Once again, inspired by David Kanigan’s blog about Wally’s Great Adventures, I wanted to share Emma’s reaction. Please click on the link to see Wally’s pitch for a girlfriend. He’s so cute. I think he’s trying to show how tough he can be, and I must say Emma was impressed.
Emma must have thought I was looking for an Internet friend for her. When she heard Wally’s barking and saw him cavorting on the bed she naturally thought it was pillow talk.
She told me it was the best dating app she’d ever seen, and asked if I had Wally’s number.
She wouldn’t let up until I told her that Wally wasn’t interested in dating an “older woman.” He was just a baby and she was wasting her time pining for him.
It was hard on her, and I had to give her an extra treat to make her feel better.
A long time ago, I took this picture from my bedroom window.
A young deer felt quite at home, and the pheasant in the background was one of about nine who did the daily rounds of our place. I felt like I lived in paradise.
Now, 31 years later, subdivisions have sprung up half a mile down the road and the horde of people who want their dogs to poop somewhere away from their own yard comes here to walk where there are still a few trees standing. That alone wouldn’t be so bad. I don’t dislike people and I love dogs (and cats and all sorts of animals), but when the dog walking came to our neighbourhood, many dog owners thought that once they left the cement and asphalt of their subdivision, it was okay to unhook their dogs and let them tear around in rural properties.
If I didn’t want my garden torn up, I would have to build a fence.
Sadly the deer can’t come in to wander through the yard anymore, and the pheasants and many quail we used to see have all become victims of unleashed dogs, stray cats, and the loss of habitat.
We still have trees and lots of shrubs for cover, so songbirds and little animals still come here. I don’t mind people walking by with their dogs on a leash; many of them are very pleasant, friendly, and considerate. Others are more self-centered. After virtue-signaling that they pick up their dog’s poop, they wait until no one sees, and fling the used poop bags into the shrubbery or into my yard.
I’m uncomfortable listening to personal conversations being shouted between two people walking together, or bellowed into the phones of people walking solo. I don’t need to know how much their last massage cost or that their credit card was rejected when they tried to pay for it.
I don’t understand why some of the people who visit our neighbourhood can’t enjoy the quiet of nature. Why are they so loud and rude? Why is it all about them?
Among the walkers who are considerate of people living nearby, are a few intrusive women between the age of 25 to 50, many of them behaving like teenagers. This small segment of society seems to be working hard to be noticed. I see them around town, in the grocery stores, in traffic, everywhere.
Yes, I believe in women’s rights. Very much so. But I believe in all people’s rights. No single group deserves more attention or privileges than another.
This special breed of women has inspired the muse in me today.
Because it’s February and Valentine’s month, along with my fish placemats, I plan to make some more heart placemats at the upcoming quilting retreat.
Did you see the movie with Adam Sandler where he frequently says, “Love, love, love”? He says it with a sigh, or as if people are making too big a deal of love, but really he wishes he could make the girl fall in love with him. I don’t know which of his many movies it was, but I remember him being on the beach being a bartender in a little beach bar.
Anybody know which movie I’m talking about? I just don’t remember. All I remember is that every once in a while, he’d say, “Love, love, love,” as if it’s not all it’s cracked up to be.
On Valentine’s Day we like to show the special people in our life that we really do love them.
But shouldn’t we do that every day? How should we do that?
Here are a few ideas.
Good relationships have a lot of give and take. The thing is, it’s not meant to be “one gives and the other takes.” You both have to give and take, equally.
No good keeping score and saving up Brownie points. Just go for it, and be good to each other.
Work towards a common goal. If you are working against each other in life’s goals, it’s not going to work. For example: If one makes the money and the other just spends it, it’s not going to work. Or if one always messes up the house and the other one always cleans it, it’s not going to work.
Allow your partner his/her own space; time to pursue some creative hobbies or quiet time on their own.
Say something nice to your partner every day.
Lastly, I was reminded the other day about how dogs behave when their owner returns after having been away for a while. If you’ve ever owned a dog, you might have noticed how they jump around and sometimes yip and bark and whine, or roll on their back hoping for a belly rub because they’re so happy to see you.
Wouldn’t it make your partner feel good if you showed how happy you were to see them when they come home? You don’t have to bark and yip, or roll on the floor with joy, but … well … you get the picture.
The ten-lined June beetle lives underground for two or three years as a larva that looks like a hungry white prawn. It eats the roots of plants, and loves to destroy my potato crop.
When it is about 1 1/2 to 2 inches long, it hatches as a beetle, in those hot days of summer. It likes to fly around and land on an unsuspecting person’s back, where that victim can’t reach it.
These bugs freak me out. I always turn up my collar and stay close to the house when I take our dog out for last call.
Our English springer spaniel puppy, Ruby, had a different view of these beetles. She thought God had put them on this earth for her to chase and, perhaps to bring them into the house to play with.
