We planted a little ‘wild flower’ garden this spring, and it’s in full bloom now. Lots of pretty blossoms, mostly annuals, reaching for the sky.
Our little bit of wildflowers.
Promises of sun arriving soon.
Today one of them opened.
You are my sunshine…
I smile everytime I walk past this patch of flowers, but now with the sunflower I positively grin.
The details are amazing.
Hope you are smiling too!
Pink is pretty too.
Katie here.
So like many of you I’ve had a hard time getting my beauty days scheduled. For months and months, maybe even years in dog math, mama couldn’t get an appointment for me to have my furs and nails done.
Then a couple of months ago she found a lady that lives not so far from us who said she’d clean me up at her house. Mama was very nervous handing me over to someone she didn’t know, but it turned out just fine.
Here’s me just home from my latest spa day.
The lady asked mama if she wanted to be able to tell I had a hair cut and mama said no, because she likes me with long flowing fur, she just wanted my nails done and my feet cleaned up and a little trim on my behind.
I came out beautiful, the lady got all my undercoat out, something that no one has ever done before, and my fur was still long and flowing. Mama decided she’d take me back there regularly.
You can see how my front furs got trimmed.
I’ve been there twice now, and this last time I came home with all my furs cut much shorter. Mama thinks the lady forgot that mama likes my fur long.
This is me with my furs long.
So I ask you. What do you think? Mama could take me back to my old groomer who has done my furs my whole life, she does a better job of cleaning up my feet and she leaves my fur long. But she never got my undercoat cleaned up so good as it is now.
Or mama can talk to the new lady and make sure she lets my leg flags grow back out and my front furs too.
This is me with my fur blowing in the wind back when it was longer.
Do you like my furs better long or short? Mama doesn’t know what to do. Daddy thinks I look cute like this.
I’m not so sure.
Help mama decide…short fur or long?
I went out to one of my parks (not Katie’s, she doesn’t get to claim all of them) yesterday to go for a walk. It’s been too long since I’ve been there.
I think the last time I did four miles out there was late spring when the skunk cabbages were coming into their own and the air was fresh and little spring flowers were blooming along the edges of the forest.
Well, the air was still just fine, but the skunk cabbage is past it’s prime and now the flowers of late summer are in full bloom.
Four miles might have been a bit ambitious on a hot August morning. But I forget I’m not so young anymore, and only months ago I walked 4 miles regularly so it didn’t occur to me to be more conservative.
Heading out was marvelous, a breeze in my face, lots to look at. I didn’t really want to turn around at mile 2, but some part of my brain decided to be an adult and demanded I make the smart decision.
I was beginning to feel the need for a restroom break, and there was a bathroom at mile 3, only one more mile down the path. If I turned around I’d have two miles until I got to a toilet, but my brain calculated (it’s a proven fact that math is hard when you’re hot and sweaty and have to go to the bathroom) that if I went a mile further I’d have to walk six miles total, and six is a number much bigger then four.
So I turned around, and was doing just fine until that last 1.25 miles. Which is uphill and mostly in the sun. With no breeze. That mile was pretty miserable.
As I got to the steepest part of the walk, only a quarter mile long, but still, part of my brain began arguing with the other part. There was a lovely bench under a big old oak tree part of the way up.
I could sit on that bench for a spell. That’s why they put it there. For folks like me who could be categorized as elderly. Yep, could sit right there under that tree. Bet there’s a breeze there.
The other half of my brain argued back. Not going to sit on that d*#% bench. Sitting on the bench would delay arrival at the bathroom. And the car with it’s bottle of water.
But it’s a nice bench, there in the shade. No one else seems to want to sit there. It’s calling your name.
Not sitting on the d#*% bench.
Luckily my feet were not listening to the argument and just kept moving.
Oh but wait…there’s a big image of a painting from the Detroit Institute of Arts right there next to that bench. They’re advertising a collection being shown. There’s a short article next to it. You could go read all about it. In the shade. With the breeze. And you don’t have to sit on the bench.
