Shuffle Loudly and Carry a Big Stick

Vinca. Colourful but losing the run of themselves among the bushes.

Came home mid-afternoon one day last week. With one leg out of the car, I gathered up all the debris, water bottle, purse, books from the library, the mail, and milk from the grocery store --- what my father would call "the lazy man's load!"  All set to stagger into the house when something in the driveway behind the car caught my eye --- a snake! Winding lazily across the sun-warmed concrete towards the shrubs. I stared. How had I not run over him? Then movement returned to my feet and I galloped, fully laden, into the garage, burst through the door to the house, dumped everything on the kitchen table, grabbed my camera and dashed back outside, hoping he would still be there. The driveway was empty but I was just in time to spot his tail slithering in among the bushes where he paused in a sunny patch of dead leaves. He seemed in no hurry as I zoomed in on him for a couple of shots from the safety of the concrete. He very obligingly stayed still, watching me with his beady black eye as I snapped away.

Maybe the reason he acted so docile and moved so lazily was that he'd recently had a satisfying feed. Look at the width of that belly!

I emailed the photos to the Bean, very chuffed with myself at having identified him (I thought!) I was pretty sure he was a hog nose snake, reputed, by Wikipedia, to be harmless and un-aggressive. The Bean telephoned me....

"I hope you're not thinking of picking that snake up Mom."

Pick him up? Has he lost his mind? Does he think I've lost mine? Does he know his mother?  Granted, I no longer sprint in the opposite direction every time I see a snake, as I would have done years ago, but I could live a hundred lifetimes and never, ever, even once, be tempted to pick one up! No matter how harmless.... I've only calmed down enough about them to where I can get close enough to take pictures, from years of Bean talk about how there's nothing to freak out about, a snake is just another creature doing his job, keeping the vermin in check, keeping balance in nature.

"That's no hog-nose Mom. It's a juvenile diamond back rattler!"

Egads! And I was how close to him??

So what to do now about thinning out those vinca (top photo) that are taking over in that shrubbery bed where Mother Nature's rodent control workers are possibly lying low, staying warm among the dead leaves? Hip boots and the thick leather gloves I guess.

 Enough to freak a person out.

The Earth Moved...Did You Feel It?

There's been some seismic activity across the water. Unusual, I know, for Ireland, but then the weather is changing everywhere...

The Little Blister wrote a blog post!

This is proof that there is a God.

I've been badgering her to write, all to no avail. It's been more than a year. I knew the impetus would have to come from her, but I was growing old waiting! And now the great event has happened and I think you should all go over and visit, and gush and coo and cajole, praise and critique --- whatever you think will encourage her to do it again.....before next May.

I've been in a bit of a slump myself. Not a year-long one, mind you, but a bit of a slump nevertheless. Too many voices arguing in my head. Resulting in immobility, indecision --- and no blog posts. But if the Beloved Blister can move herself to action so must I!


The above has been languishing in my drafts for a few days. I planned to come back and doll it up some, make it make sense.....and in the meantime, while I was deliberating,  she posted again! 

I am delighted, and guardedly optimistic that two posts in a couple of days indicates a trend. The only slight worry I have is that all these temblors might cause panic among my countrymen who can handle rain, sure. But earthquakes?

In other tidbits, Friko finally got around to doing a post on "Where I'm From." It is well worth the wait. Pay her a visit. You'll be glad you did.

And the largest tidbit ---- California Girl is coming to visit. Leaving her four legged ones in the care of friends for a week and winging her way to see her aged mother! And not only that, the OC will arrive home for a visit while she's here.....

Talk about seismic activity!

Newest Grandchild.....Mostly Legs

Here's Maggie with a nice round belly. Daughter was thrilled --- a new baby in the family, the sire no less a personage (horseonage? studsonage?) than her beloved Rooster! But then Maggie, even after the vet said "any minute now!" took her time, so much so that California Girl, having slept several nights at the barn in anticipation of the Great Event, decided that it must all be a hoax and went home to sleep in her bed for a change......And so wasn't on hand when the little filly made her entrance...... 

But drove down to the barn like a mad woman when she heard!

Here's Rooster, begetter of beautiful colts and fillies...

And here's their brand new baby girl....

taking her first, wobbly steps!

