Walking with Monkey 2025

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October sunshine bathed the park with such a melting light that it had the dimmed impressive look of a landscape by an old master. Leaves, one, two at a time, sidled down through the windless air. ~Elizabeth Enright, American writer, illustrator, literary critic, and teacher

I Monkey here.

After I upchucked my lunch, Mama decided we should go on my Walktober (something about her being okay with vomit outdoors but NOT okay with it inside on her carpet — huh).

Don’t feel sorry for me, though. After everything was up, I felt just fine and was raring to GO. Tag along while I show you some of our Fall color (such as it is).

Let’s go, Mama — gee, you’d think she was the one vomiting!!

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Walktober 2025

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Nowhere can I think so happily as in a train. — A.A. Milne, English writer best known for creating Winnie-the-Pooh bear

Once again, it’s time for Walktober!

(You can read the details about it — dates, etc. — at Dawn’s blog. Join us if you can — the more, the merrier!)

This year, I decided to change things up a bit. The walk I took last year was breath-taking but having talked to others who live in that area and learning how desolate (and potentially dangerous) such a solitary walk could be, I opted to surround myself with living, breathing humans!

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Who Wears It Better?

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The great pleasure of a dog is that you may make a fool of yourself with him and not only will he not scold you, but he will make a fool of himself too. ~Samuel Butler, English novelist and critic

One of the magazines I casually glanced through many years ago had a regular feature section called “Who Wears It Better?”

Apparently, the compiler photographed two celebrities on separate occasions sporting very similar outfits, yet one invariably came up short.

Maybe the style wasn’t as flattering on them as on the other person; maybe the color or accessories were wrong.

Anyway, I remembered a photo I’d taken of Dallas (circa 2016) and decided to see my two Shelties side by side in glasses. Monk is on the left; Dallas is on the right.

So, who wears those spectacles better?

Oh, Butterfly

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Love and a cough cannot be hid. ~Proverb

There once was a saucy butterfly
Who clung to a bush by and by
He fluttered his wings
And did everything
To catch a pretty miss’s eye.

Note: Poetry form is Limerick.

Lazy? Or What?

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For even worse than laziness of body is laziness of the mind and heart. ~May Sinclair, British novelist, poet, and critic

A few days ago, I went to WalMart to pick up some things I needed, and I came out so disgusted and angry I was ready to throttle somebody.

Anybody.

Here’s what happened — and I’ll be interested in hearing if you (as intelligent, well-meaning readers) feel the same way, or if I’m way off base:

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Forgiveness

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He who cannot forgive breaks the bridge over which he himself must pass. ~Proverb

My mama snaps a photo
As I sit and do my pose
She says that these are peonies
She might be right. Who knows?

Yes, they’re pretty, Mama,
You’re right about that, indeed.
But aren’t you forgetting something
Upon which we earlier agreed?

I said I’d pose for your camera
If you’d reward me in turn;
One special treat is all I ask,
Your forgetting that is a concern.

But I won’t hold it against you —
I’m forgiving just that way.
Next time, bring the good treats,
And maybe I’ll look your way!

Note: Poetry form is some kind of rhyming quatrains, I think.

 

 

Missing Out

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He that is good for making excuses is seldom good for anything else. ~Proverb

I Monkey here.

Did you know National Dog Day occurred on Aug. 26 (as it does every year)?

Bet not, right?

Did you celebrate with a furry friend or two?

No? I Monkey thought as much.

You all are as bad as Mama.

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Flowers on a Monday

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Arose early, went out to flirt with the flowers. ~Thomas Edison, American inventor and businessman, diary, 1885

My blogging friend Eliza regularly participates in something called In A Vase On Monday, sponsored by Cathy at Rambling in the Garden.

I love those posts — the creativity and the beauty — but I’m reluctant to cut the posies from my yard (or somebody else’s!) for fear the mother plant would die.

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Caregiving

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it may be dreadful to be old but it’s worse not to be young  ~E.E. Cummings (American poet, author, playwright), “Jottings,” in Wake, 1951

Lately, I’m seeing more and more mostly middle-aged people taking care of their aging parents.

In church. At restaurants. In grocery stores, medical facilities, parking lots.

I used to be one of those caregivers before Mom passed, but when you’re waist-deep in the weeds, it’s hard to notice how many others are in there with you.

Now it all comes rushing back.

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Growing A Zinnia

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I did nothing but comfort my plants, till now their small green cheeks are covered with smiles. ~Emily Dickinson, American poet

I confess you were an afterthought,
A spur-of-the-moment something I bought.
I found you nestled in a dahlia patch,
Your color stood out from the rest of the batch.

I asked the clerk which one she’d choose.
With no hesitation, she pointed to you.
“I think you’ll be pleased” is what she said,
So I put you in my cart without any dread.

I planted you where you’d get sun and shade;
Watered you, guarded you, and often prayed
That you’d be happy living here with me
And wouldn’t long for what wouldn’t be.

Just look at you now, healthy and lush!
Your colors are radiant, making me blush.
For my part in helping you thrive and grow,
I couldn’t be happier; my heart is aglow.

Note: Poetry form is rhyming couplets.