I’ll probably delete this in the morning.
There’s a permanent cardinal outside our dining room window. It was my grandfather’s cardinal, and now it’s ours. I can look out the window on the dullest, grayest day and see that bright bird defying the narrative of the clouds.
All praise be to God.
I’ll delete this decidedly impermanent post in the morning.
Every owl
Knows how to scowl
Like every ant
Knows how to crawl
Every owl
Knows how to hunt
Like every pig
Knows how to grunt
Every owl
Knows how to fly
Like every snake
Knows how to lie
Every owl
Can twist its neck
Like every bird
Knows how to peck
Every owl
Can call out “Whoo!”
So tell me now,
What can YOU do?
Every blog post knows how to be deleted. This one is no exception.
I’ve now entered the puffin phase of my artistic endeavors. Or rather, I’ve re-entered, having dabbled in some puffinry back in 2020 (Puffin Post). And then there was a poem I wrote in which a puffin played a significant part (See: The P Birds).
When I see photos of puffins, I think the Lord must have been in a whimsical mood when He created them.
Plus, and hold onto your hat for this one: their babies are called “pufflings.” I did NOT make that up, but almost wish I had. In my fertile imagination, these would be so fun to have around, adorable little pets waddling to you with their adorable orange feet, making their adorable puffin noises with their adorable orange beaks. Sadly, puffins do not inhabit my part of the world, and I’m sure not going to go to theirs, so we shall have to remain strangers. It’s better that way. It’s very unlikely that they would live up to what I’ve imagined them to be like.
Is that a memoir that you’d read? If so, I’ll hunt down Mr. Polite Puffin (who could, I admit, be Mrs. Polite Puffin. It’s hard to tell) and do an interview.
More puffins will be coming. A page of pufflings might be on the way.
I’ll have to huffin and puffin and blow this one down in the morning.
I don’t actually have anything to say at 10:00 at night, and I’m sorry for you to have received this, thus wasting your precious time. However, to make it a little more interesting, I’ll drag a couple photos out of the “never used” photo file.
It’s all quite startling isn’t it? What bold colors! A bird in mid-flight! I took that photo last March or April and upon looking at it realized that I’d forgotten to take the camera off “vivid setting.”
So I fixed it and took another photo of the same three birds, although by this time both the finches were perched and the cardinal looked like it was ignoring them. The finches were probably having the kind of perky conversations that finches have – you know how they go on. If you were there, you might have ignored them, too.
But enough of that. I’ve taken up too much of your time already.
This perky post will be ignored in the morning.
Suppose you got news that a darling little fluffy seagull chick was just outside your domicile. Would you:
A. Jump up, grab your camera, and run out to get a photo, or
B. Say, “Oh, that’s interesting,” and go right on with what you were doing.
If you answered A, you are a kindred spirit. Read on. If you answered B, I wonder if you wandered into this blog post entirely by mistake. No one will fault you for leaving, but you may find the proceeding story will vindicate you.
As it happens, I did recently have an opportunity to jump up, grab my camera, and go in pursuit of the aforementioned baby seagull. I took a few photos, getting closer and closer. The baby didn’t seem to mind. I like to think that we were having a moment.
Suddenly, a loud noise interrupted my reverie, accompanied by the sight of a large seagull swooping down toward me.
I yelped and backed off, but was dive bombed twice more by this very protective parent as I tried to get away.
Since I yelped each time, the crowd of kids on the beach got quite a show. You’re welcome.
Fun times!
If you hear me yelping in the morning, you’ll know I had to delete this.
We have a largish fountain in the front yard and a smallish one in the back (an embarrassment of fountain riches). For the first time in 20 years of living here, our tiny little ponds have attracted a pair of mallards.
Is it just me, or is her beak longer than his? Lately, the mister has been showing up by himself, which makes me wonder if his lady love is nesting nearby. Will they bring their darling ducklings to our pond? Is that a good thing? They’re fun to watch, but it’s not all glistening green necks and plump feathery bodies on orange legs and feet. They’re also leaving their ducky calling cards on the edge of our front fountain. What if their new habitat catches on and we have a veritable mallard tourism site in the years to come?
