And this morning, while I was outside admiring whatever was out there to admire, I heard one goosely honk, looked up to see three geese flying steadily north, who then swerved around and flapped their way south as if they meant to do that. So much for inner compasses.
About an hour ago I heard Charlie at the bottom of the back stairs, scrabbling about. Then I heard a squeak. Oh damn. He caught something. He never views them as prey, but as squeaky toys. When the squeak stops, he wanders off. This time it was a junco, quite unhappy, and the minute I uncovered the hiding place he flew up onto my back and then up the stairs.
I put Charlie out. A half hour later when I finally located the bird behind a box under the table he flew out again, using my shoulder, again, as a springboard. A little rational voice said, open the window, stupid. It was directly opposite where he was sitting on a shelf. Five minutes later he left. yay team one.
Then I came in here to celebrate, and it turned out I had somehow hit "log out' which is strategically located in the upper right corner where "save' used to be. Google, when I wasn't looking, has rearranged how you find your passwords (to protect your privacy, surrrre...even from you) and it took a lot of hunting before I stumbled on it, accidentally. I may be back in business.
We were sitting on the porch last night admiring the changing trees, and I realized that the acorns falling sound a lot like something marching in the woods. I've always held out hope for a bear to come lumbering up the rise behind the house...=)
Years ago our next neighbor had rented out his back field to a local dairyfarm, and they would put their oxen up there to graze. I was outside one morning when I heard a huge rustly noise and suddenly I saw several pairs of horns coming up the hill toward the house.
I grabbed the dog and we both went in. He barked out the window, and I just watched, as they turned to see what that funny noise was. When the boys came to retrieve them, they assured me they were okay, "now that they know the way home from here, they'll leave when they're ready." I assure you, that was not as comforting as they thought it was. We had them all summer, and you never knew when you were going to open the door and find a huge ox staring at you, or eating your potted plants. Those were, sadly, the days before digital cameras...
the wood is in, we are in our fourth day of No Rain, and I've begun pruning out one of the volunteer apple trees. No idea where any of them originally came from, but by now, after entirely too many years they have reached the status of omg that's way too big and since I am the designated tree pruner, it's up to me to clean them up.
The hardest part is not the pruning, but the hundreds of apples underfoot. It's tricky walking out there, and half of my energy is going into trying not to step on the apples. I enjoy pruning apple trees, it's one of those jobs that rewards you almost immediately...I get a bit of smaller wood for kindling, the brush pile grows and grows, and when my husband gets busy with the chain saw (yes, it's gone far beyond the gentle little snip snip snip stage...) I expect we'll have a serious amount for the stoves next year.
apparently half of New Hampshire heard a humoungous boom and shaking around noon today. It would appear that the other half didn't. We were both here, and something tells me I would have noticed, since my hearing is still pretty good...the reports say that over 40 towns were affected, no one has a clue as to what it was.
apparently they moved thursday 13 this week to a seekrit location. I just woke up to the fact that it's not only not Thursday, it's not even September anymore.
Maybe a calendar...0r the equivalent of Obama's Anger Management guy, someone who can follow me around and shout at me what day it is on an hourly basis...
