Why jeans palacsinta bear?

Downgraded jeans and bear track

Can Jared or I say anything without the inquiry, "Why?"?


"New" jeans downgraded to old beaters. A bit of spilt castor oil from a warm compress. A couple washings. Then a trip to the muddy garden. They're done. Blue is faded, blue replaced with greyish brown tone of ground in dirt.

Because all my pants now have worn knees, I planned to wear a skirt instead on a recent evening out.

As I pulled on my only pair of stockings, Beren poked my thigh, and asked, "Momma, what's this hole?"


Made palacsinta (Hungarian version of crepes) with a bit of slippery elm. Very nice.


The bear. A rocky night's sleep. We woke to find the metal can with bird seed tipped and the birdfeeder torn down. Intuition.

The following evening, at twilight, I went to he porch to bring in everyone's boots. Jared was shaving, and Beren was in the tub.

The bear, big, dark, beautiful and in the yard checking out Beren's trash picked ride-in pick up truck. I stood on the porch gaping.

The bear ambled towards the road, and I began to shout, "JARED! JARED! COME HERE!" No reply. "JARED COME HERE NOW!" After a few more shouts, my underdressed husband arrived at the door. "Look at the bear! Get Beren!"

Soon the two males of my household stood by my side, dripping, underdressed. The bear padded to a snowbank and draped its body across it. The bear didn't care about our noisy chatter from the porch. A woodcock peented from across the meadow, and continued until the bear sauntered its way.

The bear assessed the electric fence around the beehives. Our quiet observation ended when the bear barked twice and ran, after being shocked by the fence. I would have been curious to watch the bear dismantle the hive, as it had probably done to our birdfeeder.

Two nights later the bear was seen resting in the white oak. The lowest branch on the oak is about 10' from the ground.

What an amazing sighting.