Big momma woodchuck is out of hibernation and stuffing her face at a rapid pace.
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I’d thrown out bread for the birds earlier that morning but when I saw her arrive and start munching, I quickly gave her lettuce instead.
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You know, the head of iceberg lettuce my husband brought home from the store after I specifically wrote “green leaf, red leaf, Boston or romaine…. anything but iceberg!” on the grocery list.
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Even as hungry as momma chuck was….
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She left most of the tasteless crunchy white parts.
Not traveling for the past 2 years has been tough. It seems we were just getting into the swing of navigating our time share resort catalog… culling the ordinary and finding some fabulous spots… and then Covid slammed the door. While I’d be up for getting back on the road, my husband is still hesitant so we’re sticking close to home for now. I’ve been slowly researching some New England escapes my spouse might be comfortable with and the other day I came across this:
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Let me state for the record… unequivocally and without a doubt… I am not a camper. I have absolutely zero pioneering spirit and require hot and cold running Egyptian cotton sheets.
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While I love nature, the outdoors and hiking during the day, ( before my knee injury, damn it ) I prefer to sleep in air conditioned comfort on a king sized pillow top not sweltering in a 12×6 wagon with mosquitoes large enough to carry you away.
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Trust me, it’s not. And I wouldn’t.
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The words magical wagon and camp grounds are not used in the same sentence, not in my world.
And when I heard they rent for $1,500 a night? Yeeha! That’s a hard pass.
Plants are our friends. They feed us, heal us, beautify our planet and cleanse our air. But now? It looks like they might be the answer to that pesky global plague.