Freckles has been having a “bad hare day” for weeks.
I’ve never seen her shed this badly. She looks this way despite daily plucking and combing.
I take her outside for this treatment so her fur can blow in the breeze, rather than all over the house and in my eyes and nose. Only her fur bothers me for some reason.
Looking a bit better and less like Pigpen.
Great Spangled Fritillary on Butterfly Weed at Deep Cut Gardens “More than any other group of animals, butterflies look as if they were designed in art school… Butterflies are two pairs of wings flapping about in broad daylight. They don’t have teeth or claws. They can’t fly very fast. Their abdomens make for a quick snack. Art is their defense.” – from An Obsession with Butterflies: Our Long Love Affair with a Singular Insect by Sharman Apt Russell
My PetBunny friend Michelle, has been sharing *then and now* pics of her family on her blog and it got me thinking and made me dig out my scrapbooks. I’ve got gazillions of photos that for years I’ve been trying to organize and scrapbooking is a fun way to do it. I started scrapbooking when my husband and I were first married and have only gotten up to 1995 or so (all of two years’ worth). Every year I get more behind. I haven’t done a single scrapbook page since I started this blog.
Anyway, I thought it might be fun to share some *then and now* pics of our little house. I have plenty of *nowish* pics, like this one above from 1995, but very few *th
en* pics. The house we live in was built by my husband’s grandfather and uncle in the 50’s. I have only one very large black-and-white photo that is too large to scan, but shows the orchard that used to border our property and the now busy road out front is just dirt. The pic at right is my husband’s aunt and uncle during construction. They lived here for 40 some years before my husband and I. We haven’t changed much at all in our years here, other than cosmetic changes to make the place feel like our own. My husband grew up playing here as a child and having Thanksgiving Dinner with his family here, and in his aunt’s later years after his uncle passed away took care of the lawn and anythiing his aunt needed. People who have lived in the neighborhood for years often comment on how much my husband resembles his uncle.
In the meandering sort of way my mind works, the photo of my husband’s aunt and uncle brought to mind this pic of my mom and brother standing on the lot that was to become the house I grew up in. My parents moved here *to the shore*, as they 
called it, from Jersey City in the 50’s. My dad told me how they used to drive down the Parkway on weekends to check on the home’s progress. Our development was also surrounded by farms and orchards in the 50’s – no more; it’s nothing but highways and strip malls now. My childhood home was sold last year after my dad passed away and I drive by whenever I’m in the neighborhood. It’s really very strange to see the place that I have thought of as *home* for so many years belonging to someone else. I am glad, though, to see children’s toys in the driveway and a sense of newness to the place where I grew up. Makes me wonder what my husband’s aunt and uncle would think of all we’ve done here to make this place our home.
The master gardeners have been getting some good press here lately. This story appeared in today’s paper and describes how this year’s class has been donating all of the produce raised in their garden to the local food pantry as part of the Plant a Row for the Hungry program.
Unfortunately I’ve not been able to participate due to my work schedule (it’s that way for me with most of the really neat things the MG’s do), but I’ve been ogling the garden since June on my lunch breaks – it’s located in back of the building I work in. So far they’ve raised and donated more than 500 pounds of produce. Wow! Way to go.
I’ve been casually collecting decoys for the last year or two; I especially like shorebird decoys. My favorite of this little group is the American Avocet. I bought it last year when my husband and I went to the Ocean County Decoy and Gunning Show at the Tuckerton Seaport. The seaport is a great place to visit if you’re interested in the maritime history of the Jersey Shore, specifically the Barnegat Bay region. The show features local artists and carvers and has some fun contests like duck and goose calling, decoy rigs, whittling, and model sneakboxes. There’s also usually retriever contests and lots of Lab puppies running around. I’m already looking forward to this year’s show on September 24th and 25th.
Today’s great accomplishment was cleaning off my desk so that I could take a pic and show off my decoys. You can see the rest of my little collection along the top of the bookshelf. What a proje
ct! I’m amazed at the way things pile up around here in just one month’s time, despite my being good about throwing stuff away. So now I’ve got a clean dust-free desk and lots of surface space to pile more stuff on. All the important papers have been filed away never to be seen again. Someday I’ll learn to be organized.
Should you not have the chance to travel to Naples to see Mount Vesuvius you could settle for this miniature replica in the rockery at Deep Cut Gardens. At one time this thing actually spewed smoke – crime boss Vito Genovese once owned the property, which he fashioned after an Italian estate, and hired Italian workers to build hillside rock gardens on the steep slope behind the renovated farmhouse.
The Sargent’s weeping hemlocks are the jewels of the rockery. They are 
impressively sized and form a shady green canopy over the cascading pools set into the hillside. These pools were dry and quiet for years, but have recently been refurbished, bringing a delightful cooling effect to this area of the park. On the day that I visited it was more than 90 degrees, but cool enough in the shade of the hemlocks. The gardens here are planted with many of
the ericaceous species one expects to find in a rockery, and recently the pool borders have been planted with a variety of ferns and other moisture lovers. The small waterfalls were very popular with birds like the robin that I photographed, as well as goldfinches and chipping sparrows that seemed to have a nest at the bottom of the hillside garden.
The shade of the hemlocks leads down the hillside and into the blazing sun of the parterre, which is finally a work in progress. It looks like park staff is beginning to lay down the outlines of what will be a colorful perennial and rose display garde
n. At the end of the parterre you can just make out the vine-covered pergola. I met an older gentleman on the day of my visit who told me that he comes to the park and practices his tango steps beneath the pergola! He says it is quiet and cool and like a whole other world there. Farther in the distance is the meadow and pond, beneath which lies the swimming pool that Genovese had built. I’ll share those pics on another day.
