For
those of you who have not yet recovered from the angst of childhood . . .
for those of you who wake up at night in cold sweats knowing that your
childhood searches for the meaning of life remain unfulfilled . . . for
those of you who still have bouts of blurry, fuzzy vision . . . Listen
very, very, very, carefully:
Take 23 North to Marion.
Turn right--West--on 95.
At the fourth traffic light, turn right again on 98--South.
Go EXACTLY nine miles----And--------you will find Waldo. Every time. Guaranteed.
Sure. Glad I could help. I knew my ricocheting all around the
backroads of Ohio would someday lead to a cure for something. Not my
roving malady, but something.
Monday, June 10, 2013
Walking Iten's Acres: Extraordinary April 4, 2013
It's
amazing what three days of sun and slowly warming temperatures can do
for the Acres! More crocus blooming, more dwarf iris, primrose, wood
hyacinth (can their big brothers be far behind), more Lenten rose, the
beginning of the daffodils. Even the goldfinch are starting to bloom.
And the wild flowers are on their way beginning with the spring
beauties. The joy of wild flowers everywhere, blooming wherever they
please, is that old truth that they reinforce: "There is nothing more
extraordinary as the ordinary."
Homesteader Update: Who's the Boss? March 30, 2013
Homesteader update: (AKA the white dish rag; nosy Rosy, CAT!!!)
My primary function in life these days is to provide a lap in the green recliner that looks out on the front of the Acres through the doorwindow. From there, she can see the bird feeder, the chipmunks scurrying around the flower pots, the Outlaw gang as they mosey by, and the peepers climbing the glass. Favorite imaginary meals? The chipmunks and the mourning doves. At least those are the ones that will get her out of my lap to charge the window, prop her front paws on the glass, strike the "ears back intimidating pose", and watch the scattering. She follows the Outlaw Gang from window to window as they pass the house. She hates it, no doubt, that they ignore her.
She makes a great alarm clock--if consistency is a measure of greatness. Every morning at 7:30 AM: plop on the bed, pointy paws up and down my back, a morning serenade, and a cold nose in the face. I assume the serenade is along the lines of "Get up lazy human. It's a new day." Ugh. Yes, she also does a great job as a snooze alarm.
Current favorite toy: that budget-busting cap from the top of a bottle of bottled water. Especially joyful to knock around on the tiles or to drop down the stairs. It seems that noise is a necessary component of fun. She also loves playing with ink pens that she knocks from my desk to the floor. Weird. If I start finding anonymous notes around the house, I'll really start to worry.
Basking in sunlight is a must for each day. (Provided there is some.) Usually in the mornings it's in front of the doorwindow and in the afternoons the bathroom floor upstairs. Wherever rays can be found.
Favorite speed: the dash.
Favorite way to distract the slave: get in his lap and place both your paws over the arm he's trying to type with on the computer. And be sure to express your disgust when he makes you move--even if it's just to his lap.
Each day is the same battle: Who's the boss? What? Of course I'm losing.
My primary function in life these days is to provide a lap in the green recliner that looks out on the front of the Acres through the doorwindow. From there, she can see the bird feeder, the chipmunks scurrying around the flower pots, the Outlaw gang as they mosey by, and the peepers climbing the glass. Favorite imaginary meals? The chipmunks and the mourning doves. At least those are the ones that will get her out of my lap to charge the window, prop her front paws on the glass, strike the "ears back intimidating pose", and watch the scattering. She follows the Outlaw Gang from window to window as they pass the house. She hates it, no doubt, that they ignore her.
She makes a great alarm clock--if consistency is a measure of greatness. Every morning at 7:30 AM: plop on the bed, pointy paws up and down my back, a morning serenade, and a cold nose in the face. I assume the serenade is along the lines of "Get up lazy human. It's a new day." Ugh. Yes, she also does a great job as a snooze alarm.
Current favorite toy: that budget-busting cap from the top of a bottle of bottled water. Especially joyful to knock around on the tiles or to drop down the stairs. It seems that noise is a necessary component of fun. She also loves playing with ink pens that she knocks from my desk to the floor. Weird. If I start finding anonymous notes around the house, I'll really start to worry.
Basking in sunlight is a must for each day. (Provided there is some.) Usually in the mornings it's in front of the doorwindow and in the afternoons the bathroom floor upstairs. Wherever rays can be found.
Favorite speed: the dash.
Favorite way to distract the slave: get in his lap and place both your paws over the arm he's trying to type with on the computer. And be sure to express your disgust when he makes you move--even if it's just to his lap.
Each day is the same battle: Who's the boss? What? Of course I'm losing.
Walking Iten's Acres: The New Gang March 24, 2013
Gus,
after a winter tied up, has been set free. So, on all my walks I have
at least one furry friend. When his "sibling" the little hound is out,
she joins us as well. They always check out the prairie rat's hole,
meander down the paths in the wild area, and then ramble back up to the
house with me. They know by now that I always go through the trees on
my return and wait for me there. I guess I'm as predictable as they are.
