For the past week I have tried to post everyday, but yesterday I missed. The goal is blown. Instead of writing I spent the day in my shop cutting feathers. My latest Intarsia project is a large bird with his wings spread. The feathers become the bird. The goal for this project was to finish by May ’23. It is still possible but only if I never sleep, never eat, spent zero time with Lovely, and grind wood the whole time. It’s not gong to happen. I like to sleep, and eat, and spend time with Lovely that’s why.
A new challenge has arrived to make my Intarsia project a dream, Spring! Yesterday we had a genuine beautiful day, sunny, warm, and breezy. The girls are wearing shorts again, and some guys too, but I don’t lear at guys like I do at girls!
Spring is when “. . . Birds do it, bees do it, even educated fleas do it . . .
Then last night as I was retiring my step grandson came to me as white as a sheet to explain that as he opened the garage door to get some night air, he saw a long skinny thing (snake) about 2 cm in diameter slithering past. I looked at him and said “he’s probably horny from being in hibernation since last September. Did he come after you?”
“But, but, but, is he dangerous?”
“Of course not, most likely it is a garter snake, and even though he looks ominous like all snakes do, he is harmless.” The conversation shifted to a discussion on why I should fix all the cracks and crevices between the garage door and the floor to keep him out of the garage. I went to bed.
Today, I’ll search the area and see if I can locate his den. I don’t know what I’ll do if I find him except to greet him with a cheery “happy spring,” and chase him off to the wetlands behind the house. Of course if I happen to come upon him while in the garage he’ll scare the shit out of me and cause me to run to the hardware store to buy a new weather strip for the door.
What the hell, why don’t I share something personal for a change? This blog is about me and my life, and not about generating huge readership numbers. Although I enjoy seeing stats that indicate that people read my writing. Most of the visitors and followers are interested in doing business. They join me just too generate numbers that will move them into monetization and money. Nothing wrong with that, but my aim is to generate catharsis from my own life decisions that back fire or worse yet don’t even make a dent. At least when I make a decision that sets me back I know I made change. It is the decision that doesn’t yield any form of movement that destroys me. They are wasted ideas and cost energy and time.
Today, I opened an email to myself which contained a group of photos that I took randomly about my garden. I love the colors of nature, they inspire me. Just a few evenings ago I looked out the kitchen window and saw a unique lighting situation that produced some really intense colors.
Two days ago I looked out and saw a sight that I will probably never see again. There was a swarm of dragon flies flitting all about the yard swooping, diving, soaring, and looking like purple martins having a feast on mosquitoes. One never knows what nature will gift me with next.
It may just be my imagination, but there seems to be a huge number of ground squirrels running around my yard this spring. Just this morning I counted six scurrying about the garden looking for food. They like nuts, but my yard doesn’t have a single tree or shrub that produces nuts, so what it is they survive on is a mystery to me. They are cute buggers, but do create some damage in the yard with their tunnels. They love living under my patio concrete. They could be one of the reasons my patio floor is sinking. Another reason might be the clay beneath the concrete is drying out and shrinking. Based on the amount of rain that has fallen this spring I suspect the squirrels to be a larger problem than water.
At the same time the ground squirrel population seems to be increasing, I have seen fewer regular tree squirrels. I know for fact that I have driven the tree squirrels out of the yard as I did all the birds. The simple answer is I stopped feeding the buggers, but I also don’t have the pleasure of seeing their antics on and about the feeding station. One of my hobbies has been to invent schemes to outwit tree squirrels in their attempt to raid the feeders. The internet is loaded with inventions and videos demonstrating the intelligence and athletic ability of squirrels jumping, stretching, squeezing around obstacles to get the seed. . Stay in place has cut my activities and inclinations in those regards. Instead, I hunker down writing blog posts, pulling weeds, and grinding wood.
Last evening, I was surprised by my youngest grand daughter. She came to deliver a mask I ordered from her. She is a creative little person (5′-6′) who jumped at the opportunity to help me out with a custom mask. (www.creatingbyjenna.com) Last month she painted a pair of gym shoes for her friend in Arizona. Michael Jordan never had shoes like these. I like the mask so much I will wear it about town with pride. I’ll also use it as my Facebook marker.
Budding young artist Cub Scout Ben has joined the staff at Grumpa Joe’s Place as a contributing artist. CS Ben has natural talent and wit that comes from living on a farm in Michigan. Ben regularly shovels horse manure as he helps his mom clean stalls No doubt he will want to join the Wabbit Wars series as an embedded reporter chronicling the escapades of the terror network of Wabbits, cats, and squirrels infiltrating Grumpa Joe’s Monet Vision.
Deep within the thicket behind Grumpa Joe’s Monet Vision a meeting of Wabbits from terror groups of every block discussed plans for taking out the Monet Vision. Last Spring they snuck into his yard and tasted the tulips and his prize lilies. He didn’t know what hit him. They forced him to install extensive Wabbit barrier over his lobelias, which made him work four times as hard to pull weeds. Not to mention, each time he discovered a snipped tulip bud or a clipped lily stem his blood pressure went through the roof. The group planned a new assault.
“We have to expand our numbers,” said Ali Bugbuny.
“Yes, but we must also train new recruits in the art of stem tasting,” exclaimed Sadr el Jac.
