you are judging me I recognize that look from when I’m judging you
The Daily Post weekly photo challenge: Face
That Look
6
Category Archives: Animalia
Chance Encounter
We met one morning, you and I.
You stood stock-still and watched me
with fear, I think.
Curious, I stood-stock still
so as not to scare you away.
Had you been older
(and less enchanting),
our encounter might have gone
quite differently.
If you felt cornered
you’d bare your teeth,
and hiss a warning
for me to stay away.
You may have tried the ploy
of playing possum,
flat on your side, stiff and unmoving,
eyes closed in mock death.
I might have poked you with a stick,
testing your resolve to continue
this risky gambit.
It would be a long stick and a soft poke,
lest you chose to resurrect.
But as it was, we simply met,
assessed our respective threats,
and finding none, we parted ways.
Should we meet again,
I’ll hold no kind sentiment.
You will sense no familiarity.
Despite our chance encounter,
your innocence and my curiosity,
we are not – and never shall be –
kindred souls.
Discover Challenge: Chance Encounter
Weekend Coffee Share 5/7/16
If we were having coffee, I’d warn you to rescue your cup before my photo-bombing Eskie got ahold of it. I shudder to imagine what Chules would be like if he were hyped up on caffeine.
I’d tell you that the weather has been great, and Chules and I have been taking longer walks, getting out to the parks and trails that are so pretty this time of year, with the trees filling out with vibrant green leaves, the wild roses and rhododendrons blooming, and – according to Chules – a plethora of utterly intriguing smells along the paths.
I’d share that my house painting project is moving along at a snail’s pace, but progressing nonetheless. And since there’s no rush, that pace is just fine with me. I seem to have difficulties with being very methodical about the whole thing, so it’s coming together rather piecemeal. But that’s okay, too.
I didn’t paint this morning and instead met with my daughters and grandkids for a nice brunch. While we were watching a very shaggy dog pass by, my youngest daughter commented that my dog Chules looks like a fluffy white ottoman with a cute face and pointy ears. What do you think? Be honest; Chules and I won’t be offended (even though I pretended to be when my daughter made the observation).
I might get out and putter in the yard later today, but I’ll wait for it to cool down some. So we can rest here a bit longer and enjoy the shade as we drink our coffee.
Sit back and put your feet up. Oh! — not there… that’s my dog, not a foot stool. It’s alright. Anyone could have made that mistake. Apparently.
Thank you to Diana at PartTimeMonster.com for hosting the #WeekendCoffeeShare.
B&W: Bird in the Bush
You can fly, but you can’t hide…
Or can you?
Eurasian Collared Dove on top of power pole.
Northern Flicker in gravel.
Mallard Duck in fountain.
American Robin in pine tree.
Okay, sometimes you really can’t hide:
Chicken, not hiding very well behind tree. Can’t fly very well, either.
Cee’s Black and White Photo Challenge: Hiding or Camouflaged
Abandoned
left without a word now come crawling back to me I’m so glad you’re home
Daily Post One-Word Prompt: Abandoned
Henhouse, Episode 5
“Maybe I do need a pedicure, but don’t you think it’s time you shaved your legs?”
Weekend Coffee Share 4/23/16
If we were having coffee, I would tell you it’s been a bit of a hectic week. And a furry one. I was dog-sitting my eldest daughter’s mini dachshund Finni at the start of the week, and then my youngest daughter’s cat showed up after a two month absence looking like she’d been through hell.
After a vet visit to treat a large gash in the kitty’s throat and the removal of massive hair mats, I am keeping her with me so I can watch out for her while she heals.
And now I’m dog sitting for my youngest daughter, with her dog Bella. These canine visits are really good for my dog Chules. Gives him some buddies to play with for a while. I often consider getting a second dog, but I think that would maybe be too much ongoing excitement around here. Especially for my cat Sebastian. And too much fur.
If we were having coffee, I’d tell you that my house painting project is progressing well, albeit slowly. I went for the red front door after all, and I really like it. It still needs another coat of paint, but that will have to wait for another stint of dry weather.
