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Remember those $50 blueberry bushes we bought at the nursery?
Turns out they had the same ones at the grocery store for $25.
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The husband couldn’t resist.
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There are days when I prefer to soak myself in alcohol, but apples and watermelons work too.
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I passed on the meatloaf mountain. Bread and potatoes? That’s a bit much.
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Here’s the Junior chuck, just chillin’ on the deck landing.
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Probably still full from all those flowers he devoured.
😖
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When we moved to our house in 2002 most of the back yard was waist high fields. Over the years my husband… aka the Lawn Ranger… turned the fields into lawn. And in the middle of that lawn?
Nine high blueberry bushes. (So named because the famously sweet low bush Maine blueberries are literally ankle high.)
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We’ve had good years and bad as far as harvesting goes. Sometimes the birds eat them all, sometimes we have a late frost and they never grow properly.
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Pruning is important but sadly this year we lost two bushes.
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The blossoms smell divine and everywhere there’s a bloom?
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There will be a berry…
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Like this in mid to late August.
Not wanting to miss out on summer pie, the husband and I went to a large nursery and purchased two replacement bushes.
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I was a bit shocked at the sticker price of $49.99 each, but fresh blueberry lemon pound cake with lemon glaze can not be denied.
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Fingers crossed they fruit this year.
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Lately we’ve just had the junior woodchuck visiting the backyard. He was the runt of last year’s litter and though momma chuck is famous for booting all the kids out of the den as soon as they’re grown, this little guy is still living at home.
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But momma is not pleased.
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Every time he gets near her she barks and bites and drives him off.
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Watermelon is not to be shared with deadbeat kids who live in the basement.
🤣
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You can’t use it. But it may make you smile…
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Sorry, it will always be the Wienermobile to me.
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And you know someone had to actually lick it to warrant posting that sign.
In local news, the Wiener was recently spotted boarding a ferry in Maine.
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You don’t see that everyday.
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Well, if Tik Tok says it…
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Another headlines that begs the question… why?
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Weirdest. Plant. Ever.
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My husband likes this new restaurant called the White Duck. I’m not sure why as every time we’ve been there the food has been mediocre at best.
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The cocktails? Not much better.
This trip the lavender margarita sounded interesting.
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And though it was a pretty purple… it tasted more like the sugar shaker ran amok than lavender. Sickeningly sweet which is not what I want in a cocktail. Sadly the cup of clam chowder wasn’t any better. Thin, watery, full of potatoes with very few clams. Boo to that.
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I hate when the cocktail list is just phoning it in.
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The husband ordered the supposedly home made baked mac and cheese. I make this at home and never think to call it a meal. Theirs was dry as a bone with virtually no flavor. Boo to that as well.
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I stuck with the pub burger because it’s one of the few things they do correctly here. Charbroiled, perfectly cooked with melted cheddar, bacon and served on a brioche bun. With a cold Down East hard cider of course.
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Now that the apple tree (I didn’t plant but grows better than those I do) is spreading it’s branches we have more squirrels coming to visit our feeders.
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We have a wide open backyard and they prefer tree cover for safety. Like this hefty momma hanging out on the garden bed border.
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What a chonk!
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This my friend, is the perfect bowl of chowder. Found at the Freeport Cafe, an unassuming little place on Route 1.
Thick, rich, creamy and loaded with clammy goodness. It doesn’t get much better than that.
Driving along Maine’s back roads you never have to wonder where the rednecks live.
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They tend to leave their calling card.
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Smaller than the pileated, but still pretty.
He’s called the Red Bellied Woodpecker. Though I never have figured out why.
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I have a few Facebook friends who share nothing but motivational posters.
No family photos. No vacation albums. No silly animal videos.
Just these.
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Most of them are pretty.
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Some of them are cute.
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Okay, you got me. That one makes perfect sense.
And while I’m sure my friends mean well spreading their words of wisdom, I’ve never been a motivational/self help type of girl. I don’t read the books, I don’t cross stitch the sayings on pillows.
My idea of good advice runs more along these lines.
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Kind of the anti motivational motivation.
It’s just how I roll.
And in case you were wondering? My pickle algorithm is alive and well.
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No, they’re not.
Trust me on this.
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Yes, I’m still bird nerding out that a female pileated woodpecker has found our backyard .
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Two sightings in twenty years and now twice in one week.
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Woot!
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Needless to say I’m making sure that particular feeder is always full in case she drops by.
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A bag fills the cylinder once with 1/4 left over, and I have to fill it every other day.
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Pricey, but worth it.
(Photo includes another of my coffee table metal sculptures since you seemed to like the hermit crab.)
🙂
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Oh those pesky algorithms.
You click on one pickle martini recipe for blog fodder and then bam! Before you know it?
You’re pickled.
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My Jameson will never be shot out of a hollow pickle.
Nope. Not happening.
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For the love of all that’s holy.
No.
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I beg to differ.
🤮
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Every night when the sun starts to set?
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We have a visitor. Sometimes two…
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Apples, berries and some taurine rich grain free dry dog food are the reason.
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They come to nibble seed that falls from our bird feeders but I can’t resist putting out a better snack.
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❤️
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River's world..... 