Doors of Wisdom

"The doors of Wisdom are never shut."--Benjamin Franklin

This and That

One-and-a-half weeks ago, Ponzo was a little angry at me because I had substituted his dry cat food, a perfectly good brand, with a new grain-free cat food, and so he went on a hunger strike. The hunger strike lasted no more than twelve hours, but it was long enough to let me know he was not happy with my decision. After all, he had not been consulted. Therefore, Ponzo even refused to eat chicken soup that day. He would only drink some water. Before bedtime, however, he relented and ate his soup, when it appeared that I was not bringing back the old food. The following morning, Ponzo tried his new dry food and decided he was going to eat it. As for salmon oil, Ponzo really likes the taste of it, since he usually makes a nosedive for the dry cat food which has been squirted with the oil. I could have introduced the grain-free cat food simultaneously with the salmon oil, which perhaps would have prevented the hunger strike, but I wanted to see if Ponzo would eat the new food by itself. Regardless, chicken broth still remains a must-have on Ponzo's daily menu.



I admit I dote on Ponzo because of his FIV. But the other cats and Rebel are not lacking in the food and affection departments. Aside from chicken soup, the only difference is that Ponzo's more expensive storebought food usually comes from a pet store, not to mention my health food store purchases, while the others get their food either from the supermarket or Costco.



Since I happened to have an appointment out of the area yesterday, I thought I would stop at Costco on my way home. I do not know how I did it, but I got lost, which is something rare for me. I have a pretty good sense of direction and I can read a map. My excuses yesterday were that I was tired and I did not have a map in the car. But I was determined to find Costco, even after accidentally touring the city for nearly an hour. Okay, I am exaggerating--it was no more than forty or fifty minutes. A waste of gas, yes. But on the bright side, I got to see some interesting architecture. Over and over again. It sort of reminded me of the movie Groundhog Day, only I was unaware of the outcome because my day one was endless. Perhaps it was more like deja vu, since I was coming back to the same spot, going in a circle. Everything which had been unfamiliar started looking familiar. Finally, I found Costco.



I was very tired before I finished loading my car with the big bags of cat food and dog food. I suppose I made a comical sight trying to get the bag of dog food out of my cart, especially when it got stuck, so to speak, hanging on top of the cart. That was immediately after I dropped a large box of Milk-Bones on my right foot. And at that point, I really did not care if the bag split in half, as long as I would be able to leave the parking lot.



Exhausted, I reached home. I decided to leave all my non-perishable items in the car overnight. It crossed my mind that the cat food, dog food, and Milk-Bones in my car would be enough to make a very generous dinner for a bear family of four. So I went outside and made sure the doors were locked. Not that I expected a black bear to open a car door. But this morning, there were no signs of any animals visiting my car overnight--meaning no new scratches on the vehicle.



Now I shall tell you why I thought of black bears foraging for food around my car. Over the years, I have heard two stories of a black bear crawling through a vehicle in my housing development. Two separate accounts of different people and different vehicles. However, I suspect it may have been the same black bear, who has a thing for climbing through people's cars. Both times, the people had unloaded their groceries, left their car doors wide open, and gone into the house. And both times, a black bear had climbed through the vehicles. The first vehicle had been empty. The second vehicle contained a bag of cat food, either just before or at the time of the bear's visit. Moral of these stories is that one should never leave one's car doors wide open in a bear crossing area, especially after a trip to the supermarket. Incidentally, the owner of the first vehicle thought it was funny, while the second vehicle's owner was up in arms over the audacity of the black bear to invade the sanctuary of a vehicle. Needless to say, I thought they were funny stories, since no harm had been done. Obviously, the bear thought the open doors were an invitation he could not refuse. So if my car had gotten scratched overnight or the windows broken, it would have been my fault. Would I have found it funny? The answer is: my glass is half full. Honestly, if I had been at all concerned about the probability of a black bear damaging my car for some food, I would have parked it inside the garage. Locked car doors are to keep foraging people honest.

