desktop this afternoon so I can soon publish a "proper" post with a photograph. For the moment, however, forget the pajama blogger business—I am president of the "rocking chair brigade".

California Wild Fires—'Tis the Season

The sight strikes fear in the heart. While this fire is far enough from us to eliminate any need for panicked packing, it is a grim reminder that fire season is upon us. The rains last winter and spring produced a bumper crop of underbrush and there is ample fodder to turn one of these blazes into an inferno that could quickly consume thousands of acres. We are grateful for some routes that serve as emergency exits out of the valley, but pray we never have to try one—especially while hauling a horse trailer.  There are a number of planes in the air working on this, in addition to the manpower on the ground. We remain, as they say, "cautiously optimistic".