Before the Frost

 Just to hedge (and rage)  against Mother Nature, we are posting these shots of Husband RJ's back yard blossoms.

Once again we are expecting a visit from Jack (A$$) Frost tonight.

With any luck the ornamental trees will survive intact, but it has been our sad experience over three decades that the wisteria is not so hardy.

When the frost nips them, we cannot expect any more blooms for a while, maybe even years.  The cascades are lovely, and we are going crazy shooting picture after picture to remind ourselves that they are  more than just a weed overtaking our property.

 

 

 

To be perfectly fair, we have to admit that the greenery beats the bombed out backyard we inherited from our predecessors.  Say a prayer for our blossoms!

Not crocuses nor snowdrops

At first look these would seem to be some sort of miniature crocus.
 Husband RJ tells me they are species tulips.

Apparently, tulips had their start in just such a humble beginning.

 













You may have seen the species roses that line the streets of the waterfront in Maine.  It seems everyone has those exquisite five-petaled roses tumbling from their fences. 

 
 

They certainly look like crocus, but they are quite tiny.

All the better to hide in private spaces tucked into corner rock gardens.

Booya!

Every now and then I can't help tweaking those who text without identifying themselves.  This weekend, I got one:

txtr:  Yahmeia?

pb:  Who is this?

txtr:  Booja!

pb:  Booya your self.  Who beedzis?

txtr:  Is tht yameia?

pb:  No. Rmeia iz heronner skidmore.

(Actually, Elmira's mayor is indeed a Ms. Skidmore.)

txtr:  No response:

After a pause, I couldn't resist:

pb:  Seriously, dude.  Wrong number.

It's mean, I know, and someday it will come back to bite me in the butt.  Right now, however, I get my jollies wherever I can.

pb
Little Pond

ALL GONE: Afterword to Easter Brunch

Gluten-free, lactose-free, no sugar, no chocolate Easter baskets.



WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED?

What happened to Easter?  We used to start the day with opening the Easter Baskets, and diving into mountains of chocolate and jelly eggs.

Gone.  All gone.

Of course, the kids are grown and begin Easter morning in their own way.  At present, this precludes the usual chocolate and jelly eggs.  Oh, never fear:  the kids still get their candy, but now Celiac Disease and Lactose Intolerance has changed the face of the Easter Basket.

Husband RJ bought jelly beans from Wegmans, but they had to be kept from the kids.  Nowhere did they attest to being Gluten Free.

Instead, at Grammy Pat's and Grampa's house, there are candy-free baskets full of toys, all carefully selected and sorted by age and appropriateness for each child.

What happened to Easter Brunch?  You know:   eggs, pancakes, bacon, ham, home fries.

Gone.  All gone.

Okay, that's stretching the truth.  We did have eggs and pan fries, all made up to be low-fat and low-salt and vegetarian.  Ham and Bacon have been replaced by turkey ham, carefully disguised with pineapple, honey and cloves.

Ketchup and sea salt on request only.

Any dish that was not specifically meat had to be gluten-free and vegetarian, prepared the day before and separated from the rest to prevent cross-contamination.  And while not strictly vegan, our vegetable dishes cannot have eggs--and watch out for that cross-contamination.

Finally the drinks.  Coffee, cocoa.  Juices?

Gone.  Except for the juices.  We did have orange-pineapple mimosas with a very nice Great Western Extra Dry champagne.  We also offered Bloody Mary's, Veggie Maries, and various vodka drinks mixed with V8 Fusion.  Cranberry-blackberry and Blueberry-Pomegranate.  No one drank coffee except Husband RJ, and a few guests carried their own bottles of Gatorade, of all things.

Nevertheless, I have to admit we had a lovely Brunch.  In fact, it was awesome.  At least that is what I kept saying after a couple of mimosas.

A few days later, though, I can't help but wonder where our wonderful, carefree, throw-it-together, bring-your-own-dish, Easter Brunch went.

Gone.  All gone.

Welcome to the 21st Century.

pb
Little Pond

Pup and Pope

My new canine companion, Sarah Francine,

loves the new Pope Francis.

Kiss of the Chemung

So that's it!

One Sip...

 

Soon the infection will spread, and Sarah will become RiverDog2.   Or maybe there should be some other moniker?

 

Suggestions, anyone?

 

pb

Little Pond

 

 

Birding with Sarah

...in our own backyard.  Pileated Woodpeck just a tad smaller than Herself.

BTW, she has absolutely no clue as to walking on a leash.  Her training has been delayed by a wicked head cold.  Fortunately, I have been treating it with a 3/4 liter bottle of Baileys, now finished.  I expect to be able to walk Sarah down by the river in a day or two.

pb
Little Pond

Sarah Francine

She is my new companion.  I will never forget my River Dog Ellie.  When I entered the facility at Cornell, the sight and sounds made me cry for her again.

 

While treated humanely, she had spent her first 2+ years as a laboratory trials subject, living with other mini-beagles in a kennel.