I also blogged about Deep Cut Gardens on 7/24/06.
Tdharma tagged me with this because I’m clear across the country from her. Guess she feels safe that I won’t come looking for her to get revenge for making me come up with a list of 5 weird habits/things about me.
Here’s the rules:
The player of this game starts with “5 weird things/habits about yourself “. In the end you need to choose 5 people to be tagged and list their names. The people who get tagged need to write a blog about their 5 weird things/habits, as well as state this rule clearly, then tag 5 more victims. Don’t forget to leave your victim a comment that says “you’re tagged!” in their comments and tell them to read your blog.
So here’s my list:
1. I talk to myself. A lot. I try really hard not to do it when someone’s in earshot, but I’m sure I’ve been caught. I work with a lady that talks to herself in public; we all think she’s nuts.
2. My first kiss was in the 5th grade, in front of the whole class.
3. I always read the last page of a novel first.
4. I could easily be a vegetarian, but I have a hard time giving up the really bad stuff, like bologna, keilbasi, salami, or meatballs.
5. I had shingles when I was 22. Shingles is mostly an illness of the elderly.
That’s the best I could come up with. My friends might say otherwise. I’m not sure who to inflict this on, but will start with Susan because she’s a good sport, Diva Kitty’s Mom because it’ll be fun to hear about the weird habits of her bunnies, maybe Bunnygirl and Tidbit would like to play along too, and how about you, Michelle – you don’t have a blog – but you can add your weird list in the comments on this post. A 5th tag I’ll leave up to anyone who is just dying to share their *dirty laundry* 😉
Feel free to ignore my tag, please.
Too many of my container plants look like this one. The heat of the last week has been too much for them, despite my morning and evening watering routine. I’m embarassed even to post a photo of the pot of nasturtiums that was so pretty a month ago; it has long since given up the ghost. The geraniums are happy, though. So are the flowering maple trees and the angel trumpets. Anything in a small pot is toast.
This heatwave is supposed to break tonight with a *cold front* moving through from the west. Forecasts for tomorrow promise highs in the upper 80’s, rather than the 100 degree temps we’ve had since Tuesday. Hopefully the humidity will go down; the heat index the last few days was between 110 and 115 degrees! Entirely too hot for the likes of me. I feel like I’m living in a cave, with the shades drawn and all the windows closed to keep the heat out. I’ve even been working in the near dark at my job – we’ve had all non-essential lights and appliances off for the last few days in an effort to conserve energy. Ridiculous considering that the AC keeps the building so cold that I have to sit at my desk with a blanket over my shoulders. Today I decided to do a little energy conserving of my own and took the afternoon off and came home and went to sleep, in hopes of gettiing rid of the headache I’ve had for the last 3 days.
The promised thunderstorms haven’t come yet. While I was out watering this evening and adding some frigid well water to the pond (the fish haven’t boiled yet – what were we thinking putting that pond in full sun?) there were some distant rumblings of thunder and a light hot breeze, but that’s it so far. I’m hoping for a spectacular thunderstorm with drenching rain. I want to be able to turn off the AC, open the windows, and fall asleep listening to the katydids and crickets.
Blogger is not my friend. I had an informative expose written on rabbit bot fly that just went poof! and disappeared.
;-(
Probably a good thing because a discussion of rabbit bot flies is probably not what you were expecting.
So instead I offer this old pic of Freckles, Missy and Mr. Bean. I tried to bond the three of them after little Peanut died. They made an adorable threesome and Missy loved Mr. Bean, but Freckles was not happy with the arrangement. She doesn’t seem to like boy bunnies. So, for a few months after Peanut died and before Mr. Bean passed away, the three would visit together. Mr. Bean would get it into his head that he wanted to play and would sprint out of his homebase in the bathroom and venture onto the sun porch where the girls live. I’d open their pen and the three would play together peacefully for a little while. Missy washed Mr. Beans ears which he looooved! Before long, Freckles would get jealous and pick a fight with Mr. Bean, who was at least twice her size. Mr. Bean always looked all wounded and confused that this girl bunny didn’t just melt for him the way Missy did. Soon enough he’d wander back to his spot beside the bathtub, the rejection forgotten until the next visit.
“August is the year at early harvest, a farm wife with a baby napping in the crib, a preserving kettle on the stove, fryers in the freezer, new potatoes in the pot, and a husband in the hayfield baling the second cutting. August is tomatoes ripening and the insistent note of the cicada punctuating the heat of midafternoon. August is the smell of corn pollen, and the taste of roasting ears, and the stain of blackberry juice on the fingers.
August is the flame of phlox in the dooryard and hollyhocks down by the roadside blooming now up at their tips. August is Summer squash by the bushel, and Winter squash swelling beneath the broad parasol of trailing leaves. August is ripe oats. August is a languid river and a springhouse brook reduced to a trickle.
August is a few impatient asters trying to compete with late daisies; it is daylilies all through blooming and looking ragged and outworn; it is the first sprays of goldenrod in the uncut fence row. August is baby rabbits almost grown, and pilfering in the garden; it is fledglings all feathered and on the wing; it is a cow, her Spring calf forgotten, chewing a leisurely cud in the shade of a tired elm tree at the side of the meadow.
August is the heavy grapes in the vineyard, and the lacy leaf where the Japanese beetle feasted in metallic glitter; it is wild grapes festooned on the trees at the riverbank; it is algae on the pond and the fat green thumbs of cattails in the swamp, and ironweed purpling, and vervain in full bloom. August is a hastening sun, earlier to bed and later to rise. August is Summer thinking of the cut and color of her Autumn costume.” – Hal Borland, Sundial of the Seasons, 1964