Glass Half Full

Most of my adult life (no, let's say most of my life), I have seen my glass as half empty--actually, I must admit that I have viewed the glass mostly as being nearly empty, or having only a few drops at the bottom, or empty, period. Nothing had ever gone right in the past. Nothing was right in the present. Nothing was going to go right in the future. Nothing. Nada. Do not misunderstand me, because I still had hopes. High hopes.

Nevertheless, no one has ever accused me of being a Pollyanna (at least not a very serious one), although I do love to watch Disney movies, not to mention that Disney World is my favorite vacation spot. Okay, it would be if I could afford it--every single year. So, perhaps I wished I had grown up in a community that looked like a Disney studio set (or Walt Disney World)--or a community depicted in a Norman Rockwell painting. I yearned for what I did not have--that perfect life in which everything falls into place. Where justice prevails, good triumphs over evil, and people get their just desserts--and there is that happily ever after ending. In short, being a romantic idealist is not much of a character reference for the real world.

That all changed, however, when I moved to the mountains a number of years ago. Did someone wave a magic wand or something? Of course not. The time was simply right for me to move here. Perhaps it was the simple act of moving away from the madding crowd that gave me an optimistic outlook. Overnight. Most importantly, I have finally stopped listening to other people's tapes playing in my head. "The shoe that fits one person pinches another; there is no recipe for living that suits all cases."--JUNG, Modern Man in Search of a Soul, 1933.

It is ironic, I must admit. While the past few years have been physically the roughest and not devoid of financial hardship, they have also been emotionally nurturing and spiritually rewarding ones. My personal journey has brought me to this place of peace. No matter what happens now, I see my glass as half full.

Every Flower

"Every flower is a soul blossoming out to nature."--Gerard de Nerval

Recession vs. Depression

"It's a recession when your neighbour loses his job; it's a depression when you lose yours."--Harry S. Truman

Invasion of the Stinkbugs

That is what those pests are called--stinkbugs; I have posted about them for the past two days, and now I can put a label on them. I had heard people complain about stinkbugs, but I never associated the name with the bugs on our property. Why? They do not stink. Apparently, that is because I have never squished one. But today when I happened to be watching "Oprah" (the show, and not my cat named Oprah), I saw a news commercial about the invasion of stinkbugs in the DC area. Sure enough, we have stinkbugs. So I watched ABC 7 News at 5:00 and listened to horror stories about stinkbugs invading people's homes. I also learned a few things: the obvious reason behind the name stinkbug, given to this pest which came from Asia in the '90's (if memory serves me correctly, that is what was said); don't bother getting an exterminator; and stinkbugs have no known predators.

Well, I found two seemingly intact, though very dead, stinkbugs lying by my front door, right after I finished watching the news. Apparently, my cats know how to kill these bugs without their stinky odor being released. Perhaps my cats possess a special skill. Should I think about hiring them out as stinkbug exterminators? Probably not such a great idea, since they take no prisoners, meaning nothing stands in their way--knickknacks, framed photos, curtains.... You get the picture. Nonetheless, I would like to nominate the house cat as the known predator of stinkbugs.

The Goal of Fortune

"When a man becomes dear to me

I have touched the goal of fortune."

--R. W. Emerson

To Him Who Waits

Everything comes to him who waits.--Proverb

Quentin and the Bug

Yesterday's bugs seem to have disappeared from the deck. That is, most of them. Perhaps they have swarmed to another house. Or are they merely hiding--waiting for the door to open? Anyway, we still have some bugs on the deck, and a few have managed to enter the house. As you can see in the photo, Quentin, our youngest, is enjoying playing with a bug on the light fixture.

About.com and....