 

You can bet she was incredibly surprised by snow this morning.

 

Little Sarah had never been walked or even outside, never house broken, never called by name. She is about the size of Ellie, and completely silent.

 

Fortunately, the RiverHound Frankie will have her howling in no time.

 

pb

Little Pond

Is is about shoes???

I dreamed I was helping a friend move furniture from some rooms to others.

After a while the friend turned into a former boss, who somehow had accrued enough furniture to fill a warehouse.  He owned the warehouse, too.  The work was way too much for me, for my back, and for the whole MS thing.

Then, when I was just about done, the whole scene turned into a furniture store.  I began to assist customers, when I noticed that I had removed my shoes while moving the furniture.

When I searched for the shoes, I found many, many shoes, all lined up on a wall.

Mine weren't there.  I checked around and found out that the area that held my shoes had become a shoe store.

They had sold my shoes.  The clerk showed me the copy of the bill of sale.  They had gotten $17.99 for them, worn and all.  I had paid $32.00, originally.

The shoes were spike heels, so I figured I wouldn't miss them.  On the other hand, I still needed the money back to buy a new pair of shoes.

Weird.

pb
Little Pond

Still Grieving

On a brightly sunny morning, Ellie and I returned to her favorite shore near the Gateway of the Chemung River.  Her ashes were scattered to the wind and onto the water, right where she loved to swim.  We were watched only by a lone eagle and three inquisitive gulls, who checked to see if anything good was being offered.

 

The Chemung will never feel the same for me.  And I am no longer the River Hag with her familiar, a little brindle digger-dog, hunter-dog, RiverDog.

 

Birders and Hikers:  don't give your heart to a faithful four-footed follower.

 

She'll break your heart too soon, for sure.  Far too soon.

 

pb

Little Pond

Rest in Peace, Ellie

June 1, 2002 - November 24, 2012

My Huggamutt Cuddlebum

See you in the morning, Little One.

Love GrammaDog

Happy Halloween

From a very reluctant HuggaMutt!!

Okay here.

Only minor damage here in our downtown.  We are fine; Husband RJ's mom came to ride out the storm here.  For another night, I guess.

RJ and I have a date tonight.  "West Side Story" is playing at our Clemens Center.  The first performance was last night, and the intrepid cast was rewarded by even more intrepid local residents who braved the windstorm to attend.

"West Side Story" was the theme music for our wedding. "A Time For Us" is Our Song.

I know I am going to bawl my eyes out tonight.  "We're going to rock it tonight!"

pb

FOR MALALA

So.  The Taliban boarded a school bus and shot a little girl for speaking her mind.  The worldwide outcry is still resounding, and getting louder, day by day.

And.  The Taliban says they will try again to kill her, if she won't shut up.  Of course, they probably will botch that job again, too...

And.  Muslims around the world are beginning to condemn the Taliban, and all Islamic extremists.  Finally.

So...

Wouldn't it be amazing if it turns out that WOMEN become the activists that bring down the Muslim extremists?

What can we do to support and protect such brave women?  How can we save their lives while they work for what is rightfully theirs?

I am no Quranic Scholar, but I've read enough of the Koran to come to the conclusion that Mohammed, the Last Prophet, received revelations that were intended to bring about a sort of EQUITY if not EQUALITY between the sexes.

At the time, the Koran was very, very (in fact scandalously) progressive in that respect.  Women are expected to learn and practice their religion, and we must facilitate it.

So...

The Taliban is sinning against the Koran, handed down from Allah by the Angel Raphael to the Last Prophet Mohammed.  It is the birthright of all Islamic women to right this wrong.

And it is our duty, especially in our own homelands, to honor, protect, and assist these women--and girls!--in their fight for the right to learn to read and write and practice their religion.

Is the Muslim world up to it?  Are we?

We can begin by honoring the Hijab (veil).  I am against laws that prohibit the wearing of the hijab.  Here in the U.S.A. we allow and respect veils on our Catholic nuns, yamulkes for Orthodox Jews, both veils and hats for Hasidic Jews, not to mention the caps and hats worn by Amish and related sects.  Is it so hard to include hijabs and turbans?

So.  Come one, America!  Freedom of religion, or not?

Honoring the Hijab is an easy step.  Try it.  Rather than stare, ask about it.   Some will be happy to instruct you, others may be too shy.  At least respect it.

I was raised to respect priestly and monastic habits. 

It's not much of a stretch.

pb
Little Pond

 

I've been looking for a lovely, red tree to show you this fall.  Unfortunately, a long hot, dry summer and a damp, warm fall has given us a lackluster leaf-peeping season around these parts.  Our yard is surrounded by rock maples, and they turn yellow.  So yellow we got!

 

Could be worse.  Last year we didn't even get much yellow

If you absolutely must have red, here are some shots of bittersweet vines down by the river:

 

 

 

 Honestly, we are mostly browns and yellow this year. And the RiverDog is terribly arthritic, so trips are limited to sunny, warmer days for now.

 

pb

Little Pond