At this point I would like to share an entry I made in one of my journals where I wrote things of note that happened on any particular day. (The Captain was away commercial fishing and might later be interested in reading how I spent my summer.) Our puppy, Ruby, was a little bit wild and crazy those first months of her life.
August 22, 2007
Ruby brought in a beetle again, after her last pee of the evening. She’s getting very surreptitious about it. She went straight to her doggie bed and put her chin on the bed, trying to look innocent. But I’m onto that fake innocence and sure enough, I heard bug screams coming from inside her mouth. “M-m-m-r-r-z-z-z! M-m-m-r-r-z-z-z!”
It was hard to make her give it up, but finally she spat it out, and batted at it meaning to play with it. I couldn’t just pick it up with my bare hands, but a little dog bowl was nearby, so I used it to try to scoop up the bug. I say “try” because it didn’t work out so well. The beetle has tiny hooks on its legs and they stuck to the fuzzy material of the dog bed. I tried scooping again and as it let go it brushed against my hand and I shrieked. The bug was flung into the corner under a chest of drawers, and Ruby, freaked out by my shriek, leapt up off the bed and backed off a few feet.
I laughed until I cried. Again. She has me laughing so often with her antics out in the yard. I’m sure the neighbours wonder about the old woman who lives alone and goes out into her backyard laughing out loud all by herself.
I think I see him. I hope he’s got my bag of grubs.
Yes, you’re right! And I see the big sack full of hazelnuts for me.
Er, ah, HERE I AM, Santa. OVER HERE!
Where? I don’t see anything.
When he does come, I hope he brings me a lot of rosehips. Wonder what they’d taste like. In the winter I get tired of these holly berries and mountain ash berries. But maybe the rosehips are too fuzzy inside. They look good though.
Oooooh! Look! He’s got sleigh troubles. His reindeer are conking out. Should’ve got a Tesla Sleigh. With inflation, the price of reindeer food today is high, even for Santa. But even so, the cost of the Tesla Sleigh itself is enough to break the bank.
Yeah, he’s in trouble all right. Look! He’s turning around. Sniff… there goes that box of dog biscuits I asked for.
I see that. Hmm … I think I hear them complaining about being hitched up so close. Something about social distancing.
Sigh! No herring for supper tonight. Not by special delivery, anyway.
Well, I never! He’s going back to the North Pole. There goes that bunch of tree bugs I asked for.
I’ll go round up some recr-hoots.
Hey, you. Santa’s looking to hire you, Al and the Paca, to be his reindeer substitutes.
What’s that you say? You don’t play second fiddle? Huh! You’d think that in the spirit of Christmas, you’d oblige an old man. I see you are related to those llamas next door with all their llammering. You’re just lazy, the All Packa ya. Well, see if I give a hoot.
Here’s a likely crew.
Say, would you pronghorns like to save Santa’s bacon tonight?
But we’re in Montana.
That’s okay. He’ll have to go by there when he limps home with his rainydeer crew and drops them off. Maybe you can hop on and help get them home before the nightshift begins. Thanks a lot.
I’ve been watching and I don’t see him coming back yet. Must be in the workshop, adjusting the harnesses to the new team.
I think I see him now, with his fresh crew of pronghorns. Funny-looking reindeer. Better than nothing, I guess.
Oh, this is so exciting. We just can’t sit still.
Children, children, not so loud,
Reindeer’s nervous of the crowd,
Send a delegation out,
Find that sleigh, and kids don’t pout.
Let’s go meet him.
This way! This way!
Santa’s big sleigh.
Sliding, gliding,
Santa’s riding.
Now settle down or Santa will think you’re all quackers.
Look how well behaved we are; black and white, eating at the same table together. One big happy flock. We’re a “blended flock.”
Oh, listen to you guys. You think it’s easy being the black swan of the family?
Whaddaya mean? You think you’ve got it bad? You try being a rat. All I did was chew on a few of those lovely black licorice cords in the truck and WHAM! They lifted the trunk and exposed me to the elements. But they won’t see me hiding in the corner. Bet you can’t see me either. I’ve got a really good hiding place in the door well too. I’ll just wait there until Santa brings new wiring for me to nibble on.
One thing we all got for Christmas – not sure if Santa had anything to do with it – was darn cold weather. So when Santa had to fly back to change his Rainydeer tires for the more heavy-duty Pronghorn brand, he asked the North Wind to provide some Puddle Puzzles for us to play with while we await his return.
Actually, I thought the puzzles were more like A-maze-ing. You just try it. See if you can find a path out of this maze.
I hope your Christmas holiday time is amazing too.
Did you find the rat in the truck? Look on the far back right-hand corner of the picture (actually the left side of the truck).
If I’m not already a nut job, then after doing this nut job, I will be one.
I had thought there were no hazelnuts on the trees this year but I was wrong. They were a bit late to develop, but they were quite prolific. When I saw that the raccoons and the squirrels were harvesting them, day (squirrels) and night (raccoons), I thought I’d better get in on the action. Looks like a little black cocker is also wanting to get in on the action.
