We enjoy our nightly skunk visitors, occasional air pollution aside. They’re comical to watch but their presence often involves residual piles of poo. That normally isn’t an issue, but this morning’s deposit has definitely crossed the line.
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What up skunk!
Three acres of grass, fields and woods and you have to void your bowels on our kitchen landing?
Not cool skunk, most assuredly not cool.
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Well that’s a unique wine review.
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And apparently not well received.
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Have you ever wondered what your cat is really thinking? Judging from this picture of Lord Dudley Mountcatten, I’ve done something unforgivable.
It rained heavily the other night, which means I woke up to this.
Again.
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My husband puts a paper towel in the bowl because he can’t stand to hear the dripping. This from the man who has the audio level of the television at 31.
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No matter how many times he fixes, replaces sections of, tars or flashes the roof?
This.
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It’s enough to make me scream because it doesn’t happen every time. We can have a rip roarer of a downpour and it will be fine. Then a normal shower will cause a breakthrough.
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So I bleached and patched the ceiling, again. Cursing under my breath the entire time.
Lord Dudley Mountcatten…. walked. In the harness. On the leash. Of his own accord.
Be still my heart.
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After weeks of useless excursions when all he did was glance at me in disdain…. the other day he suited up and hit the door running.
Well, strolling is more accurate but I’ll take it. No fuss, no fight. He walked across the lawn, around the barn and woodshed, climbed the front stone wall, got tangled up in the bird bath and even lead me over to the apple trees.
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Which he found quite fascinating.
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I was happy to let him sit in the crook of the tree sniffing and scratching the bark, but then before I could react….
Bam!
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The little devil was scrambling up the tree with me still holding the leash. He wouldn’t come down, so I had to go up, and it wasn’t pretty.
Ever try to wrangle a leashed and harnessed cat out of a tree? It’s not a smooth process and I don’t recommend it.
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Upon retrieval, his Lordship was exhausted and happily plopped in the shade. I, on the other hand, examined my scratched arms, broken nail and twig infested hair.
And if that wasn’t bad enough? This morning I woke up with a wicked brown tail moth rash on my neck.
Needless to say we will be giving the apple trees a wide berth from now on.
As we were leaving our small town’s festival I saw a sign pointing to a local artist’s collection of folk art carvings.
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The man and his art are well known in my town with one piece of this collection featured and displayed every year in our town hall.
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Three of the pieces were bought by private parties before the town decided to acquire the collection and were graciously lent to us for this event. It was the first time the collection has ever been exhibited together. Except…
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There’s one missing.
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The widow of the artist doesn’t know who her late husband sold The Raven to, but there’s been an extensive search … with no luck.
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You really have to see these in person to appreciate the craftsmanship.
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And my poor pictures don’t do the beauty of the wood carving justice.
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All the creatures depicted are native to our area. They are depicted with the joy of, and reverence for, nature.
So if you ever see that Raven? Please let me know.
I spent 5 solid hours sorting, cleaning and trying on a shockingly large collection of things that no longer fit… but only managed to finish one little section.
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It was exhausting… as well as depressing and I called it quits when I hit the jean pile, mumbling tomorrow is another day in my best Scarlett O’Hara voice.
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I had to ditch multiple pairs of cute boots due to my I’m not 90 but my feet think they are bunions that have ruined the joy of shoe shopping and turned it into a loathsome chore I’ve come to dread. Gone are the days of fashionable heels… now? I live in sandals, sneakers and boots.
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Three garbage bags later my closet looked better… but I was more than ready for a consolation cocktail. Or two.
Our little town has an annual community celebration and more often than not we don’t go. But after a year of hermit like Covid living, travel plan cancellations and avoiding large indoor crowds… an outdoor festival seemed perfect.
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There was live music.
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And the prerequisite ugly craft displays. Bird baths made from repurposed antique glass? I’m picturing myself scrubbing the poo out of all those grooves. Hard pass.
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The husband lost me for a half hour at the library book sale. A dollar a book and we had to make two trips to the car.
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There was a tiny petting zoo.
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With bad hair day inhabitants.
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We bought ducks for the derby.
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But our sorry ass quacks were almost dead last.
To be continued….
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Where there's only one step from the sublime to the ridiculous.
River's world..... 