Though spring is officially here, it has not done much beautifying yet. The ground in most places is still fairly hard. My planters are like concrete. Out front lots of daffodils and tulips and hyacinths have let it be known that they will be blooming as soon as the warmth catches up with the calendar. I will have to be on the alert for my friends the rabbits; they have already done some damage. Rabbit stew anyone? I'm sure the dogs will enjoy having them over for dinner. Out back, not much is coming up at all. The wild area has been pretty much flattened by the winter's weather, except for the brambles, of course--things with thorns seem to be fairly indestructible. No daffodils or hyacinth even coming up out there yet. A few crocus, though. Dabs of purple, white, lilac, and yellow scattered here and there along the edges of the paths or under the barren bushes.
I am hoping for a good snow tonight--five inches or more would be delectable. I'll sit in my old green recliner by the doorwindow and watch the world turn white. Will be lovely if it happens. I'm sure the white dish rag would join me, curled up in my lap, temporarily distracted now and then by the birds at the feeder once daylight gets here. Provided, naturally, that she's willing to share her chair with me. The goldfinch have not yet bloomed. And no sign of the rose-breasted grosbeak yet either. The male redwings are here. And the criminal cowbirds.
I wonder how the peepers will enjoy the snow?
I confess that I have enjoyed the "normal" winter. A little warmer would be acceptable now, but not real warm yet. It's a long time until Ohio becomes frost free. I don't want any "tender" plants coming up too soon. Call me over protective.
Highlights of the week. I actually saw the sun two days in a row. And one day was warm enough for me to enjoy a nice long rest in the green throne on the top of the hill. Ahhh, the joys of being king. What? Oh, I'll share sovereignty for awhile if you're in the neighborhood. But remember--bring your own throne.
Though spring is officially here, it has not done much beautifying yet. The ground in most places is still fairly hard. My planters are like concrete. Out front lots of daffodils and tulips and hyacinths have let it be known that they will be blooming as soon as the warmth catches up with the calendar. I will have to be on the alert for my friends the rabbits; they have already done some damage. Rabbit stew anyone? I'm sure the dogs will enjoy having them over for dinner. Out back, not much is coming up at all. The wild area has been pretty much flattened by the winter's weather, except for the brambles, of course--things with thorns seem to be fairly indestructible. No daffodils or hyacinth even coming up out there yet. A few crocus, though. Dabs of purple, white, lilac, and yellow scattered here and there along the edges of the paths or under the barren bushes.
I am hoping for a good snow tonight--five inches or more would be delectable. I'll sit in my old green recliner by the doorwindow and watch the world turn white. Will be lovely if it happens. I'm sure the white dish rag would join me, curled up in my lap, temporarily distracted now and then by the birds at the feeder once daylight gets here. Provided, naturally, that she's willing to share her chair with me. The goldfinch have not yet bloomed. And no sign of the rose-breasted grosbeak yet either. The male redwings are here. And the criminal cowbirds.
I wonder how the peepers will enjoy the snow?
I confess that I have enjoyed the "normal" winter. A little warmer would be acceptable now, but not real warm yet. It's a long time until Ohio becomes frost free. I don't want any "tender" plants coming up too soon. Call me over protective.
Highlights of the week. I actually saw the sun two days in a row. And one day was warm enough for me to enjoy a nice long rest in the green throne on the top of the hill. Ahhh, the joys of being king. What? Oh, I'll share sovereignty for awhile if you're in the neighborhood. But remember--bring your own throne.
Today at Iten's Acres: Signs of the Time March 10, 2013
Two days of sunshine and a little warmer weather = a couple dozen crocus, a few snowdrops, and a BLUEBIRD. Spring is coming!
Backroads of Morrow County: No Place in Particular March 7, 2013
I
took a nice long excursion along the back roads today. I didn't have
any particular destination in mind. In fact, No Place in Particular was
the exact destination I had in mind. I find such travels therapeutic.
My thoughts and my emotions needed a trip to nowhere today.
Though it is only three weeks until the official arrival of spring, there was little evidence of its coming. Some snow is still left over from the snowfall of a couple of days ago--but not much. The rows in the fields seem to collect it, and there are always those locations--shaded for the most part--that will resist any melting. The ponds are not iced over, but they do have patches still. None of the houses in the trees have even begun to go back into hiding. A few--very few--of the fields are plowed. I really don't know if anything has been planted in them yet. Nothing is certainly coming up. What kind of crop would someone plant this time of year? Winter wheat? I confess my ignorance. But the symmetry of a plowed field is lovely.
In fact, despite the winteryness of the landscape, it produces in me a sense of serenity. An "all's right with the world" feeling. There are some sheep in their pastures. Oblivious to my creeping by. One cattle "ranch" has bales of hay out for the creatures. They seem to enjoy the congregating. Cow gossip, I guess. A few hawks, still as silhouettes, sit high on the barren branches of the trees. Mourning doves are everywhere. I guess they aren't on the menu.
I did, eventually, ricochet into Mount Gilead--no, I don't think they sell balm there--and had a bite to eat at the local dive. They do specialize in comfort food. Nice country folks. Full of laughter as they discuss the stories of their lives. Yes, I eavesdrop. Suppress a smile, maybe even a laugh, though I have no idea what has them laughing. Contagious stuff that joy thing.
