Sunday, August 21, 2022

When the Crickets Sing...

{Hollyhocks, Sedum and Beebalm}

When the crickets sing, I know Summer's swan song has begun.
It gives me pause and makes me melancholy (ok melancholier than usual) as it is a bittersweet thing.

{Morning Glories}

It brings me great joy to know that my most beloved of seasons is readying herself for her grand debut;
but Summer is a grand season in its own right and dearly loved as well, as her visits are always brief in the Cold, Cold, Land of Nod.

The changing of the seasons here is so drama-filled it though nature demands our attention.

And nothing says drama like the latest bloomers (not that kind perverts!) of all: The hibiscus.

 This year some pests have found their leaves particularly appetizing, but the flowers are completed undaunted and unfazed. 

It is difficult to capture in photos how large these blooms are.

I realize I always "overdo" the hibiscus photos each year, 
but indulge me please. 
Have I mentioned Summer is a brief visitor, at best, here?
And a crow can't quite resist those "shiny" objects sometimes.

So, as the days grow shorter, and the cricket's song grows louder and its cadence slower, I drink in these last days of Summer.

{Petunias and Lisianthus}

{Heliopsis ("False Sunflower")


Ok...I'm done with the flower photos.  Can't promise there won't be a few more but knowing our weather/climate, it won't be many.

On to other the cat on my roof.

Well, I thought it was a cat...but then, as I looked at it, I realized there is NO way a cat could possibly get up that high and it was too large for a cat.  (This is the roof of my Little Crow's garage...there is a lift in the building for working on vehicles, so it has a very high roof...(even higher than was needed for the lift...but that's another story for another time.))

Then the cat spoke.
Jiminy Crickets!! (Speaking of crickets...)

That was no cat.
It was an BIG honking hooting owl!!

While I have no issues with black cats, owls disturb me...especially one so up close and personal.

In my world, owls are generally considered messengers from the spirit world who come to advise or warn one of impending perils.
Some say that they are messengers of witches.
For the record, I was NOT talking to myself.
Long story short: I'd have rather had a black cat miraculously land up there.


I know this post is long enough already, but I am getting way far behind on my book "reports." 
This will be short and to the point:

I picked this book up because I thought the author's name familiar (as though I had read something by her previously and since I didn't associate dislike with the name, assumed it was a good association).
It was not.
I did not like this all.
It is the story of a woman who dies at a too-young age of an incurable disease.
She leaves her husband with a year of monthly letters to help him "transition" to life without her.
Perhaps a good plot in theory, but not in execution.
Totally unrealistic and not in a good way. I find fairy tales more believable.

'Nuff said.