Three Letters

Letter One

birdbath

Dear birds who
frequent my front yard:

A voice whispered in my ear,
“Buy it and they will come.”
I was confused, and said, “Buy what?”
The voice said, “Cheep!”
So I went to the store and looked for something cheap.
I found a colorful glass birdbath
on a wrought iron base.
It was on sale.
I bought it.

I set it up in the front yard,
filled it with water,
added three big rocks (for ambiance),
… and waited…

No one came.

Okay… one bird came.
An avian bath critic, perhaps,
who apparently voted
two wings down.

Perhaps I should have splurged
on the Jacuzzi model, or maybe
the optional water slide.
But I did not.
After all, the voice did say cheap.

Henceforth, little birds,
If you aren’t going to utilize
the colorful glass birdbath
on the wrought iron base,
please stay downwind from me.
There are few things worse
than an unbathed bird.

And please,
stop whispering in my ear.

Sincerely,
Birdbath Owner

= 0 = 0 = 0 =

Letter Two

letters2

Dear dog who sits at the bathroom door
every time I pee:

You’ve taught me a lot
since you came to live with me.
Like not to leave socks lying around.
Or pens. Or slippers.
Or granola in a bowl of milk.

I’ve tried to teach you things, too.
Like barking to alert me
of your need to go outside.
Like NOT barking to alert me
every time the neighbors walk by.
And that it’s bad form to drink from the toilet
or to try to hump the cat.

I’ve seen you staring out the window
at the colorful glass birdbath
on the wrought iron base.
Could that have something to do
with its unpopularity?

Please don’t chase the birds.
I am fairly certain they do not want
to play with you.

Cordially,
Alpha Pack Leader

= 0 = 0 = 0 =

Letter Three

letters3

Dear Cat who
shares my domicile:

There’s a new water dish
in the front yard for you.
It’s made of colorful glass
on a wrought iron base.
We can remove the three big rocks
if you don’t like the ambiance.

I’m really sorry about the dog thing.
What can I say… he likes you.

Faithfully,
Filler of the Water Dish

= 0 = 0 = 0 =

Coming to my Senses: Touch

About five days into a summer cold and partway through my evening meal, it dawned on me that I couldn’t taste or smell the food I was eating. I was too congested from the cold. How long, I wondered, had I been impaired in those senses without even noticing?

I began to think about how I really take my five senses for granted, and I decided to try focusing on one sense for an entire day and see what I noticed that I may have otherwise missed. I chose the sense of touch since it wasn’t being effected by the cold.

I think of all the senses, touch would be the most dangerous one to lose. Feeling pain helps me pull away from potential harm, helps me realize that I need to realign my back when I am sitting improperly, helps me enjoy my pets, and helps me connect with others. Just for starters.

Here are some observations from my day:

 

Too hot, too cold? Shall I take my tea warmed or iced today? (Trick question; I only drink coffee).

Too hot, too cold? Shall I take my tea warmed or iced today? (Trick question; I only drink coffee).

 

Some branches are better for swinging on than others.

Some branches are better for swinging on than others.

 

It might behoove me to wear gloves when pulling this weed.

It might behoove me to wear gloves when pulling this weed.

 

Feeling the spiral wiring on my notebook, the ridges caused by my pen on pages I have used, the smoothness of clean pages waiting to be used, all adds to the pleasure of writing my daily journal entries.

Feeling the spiral wiring on my notebook, the ridges caused by my pen on pages I have used, the smoothness of clean pages waiting to be used, all adds to the pleasure of writing my daily journal entries.

 

Parched? Waterlogged? I talk to my plants on occasion, but so far they have suffered my neglect in silence. If the brown leaves aren’t a giveaway, I can feel the soil’s saturation level.

Parched? Waterlogged? I talk to my plants on occasion, but so far they have suffered my neglect in silence. If the brown leaves aren’t a “dead” giveaway, I can feel the soil’s saturation level to determine their needs.

 

Petting my soft cat is comforting and pleasurable. Plus I can catch him when he tries to use my leg as a scratching post.

Petting my soft cat is comforting and pleasurable. Plus I can catch him when he tries to use my leg as a scratching post.

 

Some water temperatures are more conducive to singing in the shower.

Some water temperatures are more conducive to singing in the shower.

 

I discover sooner rather than later when I should scream and do the get-that-creepy-thing-off-me dance.

I discover sooner rather than later when I should scream and do the get-that-creepy-thing-off-me dance.

 

Soft carpet, soft hair, soft skin.

