wordsfromanneli

Thoughts, ideas, photos, and stories.


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E- book Sale for Bargain Prices

Hello, Readers!
Want a great discount for your e-reading pleasure?
I’m excited to announce that my books will be available as part of a promotion on Smashwords for the month of July as part of their Annual Summer/Winter Sale! This is a chance to get my books, along with books from many other great authors, at a discount so you can get right to reading.
You will find the promo here starting on July 1, so save the link:
https://www.smashwords.com/shelves/promos/
Please share this promo with friends and family.
The promo goes from July 1- July 31 .
Thank you for your help and support!
Happy reading!
*****
You will see the titles and cover images of my books at the sidebars of this post.
Three of the books  are romantic/suspense adventures on the Pacific Northwest Coast:
The Wind Weeps
Reckoning Tide (sequel to The Wind Weeps)
Marlie
*****
A romantic/suspense Baja adventure that will keep you turning pages.
Orion’s Gift
*****
A love triangle set in Europe and Canada, during the times of WWII and beyond. You will love Julia.
Julia’s Violinist
*****
Please visit the link provided above and take advantage of great bargain prices and some enjoyable reading.


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Gettin’ Down and Dirty

Harriet is rooting around for the last of the hidden hazelnuts from last year’s stash. It’s getting harder to find the remaining ones and her fur is a mess every time she surfaces after “diving” under the old tree stump.

If you make the videos full screen you’ll see better as Harriet is quite small.

 

But as you will see from the video below, she did finally have some success. (Apologies for the last couple of blurry seconds when I tried to zoom in. I should know by now that it often doesn’t work for me.) The hazelnut she finds still has the shell on it, but she makes short work of that.

Watching Harriet, Junior (who will soon be named) tries his best to follow suit, but so far he hasn’t figured out where the nuts are buried. After all, he wasn’t even born yet when Harriet hid them.

 

Playing in the dirt is fun,

But those nuts are on the run.

Maybe they have rolled away,

So they live another day.

 

Never mind the mess I’m in,

Or how frustrated I’ve been,

Next time I will find a nut,

And I’ll put it in my gut.


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The Hunter

I heard him stalking through the brush,

But Mama told me, “Always hush,”

He muttered, “Come on out, you dopes,”

So, he had found me, dashed my hopes.

“There you are!” The voice of doom.

But his gaze had found the shroom.

Oyster mushrooms on a tree,

Maybe now he won’t kill me.

Busy picking, he ignored me,

But at last he looked toward me.

In his pocket was a gadget,

I was glad it was no hatchet.

Staring at me, still and lone,

Whispered “Smile” and clicked the phone.

He seemed harmless, clicked again,

Cameras don’t cause me pain.

 

I suppose I should have smiled,

But as critters go, I’m wild,

I’m not one for vanity,

That would be insanity.

 

***** All photos, courtesy of my friend Pat.


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A No-Name Squirrel

Crispin and Harriet (of Tom, Dick, and Harriet fame) have had a baby – possibly two, but the baby (or  babies) has been scampering around so fast that it’s hard to tell who’s who. For sure we have one whom I’ll call Junior for lack of a name just now. It’s just a step up from No-Name.

Harriet is going crazy, trying to take care of Junior. Doesn’t he know it’s dangerous to be out in the open like that?

“Junior! Junio-o-o-o-r!” she screams. “Get over here!” See her on the stump below, calling Junior?

“But I’m hungry, Ma!” Junior complains.

“Well, come over here and have some sunflower seeds.”

“Here, I’ll try to find one under the jar. Your father is so messy. He tips the jar over and doesn’t even clean up after himself. Yes, here you go.”

“Thanks, Ma.”

Turn on your sound for a quick slice of Junior’s new life.

Can you think of a name for Junior?


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The Spider and the Fly

Mary Howitt lived from 1799 to 1888. Her poem, The Spider and the Fly, was first published in 1829, almost 200 years ago.

The first line of the poem – “Will you walk into my parlour?” said the spider to the fly – is often misquoted, and you may have heard people say, “‘Come into my parlour,’ said the spider to the fly.” It is used to show that someone is trying to tempt another to do something they probably shouldn’t do.