A good solution, might even say a compromise, that pleased both parts of my brain and my feet didn’t mind either.
All the images in this post are from that walk, taken with my phone camera while moving along on a hot summer morning.
Covid has made me random in many ways. Random meals put together from whatever is here rather then running to the store to pick up a missing item. Random camping trips to get away while remaining isolated. Random walks through the yard instead of parks to avoid running into other people.
The sugar water is getting a little low, lady!
That’s not all bad, you understand. Some things we’ve learned to do during this strange time would benefit us to continue once the world returns to normal. If that ever happens.
Things like eating at home together instead of catching a meal on the fly. Doing with what’s in the pantry and not wasting gas and engery rushing to the store every day. Talking to neighbors on walks through the neighborhood instead of waving at them from your car as you drive somewhere else.
Three stages of bloom.
Recognizing your home is not such a bad place to be, even while yearning for exploration and adventure.
I was weeding when I noticed a large monarch butterfly hovering around a hydranga tree filled with beautiful white blossoms. Such a pretty image I went inside and got the camera.
Pink zinnia impersonating purple coneflowers.
Of course he (or she) wasn’t anywhere to be found when I got back outside. But lots of other things were.
The images in this post were from that brief weeding interlude. I should be content in my yard, it’s a pretty amazing place.
In the wild part of the yard.
But the road has always, and continues to, call me.
I have a friend in the UP (Upper Peninsulia of Michigan for those of you not from around here) who has a group of women friends that gathers regulary to camp, along the shores of Lake Superior or the banks of a river. They kayak and sit around the fire and talk and I wish I could be there too.
Centering.
I think I need to put together a group like that down here in lower Michigan. A few other women who like to camp and would like to camp together somewhere once in awhile.
Don’t get me wrong, I enjoy my camping solitude too, and Katie and I love to spend that time together. But sometimes it would be nice to have a group of people who would like to explore together.
The light bounces.
So who’s in? Could we manage to socially distance while camping? Dogs or no dogs, tents or RVs, who’d like to go…and where?
Pink and green coexisting.
The possibilities are endless.
New possibilities.
A couple weeks ago I posted about the flying bits of gold I saw across the street over the neighborhood pond. Cedar waxwings, birds we don’t see very often, were chasing insects in the fading evening light. (For this post you really should click on the images to see them larger.)
Such a beautiful bird.
Two nights ago while eating dinner I caught a glimpse of gold over the pond again.
Their golden color glowed in the setting sun.
Last time I struggled with the dim light and the quick slivers of golden wing.
Artsy fartsy image.
Focusing was pretty much impossible.
Heading out looking for dinner.
So this time when I headed over with my camera fitted with the long lens I knew better then to try to get them flying across the pond.
Incoming!
And I knew just where the dead tree was that they landed in regularly to rest between flights.
A fly-over.
So that’s where I stayed, right below that tree, catching them coming and going.
Whatcha doing down there lady?
Still, I had to move the ISO up very high so there’s quite a bit of grain, especially when they’re cropped.
The lowering sun lit the birds up as they rested.
I like to think of those as art. So many of them show the elegence of these birds, in an almost stylized manner. I think some of these look like paintings rather then photographs.
And I’m OK with that.
Juveniles joined in as well.
Each of these images makes me smile. I hope you’re smiing too.
This week a number of college campuses opened to returning students. I felt my blood pressure increase as I watched news footage of back-to-school parties. Hundreds of students were partying together, no social distancing, no masks in evidence.
A chicken sorority house.
I realized then that it’s possible I’ll be virtually trapped in my house for months more. My imagination went rogue and I wondered if maybe I’ll be stuck inside for the rest of my life.
I am, after all, elderly.
Hot headed rooster is the first one out of the chicken sorority each morning.
If I am stuck here forever, I have to admit my yard is pretty to look at, and there’s room to get out and walk. Or weed.
Brave zinnia getting ready to face the world.
And at least for now I have my Katie-girl to remind me that not everything is out of control, and there are still pretty things in life.
Complicated things make me sleepy mama.