I let the nuts sit out in the sun to dry out for a couple of weeks, and then, as the nights grew cooler I had to do something with the nuts or watch them go moldy. It’s not cold enough to make a fire in the woodstove so hanging the nuts in burlap bags by the fire was not an option.
I decided to crack them and put the nutmeat in ziplocs and freeze them. This way I can take out what I need to use for baking through the winter.
I tried them out in a batch of banana/blueberry/hazelnut muffins. Turned out quite good.
When Emma, our English field cocker spaniel, first went pheasant hunting, she just did what she was bred to do. She sniffed and snarfed until she found a pheasant scent, and she did it very well.
Later in the trailer, she found a stray pheasant feather, and another instinct of hers kicked in – that of eating whatever looked good.
She’s not too proud to get her picture taken with a feather stuck to her mouth and one ear flopped back. She’s confident we will love her anyway. Quite a humble innocent.
With most babies, every new item must be sniffed and if possible, eaten. Emma was no exception. She tried to eat the cord of the trailer’s electric heater when it was plugged in (luckily we caught her before she fried herself), she ate one of my brand new Birkenstocks,
and took her time working on a pair of slippers. (She doesn’t chew them now that she is all grown up, but she nibbles and nibbles over a long time, until there’s a substantial accumulation of damage.)
“Who? Me?”” she asks?
She’s not a puppy anymore and she doesn’t chew everything in sight, but she is still very focused on putting things in her mouth.
A friend of ours came over to help us out when our lawnmower broke down. He always brings dog biscuits as a treat for Emma, and this time was no exception. Emma got her dog cookie and followed the friend around the rest of the time he was here (as she always does).
Fast forward to the next morning when I took Emma out. Something reddish-orange caught my eye after she did her business. Was it the piece of carrot I had given her? Surely she would have chewed it more. Was it blood? OMG! I hope she’s okay.
I got a stick and poked around in the little chocolate wedding cake she had dropped, and brought the reddish-orange thing into the house. I washed it off, and couldn’t believe my eyes.
It wasn’t a dog biscuit, but it was something our friend had brought with him (and apparently lost in the grass as he was trimming the edges). It’s about an inch long and is made of a rubbery foamy material. Yep! You guessed it. It was an earplug.
But what a funny one it was. See the one hair on its head? Then go about a third of the way down on the right-hand side. Do you see the happy face? (I didn’t put that on it.) I think this earplug was happy to see the light of day again after his journey through the bowels of a spaniel innocently looking for another dog biscuit.
I think in this case, the innocent pursuit of dog biscuits backfired on Emma.
Seems that when spring is near, the increased daylight hours spark something in chickens that gets them laying more. Some of the younger birds lay tiny eggs, and then they skip a day and lay a double-sized egg (usually with a double yolk). It takes a while to get it all sorted out and they start laying regular-sized eggs.
The people who own the free-range chickens where we get our eggs have a contented flock of hens. These chickens have the run of the yard and the family’s big black labrador retriever keeps an eye on them. The dog and the hens are good friends. She wouldn’t dream of harassing the chickens.
It’s a happy farmyard.
Some of the hens lay green eggs; others lay brown ones. At this time of year, the size difference in the eggs can be dramatic.
I’ve tried to arrange them so you can compare the sizes. One green egg and three brown ones are huge (I felt sorry for the hen’s bum). I put a normal-size egg next to the big ones for comparison, and then there is a small … very small … brown egg.
You may wonder what the speckled egg is all about. It is a quail egg – one that I’ve had for years and is blown out. Remember in the old days when we painted Easter eggs and put a pinhole in the top and the bottom of the egg? We blew on the one pinhole and the contents of the egg came pouring out of the other. Then the shell could be preserved without a rotting egg inside.
I put that quail egg beside the small chicken egg so you can see how tiny they are.
And that reminds me. I had a very special visitor yesterday. In my next blog I’ll tell you about it.
Screaming winds ripped through the fir trees when they were still laden with snow. The weight of the snow and the push of the wind was too much for some branches. It will take some sawing to make this branch manageable in pieces for the yard cleanup.
But all is not doom and gloom. See the black creature between the trunks of the trees? She’s having fun.
Here is closer look.
Sorry. All we can see is her hind end. The front part of her body, especially the nose and front paws, are busy investigating whatever smells so good inside that old tree stump. It will be bath night tonight … again!
I can smell it in that stump,
Is it mouse or ratty’s rump?
Something yummy for my tummy,
Hope it hasn’t turned too gummy.
What care I if full of soil,
In the house the rugs I spoil?
I won’t cower in the shower,
Splashing water gives me power.
People love me even dirty,
They make kissing noise all flirty,
They will hug me, it won’t bug me,
Better clean though, soft and snuggly.
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