Yesterday, the neighbor practicing falconry was out in the yard, working his bird–it’s a probably-a-male juvenile red-tailed hawk.* It was fascinating to hear about how you hunt with a falcon–apparently the bird more or less uses the humans as beaters to roust game, and goes after squirrels and rabbits and whatnot that the humans have […]
So this weekend, for the first time in two years, I Gardened. Real gardening. Not, y’know, just moping over on-line catalogs, not doing research on native species, not even slogging around town looking for likely candidates…I mean real, honest to god, gardening, woman and shovel and bag of manure vs. North Carolina clay and tree roots. […]
Approximately fifty bizillion people on DeviantArt will greet this painting with "It’s Muddy the Mudskipper!" or words to that effect, and every one of them will believe they are being original. God love ’em, as they say in the south. Still, I think it’s high time for another famous mudskipper, damnit. Perhaps one could arrange to […]
You know you’re an artist when… …you go to fill up the cup you rinse the brushes in, and it’s getting full, so you hit the lightswitch. I stood in the dark with the cup overflowing for a few seconds, and thought "Yeah, I’m really not fit for any other profession…"
Really, it was only a matter of time. I was looking for something to read in the tub the other day, and reached out at random and grabbed "Noah’s Garden," by Sara Stein, which is a kind of suburban gardening manifesto. The premise is that we cannot hope to recreate the lost ecology of a place–it’s too […]
So I’d spotted a weird shrub in the backyard a few days ago. It had odd raspberry-looking fruit, which split in half to reveal orange seedpods. Having had this sort of experience before, I had resigned myself to it being a nasty non-native invasive, since it was both pretty and alive, a sure sign of […]
Listening to the Diane Rhems Show, which has Billy Collins and another poet laureate on. It’s awesome. However, I was struck–not in a good way–by an e-mail written in, which said that poetry had become too academic and poets need to stop writing for other poets, and that it’s their duty, like Sandburg, to write so […]
Uf da. Next time, do not include the "drink when McCain says "my friends" rule. It has ramifications. My drink of choice last night, since I didn’t think I could live through shots again, was hot lemonade and vodka, a drink that either has no name, or which name I am ignorant of. I like "Grandma’s Revenge" since my […]
Kevin caught me another frog! This one was a Northern Cricket Frog, an unbelievably wee little beast that could fit on a dime, mostly brown, with a green back and a brown chevron between his eyes. The camo is amazing–if you aren’t looking exactly at the spot where one jumps, they’d be impossible to spot. Eeee!