Here she is with Maggie, her proud mama...

Having a snack...

...then a cuddle...

...and then a lie down...

...because being born is exhausting work!

Mr. Fuzzy Britches, Guest Blogger

My suspicions were first aroused when she dragged a suitcase out of the closet and set it, open, on the floor.

"Oh, oh," I thought. "This does not bode well. This smells to me of Going Away!"

Now, I am a reasonable cat, but a creature of habit. I dislike disruptions to the normal rhythm of my life. Experience has taught me that suitcases on the floor, smelling of Going Away, are forerunners to disturbing disruptions.

From my perch on the bed I watch her antics with a jaundiced eye
.
"What should I take, Casper?' she asks me, distractedly, rummaging in the closet.

"Is it going to be Springy, (pretty chilly by Florida standards,) or still bloody freezing ? Should I pack jeans and fleeces, or T-shirts and capris, or boots and a woolly coat ?"

I lift one eyebrow.

 "Oh, you're right," she says. "I don't even own a pair of boots! My closet is not bloody-freezing friendly!"

I maintain a haughty silence. She is not going to draw me into conversation about Going Away in an effort to assuage her guilt. Being a more evolved species, I don't have to worry about what to pack, if and when I go away. I'm always perfectly dressed for any occasion, whatever the weather.

"Oh, come on Casper!" she says coaxingly. "Don't sulk! You'll have a lovely vacation down at school with the Bean."

While it's true that I love chilling with the Bean (he's my best bud), getting to his place at school gives one pause. Usually they have to play a trick on me. They open the window in the small bathroom, where I love to sit on the sill and spy on the birds, and after I'm lured in by the birdsong, snap! They shut the door. Too late I spot the cat cage on the floor! Tricked! I am then unceremoniously stuffed into this cage and carried to the garage. My wails of protest go unheeded....

"Oh hush your noise, Fuzzy Britches," they say, "You know you'll love it when you get there!"

And I do. I love nothing better than sitting nearby while the Bean studies for some exam or other. I purr in solidarity as he mutters darkly about professors, and quiz grades, and some qualification they all have---Piled-Higher-and-Deeper, I think he calls it. It's all Greek to me. I just purr to let him know whatever the battle, I'm on his side. And then there's the scratching and the wrestling, which I always enjoy, and sorely miss when I'm at home and he's at school.


She's the kind of packer who works better under pressure. So she decides to suspend operations. She has now decided to let the packing question marinate in her brain juices while she sleeps. But first a cup of cocoa. Somehow that always seems to calm her.

"And anyway," she says to me, as I follow her to the kitchen, hoping to guilt her into an extra helping of kibble, "We've all seen the OC pack. Five minutes, tops! If he can do it so can I!"

Absentmindedly, she pours some kibble into my bowl, though not too much (she's always worrying about my waistline.) I arch my back, curl my handsome (if I do say so myself) tail over my head, and head butt her leg as gracefully as it is possible to head butt some one's leg, and finally she remembers and bends over and scratches me behind the ear. Then I turn the other ear and lean in, to maximize the benefits of this little service I have trained her to provide. Then, satisfied for now, I turn my attention to the kibble.

At least I can look forward to some entertainment tomorrow as she scatters around like a mad woman, flinging random clothing items into the suitcase at the last minute and scattering out the door, in a scramble to get to the airport on time...... While I spit and hiss in the back of the Beanmobile on my way to what I know, after I get there, will be a nice change of pace, hanging with my Bean every day for a whole week. Ah bliss!

Now, if only I had opposable thumbs so I could shove that suitcase under the bed, and  not have to fret all night about the tricks that will be played in the morning!

Lowly Worm and the Terrible, Horrible, No-Good, Very Bad Day*

* With apologies to Judith Viorst.

I'm ready....where do I sign?

A few mornings ago I woke up late. I had set the alarm for p.m. instead of a.m. Drat! Leaped into my clothes, brushed my teeth, dragged a comb through my hair and galloped out the door.

It was a less than auspicious start to the day. Had I had access to a crystal ball I would have blown work off and crawled back into bed. No crystal ball though, so off I went. Started to reverse out of the driveway, heard a sickening crunch and, too late (much too late, though only a millisecond) realized the Bean's car was parked just behind and to the right of mine.