She says there’s always hope. And maybe someday people will take a moment to consider the consequences of their actions. Though she’s not sure people can think independently any more.
Hens streaming out of the sorority house eager to experience their freedom in the yard.
Still, it irks me to no end to think that irresponsible kids and others like them hold the key to my freedom.
Cranky rooster lords over the freedom of his hens.
And it turns out venting doesn’t make me feel any better about any of it.
Partying chickens don’t do social distancing.
Katie here. (Who else would come up with a title like that?)
As most of you are aware (but I was not), mama went camping up north at one of my favorite parks and in my all time favorite camp site. WITHOUT ME!
This was mama’s camp, site 43 at Hartwick Pines.
I thought she was just taking a really long time at the grocery store or something. You know she’s getting older and sometimes she wanders around for ages doing not much of anything. And other times she gets lost (she calls it exploring), so I wasn’t all that concerned that only daddy was feeding me and stuff. Cause mama is always around somewhere.
This was up at Pigion River Forest, where she was scouting out places to do photography.
Heck, lately I’m used to falling asleep right next to her and waking up to find she’s moved to another room! It’s hard to keep track of her, so sometimes I just don’t try.
She had beautiful weather, except for Monday night when it poured for hours.
But this time she was gone for 28 dog days! (That’s four days in human terms.) After awhile I got sort of sad, thinking I’d never see her again. I kinda like mama. But daddy is fun too, so like I said I wasn’t too worried.
There were lots of these pretty little blue flowers.
And then one afternoon I saw a shadow at the door and I knew daddy was right next to me on the sofa and I wondered, could it be, could it be mama came back to me??
One of the little lakes. Mama thought the stars would be pretty reflected here. But she didn’t go out there at night by herself.
And it was! And she smelled like smoke and marshmallows…and…and…she smelled like camping! CAMPING without ME?!?!?!
But it was pretty in the daylight.
I was all wiggle butt when she first came in and she picked me up and hugged me and then I realized the truth and I wanted down. I wanted down and I wanted to bark at her so I did.
A lot.
This trail is too long for me, so mama took advantage of not having me to hike it. Isn’t it beautiful?
Mama started unpacking the car and it became obvious that she had a great time and that great time had not included me so I barked at her some more. She got sort of annoyed, but not too much because she knew she was guilty.
Yep, my mama is always looking for light on things, even deep in the woods.
She said she didn’t pet any other dogs (as if that lets her off the hook) and she missed me a lot. She even said she got all teary eyed one evening remembering all the fun we have had camping in that very spot!
I don’t think mama was missing me while she was eating this!
She said the whole trip was sort of shadowed by the fact I wasn’t there, and she said the only reason I wasn’t was because it was so hot and she didn’t have an air condioned tent. She said I would have been miserable.
It’s a big park, up there, and I love to explore. Mama does too.
Sure mama.
Well. Maybe she’s right. Maybe she was only thinking of me.
I hope mama is reflecting on the error of her ways.
Let’s take a vote, people! Let’s hear from you! Do you think mama should not go on any more camping trips unless I get to go? Or do you think it was OK that she left me with daddy in my airconditioned house with my doggie beds and my special frozen banana treats?
Of course mama stopped to get a picture of a barn on the way home. More delays while I waited at home for her.
I’ll tabulate the results and present them to mama. (I’m pretty sure I’m going to get a camping trip out of this.) I’ll try not to make her feel bad, but that won’t be easy. She says she already feels really guilty.
She thought this was beautiful too. I say, no sheltie? Not pretty. Yep that’s what I say.
I think that’s fair. Don’t you?
Get those votes in everybody! This princess needs your support!
I think mama forgot, this is MY tent.
I’m in northern Michigan watching the sky. This makes me smile. I lost count of the number of shooting stars I saw last night. Never, of course, while my camera was recording.
Still, it was fun.
One more night and I’ll head home. Some little short furry thing is going to be upset if she finds out where I was. I’m camping in our favorite site at her favorite park. But she got air conditioning and I slept on the ground. I think it’s a wash.
She might not feel the same.
Change Is Hard 