I had to drop off a few books at the library this afternoon. When I returned, I made two discoveries. The first was an e-mail from About.com notifying me that a couple of my submissions had been posted. Since it is National Dog Week, I was going to write the story of how Rebel and I met. But I do not feel compelled to do so now, since anyone with time on their hands can go to About.com and read my posted submission. In order to find my post, however, you would need to have a little time, because I did not mention Rebel's name. Nor did I sign in as Aunt Toma. Of course, I could tell you the title of my post. But I won't. Those of you who know Rebel can figure out which story is ours. The rest of you can enjoy reading the 170 or so posts. Therefore, all you dog lovers, go to About.com.: Dogs, where you can check out "Readers Respond: How Did You Find the Right Dog for You?" Plus, you can read some interesting articles.

My second discovery was not so pleasant. A swarm of bugs had descended upon my property during my brief absence today. There are literally hundreds of these insects on my deck and front part of the house. Much to my dismay, but to my cats' amusement, the bugs' apparent objective is to enter my house. And every single time the door gets opened, a few of these pests manage to enter what they believe will be their winter home. Nevertheless, it could be much worse. I suppose I could have had a swarm of those pesky borer insects which look like bumblebees descend upon my home. (Those do make an appearance every spring, but they are always few in number--which has never hindered them from doing some damage to my deck.) Fortunately, today's shield-shaped bugs seem harmless, other than the fact that they are annoying. To make things even more aggravating, I cannot open the windows now, because I know the cats would shred the screens in order to capture these live cat toys. Still, it could be worse. Let's see: wasps, mosquitoes, ticks, fleas.... Wait a minute! I already have a flea collection, which is growing by leaps and bounds, and my cats are not amused. Frankly, neither am I.

The Door Will Open

Patience is a virtue.--Proverb

Autumn Begins--Time for Pumpkins

One hundred pumpkin plants. Hundreds of pumpkin flowers. Zero pumpkins.

I am giving up on the fantasy of making my pumpkin pies from scratch. That is, literally from scratch, with the first step of the recipe calling to plant the pumpkin seeds and watch them grow. I have tried this experiment in these woods in prior years. The results have always been the same. Nothing. Not even one tiny pumpkin for a tartlet.

However, at least I have a pumpkin story that goes with the seeds I planted this year. The seeds came out of one of the pumpkins I purchased at Walmart last autumn, when pumpkin pies were on sale. I distinctly recall the cashier mentioning the pumpkin pies--even pointing out that they were much cheaper than the cost of the pumpkins I had set down in front of her. (Not to mention the work involved in making pies using whole pumpkins.) But I could not be swayed, despite the look of disbelief on the woman's face. Okay, so I did put back one of the three pumpkins, but that was only because I realized two would suffice. I did not go home with a store-bought pumpkin pie that day. And so, I saved the seeds from one of the pumpkins for planting in the spring, and history repeated itself.

A Good Face

A good face is a letter of recommendation.--Proverb

Recommendations for Feeding an FIV-positive Cat

Last Friday, when I phoned KV Pet to inquire about products that might be helpful for Ponzo, I got the opportunity to speak at length with Dr. Porter, DVM. Therefore, this post is about the first part of our conversation, which centered around Ponzo's diet. Dr. Porter's recommendations for feeding an FIV-infected cat are as follows: feed human-grade protein; grain-free catfood; organ meat, such as chicken livers and hearts; Transfer Factor Feline Complete; and distilled water (2-3 weeks each month).

When I asked Dr. Porter if there was any kind of seasoning I could use in making chicken soup for Ponzo, I had to chuckle when he replied, "Nature doesn't season." Bottom line is, the more natural the food, the better. Common sense.

Rebel and Mark Twain (Hamlet)

"The cat will mew,

and dog will have his day."

--Hamlet, Wm. Shakespeare

Mark Twain and Rebel share a favorite pastime, which happens to be looking at the world through this particular window. They were both strays, who found their way here separately; and both knew they had come home. As for their friendship, there was no waiting period, so to speak, for bonds of trust to be formed. Despite their obvious differences, they were immediate friends. And instant family.

