Observing whatever tickles my fancy

Archive for February, 2012

Mountains in Blue

Oil on canvas.  It’s not really finished, but I kind of like it this way.

Rose on Barnwood

Oil painting. Rose on Barnwood

The Glory of a Walk

Early this morning I decided to take a walk.  A dusting of snow covered lawns and portions of sidewalk.  The air was crisp and clear.  The sun was barely up.  One of the best times to wander; when most of the world is still asleep.

A few blocks from the house I met up with a stray yellow lab.  He greeted me with a gentle sniff and I gave his head a scratch.  We walked together until a scent near a tree intrigued him and we parted ways.

About a mile from home I spotted  a bald eagle soaring overhead.  Years ago this would have been a rare occurrence but no longer.  The eagles have made a come back and I often see them on walks or while I’m in the yard.  This time of year eagles can also be seen on the ice near the open water on the river.  Once I counted near 20 of them.

A few nights ago on a walk I heard the call of geese as they were on their return trek north.  I didn’t see them, as the skies were dark with no moonlight to light the sky, but I could imagine the v-formation.  My thought at the time was that it is only February and they shouldn’t be moving north yet.  But since we haven’t had much of a winter this year why not migrate.  The geese will be fine.


Why?  Why, in February did 3 completely different bugs appear in my house?

First, a box elder bug.

It lethargically crawled across the kitchen floor.

And then it promptly lost it’s life when I dropped a small box on it.

Second, a fly. A big, fat, lazy fly.

He came from the porch (yes, I was sitting on the porch again…and in February)….he came from the porch and flew a lazy weave pattern through the air and made his way into the kitchen.

And third, a little winged creature whose bug name I don’t know.  It was a tiny insect; bigger than a gnat and much smaller than the fly.  It was no more than an eighth of an inch long.  But it was there, idly resting on the sofa cushion on the porch.

All three are gone now.  Two wrapped in a tissue and tossed “gently” placed in a trash can “respectful” container. The other vacuumed up with the rest of the dust.

Beware bugs of spring, summer, and fall.  Do not wander into my realm.  If you dare, you shall meet the same fate as these three.

The Wisdom of Master Sean

The other night I had the privilege of watching a 7-week old baby.  His name: Sean or as I occasionally call him, Master Sean (aka The Young Prince).

Master Sean and I had a rough start.  And, I admit, he did come with a verbal warning from the parents.  The young prince had been crabby most of the day.  The warning did not deter me.  Yes, please, bring him over.  You two go out and have fun.  Mingle with adults.   It started out fine.  Okay, he was asleep when dropped off.  But ten minutes later his eyes opened and, with a scrunched up face, he let out a wail of baby discontent.  Cuddling didn’t appease him.  His diaper was empty.  The only option left was food.  His Mumsy had provided milk but said that he had been fed and shouldn’t be hungry for a few hours.  She was wrong.  The limited supply of nourishment had to be broken into.

After a snack and a baby burp, Master Sean and I were fine.  We had a staring session and gurgled conversations.  He provided a wonderful impression of Yoda (looks, not words) then fell asleep.  As he slept it occurred to me that his current life is the basis of what we all wish for: to be fed, cuddled, to sleep, and to be loved (and the need of a clean diaper).  Within the year he will add two more items to his wisdom: the need to play and explore.  Fun.

I Know, Right?

“I know, right?”  That sentence drives me bonkers!

“I know, right?”  Don’t you know if you know?  And if you know, why do you ask if it’s right?

“I know, right?”  How do I know if you know when you’re questioning your own knowing?

“I know, right?”  Let’s discard the question mark since the word “right” seems to be the punctuation.  ?=right

“I know, right?”  When you sound like a 1980s valley girl refugee stop talking to me.  “Like, I know, right?”

“I know, right?”  No, I know it’s left.