I awoke to the sound of someone nailing railroad spikes into the side of our house. Then, the mystery handyman switched to power tools and fired up a jackhammer and started on our cedar siding. The racket was intense, and the fact that this was all going down before morning coffee made me especially foggy…
…who would like to purchase calendars (See post below), or make a donation in little Buzz’s name, we found an easy way to do this. Simple go to WildCareinc.org, and follow the prompts to “Donation.” Get as many calendars as you like, add a note that you would like calendars from Susan. Then, email me…
This holiday season, WildCare, the rehab center I volunteer for, is selling calendars to raise funds. WildCare gets NO outside funding other than donations. They don’t even have regular memberships. And I’m certain you can all imagine how donations are going in these troubled times.
I’m back from a lovely trip to Florida visiting our enchanting granddaughter, Taylor, and her devoted parents, Johnny and Candace. At 16 months, Taylor is becoming excited about the great outdoors, and we had magic moments with acorns, Sandhill Cranes, a tiny cricket frog, a hungry and long-tongued giraffe (at the zoo), and leaves. Back…
A crisp breeze is sending a low moan across the top of our chimney. Outside, it is raining leaves. Most of the fall colors came down in a thick cascade last week, but these breezy days still keep our back deck coated in yellow, reds, and browns. Yesterday was a leaf day: Get ’em off…
It wasn’t supposed to happen quite like this. That is, I didn’t expect summer to streak by like a comet. Last I remember I was in an all-out effort to keep Wiley, the wild turkey, alive and on earth at least one more day. I’m sorry to report to you that I kept him alive…
In the bird care room at WildCare, you don’t ever have to wait long these days to hear a timer go off. Baby birds are set on 30- to 45- minute, or 1-hour feeding intervals from dawn to dusk, 24/7, and I’m always certain to do at least a quick walk through the bird room,…
I’m told that Bloomington got three times its normal rainfall this June. It must be true. The ground squishes beneath my feet with every step. I don’t think we’ve gone more than three days without a rip-roaring thunderstorm. The skies have been heavy with fat, black clouds. This kind of weather—when it seems endless—can set…