“What if we change the strategy from tasting to eating the flowers,” asked Yasir Flufytail?
“Hmmmn, not a bad idea” replied Ali.
The ideas flowed all evening. It was late into the night before the terror group finally agreed to a plan.
“It is agreed then, we will begin the campaign on the night of the full moon,” said Ali Bugbuny as he dismissed them, “be careful going home.”
The group hopped through the darkness keeping invisible as they moved through backyards. Usa-Bugbuny stayed under the front yard boxwoods. He sprinted through the open spaces between houses to the end of Brown Drive. Yasir Flufytail speed-hopped through the backyards to Charrington Drive, and Siwee el Waby dashed across the street between lights until he reached cover under a burning bush. One more sprint and I’ll be on Bramble Lane he thought. The others worked their way through the thicket westward to Ginger Lane. All of them swore to keep the plan a secret. They were to move about only under cover of darkness. Their plan would drive Grumpa Joe nuts.
“That was a most productive meeting Ali,” said Sadr el Jac.
“It is the best plan we’ve ever put together. I can’t wait to begin. I’ll see you again under the moon.”
Meanwhile, Grumpa Joe discussed world affairs and gardening over a glass of wine with his friend Al.
“Where have all the Wabbits gone,” asked Grumpa Joe?
“What do you mean, I have plenty of Wabbits in my yard,” said Al.
It is almost June, and I did not see a single Wabbit in the yard. My tulips were beautiful, and the lily’s are strong and tall.”
“I’ll send you some of my bunnies if you wish,” said Al.
“Please don’t.”
“I wonder if the coyote has been roaming through the neighborhood,” said Joe.
“That is a strong possibility Joe, they howl behind my house every night, but I still have lots of wabbits. It is late, I have to get home.” Al backed his car out of Grumpa Joe’s driveway just as Siwee el Waby made his dash across the street. The car lights swung out over him as he ducked under the Burning Bush.
Whew, that was close, he almost saw me. We have to live undercover until it is time to execute the plan. We want Grumpa Joe to believe he has beaten us.
The Wabbit world was abuzz for the remainder of the summer. Young wabbits went to school everyday, and momma wabbits raised more young ones to join them. Parents were careful to teach the youngsters not to go out while in daylight for fear of spoiling the ruse to make Grumpa Joe believe the wabbits were gone from his yard.
Ali Bugbuny recruited Aga and Bushr Bambi to join the plan. The army of invaders grew everyday. New recruits came well trained too.
“It is agreed, we will meet you and the Wabbit army in the invasion of the garden known as the Monet Vision during the full moon of July.”
“Peggy, have you noticed the big gaping hole in the yellow petunia patch?”
“No I haven’t, where?”
“Look there, between the potted geranium and the Coral Bells.”
“Oh, those plants are regenerating,” she said.
“I hope you are right, but it does bear watching.”
Grumpa Joe put the Monet Vision under surveillance. He took note of where the flowers were missing.
“These look cut off to me,” he told Peggy as he watered one night.
“It’s your imagination,” she said.
“We’ll see about that,” Joe replied.
Grumpa Joe sat on the patio sprinkling the flowers after a day of intense heat when he spotted a movement. His gaze froze on the spot. The sun had gone down and only the grey light of dusk remained. He saw a movement at the far corner of the yard. Yep, it’s a Wabbit he thought. I’ll wait to see where he goes.
Aga Bambi sat almost motionless. Only his mouth and nose moved as he chewed on some fresh grass. He couldn’t wait until total darkness as the plan called for. He had to eat something.
Aga sprinted through the Monet Vision into the wetland to the safety of his hutch. Inside the mass of twisted brambles he came face to face with Ali, Sadr, and Yasir. They sat in the darkness waiting for him. Sadr hopped to the entrance and blocked it off, Yasir moved to Aga’s side. Aga faced Ali in the center of a triangle of Wabbits. His escape route blocked, he had no choice but to face the music.
Ali put his nose up against Aga’s and began a Drill Sargent’s tirade.
“You dumb long-ear clown you ruined the plan, what were you thinking?”
“I’m sorry Ali, I was hungry and those Petunias looked so good. Besides, wasn’t that the plan?”
“The plan was to do it in the dark not broad daylight. Did they look and taste good enough to break cover?”
“I was careful, no one saw me.”
“Watch this.” Ali popped a DVD into his command computer. “These were taken this afternoon you dummy.”
The four of them watched as Aga relished a dozen soft-yellow Petunia blossoms before he moved to the deep purple ones. Aga dropped his head and eyes in guilt. The video clearly showed him violating the order.
“As punishment for disobeying an order you are banished from the Cell.”
“Where am I going,” asked Aga?
“To the land of native wildflowers where you will no longer enjoy the juicy and tender fruit of home gardens. Take him away boys.”
Sadr grabbed him by the back of the neck, and Yasir by the fluffy tail. They dragged him off to Prairie Park.
“Okay Yasir, on the count of three.”
They swung him back and forth, and on three they let go of him. Aga went sailing through the air and landed deep in the tall grass.
Ali sat by himself in Aga’s hutch thinking for a long time. His mind raced through counter measure possibilities. After what seemed like hours an idea came to him. He finally hopped out of the hutch into the darkness of the wetland with only the fireflies lighting the night sky.
“I have to gather the cell and discuss the new plan.”
