She Had Twelve Kids In A Year!

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Remember the Post "One Tiny Mamma". Well she donnit again!

Before we had a chance to clean out the mess of the old nest between the leaning folded chairs, that little hot mamma started to lay new eggs. Six of them, one a day.

A week later the brood had hatched. I guess the 90 degree weather didn't hurt.

Just three days later, there was hardly enough room for the bunch.

Two days later two had fallen out of the nest. Still mostly fuzz and skin, I scooped them up and put them back into the nest.

Mamma and pappa kept on feeding them. Three days later all was quiet. I hope the stray cat that hangs around here didn't get them. I don't think so, not if they flew off.

This was the birth place for twelve fuzzy ones

I'm gettin' the hose to those chairs. 12 young'uns is enough, don't you think?
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A Blemish in Floyd County Virginia

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Do you think fake flamingos in the yard are beautiful?

Do you think a painted truck tire on each side of your driveway is purdy?

Do you think a hot dog stand every five miles along the Blue Ridge Parkway would be an improvement?

Do you think a windmill on top of Half Dome at Yosemite would add to its grandeur?

Do you think a tattoo of swamp grass on a man's bald head would do the trick?

I found this sign taped to the door. "The stoplight" sure makes it easy to give directions

  
What do you think when a perfectly beautiful and natural county, like Floyd Virginia, adds a traffic light to its only town that has over five-hundred residents?

THEY DID!!!    Mind you! And now this traffic light is the one and only proud light in the entire county!

                                            "We've moved up in the world, you all!"
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A Tall Tale Laced With Truth

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You heard of Spring Cleaning. Then there is garage or attic cleaning. When it comes to cleaning out the shed, you're getting a little personal. 

When you get along in years, it is worth the effort to be able to see what may be lurking inside your corners. 

My good doctor is in agreement. So a man has to do what he has to do. "Drink the whole gallon, eight ounces at a time, every ten minutes, and don't eat any solids," he said. "Don't go on any long trips. Your evening trips should be IN the house!"

I'm afraid, come midnight, I will have trotted an extra half a mile, up, over, down, inside my house, alert and ready for breaking news. . . . The ultimate definition of "The Midnight Trots."

This too shall pass. . . . My only consolation: A steak dinner awaits!




On a serious note.

If you are over 45, PLEASE do not put off a wellness check that includes a colonoscopy. The prep is a breeze. The procedure totally painless. It could very well SAVE YOUR LIFE!
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119 Years Old In Dog Years

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Sebastien, Mr "S" we call him, has been a good old dog.

He is seventeen years old. Has just a few teeth left. But he can still protest. The only time he yaps is when his blanket in his bed is not situated to suit. He also knows how to drag his water bowl into the traffic lane of the room, so you'll fall over it. . . "Fill it!" He speaks clearly.

He can't see worth a hoot any longer. When he does make his rounds in the house, he tends to bump into things. After he does his business outside he gets a treat. We hold the treat about three inches from his nose so he can smell it, because he can't see it.

He hears not well either. When he was younger, he hid from us. All we did was bounce his tennis ball and he'd come running ready to play. Now, we have to yell his name, but he can't figure from what direction the noise comes from. We found the best way to have him follow us is to clap the hands. That sharp sound seems to let him get oriented more easily.

Have you ever seen a more pitiful little pup than "S" enjoying a good rubdown after a bath?

I didn't mention his smeller yet. There is not a thing wrong with his nose. Out of a sound sleep, and he sleeps twenty-three hours of the day, he can smell an orange being peeled. (He loves them). Instantly he can smell when I core an apple, when I pull open a can of sardines. (He loves the juice. My kinda dog). Pizza making makes him loose sleep. He can't rest if a slice is left on the counter. He even yaps at the slice, can't see it, but he knows it's there. He will not leave the kitchen until we put the leftover in the refrigerator.

We love that old thing!
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The War Is Over

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THE REASON FOR WAR

Some furry culprit has been having his way for too long. He devoured our tomato plants and followed with petunias for desert.

That 'mater plant was five times the size, and loaded with almost ready 'maters.

He teamed up with the squirrels and deer and did not leave even one peach on the peach tree for us.

After that successful venture he lead the charge to obliterate the fruit of the pear tree. Pears that could be reached from the inside branches were his. Pears hanging to the deer noses he shared.


THE COUNTER ATTACK

We picked the rest of the pears, still hard as a rock, then scoured the ground and left nothing.

With no more fruit on the tree, nor on the ground, his nose returned to the deck. The evidence is the red mud scrapings were he squeezed through the gate.

I baited the trap with half of a nice, juicy pear to remind him of the heaven he experienced the previous week.

VICTORY ! ! ! CASE CLOSED.     FATSO you are soooo out of here!

"Good thing one of my sons has my 22, or you would have smelled the end of the muzzle. But, since you've got enough fat on you, I'm taking you far away."

"If you ever come back . . . so help me . . .      Now, go play with the cows."
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Boy They Grow Fast!

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I just put two-hundred bluegills and one-hundred crappies in the new pond two years ago. I knew they'd multiply fast, but grow fast, and how big I couldn't imagine.

Fishing from my deck recently, I hooked into this monster. I tried to play him until he got tired, instead be broke the line and the pole smacked me up the side of my head so hard I saw stars. When I came to, the whitecaps of the wave he generated had washed over the dock and sank the wrought iron lawn chairs in the pond.

They grow them big, I swear!






What's the difference between a tall tale and a lie?
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SASQUATCH

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The shadowy figure comes at night. I believe it is the culprit that swipes my apples from the tree and crosses the mud bar to wash them in the pond.

I've been looking for long, course, black hair to prove my theory. Surely he stands against a deck post and rubs his back.

Maybe I should get night-vision goggles, wait for a full moon.

My momma never did tell me the difference between a lie and a tall tale.
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