It Is National Dog Week

Every dog has his day.--Proverb

Hurricane Isabel

It is the sixth anniversary of Hurricane Isabel, which means it is also the sixth anniversary of the day that Pegasus came into my life and introduced me to the world of feral cats. By the way, the photo is of Zorro, the son of Pegasus, who is the spitting image of his dad. I chose this photo because it really could be mistaken for a shot of Pegasus (I am not in the mood to search through boxes of snapshots to find a picture of the first feral cat in my life--and then I would have to figure out how to scan the photo--so perhaps another time).

Coming home from work six years ago, I dumped my half-eaten bag of popcorn for the crows to eat in my yard. A little later, I saw a hungry-looking black cat eating the popcorn. When he returned to the same spot and sat there daily, I began feeding him regular catfood. However, this black cat started changing his appearance each time I saw him. It was barely noticeable, but Pegasus never looked exactly the same to me. It had not dawned on me that there were two black cats visiting my yard, until I finally saw them together and thought I was seeing double. Gemini was the appropriate name for the twin cat; they really did look like matching bookends.

Anyone observing Pegasus running down my hillside the following spring would have seen why I had chosen his name. He truly appeared to have wings, especially when he ran down the slope. Literally. But that is a different story.

Months later, I watched Pegasus escort half-grown kittens into my yard. That is when I learned that there was a feral cat colony in the neighborhood. Even though the feral cat colony had caretakers, I would get occasional visitors looking for food in my yard. Sadly, Pegasus and Gemini moved on years ago, and I do not know what happened to the feral cat colony cats. That is, with the exception of one of the first kittens that Pegasus had brought into my yard. She is now a tattooed (instead of ear-tipped), spayed feral cat living inside my house, but that is another long story. The point of this story is that I have been observing feral cats for six years. And I have been adopted by a few, who are now housecats. Their choice. They could have chosen to return to life on the outside.

The View

Don't throw the baby out with the bathwater. Proverb

That is what Whoopi Goldberg said on The View this week. As I've said before, we all quote.

At approximately 4 AM, I discovered my cats viewing one of the bathroom walls with great interest. There was nothing to be seen, only something to be heard, since somebody was trying to gnaw their way into the bathroom. I can't imagine a mouse being that loud. I heard something being dropped inside the wall. It made the same sound as a walnut falling against wood, which made me think of squirrels. Anyway, the gnawing continued, on and off, for nearly half an hour. Then much to the disappointment of my cats, but to my great relief, the gnawing stopped. I visualized the mystery animal gnawing through the wood and giving up after striking bathroom tile.

We have had unwelcome house guests over the years. Assorted spiders, a snake, and numerous mice. But we have had no drop-in rodents or reptilian visitors for at least a couple of years now. However, every spring my cats inform me that there is someone living under the bathtub. I hear sounds emanating from there also, but I am not about to remove the bathtub panel in order to find out who had babies. I like to think that it's an opossum family. There is the possibility of it being a family of snakes that visits for a few weeks each spring; that keeps my curiosity in check. After all, curiosity killed the cat.

Striking Difference

"One of the most striking differences between a cat and a lie is that

a cat has only nine lives."

--MARK TWAIN, Pudd'nhead Wilson

One Follower

If a tree falls....

If a blog is created and there is no one there to read it, does the blog still have a voice?

Photo Contest

When I went to my local Target in early 2008, I informed the sales clerk that I needed to purchase a digital camera for the express purpose of entering a birthday card photo contest. And I needed the camera in a hurry. I stated that I knew absolutely nothing about digital cameras, since I had never been interested in them before, but I was motivated to enter the contest. The young woman's face registered surprise. Had she never heard of anyone buying a camera simply to enter a photo contest? Making a long story short, I came home with a Kodak EasyShare MD853.

First, I baked a cake from scratch, with homemade frosting, of course. No boxed cake mix for my photo contest entry! Second, I set the stage for my photo shoot. Next, I took a first shot of the cake by itself, just to get a feel for my new camera. And then, when Rebel's buddy volunteered to be his stand-in, I took one photo of Mark Twain. However, I was determined to have Rebel as the model for my photo entry. That meant I needed to get Rebel to stand on the dining room chair and also to persuade him somehow that it was okay--even though it was unprecedented--for him to lick the cake stand. That took some major convincing. But with luck and perseverance, I succeeded in my objective.

