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Fall.
Autumn in New England.
Cooler temps, brightly colored leaves, pumpkins and yes…
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An abundance of apples from our trees which means….
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It’s time to bake.
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Apple fritter bread.
So damned good.
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My favorite time of year.
Pandemic humor
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Because I’m wondering if we’ll ever be done with this nightmare.
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Brilliant idea.
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I hate when that happens.
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Finally!
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And please, no pictures.
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Technically not Covid humor, but hey… if the shoe fits.
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A little backyard color.
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I’m going to bore you with more autumn photos.
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Because even walking around the backyard is lovely during this season.
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Blueberry bushes aren’t very attractive most of the year, but the red is pretty striking now.
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And you’ll be happy to know the un-manning of the man cave porch continues… with 5 chrysanthemums and two pumpkins complementing the wreath.
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Apples?
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Our trees are bursting with more than we can use. But why are the best ones always so damned high up?
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It’s that time of the month again….
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Good grief, no. Not that.
I’m talking about this time of the month:
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The oh shit, hasn’t that gift subscription expired yet time of the month.
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And as usual, the articles are of the highest journalistic integrity.
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Doesn’t seem like such a glamorous job now does it.
The latest trend in eye makeup is now on my things I never need to try because they’re stupid list.
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And because it’s apparently mandatory in every issue..
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Sex.
And while I’m decidedly pro sex, I think these helpful hints leave a lot to be desired.
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I can pretty much guarantee I want to wank your knob are six words that will never be uttered in our bedroom.
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No.
Mr. Cuddles will never be put in a compromising position. Especially that one.
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That’s just wrong.
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The last of the chucks.
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The woodchucks have left the building.
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After momma chuck and her spring brood of voracious garden nibblers cut a swath of destruction through my flower gardens this spring….
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And fattened up quickly at our all you can eat buffet this summer….
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They have now moved on to where ever the hell it is woodchucks go in the fall.
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And all I’m left with is empty flower pots and leftover photos to sort through.
😊
Let’s play.
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Stop grumbling. I know you like these things ….
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I am in Deaf Smith County Texas. The hill country… which I’m assured can be quite beautiful.
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And while I love James Lee Burke’s Louisiana detective Robicheaux series, the Texas Billy Bob Holland series doesn’t quite measure up for me.
And considering their political climate of restricting voting rights and a woman’s right to chose?
Texas is probably not the best place for me to wake up right now.
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It’s a dangerous time of the year for me to drive.
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Early autumn.
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The leaves are just starting to turn in our area and I’m always spell bound by the colors.
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So I drive one handed, snapping pictures.
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I know I shouldn’t..
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But when Mother Nature puts on a show… attention must be paid.
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The great white (grey) hunter.
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Lord Dudley Mountcatten has notched another kill in his proverbial belt.
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On a stroll past the woodshed this morning, he darted inside and came up with a squeaker.
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But again, after catching it?
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He looked a little perplexed about what to do with it.
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It’s hard to watch him toying with it, but before long?
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Another carcass.
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A little rich for my blood.
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It’s been established I like beer.
All kinds of beer.
But this beer?
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Hmm…
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28%?
Damn.
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While I’d be interested in trying it…
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At $240 a bottle I might wait for someone else to buy it.
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Maybe he should quit his day job.
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My husband’s cousin’s son (is that second cousin?) is a doctor. He was the first physician who diagnosed my late mother’s terminal cancer and was the epitome of professionalism with compassion.
And if that’s not impressive enough? I’ve just discovered he’s been hiding a whole lotta artistic talent under that white coat.
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Apparently the basement of his old Victorian home is being turned into a shrine to rock and roll.
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He just started posting pictures of his work and all I could think was, damn.
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The boy has mad skills.
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