In her poem, which is about seven stanzas long, the spider tries to lure the fly into coming into her trap. I’ve quoted some parts and paraphrased others.

#1 Spider: Will you walk into my parlour … up a winding stair.

Fly: Oh, no, no … For who goes up your winding stair can ne’er come down again.

 

#2 Spider: I’m sure you must be weary, dear. Will you rest upon my little bed?

Fly:  Oh, no, no … They never, never wake again, who sleep upon your bed.

 

#3 Spider: I have within my pantry good store of all that’s nice;
I’m sure you’re very welcome; will you please to take a slice?

Fly: I’ve heard what’s in your pantry, and I do not wish to see.

 

#4 Spider: I have a little looking-glass upon my parlor shelf,
If you’ll step in one moment, dear, you shall behold yourself.

Fly: I thank you, gentle sir,” she said, “for what you’re pleased to say,
And bidding you good-morning now, I’ll call another day.”

 

#5 Spider: He wove a subtle web, in a little corner sly,
And set his table ready to dine upon the fly.

(Then he said all kinds of flattering things to the fly, until the fly couldn’t resist).

Fly: She came nearer and nearer, listening to the flattery, thinking of how pretty she was.

 

And then: Up jumped the cunning spider, and fiercely held her fast.
He dragged her up his winding stair, into his dismal den,
Within his little parlor; but she ne’er came out again!

 

The lesson is basically, “Don’t fall for flattery,” or you might end up like this fly that was caught by a spider on my living room window yesterday.

Epilogue: (Apologies for no proper poetic meter.)

The fly was sucked dry.

The spider had her inside ‘er.

She was dropped on the sill, my dog ate her at will.

The spider returned to the scene of the crime, and Anneli smashed her and turned her to slime.

Some regret did I feel, but it had one last meal.


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There Otter be a Law

An unsuspecting young fellow had a big surprise at a local lake when he tried to bring ashore a trout he had hooked on his fishing line.

Turn on your sound and watch his surprise.

I hope the thief has enough skill to work around the hook and doesn’t eat it.

 

P.S. I would like to give credit to the photographer but at the same time I am trying to keep the young fellow relatively anonymous.

 


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The Lonely Sea and the Sky

Last week the Captain and I went to a nearby beach. I took a few pictures and thought, “Why am I taking pictures of nothing?” When I looked at the photos later, I thought how lonely the sea and the sky looked and John Masefield came to mind. I have always loved his poem, “Sea Fever.”

(By the way, did you know that John Masefield was England’s poet laureate from 1930 to 1967?)

The first line was especially appropriate.

I must go down to the seas again, to the lonely sea and the sky,

The rest of the poem didn’t fit because the sea was really quite tame, and the wind was not like a “whetted knife.”

But the loneliness of the great expanse of water was prevalent.

You may want to click on these photos to enlarge them, especially the ones with the lonely creatures in them. They are so tiny in an immense world.

In the first photo, the general setting. Notice the pink and blue striations in the water.

Now, notice in each subsequent photo, the one lonely thing in the setting.  You will need to click to enlarge or you won’t see much. Use the back arrow to return to the page afterwards.

A sea duck, minuscule, the ocean immense,

Alone though he be, he relaxes, not tense.

The marker buoy rocking so gently and slow,

It warns of the rocks where the water is low.

 

A lone paddleboarder, is breaking the rule,

She stands as she’s dipping the water so cool.

The seal glides alone but with grace and finesse,

He searches for love and is feeling distress.

Could that be his love on the far other side?

Stay cool and don’t splash, just swim up with a glide.

**For sure you need to click to enlarge the photo to find Mrs. Seal on the far side of the photo.

And lastly and leastly, a lone club is measly,

But even a stick can feel beastly.

 


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A Glimpse of May

Scotch broom is considered invasive because it crowds out other plants, but it provides shelter for many birds who can hide in its thick growth. Bees love it too.