Soft carpet, soft hair, soft skin.

It’s been an interesting experience to focus on the sensation of touch. I’ve decided to try this with each of my five senses (maybe even my sixth sense). Stay tuned!

Triumph (and a promise)

[Editorial note: Yes, it’s another dog post, but I promise to swear off dog posts for the rest of the month, maybe even longer. Promise. Cross my pawsfingers  — heart.]


Triumph is when you are doggedly chasing after a goal,

triumph4

and you finally catch up to that thing you’ve been chasing,

triumph2

but you manage to come away with a smile

triumph3

in spite of it.


Photo 101 Assignment 20: Triumph

Pillarteration

pillars

A plethora of pillars perch on a porch,
planks peeling paint that past periods parched.
Partitioned panes perfect the perception,
perhaps prim proprietors previously peeked
past the posts to preening patrols on parade.

Hold on a minute! Are those pillars or columns?

A column of columns congregate on the…

oh, never mind.


Photo 101 Assignment 18: Edge and Alignment

Muse – Weekly Photo Challenge (photo essay)

This week’s Daily Post Photo Challenge theme is “Muse.” The question posed is “So what’s your muse — what subject do you turn to frequently, more inspired each time?”

Hmm… that’s a tough one. Not! I suppose it’s the subject that’s appeared in about 10% of all my posts so far. That would be my dog Chihuly.

hose

I usually call him Chules on social media as a courtesy to the glass artist, Dale Chihuly, after whom Chules was named. I don’t want search engines confusing the two. People looking for gorgeous glasswork and finding a gorgeous dog instead might be confused, because let’s face it, Chules sucks at glass art.

I also on occasion refer to him as Fuzz Butt. My dog, that is. As you can see in the photo below, that is an apt nickname.

“What’s going on? Let me look!”

“What’s going on? Let me look!”

He’s a dog of many faces.

tongue out

Someone on Facebook referred to him as a chameleon. He has his tender moments…

Friends forever.

Friends forever.

but he can be macho, too.

stick


Nothing like a good toothpick after the evening kibble.

He can be silly…

mic

Tap. Tap. “Is this microphone on? Okay, great! I’d like to dedicate this first song to my house mate, the tuxedo cat. Buddy, this one’s for you…”

He watches out for me.

deep end

Chules is checking out the deep end. He heard I’d gone off it.

And at the end of the day, he’s just a great companion.

resting

So you may be seeing more of my muse around here, but I’ll try to control myself and keep it under 15 percent. And for good measure, I’ll toss in the occasional photo of Sebastian, the tuxedo kitty.

Sabs

“Chules is such a show off, he gets all the attention. That’s okay. Everyone knows I’m smarter. And better looking. And I have a fuzzier derriere, too, but that’s beside the point.”


Weekly Photo Challenge: Muse

Memory Chip

I remember when a chip was a piece of wood that fell from a lumberjack’s axe. The wood was used to make paper which was used to make books which were stored in libraries.

lumberjack 1

This is a lumberjack made out of wood.

A library was a building where people could come to borrow books and take them home to read. The books were due back on a certain date, and there was a fine charged if the books were not returned on time.

gears

This is a torture machine used on people who didn’t return their books to the library on time. Just kidding! It’s actually more lumberjack stuff.

The library in the town where I grew up was housed in a building that took up an entire city block. I read many books that I took home from that library. Unfortunately my memory did not retain very much of the information that was in those books.

caterpillar

I could have driven this caterpillar to the library, but I did not. I drove an Oldsmobile Delta 88. It was gray.

Now chips come inside of computers that are smaller and weigh less than a lumberjack’s lunchbox. The amount of data stored in the city-block library in my home town could easily be stored in memory chips and accessed at any time virtually anywhere in the world with a smaller-than-a-lumberjack’s-lunchbox-sized computer.

lumberjack 2

Here’s another lumberjack. He’s probably never been to a library. Not because lumberjacks don’t go to libraries; but, you know, he’s made of wood.

I may have known how all of this computer stuff works at one time. I probably read it in a book. But my memory dulls faster than a lumberjack’s axe at a logging camp. Maybe someday I can upgrade to a memory chip that will help me recall all the books I have read.

That wood chip away at my memory problems for sure!

cat

This cat crawling around on logging machinery probably has a good memory. I wonder if his fur is naturally brown, or if that is dirt he acquired while crawling around on machinery. I think he’s supposed to be gray. Like my Oldsmobile.


(Photos taken at Camp 18 Logging Museum in Elsie, Oregon.)