Bella is snoring on the couch. Chules is pretending to sleep in his rocker chair, but his eyes peek open now and again, so I know he is still alert. Or maybe just being kept awake by Bella’s snoring. Sebastian is holed up somewhere down the hall, and my injured kitty patient Thursday is gated off in my spare bedroom, hiding in the closet behind a box of books.
All is well in my furry little abode. If you’d like a second cup of coffee, I’ll pour. There’s no rush today, and I’m enjoying the non-hairball-producing company.
Henhouse, Episode 4
“Okay, everyone, watch where you step! Ginger, are you sure this is where your contact lens fell out?”
Wait! Don’t Eat That!
I’m not the most neighborly person in the world. And recently I seem to be gravitating toward lawn and garden projects that involve fences, privacy screens, hedges, wide moats filled with man-eating piranhas… well, I would if I could.
Last weekend I invested in a number of boxwood shrubs to create a hedge between my driveway and the driveway of the house next door. Once I got the shrubs planted, I gathered up the containers they had come in, the tags I had cut off of them, and the little stick things that get shoved into the containers to identify the plants and tell you how to water them.
Stick Thing
I never really read the stick things. I let nature decide when to water the plants, intervening only when I hear the plants hallucinating that the mailbox is a shimmering waterfall.
I happened to glance down at one of the stick things in my hand, and my eye caught a word that began with “neon.” Idly wondering if my hedge was going to glow in the dark or light up with beer signs, I took a closer look. The stick thing read:
This plant is protected from problematic
- aphids
- white flies
- beetles
- mealy bugs
and other unwanted pests by Neonicotinoids.
These pesticides are approved by the EPA.
Since I try to avoid pesticides in my yard, I was not impressed that someone had taken it upon themselves to determine which pests were wanted or unwanted in my hedge. But I’d already planted the boxwoods, so I made a pledge to read the stick things more carefully in the future, and went inside the house to clean up.
After scrubbing the dirt (and pesticides, apparently) off my hands, I opened my laptop and checked my Facebook feed. The first post to grab my eye was one by The Mother Nature Network. A photo of bees crawling over a honeycomb was accompanied by the heading:
Lawn Care Giant Announces Plan to Phase Out Bee-Harming Pesticides
Very cool! And about time. The declining bee population is a major problem for the environment.
Then I read the first line of the click-through article:
“Ortho’s decision to nix neonicotinoids is an important one.”
Neonicotinoids… hmmm… where had I seen that word? Neon—
OMG!!! My glow-in-the-dark boxwood hedge was going to turn me into a bee killer!
I started researching.
⇒ Maybe I could just rinse the pesticide off. (No, you can’t).
⇒ Maybe the effects of the pesticide are short-lived. (Wrong again.)
⇒ Maybe boxwoods don’t have flowers that will attract bees to them. (Yes, they do. In fact, bees love boxwood flowers.)
The only “solution” I could find: pluck off all the blossoms in the first blooming season so the bees don’t get to them. In subsequent seasons, the poison won’t be so harmful. So they say.
You know what a boxwood flower looks like? Yeah, neither does anyone else. They are described as “inconspicuous.” Small and yellow-green in color, they pretty much just blend in with the leaves.
I’m at a moral crossroad here. Do I:
- dig up the plants, dispose of them, and find some that aren’t going to be lethal? Or
- swear an oath that I will make daily searches during blooming season, scouring the hedge for hidden flowers to remove? I’m willing, but would that be enough?
The hedge runs along my dandelion/clover-infested yard where it abuts the neighbor’s always green, utterly weed-free lawn. Maybe his weed killer sprays or granules (or whatever form of poison he uses) will leach over and kill my bee-killer pesticide-drenched boxwoods. One could hope.
I have a feeling I will be ripping out my hedge this weekend. Maybe it will bring good bee karma. Maybe the bees will pay me back by asking their wasp buddies to leave me alone this year. I could recommend a nice relocation site nearby. One with a very, very green lawn.
Yeah, as I said at the start, I’m just not very neighborly.
The Daily Post weekly photo challenge: Dinnertime
What Rhymes with Stanza? 