It makes a background for puppy poses. Here is our springer spaniel, Ruby, when she was a pup.

The irises are having a little chin wag.

 

Miss Bossie runs the meetings.

Other members of the community listen in.

The columbines provide a slurpy snack for the hummingbirds, who then zoom off to spread the word that spring is really and truly here.

Precious first flowers

That bloomed after showers

Are chatting and preening all day.

 

Puppies roll over

As if they’re in clover,

Now spring has come, why don’t we play?

 

Hummingbirds sipping,

They fly away dipping

And buzzing, “Hurrah, now it’s May!”


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It’s Dogwood Time

It’s time for the dogwoods to bloom. There are many bigger dogwood trees around, but ours is still quite small.

The robin is enjoying the spring morning sunshine while he wonders about the petal count of these flowers.

Most flowers have a number of petals that fall into the Fibonacci sequence, a mathematical sequence in which each number is the sum of the two preceding ones. So it goes like this: 0, 1, 1, 2, 3, 5, 8, 13, 21, 34, 55, 89, 144 … and it goes on forever.

Our Pacific dogwood usually has between four and six petals, so it’s different from most flowers which tend to follow the Fibonacci sequence.

Next time you’re in a flower garden, see which flowers you can find that have either  3, 5, 8, 13, or 21 petals. You’ll be surprised at what you find.

*Fibonacci sequence was used and further explored by an Italian mathematician, Leonardo Bonacci, who was called Fibonacci, possibly as a name made up from “filius Bonacci” (son of Bonacci). He was born about 1170. Yes, about 850+ years ago.

I bet he loved doing puzzles or writing code.

So what’s the next number after 144? The first nine commenters got it easily, so how about the next three numbers?

 


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It’s Just Lunch

This is a post I did ten years ago, but I was reminded of it this morning when I heard the unmistakable DEE-di-di-di-di of a merlin in our nearby wooded area.

Warning: This is from a sad but true story that happened in my own yard back then (ten years ago).

 

The songbirds always let it be known when there’s a killer in their midst, be it a cat, a raccoon, a hawk, or a crow. Today, it seems that every bird in my little acre was shrieking with alarm — not just the usual robin whose nest was threatened, but the chickadees, nuthatches, and many others as well. When all the birds sing happy songs, it’s background music, but when they sound like several fire alarms going off, something is wrong. I went out onto the deck to have a look.

In the tall firs next to the house, many songbirds were divebombing a predator who sat and watched from her perch on a dead broken branch. I ran back into the house for my camera. The merlin (a small falcon) didn’t seem to care about me being there. She was either a juvenile or brazen or both. However it was, she allowed me to take many pictures, even posing a bit.

She ruffled her feathers, being Mrs. Cool. I’m not afraid of you!

??????????

The songbirds set up the alarm in the whole mini forest around my yard. A chickadee and a nuthatch, both tiny birds who are often chosen by the falcons as appetizers, bravely sat on the branch directly behind the merlin, scolding her.

The merlin merely gave them a look that said, “Who? Me?”

031

Then she looked down at the ground to see if her lunch was still there. I suspected she had done something because she had blood on her hands … er … beak.

033“Yes, it was me,” she said. “I’m not proud of myself.”

035

She shrugged her shoulders.  “It’s just lunch.”

039My little puppy, Emma, found the falcon’s intended lunch, lying on the ground below the tree. A juvenile red-shafted northern flicker, one of my favourite birds in this area.

??????????

I was choked. I don’t want to hear another person say a word about “Mother Nature.” There is nothing “motherly” about nature. As beautiful as nature is, it is also very cruel when we apply our human values to it. But that’s how it has to be.

And I do think the falcon was sorry.

003

I waved my arms but the falcon didn’t want to fly away. It was only when I opened the big patio umbrella that she flew off. The songbirds settled down and silence hung in the air.

??????????

When I picked up the flicker, a single tail feather fell to the ground and as I walked away, I heard one lonely bird calling. It had to be the mother giving one last quavery call to say an anguished goodbye to her baby.

 

My apologies that the story is so sad, but life can be like that sometimes.