I don’t have a name yet and I’m not saying where I came from.
If only they could talk, right?
The DH covers for animal control nights and weekends and generally is smart enough to not ever mention anything about stray bunnies to me. Someone had called about this white bunny that was in their yard for a couple days…
You know how the rest went, but at least try to picture me resisting those blue eyes.
I’m guessing someone dumped her outside because that’s what mean people do.
Isn’t she pretty?
… we’ll pay you to take him!
Check back tomorrow for the story…
I might be done laughing by then.
😉
and this one’s rimmed in red!
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Except for the point, the stillpoint,I often find my stillpoint, my chance to reconnect with quiet and beauty, by the ocean. Things in my life begin to unravel and I find that I’m drawn there, to some favored cove or quiet bayside beach where I’m able to check-in with myself again. It’s not anything that I do consciously, exactly, but rather something that I find has changed in me after some time alone with my thoughts and the company of nature.
A funny thing, really, that projecting my experience outward, toward noticing the soft lullaby of the waves lapping at the sand or the dancing flight of terns, would bring me closer to the clarity of what I need to know, but that seems to be the way of stillness and contentment. A quiet sort of magic.
… I think he’s handsome. A painted turtle I crossed paths with this summer in the Pine Barrens. I wish I knew more about turtles and saw them more often. Other than this type, or the Diamondback Terrapins that turn up once in a while in a crab trap, or the cranky Snapping Turtles I see in local ponds – I know nothing of turtles. They seem pretty likeable and don’t mind posing for photos, either.
The view from the top of what I think is Bobbie’s favorite NJ lighthouse – Twin Lights in Highlands, NJ. Sandy Hook, the bay and the Atlantic are there in the distance.
Visit here for more Skywatch posts.
Chewing on a discarded water bottle on the bay at Sandy Hook. What is it with dogs and plastic bottles? Do they like the crunch or just the way we chase after them?
I’ll fall out of my chair if anyone can guess correctly. Though I suppose there’s a few people who could exploit their local advantage. Anyone?Okay so… this whole boat thing is kinda novel and the learning curve is pretty steep, too. Sitting here typing, I still feel myself rocking back and forth, kinda like you feel after a day spent rollerskating. Very disconcerting. I almost think I may be seasick. Is that even possible or did I just get too much sun?
😉
Mention a boat and my brother Brian magically appears. Our idea today was to do some crabbing, so Bri found himself in charge of cutting bait, which I learned he’s pretty good at.
I also learned he’s really squeamish about these worms… nasty things he was using for the fishing poles. They made him squirm like a girl. Very funny.
I really need to do something with my hair. Could it maybe stick up in one more different direction?
I was surprised (boo hiss!) to find mute swans on the river…
Nice, though, was this oystercatcher feeding near a sandbar. They are such cool birds. It’s very hard to take pics on a rocking boat… though at this time we were almost stuck on that sandbar.
😉
Have I mentioned that my brother is a total goofball? You’re suppossed to stay in the boat!
So… we didn’t catch many crabs at all, but Bri did the goofy fisherman grin anyway. A bad day fishing…. (you know the rest)
He got the pretty blue claws, but I got this tiny little calico crab that didn’t even try to bite me.
😉
This monarch caterpillar had been struck with an idea; uncomfortable in its own skin, it turned itself and its life upside down and waited for the inevitable.
By the next morning, the transformation inherent in that idea had begun; in order to gain the wings, the caterpillar had to lose the teeth and the fuzz and let go, trusting the process.
Ten days later found it still waiting, but showing outward signs of the body doing just what it should, unaware perhaps, of any memory of that earlier idea and the life it had shed.
I’d like to think that same intelligence, whatever it is that makes the monarch grow and change and fly, is at work in all of us.
From handsome caterpillar… to jade earring dotted with gold… to the most beautiful mosaic of colors enclosed in the thinnest of skins… to shutter-like wings flaked with fire, waiting on the warmth of the sun. The change complete… beauty to beauty.
A butterfly idea… what could be smaller or more frantic? Or more improbable in the mind of a caterpillar?
Does the butterfly wonder how or why or should I as it readies itself to fly away helter-skelter on new wings?
These pics are from a couple summers ago; I’m just as amazed with the process now as I was then, watching it day to day. Miracles like this play themsleves out everyday all around us. Sometimes we’re lucky enough to have a ringside seat. I’ve not found any monarch cats in the garden since that summer, but this one continues to inspire my dreams for daring in the face of certain change.