Groan. How. Could. I. Be. So. Stupid.

Got out to have a look. It wasn't pretty. One millionth of a second for one moving object to meet another, immovable object. So much damage in so little time, to not only one, but two vehicles.

And me without a rewind button.

Some wag asked later in the day

"So, how many glasses of wine had you had?"

"None! Not even a cup of coffee!"

Maybe if I'd taken the time for coffee I'd have been wider awake. If ifs and ands were pots and pans.....Sigh.

Groan, moan and olagone!

Through tears of anger and frustration I decided I'd go to work, deal with it later. The damage to my car was the lesser of the two.  It was still fit to drive.

Left a note for the Bean. Preferable to telling him in person. Courageous I am not. Not, at least, in the matter of announcing that I have done horrible, needless damage to your car. Neither was I looking forward to the daily call from The Man In England. Meanwhile, I would go to work and not have to think about it right away. Except for the five hundred times throughout the morning that I heard again in my head that sickening "Crunch!"

As it turned out, The Man In England was indeed less than thrilled. As you are when told such news.

There was some growling. Several abrupt questions, and many sharp intakes of breath (breathe J, breathe.)

The silence stretched out, across the miles, all the way over the wide Atlantic, flying low over the emerald fields of home (where I would have liked to be, in a little cottage by the sea, and all of this merely a dream) and on over the Irish Sea and along to the hallowed halls of Oxford where it came to rest in the ear of The (angry) Man, listening expectantly, while I racked my brain for a satisfactory answer to whatever impossible question he had asked. Generally speaking, he longs for me to be silent. Silence, in this instance however, was the wrong answer. At that moment there was no such thing as a right answer. I hung up the phone feeling very much like Lowly Worm.

The silence persisted throughout the next day. My dilemma: Call the insurance company? Or just take the cars to be fixed and leave the insurance company out of it? I'm a good driver, despite very recent evidence to the contrary, but I have never learned the finer points of automobile appreciation. If it has four wheels, an engine and takes me where I want to go, I'm happy as a clam. Which isn't a problem until something goes wrong. Then my brain switches to la-la mode. I was pretty sure the MIE would want to leave the insurance company out of it. All they'd do would be to hike our insurance rates. But Lord! How much damage had I done? Could we afford to just absorb the expense ourselves? Through the email gods I asked for guidance.

And then, not wanting to be home for the daily phone call, being somewhat allergic to the prospect of feeling, once again, like Lowly Worm, I went to yoga. Surely all that breathing, stretching and zen-itude would give me fortitude.

Meanwhile, the Bean had found alternate means of returning to school. Throughout the whole fiasco he had held his tongue, stiff upper lipped. I think he managed it by clenching his jaw. Hurting a guy's car is cutting close to the bone, though I rather think he was relieved that, if it had to happen, I was the perpetrator, rather than he. It's been long established that I am not the perfect wife, so I have less to lose.

Funnily enough, nothing happened during the night, as I had madly hoped, to make the dents disappear. What should have been smooth and shiny was still crumpled and glum next morning.

The email gods sent word that I should get me to an auto body repair shop for estimates. I spent the day up and down the highway, getting lost, over-shooting my mark, back tracking, finally figuring out where the body shop was. First with one car and then with the other. And one more estimate to go tomorrow morning.

I had never even driven the Bean's car before. So it was with trepidation that I sat into it this afternoon and prepared for take-off. He was at school, swotting for a chemistry quiz later in the day, and sweating at the notion of his inept mother driving Miss Daisy.

"Be gentle, mom. Don't do anything else to hurt my car," he whispered hoarsely into the phone.

Turns out it wasn't rocket science after all. Even though the impression is of a rocket when he's driving it. I still remember how to drive a stick shift. Though I did have to go back in, hat in hand, to the mechanic and ask him how to put her in reverse.....She is safely back in the driveway now, resting peacefully. Gathering strength for further adventures tomorrow

And me? I'm ready for that cottage by the sea. The one with the riotous flower garden and roses climbing over the door; a lazy spiral of smoke curling up from the chimney; the smell of soda bread wafting out the half door. And not an automobile in sight. Just the old, green, leg-powered jalopy, leaning against the garden gate in the afternoon sun.

