Quiet weekend. Worked on straightening the garage walls. We suspect Mary or someone didn’t stop in time and bowed out the back.
Mapped out the yards for landscaping, measuring and planning additional walks and trees. I’d like to put in Fat Albert blue spruces, an Umbrella Catalpa, a willow, mock oranges, and a boatload of creeping phlox.
There was a new bird on the finch feeder, a Cassien’s Finch. Bluebirds are still living over the front door, but make frequent visits to the vacation home.
Saw a big bug that made a sound a bit like a cicada. I took pictures, then David caught it in a jar for me. I studied it and compared it against our bug book, but am at a loss as to what it might be. Big Black Beady-Eyed Bug, I guess.
We would like for there to be a thunderstorm with lots of lightning. But no resultant fires. Just a loud, impressive storm or two.
Alan has done more work on his landing strip, bringing in the big machinery this morning. Then he flew his plane around. He’s really quite skilled, and it was fun to watch him do barrel rolls, etc.
Dogs are lazy. Cooper is slow. Happy to just lay around with an occasional walk into the field to smell. I need to see about getting him some arthritis meds. I can feel the disfigurement in his hips; he must be hurting. I fear we won’t be able to take him on long walks any longer, which will be sad for us all.
How does a dog manage to get two ticks of two different species in one spot? Is that even possible? Should he buy a Lotto ticket? Poor Darwin. He tried so hard to be cooperative, but the danged things hurt, there in the tender meat of his hind leg. Same side as the nefarious skin-dwelling worm of puppyhood. Shivers. We put them in foil, poured alcohol on them, and set them on fire. Viking funeral pyre!!
Meadowlarks took baths in our little pool. I didn’t see it firsthand, but David did. I watched the afterbath fluff and preen. Meadowlark-approved bathhouse – we have it!
David is out in the garage feeding dinner to the mice, via their traps.
David gazes out the window. Says “the windmills are turning.” It’s going to be a long retirement. Long, I tell you. I read this to him. He says “no, they are rotating.” Sigh.
I had David ‘cover one eye’ and then tell me how it’s different from looking through both eyes. That’s how I see. It’s all the same to me, I can’t see depth. After realizing that I see how he sees out of one eye, he said “I don’t think you should drive.” I told him I go off of cues, but that yes, it is becoming more difficult.
Balava for dessert. I recall why I don’t care for it one iota. Blech.
Darwin is staring at me. I don’t have food. I am a disappointment to the canine world.