The Neighborhood Fox

I get excited every time our fox shows up.

It is young and very active. Its colors are beautiful. Its tail is fluffy.

I watch it with great interest as it explores the yards.

It found a scent it thought interesting.

It rubbed it and rolled on it just like a dog would do.

This fox is habituated to me and my camera.

It took a little rest while I was standing on the deck photographing its every move.

It looked up at me and yawned again.

The fox is completely uninterested in me.

I consider that a compliment.

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A Hidden Gem

I went on another adventure today,

deep in the mountains, across several creeks, through three locked gates.

My uncle Jim lead us to this hidden gem of a hide-away.

I have dreamed of such a place,

by a stream

Mr. Flower

with a fire pit

and a porch.

An outhouse was never part of my dream, but this one is dreamy.

It even has art inside.

I do believe there was magic here. ( I mean in the area, not in the outhouse)

The person who built this and I should be friends.

We have dreams in common.

We may know some of the same fairies.

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Think Pink

Jean May has gone crazy again.

How can she do what she does?

She’s pushing a million pink petals among her green leaves.

Every year I say she cannot burst out better.

Then she goes and does it again.

Jean May is one crazy Camellia sasanqua!

Flower

Boat Tag

There was some mysterious activity out on the river last weekend.

A group of boats gathered. All boats had the letters JS and a number on the side.

They seemed to be playing duck-duck-goose in the water.

One or two would take turns zooming around the group.

This went on for quite some time.

During the game, I was able to do laundry, write a blog on bricks and fix tuna salad.

It was a noisy game. I was glad when it ended and they all headed south.

Witnessing another activity that makes me feel old and persnickety.

Say it isn’t so!

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Over the River and Through the Wood

The reason for our traveling to West Virginia was to ride the trails.

This is a new hobby taken up by Mr. Flower.

We stayed in Trailhead Resort just for riders in Bluefield, Virginia.

This was a new experience for the Flower.

Each cabin or campsite had a large toy parked out front.

Some trails were treacherous but most were pleasant.

We did turn around twice because someone who will not be named here

broke out into maniacal laughter and requested to leave the vehicle.

Most of the trails were well maintained and lovely.

We stopped to look at vegetation and scenery.

I prefer slow rides with many stops. Mr. Flower prefers fast and furious.

I suspect my son and/or daughter will replace me on the next excursion.

SLOW FLOW

The Sacred Circle

There were weeds and mosses and Vinca between the rows of stones.

Some had no shape, just carefully selected and placed stones to mark a grave.

Many had no words, just lichens and mud nests.

Some markers had been replaced with new ones that included names and dates.

Family graves deep in the mountains, miles from pavement.

We respectfully intruded.  I whispered greetings and apologies.

Those living had struggled to secure this sacred spot from ATVs and dirt bikes.

Metal poles pounded deep in the earth. Thick cable strung around it in a circle, protecting the family graves from careless strangers.

I stood in silence, looking around the circle, examining the markers. These people were loved.

“Tho lost to sight, to memory dear.”

I sent up prayers for peace for the dead and peace for the living.

A sacred spot for the dead encircled in steel cable for protection from the reckless living.

Hallowed ground.

Peace

 

A Bad Fit

Sometimes we end up in the wrong place.

A place where we do not fit.

A place that won’t allow us to grow.

When this happens, it’s best to realize it earlier rather than later.

Sometimes this “place” is a job or a town or a relationship.

Others see that your circumstances are not a good fit, but you stick it out.

Until the obvious cannot be ignored.

Do you know this tomato?

Flow

 

I Will Not Kill It

I know that everyone pulls these off their tomato plants and kills them.

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I know they munch on the tomato leaves and poop on the plant.

That’s how I find them.

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There is something that might make you pause before you murder one.

These big Tobacco Hornworm caterpillars (Manduca quinquemaculata)

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turn into large Carolina Sphinx moths.

These moths come at sunset to my Four-o’clock flowers.

They are spectacular and magical. They are worth every leaf they eat.

Sometimes eggs of a parasitic wasp are laid on them. Ouch!

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So be a good host to these giant, green munchers,

later you will be rewarded by flyers that look a lot like fairies.

https://floweralley.org/?s=Four+O%27clocks

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