A girl can dream.

A Crock Of Gold-(en Quilts)---For The Day That's In It

March.

 Quilt show season! 

So off we went to the big one yesterday.

 Before going I checked my photos from the last few years' shows (which I forgot to share with you--I know, how could I be so heartless?) I just wanted a reference point....to compare this year's offerings. As I was going through them all, the amazing, the beautiful, the traditional, the innovative, the ordinary and the blah, I had an idea. Because, as I perused them, they sometimes made me think of some of you.  So, here they are---quilts from last year's show, a few from the year before's show and from yesterday's. I decided to pick one, at least, for each of you based on what little I know of you. I'd be very interested to know if I'm miles off the mark or spot on!

This may take a while. I hope you ate your Wheaties!

Since it is the 17th. of March, I thought we should start with a green one! It's for Patty who loves all things Irish.

You can click on the pictures to enlarge so you can better see the beautiful detail work.

This hexagon/sashiko beauty made me think of Birdy, maniacal hexie maker!

When I came to this one I knew it was perfect for Relatively Retiring (Judith?) because of her recent post about sitting perfectly still in a garden in Madeira, so still that little lizards felt completely safe, crawling around on her, as though she were merely another feature of the landscape!

This beautiful detail of a large applique quilt was for Ali for sure, as she often reports on mischief wrought by the peacocks who visit her garden.

This piece made me remember a similar bird wall hanging Ali made a few years ago......

Secret Agent Woman seems to be able to squeeze every drop of enjoyment out of life so I choose this colourful, vibrant beauty for her....

                                 This bold and daring quilt seemed a good fit for Susan Kane

Thimbleanna does such precise, detailed work, these little Dresden plates seemed a perfect Anna choice.

For Isabelle, what else but a pair of black cats! And because she loves flowers so much .......

.......this gorgeous piecing and applique combination. I've had my eye on this pattern for a few years. It's one of the many I want to make---hopefully in this lifetime.

This one's for Gillie, detail of an applique quilt embellished with stitchery such as she excels at.

For my fellow countrywoman, WiseWebWoman, this seemed most appropriate since she lives by a sweeping bay in Newfoundland. I think the pattern is called Storm at Sea, of which she has described at least one, making me thankful I live where I live!

 

I'm sure that when Friko is out digging in the dirt with Gardener she must come upon plenty of these, or their British relatives!  Bonus point: I'm fairly sure the talented lady who made this one hails from Germany too.

And here's another that could make you think you were out on a walk with Friko and Millie in Valley's End........by the same artist.

 I thought Elephant's Child, that bird obsessive, would enjoy these flamboyant fowl.....

.....and these wild lovelies.......

Pauline gives us matchless poetic descriptions of the changing seasons from her cottage in the Berkshires, so I thought this mantel cover was perfect for her.....

And since winter is sooo long up there I thought I'd throw in this traditional charmer to keep her warm!

If ever I met anyone with the gift of the gab it's Lee! I thought she might enjoy chatting with these two ladies I found enjoying the quilt show from the comfort of a bench....

Marilyn, my friend in New Mexico, reads here but hasn't figured out how to comment! I thought she'd like the southwestern feel of this quilt.......though, on closer inspection, it looks more Australian than American Southwest.

Marlene always has such cute Christmas projects I picked this one for her.

And how about this one for Dianne, that innovator---Doesn't it look as though there's a giant ball behind it? And yet it was perfectly flat....

Here's something to cheer Julie up and take her mind off all the health issues she's had the past few years....

For Smitonius and Sonata I thought these Dutch tiles would hit the spot. This is another I want to make before I die!

This next one's for Persi who appreciates all things beautiful and has been struggling to bring order to chaos after some big life changes...To me this illustrates both beauty and order.

For Meggie who loves flowers.....

Here's one for Dee who, I feel, would like the old fashioned feel of it...

For Frances, a newcomer to this blog, some more flowers...

For Denice, also a new face and a quilter. Only someone who has tried it can appreciate how good you have to be to make something as small as this---and have all the points be perfect!

For Jen who is always so positive and upbeat...

For One Woman in her cottage in the woods....

And, last but not least, here's the quilt I'd have brought home for my sister if I could have snuck it out of there, because I know she'd love it! It's also on the bucket list.

