Something New

Daffodils on the table.

I’d like to say something new, something wonderful and amazing. But I can’t. Because the daffodils have been coming up every April and here they are again. Because the sun doesn’t shine much in Michigan and the grey days give me a headache after a while. Because something old is happening on a daily basis.  The sun rises and sets. I must be tired. 

Inside the greenhouse

 I am tired, but there’s a need to write a new post.  Its been way too long. Greg planted 6 paw-paw trees  last week. The sorrel-chive bed has been reworked.  The greenhouse seeds have pushed through showing little kale and spinach plants, sweet young things, looking almost good enough to eat. 

   The cats come daily to the door for a treat of egg mixed with milk and nutritional yeast and DE to kill the parasites they may have picked up while eating a mouse or a shrew. 

Fuzzy & Wuzzy in the Catalpa Tree

Fuzzy and Wuzzy.  Protecting us from mice. Keeping the peace with George who was here long before they came on the scene.  An old man of a cat, pushing 17, not much of a jumper or climber, prefers to sleep the day away, wants to be in the house. 

   Schnitzle finally upset someone bad enough to make a complaint to the Village office. Darn that dog.  

Ezra walks Schnitzle thru Columbiaville

 It’s all my fault of course for raising him with so much freedom. Now I can’t rein him. Some days he obeys. Other days he takes off to town to see his many friends. They invite him in for tea or macaroni & cheese. Whatever they have they share with Schnitzle.  They pet him and tell him how nice he is.  They let him sit on their couches. Then they call me. “Have you lost your dog?” Of course he wants to go back to town! How can I compete with that?! If I lived in a town where people said “Go home, dog!” I might stand a chance.  People are too kind to my dog.  Most of the time I’m very grateful. But I’m in a snippy mood. 

Robin writing in summer

 Rae Bird says, ‘Keep the pen moving’.  That’s how the writing goes. On and on, from the deep, from the magic muse of writers the writing appears.  

  The day started with a long walk with Schnitzle on the Southern Links Trailway. Then pulling weeds in the flower bed in front of the house where echinacea is spreading. A good perennial she is. Golden Glow is coming back, too. And the daffodils and tulips.  

    Does something have to be new to be interesting? Or is old okay? I am old. 60 years old. Am I interesting? Yawn.  Not very.

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