In hindsight, I should have read the tutorials first. It would have made my life much easier if I had read about editing photos. If I had only known about cropping! But I just jumped in, so to speak, the way I usually do--preferring to figure things out as I go.

These are my first digital photos. Thus, another amateur photographer came into the world. (Guess which photo I entered in my first photo contest.)

His Dog

"To his dog, every man is Napoleon; hence the constant popularity of dogs."--Aldous Huxley

A Good Dog

A good dog deserves a good bone.--Proverb

Civility

Civility costs nothing.--Proverb

This is the scene which has greeted me every night thus far this week. It would not be so unusual if it were any of the other cats. Actually, it's quite common to see the other cats on the bed with Rebel. But this is Mikey, the loner who does not really care to be in the company of dogs. In fact, she would rather sleep outdoors with the wildlife.

Hair Extensions

This photo was taken one month ago while Ponzo was napping (two weeks before he had a relapse), because I wanted to take a picture of Ponzo's curly-haired coat, which is to be found only on his belly. It makes me wonder if he has some Rex ancestry. Initially, I had speculated that Ponzo might have some Maine Coon in him, since I thought he looked like a miniature version of one. Perhaps that is why I purchased kitten chow for him in June; I believed he had at least one or two more months of growth. I was mistaken. Ponzo was young but already fully grown at the time of his first visit to the vet's office in July. Guessing again, I would say Ponzo is probably close to being eighteen months old now. One thing I had guessed correctly, however, was that the hair on his rat's tail, so to speak, would grow back. It certainly did--suddenly!--as if Mother Nature had provided him with hair extensions! Ponzo is sporting a bushy long-haired tail, one which pays homage to his long-haired parent. Or is it a grandparent who was long-haired? Or? As for Ponzo having Maine Coon ancestry, I still think it is a possibility.

In My Thoughts

"While there is perhaps a province in which the photograph can tell us nothing more than what we see with our own eyes, there is another in which it proves to us how little our eyes permit us to see."--Dorothea Lange (1895-1965), American photographer


Today I have chosen to go beyond the borders of my home, Godot's Little Green Acre, in order to post this photo of Harpers Ferry. It is my unconventional photo-prayer being sent to a friend who was with me the day I took this photo in August 2008.

To those who have never visited the historic streets of Harpers Ferry, WV, I wish to say that it is a place where one can step back into time. For some reason, I am not even annoyed by the presence of commercialism there; I laugh, because it makes me think I am visiting a movie set. And I am accidentally part of it. But I know that when I close my eyes and open them again, I can see beyond the shops and the tourists. Beyond the words that make up civil history, my spirit is witness to the unnamed individual histories memorialized in those buildings. If only for a brief moment in time.

Melancholy is the word that immediately comes to mind whenever someone who has never seen Harpers Ferry asks me to describe it. Especially at dusk, when the tourists have vanished and the streets are deserted. Even moreso, when all the autumn leaves have fallen. Needless to say, melancholy alone does not do it justice. Surrounded by mountains, Harpers Ferry is hauntingly beautiful. Perhaps that is why I fell in love with this national park at first glance many years ago. For me, it never ceases to be a place of inspiration, reflection, and meditation.

Godot's Journey into the Night

Being the Cat Elder of our multiple-cat household, Godot deemed it necessary to conduct a test of my love and loyalty. You may not believe this, but I think Godot's plan was to make me believe he was leaving home in order to become a feral cat.

Around midnight not that long ago, when I opened the door to let the dog inside the house, Godot seized the opportunity to set his plan into motion. I thought nothing of it at first, because I had gotten used to Godot running outside occasionally for a little while. So I sat down on a deck step to wait for Godot's return. This time, however, instead of going underneath the deck as I expected him to do, Godot started walking slowly down the driveway. He took a few steps, stopped and turned around to look at me, and then continued walking straight ahead. Then Godot stopped in his tracks, turned around, and walked back quickly toward me. Incidentally, I had sat silently observing Godot's movements with great interest.