If you've made it this far I congratulate you on your stamina! There were a lot of beautiful quilts. If I inadvertently left you out and you didn't "get" a quilt, you may pout and I'll run and find you one!

I hope everyone had a happy and peaceful "Irish" day!


***Amended on Monday to include a quilt for Ganching. Of all the people to forget---another fellow Irish woman! You don't often see a comment from her here but she lurks I'm pretty sure! And I hope you read her outstanding version of "Where I'm From" a few posts back. Not sure what colours she'd go for besides green, white and gold, so I selected this vertigo-inducing number!

Stomper Girl! You really can't blame me too much---You just haven't been around much lately. This one reminds me of all the posts you wrote about Climber and Cherub as they grew from toddlers, right before our eyes, into almost teenagers!

Our Gentleman Caller....Maybe?

Our neighbours, Bird-Legs-Bob and The Russian Bride, have a large woolly cat. His name, we think, is Caesar.Their house is hidden from ours by fairly dense foliage, brush, and trees, and they keep very much to themselves. Their cat, however, makes the rounds every evening. He stalks about in a manner worthy of his Patrician name. Our cat, Casper, is insanely jealous of such freedom to wander, being himself a house and pool-deck cat only. Since he is the biggest chicken on God's green earth, his notions of Great-White-Hunter-hood are all in his head. He is snow white and highly visible. We figure if he were wandering about outside, it'd only be a matter of time before one of the large owls that "whoo-whoos" from the trees out back would swoop down and scoop him up for dinner. How happy their babies would be if Papa brought home such a tasty morsel! So Casper doesn't get to wander. He's confined behind the pool cage, his sense of adventure cruelly thwarted (or so he thinks.)

When Caesar first came visiting, Casper was aghast----

"Oh My goodness! Another creature with four legs! And fur! And a tail! What can this mean?"

I think this may have been his first inkling that the six foot four inch, two legged Bean, was not actually his brother, but a different species altogether who just happened to enjoy wrestling with him and hanging out.

Caesar, having got Casper's attention, would throw his considerable and elegant bulk down on the warm bricks by the barbecue and proceed to look inscrutable. He might have been whispering to Casper, through the pool cage, about the adventures to be had in the woods by a cat with the cojones for it.(Casper was relieved of his at a very young age.)

Caesar: "Betcha don't even know what a mouse looks like, ya pansy! Let alone a rat."

Casper, with an involuntary shiver quivering along the ridge of his spine: "I would go out there except for the owls. According to my humans, they're very hungry and extremely large.  And partial to pussy cats."

Caesar: "Nah. Them owls don't bother me! Let 'em try somethin'....See these claws? My pride an' joy. Sharpen 'em every day on them logs your Bean piled up over there."

Whatever whispering was or was not going on, Casper would sit and watch his debonair visitor with nervous admiration, wishing with all his heart he was as big and fearless and worldly wise. They'd sit there companionably, on either side of the screen, until either Caesar got bored, rose to his feet with a languid stretch and sauntered off, with a "See ya later" over his shoulder to Casper.....or.....a loud noise from someone driving by on the street would startle Casper, the lily-livered one, and he'd make a mad dash back into the safety of the house.

Caesar has been coming over around six each evening. He stops at the cage door and calls----

"Rowl! Rowl! Roooowl!"

No matter where he is in the house, Casper speeds to the door, keeping himself low to the ground in stealth mode, and dashes over to greet his friend. Today Caesar had a lot to say. Casper listened attentively.  (I was spying from the doorway. If I take a step in his direction Caesar suddenly remembers he has business elsewhere.) As I stood there watching the exchange Caesar turned and waggled his (??) hindquarters at Casper.....Whaaat?

One can't help speculating.

Is Caesar courting Casper?

Is he unaware that Casper is a boy? Well, he's got boy parts. They just don't work......

And then a startling thought occurred.

Could Caesar be a girl? A very husky, gravelly-voiced girl, saying to Casper not

"Betcha don't know one end of a mouse from the other, ya pansy!"

But rather, in her sexiest, gravelliest, come-hitheriest voice .....

"Hey big fella! Why doncha act like a man, break outta that screen and take a girl for a waltz in the woods!"

It is Spring after all.

Rowl.....