This ‘N That from Monkey

I Monkey here.

Mama is spinning around like some kind of cyclone, so I decided to snatch her laptop and catch you all up on what’s going on.

(It’s a cinch she won’t because she’s still grousing that she hasn’t written a decent sentence since I Monkey came to live with her. Huh!)

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Squirrel Hunt with Monkey

He that waits upon Fortune, is never sure of a Dinner. ~Benjamin Franklin, American statesman, inventor, writer, etc.

I Monkey here. Before Fall turns into Winter, I want to take you on a squirrel hunt.

What? You’ve never been on a squirrel hunt?

People, that’s crazy! Come with me, and I’ll show you what you’ve been missing!

Suited up and ready to go!

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Happy Fall 2022

The leaves, a few weeks ago so green and shiny and sparkling in the sunlight, have turned to yellow, gold, red and brown for the touch of autumn is a magic touch and autumn is in the air. ~Raymond Carlson, “Arizona Highways” magazine

Before Autumn can slip away entirely, I set out to capture some of its beauty. I hope you enjoy these photos as much as I enjoyed snapping them!

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Mama the Warrior

Courage is fear that has said its prayers. ~American proverb

I Monkey here.

I’ll bet you all were wondering when I’d get around to stealing Mama’s blog again and telling you the interesting things I’ve been doing.

No, not Mama’s pretty poetry posts and artsy pictures of flowers and such.

The real interesting things.

Like what happened the other day.

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Monkey’s First Poem

Some pursue happiness, others create it. ~Author unknown

I caught a bird, a pretty thing:
White of belly, black of wing.
Of course, my mama had a fit;
Didn’t concern her, not one bit.

I snagged him as he flew through the air.
Why not, I thought? He was right there.
And Mama has taught me how to catch.
A flying object is an easy snatch!

This bird felt different from my other toys:
Lots of feathers, not much noise.
But Mama wasn’t playing with us;
She was inside, making a fuss.

She saw that bird hanging from my mouth.
The next thing I knew, the door to the south
Opened with a crash and there she stood —
Mad as a hornet and that wasn’t good.

Outside she flew; a shovel she’d brought.
Is this some kind of new game, I thought?
But no! She sped without a word
Toward my prize, my little bird.

She scooped him up and shouted “No!”
And toward the fence she decided to go.
Hoisted that shovel and tossed him away.
Oh little bird, come back and play!

Note: Mama says this poetic form is in rhyming couplets. I Monkey have no clue!