When Godot came up to me, he licked my hand. Then he quickly turned around, and started to walk back down the driveway again. Walking with a deliberate step. When he reached the point of the driveway where he was no longer visible, I decided I needed to see where Godot was headed. Well, that was the first part of Godot's test--to see if I would follow him. The second part of his test was to see the distance I would be willing to follow him in total darkness. And the third part consisted of pleading with Godot to return to the house; apparently, it was important for him to know how long I would beg. I would pass the test only when Godot was thoroughly convinced that I realized I really need him more than he needs me. After all, he is a Cat. (And having been an only child for the first two years of his life, I guess he needed reassurance that he is still my number one feline.)

We All Quote

"Proverbs are always platitudes until you have personally experienced the truth of them." Aldous Huxley

Appearances are deceptive. Proverb

A liar is worse than a thief. Proverb

"We are paid for our suspicions by finding what we suspected." H. D. Thoreau

"By necessity, by proclivity, and by delight, we all quote." R. W. Emerson

September 11th

Relocated Spider

If you want to live and thrive, let the spider run alive.--Proverb, mid-nineteenth century

Have humane spider trap, will travel. This spider decided to hang around my deck, which would have been okay, if not for the fact that he insisted on hanging around my doorway. Literally. Since I have no desire whatsoever to have a spider land on me--even if it is by accident, I relocated him to some wild plants at the edge of the woods. I observed the spider for a while, and he seemed quite satisfied in his new location.

Mark Twain as Hamlet

"To sleep--perchance to dream...."

--William Shakespeare

Valerian Plant's Resident-in-Hiding

The valerian plant I keep on the deck has uninvited guests, who find shelter and free meals all in one location. The insect in the photo was the first such guest, who insisted he had every right to become a squatter. Whenever I approached, he would hide on one of the other plants and later return to the valerian plant, of course, when he was certain it would be safe. He simply invoked squatter's rights according to nature. Anyway, after numerous failed attempts, I finally caught the green squatter and threw him off the deck. That only inconvenienced him; he came back. But the next time I caught him in my humane insect trap, I relocated him a couple of hundred feet away. He has not returned. However, other different insects have followed in his footsteps onto the valerian plant. Coincidentally, they have all been the same shade of green--they blend in quite nicely.

Pretty in Pink

Echinacea root is said to support healthy function of the immune system. After reading about echinacea while I was searching for something that might help Ponzo's (FIV) condition, I became curious about the plant itself, and so I found a nursery that sells echinacea plants. The plant I purchased had two blooms, which I found rather pretty.

My Editorial Assistant

Now that Ponzo is feeling well again, he insists on helping me edit this blog. After all, it is our blog. However, instead of jumping directly onto my lap, as other cats would do in his paws, Ponzo takes the long way. First, he takes two steps (two jumps), via the furniture next to the computer, to get onto the computer table itself. Then, Ponzo walks across the computer table and checks what I have typed on the computer screen, which he then edits by walking across the keyboard. And finally, Ponzo ends up on my lap--after I have made the necessary revisions, of course.

Limping Black Bear

Because I decided to ignore my barking dog until I finished writing an e-mail, I missed a wonderful photo opportunity. By the time I emerged from my computer room, the young black bear had already limped halfway across my property.

Instead of lunging for my camera, I wasted precious seconds. I do not know what possessed me to gawk at the bear sans camera. I suppose I was trying to figure out why the bear was limping--as if I could do something about it! Time was of the essence, if I was going to take a photo from my living room windows.

Well, once again, I blew it. The mental image of a very determined Rebel pushing his way past me, as I opened the front door, deterred me from taking the risk of stepping outside to take a photo from the safety of my deck. A tiny photo of a retreating black bear's back would have made me happy. I am serious. So here I sit, with the memory of a limping black bear. And Rebel is still carrying on in hopes that the bear will turn around and come back. Mikey, the Black Bear Follower, however, observed the bear from the best seat in the house--the deck railing.