When I headed back to home, the sky was gray. But off on the horizon was a patch of pale yellow--dare I say, almost ivory. The sun is hidden behind the grayness, but it's glow lightens the distance, announcing that it is still around and just waiting for a break. I have to weave down 25 to avoid the plethora of pot holes. I wonder what a patrolman would think if he saw me. Too much Pepsi, I'm sure. Though it is not dark yet, my porch lights which are light sensitive (lack of light maybe) beckon me back from my meanderings. Homesteader is in the doorwindow, but she's focused on her feathered friends. It is not a "welcome home" party. I know my place in the universe according to cats. Supposedly, a couple days of warmer weather are coming soon. I hope it triggers the crocus, Lenten roses, and snowdrops to begin to show off. I'm ready for a colorful walking of the Acres.
Though it is only three weeks until the official arrival of spring, there was little evidence of its coming. Some snow is still left over from the snowfall of a couple of days ago--but not much. The rows in the fields seem to collect it, and there are always those locations--shaded for the most part--that will resist any melting. The ponds are not iced over, but they do have patches still. None of the houses in the trees have even begun to go back into hiding. A few--very few--of the fields are plowed. I really don't know if anything has been planted in them yet. Nothing is certainly coming up. What kind of crop would someone plant this time of year? Winter wheat? I confess my ignorance. But the symmetry of a plowed field is lovely.
In fact, despite the winteryness of the landscape, it produces in me a sense of serenity. An "all's right with the world" feeling. There are some sheep in their pastures. Oblivious to my creeping by. One cattle "ranch" has bales of hay out for the creatures. They seem to enjoy the congregating. Cow gossip, I guess. A few hawks, still as silhouettes, sit high on the barren branches of the trees. Mourning doves are everywhere. I guess they aren't on the menu.
I did, eventually, ricochet into Mount Gilead--no, I don't think they sell balm there--and had a bite to eat at the local dive. They do specialize in comfort food. Nice country folks. Full of laughter as they discuss the stories of their lives. Yes, I eavesdrop. Suppress a smile, maybe even a laugh, though I have no idea what has them laughing. Contagious stuff that joy thing.
When I headed back to home, the sky was gray. But off on the horizon was a patch of pale yellow--dare I say, almost ivory. The sun is hidden behind the grayness, but it's glow lightens the distance, announcing that it is still around and just waiting for a break. I have to weave down 25 to avoid the plethora of pot holes. I wonder what a patrolman would think if he saw me. Too much Pepsi, I'm sure. Though it is not dark yet, my porch lights which are light sensitive (lack of light maybe) beckon me back from my meanderings. Homesteader is in the doorwindow, but she's focused on her feathered friends. It is not a "welcome home" party. I know my place in the universe according to cats. Supposedly, a couple days of warmer weather are coming soon. I hope it triggers the crocus, Lenten roses, and snowdrops to begin to show off. I'm ready for a colorful walking of the Acres.
Today at Iten's Acres: The Roar of March February 28, 2013
Sloppy.
Mushy. Slushy. Take your pick. Wet. Feels as if March is going to
do its "Come in like a lion" thing. I was hoping the weather would be
about ten degrees colder these last few days so that we could have a
nice, deep snowfall. Alas, it was not to be. Frozen tundra is keeping
the water from sinking in, and a walk of the Acres was sloppy to say the
least.
Three weeks until spring, at least. Officially, anyway. God has already given hints of His yearly resurrection of the beautiful. The pink heather has been blooming for three weeks. Daffodils, crocus, tulips, and even a hyacinth or two have peaked out to check the weather. Several of the Lenten Roses have budded. A white one looks as if it will bloom any day! One yellow crocus has already bloomed as well as a single aconite--a yellow flower as well. Last year at this time because of the mild winter the Acres was already awash in crocus. This year with a real winter--to some degree--it should be a couple of weeks or three until spring starts to color everything. Can't wait. I hope the spring is beautiful this year. There will, no doubt, be a tinge of sorrow in the midst of this year's beauty, but the joy will triumph. The first step will be to bring in a branch or two from the pussy willow, silverize the house, and hope they will take root so that I can plant them later on the Acres.
Roar your way in March! Spring will not be intimidated! Loveliness is around the corner!
Three weeks until spring, at least. Officially, anyway. God has already given hints of His yearly resurrection of the beautiful. The pink heather has been blooming for three weeks. Daffodils, crocus, tulips, and even a hyacinth or two have peaked out to check the weather. Several of the Lenten Roses have budded. A white one looks as if it will bloom any day! One yellow crocus has already bloomed as well as a single aconite--a yellow flower as well. Last year at this time because of the mild winter the Acres was already awash in crocus. This year with a real winter--to some degree--it should be a couple of weeks or three until spring starts to color everything. Can't wait. I hope the spring is beautiful this year. There will, no doubt, be a tinge of sorrow in the midst of this year's beauty, but the joy will triumph. The first step will be to bring in a branch or two from the pussy willow, silverize the house, and hope they will take root so that I can plant them later on the Acres.
Roar your way in March! Spring will not be intimidated! Loveliness is around the corner!
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