Stay tuned.
In the meantime, I’ve developed quite the relationship with a rabbit doe who likes our perennial garden. I call her “Willow.” You ask how I know she’s a she? I was privy to a very public courtship between Willow and an ardent admirer of hers. Although she rebuffed his advances, he kept chasing her around the garden. When he’s not around, she comes surprisingly close to me, perhaps it’s because I’ve honed my sedentary skills to an art and I seem more like an unmoving part of the garden landscape. As much as we’ve hit it off, I have strongly discouraged her attempts to build a nest in the garden by putting our scare owl in the hole she started to dig. Sorry, Willow. I like you but I can’t have you ruining our garden.
Willow eats our dandelions, which endears her to me.
I’ll probably use a scare owl to ruin this post in the morning.
The Canada goose
Is on the loose
The Canadian geese
Evade the police
If seen in your counties
Please call the mounties
If loitering in lobbies
Call for the bobbies
Don’t try to chase ‘em
Don’t try to race ‘em
Just frolic and caper
And put ‘em on paper.
And that’s all I’ve got for today.
Time to caper off and delete this…in the morning.
It turns out that using the dictation feature on my keyboard, isn’t always as intuitive as you would think. Nevertheless, it seemed like a good option to spare my arm some typing. So here it goes!
I’ve got a few pieces of artwork that I finished last week before deciding to give my arm a break.
Most of these, as usual, are copies of things I found on Pinterest, with the exception of the owl which I drew from a photo.
Is the owl a fowl?
Certainly not! Perish the thought!
Is the owl very nice?
Certainly not! Just ask the mice!
Has the owl gone crazy?
Certainly not! Nor is he lazy.
Does the owl bill and coo?
Certainly not! What’s wrong with you?
Will the owl teach and preach?
Certainly not! Just hear him screech!
Is the owl a night sleeper?
Certainly not! He’s a night peeper!
About the owl
I’ve told you a lot
You now are an expert
On what he is not.
The end.
…in the morning.
When robins appear
And lay their beautiful eggs
Spring is what hatches
When blog posts appear, deleting is what hatches.
Said the puffin to the penguin
You’ve got a lot of nerve
You waddle around pretending –
We know you’re not a bird!
Said the penguin to the puffin,
Oh goodness, just my luck –
I’ve met an orange-footed fop
Who thinks he is a duck.
Said the pelican to the penguin
Don’t mind this little puffin
He’s lacking in self confidence,
His ego needs some stuffin’
Said the puffin to the pelican
Oh look! A beak with wings!
You could rent that big mouth out
For critters to store their things.
Said the peacock to the pelican
Why bother with this ruffian?
Don’t you know better than
To trade insults with a puffian?
Said the puffin to the peacock
Look whose talking now?
A bird with eyes on his feathers
Is uglier than a cow!
Said the peacock to the puffin
Let’s settle this like birds
We’ll show off what we’ve got
And not rely on words
So the puffin flapped his feet
The penguin wore his tux
The peacock spread his tail
Which was so very deluxe
But the pelican was more clever
He made a wise decision
He opened his mouth wide
And swallowed them with precision.
I’ll probably swallow this post up tomorrow with precision.
I recently came across the oil painting I did as a wedding gift for my sister and her husband back in the day. It wasn’t as awful as I remembered, so there’s that. But it’s definitely up there with Weird Gifts. I think it’s safe to say that I was marching to the beat of my own drum. Since I mentioned it on a previous blog post, I thought it only fair to share it with you. (See The Puffin Post)
The best part is the way the peacock is dancing through the tall grasses, perhaps a wedding dance. His feathers are out, so you’ve gotta figure there’s at least peacock romance in the air.
My first and last oil painting, circa 1979.
I’m deleting this after doing the peacock dance in the tall grasses in the morning.
Lynniebeemuseoday 