Always Some Accident in....

"There is always some accident in the best of things, whether thoughts or expression or deeds. The memorable thought, the happy expression, the admirable deed are only partly ours."--H. D. Thoreau, Journal, 1859

Today is a bittersweet day, since it marks the second anniversary of the death of Shiloh, the elderly stray cat who had been part of our family less than ten months. I still think of him as our old Gentleman Cat, a dark gray-and-white tabby, who found his way here for Thanksgiving Day 2006. And perhaps the last happy memory I cherish of Shiloh is observing him come to a halt upon discovering a sleeping Rebel sprawled across his path in the bedroom. Shiloh, who was afraid of dogs, could no longer jump. Therefore, I would have expected gentle Shiloh to turn around and go back out the way he had come into the room. Instead, I watched him debate about his next course of action. I chuckled when, much to my surprise, Shiloh decided to take the shortest route, which was walking on top of Rebel's body, as if it were something he did every day. Needless to say, Rebel (who would not hurt a cat, by the way) was also astonished to see that Shiloh had been the one taking this unchartered cat route. Had it been one of the younger cats, I am sure Rebel would have at least muttered something in protest, but since it was Shiloh, our old Gentleman Cat, Rebel resumed his sleep in silence.

Herb Garden

Ponzo was instrumental in my decision to have a small herb garden again this year. While I was hungrily reading nearly everything I could find about FIV on the internet, I stumbled across "echinacea" and "valerian root." Out of curiosity, I went on a quest to find these plants, which I finally did at a not-so local nursery. I also purchased rosemary and sage plants, along with my usual choices of basil, mint, and parsley, and I bought some seeds. (We shall not speak of my pitiful chives.) With the exception of the rosemary, echinacea, and a couple of valerian plants which went into my wildflower garden bed, I purchased flowerpots and made myself an herb garden on the deck. The planting was all done under Mikey's close supervision, by the way. And I enjoyed my deck garden because it provided some lovely greenery. It also provided food for assorted insects. Nonetheless, I did manage to make myself one cup of pesto with the leftover basil leaves.

(Hummingbird at) Four-o'clock

Time and tide wait for no man.--Proverb

Apparently, neither do hummingbirds. By the time I ran outside with my camera, the hummingbird was gone. Therefore, you will just have to imagine the hummingbird visiting this particular flower. During the past few days, my cat Yoda and I have had the unexpected pleasure of observing the hummingbird hovering over the four-o'clocks on the other side of our living room windows. Although the visits of the camera-shy hummingbird have been very brief, both Yoda and I find them delightful.

Ribbonsnake By a Tree

No, this is not a photo of a Ribbonsnake. Nor is this a photo of a snake by a tree, as you can see. This is a photo of an adult Eastern Ratsnake, which goes by other common names (rat snake, mountain black snake, black chicken snake--and the list goes on), resting in a tree near my house. Incidentally, I took this photo last year, when I saw a lot of these snakes on my property.

But this year, I just saw my first snake, which happened to be an adult Common Ribbonsnake. Or was it a Garter Snake? I do believe it was a Ribbonsnake, only I am not certain that it had a long lizard-like tail. I do not know how common these snakes are in this area, but I do not recall ever having seen one before this afternoon. I was certainly startled to see it by the small tree I was watering, especially since the coiled snake was a mere few inches from my feet. I probably never would have noticed it, if the snake had not decided to escape quickly into the wild raspberry bushes surrounding my little tree. (A note: today is the first time this summer that I have worn shoes instead of sandals; all week long, I had a feeling that I should not be wearing sandals while watering my special tree on the hillside. A premonition? Or was it common sense warning me that I can always accidentally step on some creature in the grass?)

Butterflies on Joe-Pye Weed

"What is a weed? A plant whose virtues have not yet been discovered."--R. W. Emerson