On to Plan B

We had a couple of warm, summer-like days and I cajoled a helper to set up the tent on the deck and we arranged canvas curtains and furniture here and there to create my small outdoor heaven.

For another few days, I luxuriated in that little nest. I curled up with my book and tuned out the soft voices of the people next door, who were in fact, no more than six feet away but the curtains hid them from view.

Then we had a few days of heavy rain and I had to slog out to the deck with my broom to push the water off the sagging tent.

One night the rain turned to heavy, wet snow and that was the end of my cozy little nook. The metal roof supports for the tent bent into unredeemable shapes and everything crashed to the floor.

It’s time for plan B, whatever that will be. One way or the other, I will figure out a way to have a seemingly private sitting area outside.

It's Spring--Sort of

We look forward to spring around these parts but in reality it really never comes.

What we really have is interim weather; that’s the best word for it. It's that teasing, seesaw period when sometimes we shed the parka and don the lighter jacket and next day, boots and parka are back in use to battle the unexpected snowfall.The day after that there's a thaw and it's sweater weather.

We might still be mumbling about the injustice of a long winter before we finally notice we are into shorts and tee shirts and then we complain about the heat.

In the fall we make up for the non-existent spring; we really do have this season and the leaves are absolutely breathtaking.

While I’m in this weather mood, I must mention my morning walks are now taking place outside on the nearby nature trails. Trust me on this—it’s much easier to slog around an indoor track rather than try the outdoor stuff. Granted it’s much more fun outdoors but there are those roller coaster inclines everywhere and the calf muscles are pleading for mercy.


The good part is that when I return home I feel so pleased and virtuous for a good ten minutes and there's always a chance someone might notice my absolutely fabulous steel-like leg muscles.

Hail to Spring (or whatever it is that we have).

The Annual Ritual

Last week one of my morning walks had a touch of drama.

As I wound my way on the trail around the evil-looking swampy pond I heard the Canada Geese screeching loudly and angrily. It sounded like a public meeting on same sex marriage.

Judging by their behavior I was the object of their anger but what on earth had I done? I had walked this route before and they never cared.

I stood there puzzled by the commotion. Before I could turn around, close behind me I heard angry bird-honking followed by ominously close flapping of wings and two Geese sailed over my head close enough to ruffle my hair. They landed several feet in front of me and did their version of angry fist-shaking. I nervously skirted past them and ran home.

I figured it must be mating season and at least in this bird world, all signs of normalcy are off. They are cranky, cranky critters and it’s best to avoid them and any area that might harbor a nest.

This morning I felt brave so, camera in hand,I decided to recreate the scene for my blog and set off to the evil pond to scout out a couple of meanies.

Well, all I can say is the mating ritual must be going very well indeed because the Geese are all like pussycats today. Happy, obliging, and just plain boring. Even the swamp looked downright peaceable.
“Hey birds,” I snarled. “Let’s have some nasty action.” Purr, purr.

This rotten little beast lead the way along the path and wouldn’t have minded if I pelted him with rocks and no I didn’t.

I checked out the swampy pond and same thing. “Oh hi, girl. Did you come to take our pictures?”

Wait until next year. Or does mating season happen more than once in the summer? I’ll be ready.