Thursday, March 03, 2011
A warm, partly cloudy day here in Illinois. I’ll be able to add some more hours of labor in the yard with a day like this. Great for working out in the flowerbeds and bushes. We see buds already in the lilacs and other flowering shrubs, and the daffodils are presenting their sweet yellow heads for all to see. This is my time of year. Not too hot or too cold and enough color to urge one on to polish up the rest of the yard. We do have unwanted visitors already, the moles and voles. They lived in our neighbor’s back yard all winter now have migrated to our back yard. There is a difference between a mole and a vole, but not sure what that is. They both destroy the grand setting of a well-kept yard, with the huge mounds of dirt they pile high everywhere and when saturated with rain, these areas provide the effect of quicksand. You step onto the dirt and sink into your ankles at least before you know it. I know they’re seeking grubs and other food, but don’t mess with the well-groomed effect.
Have to go get my hair cut today. Wish hair growing would slow down; other parts of the body do as we get older. When we approach sixty, all body parts begin to breakdown. Some malfunctioning is ok and desired but too many go haywire all at once. Let’s start at the top. Yes, the grey stuff! Not only do we have to tolerate the slowly advancing “old grey line,” but it spreads to the eyebrows too. I think I have it all figured out: the hair greys on top then pops out a solid black on the chin, cheeks and inside noses. That’s not fair at all! I know now how the werewolf must have felt at full-moon time. I check out my nails for any pointing of the ends and hairy tassels but so far so good. My teeth are still hanging on by a thread too, so no problem there. I would guess werewolfism doesn’t run in the family.
Our baby cockatiels are such cuties, growing and growing. They’re making a noise like a grouchy old cat on its deathbed, and at this point I don’t know if they like the cuddling and chatter I give them or not. The point of that is to get them to like me, so when they grow up they’ll let me clean their cage without nipping my fingers off. Jake, their father, was always such a good buddy…until he had these guys. Now he is aggressive towards anything that comes into the cage. I’m proud of him, really. He stepped up to the plate.
Must go and do chores. Remember someone is out there praying for you and all will work out in the end. Time has a way of taking the edge off the tips: if you’re in a rut, it’ll soon be gone; if you’re in wonderland, enjoy it as it goes by quickly!