This morning on our walk, Darling Doggie Dallas and I passed a puppy wearing the “Cone of Shame.”
For those unfamiliar with this device, it’s basically a lampshade attached to the animal’s collar to prevent it from licking wounds. In this case, it was being worn in the aftermath of neutering surgery.
“How’s he doing with that?” I asked the dog’s owner.
“Not too bad,” he said. “He doesn’t seem to mind it too much, really.”
That wasn’t the case with my Sheltie.
I’ve talked with people who don’t like Fall.
Nature dies off, they reason. And Fall portends the coming of winter and cold weather.
True. The leaves of our cherry tree are starting to turn:
Cherry tree, early Fall
And so are the Dogwood’s:
Dogwood, early Fall
Dallas here.
I was having my Sunday afternoon nap when I heard Mama race downstairs and then back upstairs.
What was going on?
I found her in the kitchen with her camera. This is what she was shooting:
It’s a varmint!
There’s nothing quite like meeting someone new. . . by accident.
Now before you get all excited and happy for me, this isn’t a story of my meeting “someone special.”
(Although I’m sure the person I met is special in her own way.)
I just realized it’s been awfully long since I posted pictures of the jewelry I’ve been beading, so let’s remedy that, shall we?
If you’re not into beads or jewelry or creativity, that’s okay. We don’t all have the same interests. You can skip reading right now.
Sure, you’ll hurt my feelings, but I’ll get over it. As Henry Rollins said, “Being an artist is dragging your innermost feelings out, giving a piece of yourself, no matter in which art form, in which medium.”
Just don’t leave forever, ‘k? Come back and join us next time, when I’m not writing about beads!
Still here? Great — thanks, and let’s get right to it.
Have you ever been so mad you wanted to slap somebody?
Yesterday at Mass (I know, a lot of good it does attending Church if you’re going to leave angry!), this family came in and sat nearby. I’d seen them before: Dad, Mom, two boys (probably aged 14 or 15), Daughter #1 (maybe 12 or so), and Daughter #3 (aged 5 or so).
What happened to Daughter #2, the one I’m guessing is 10-ish? Well, after the family was seated — and taking up an entire pew — Daughter #2 shows up, tries to scoot somebody over to get in the pew, and fails.
Nobody would move over to let this poor child in.
It all started with the apple tree.
I know, everything did start with an apple tree — well, not literally because we don’t know whether it was an apple or some other type of fruit that Eve ate in the Garden of Eden.
But I digress. This story starts with an apple tree.
An apple tree planted many years ago by one of our long-gone neighbors.
An apple tree that, despite our present neighbor’s inattention — no watering, no spraying, nothing — inexplicably has produced a bumper crop this year.
Witness:
Don’t they look tempting?
Because it’s been so beastly hot in these parts lately, I decided to water our flowers, shrubs, and trees the other evening.
Now I’ve never been convinced that city water, from a hose, does as much good as the rain that Mother Nature sends, but I suppose some moisture is better than nothing.
As I watered what I call Domer’s tree (a large maple that was planted when he was just a little guy), I noticed something creepy on one of the branches. Here’s what I saw:
Eeew, creepy!
I turned the hose full onto it, finally shaking it down to the ground. Then I made my way to the backyard and found this:
Another one, just like the other one
Nasty-looking, aren’t they? Do you have them where you live? Do you know what they are?
Musings by an ND Domer's Mom 