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 seems...as 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")

{Lisianthus}

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 things...like 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 owl...one 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 book...at 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.

My Familiars

fa-mil-iar  /fǝ'milyǝr/  noun  plural noun: familiars

1.  a demon supposedly attending and obeying a witch, often said to assume the form of an animal.

"her familiars were her two little griffons nested in her skirts."

2.  a close friend or associate.

While it has, on occasion, been said of me that I keep familiars of the animal kind, this post is not about such gossipry.

{Asiatic "Landini" Lilies...or not. They may be my "Blacklist" Lilies...I confuse those two.}

This is about lilies: Those steadfast perennials that return so faithfully each year and I welcome them as I would an old, familiar, friend whom I haven't seen for a year.

{Hyperion Daylily}

{"Nettie's Pride" Asiatic Lily}

After such a long absence, I confess that I have forgotten how very beautiful they are.

{"Pink Luxury Lace" Daylily}

{Another Hyperion Daylily, albeit smaller. This one almost reminds me of  daffy.}

So many different faces, but all so familiar.

(My "famililies???)

{"Stargazer" Asiatic Lily}

And then there is this wonderful familiar.  He is, indeed, of the animal kind, and he is, indeed, a close friend.

A very, very, close friend.

{Do you see the orb by the tree? It was so solid it gave me pause.  It almost seemed that Snowdog saw it too.}

My precious Snowdog is struggling these days, but today he is celebrating his 13th birthday.  Well, I am celebrating his 13th birthday.

He got a new bunny (one of his very favorite familiars) and lots of snacks...and maybe pizza is on the menu for dinner.

*******

While we are on the subject of familiars, I recently finished up The Familiars by Stacey Halls.

It is a historical novel set in 1612 Lancaster, England amid the all-too-true atrocities of the Pendle witch trials. (Yes, before Salem, there was Pendle.)

While it fits squarely within one of my most loved genres, it was somewhat unique in that the main protagonist, Fleetwood Shuttleworth, and other main characters were real people and the novel does an uncanny job at weaving the story around very factual aspects of their lives.

 (Of course I had to go research the "real" people and places and was surprised at the accuracy of some details.  The fictional details, however, are so very plausible, that it makes one wonder how close to actual history they might be.  It also gave me a glimpse into what may have become of the fictional Fleetwood.)

In short...totally loved it and would definitely recommend it.

*******

Ok, off to see about that pizza.  And maybe a doggie sundae later.

I love that dog.

Playing With Angels...

 

Now that I no longer am baby bird-sitting Bébé, I have more time to do other things.

But...nothing seems to be getting done.

If I wait, however, until something does get done, then no blog posts would get done either.

A Catch-21.

(Not really a Catch-22, but close...very close.)

So, here's a quick recap of what I've been doing...(other than Bébé-sitting).

I finally fully finished Centennial Eagles. Wow - did I drag this out or what?  I started it and stitched one eagle, then left it sit for a long, long, time.

I eventually pulled it back out and finished the other eagle, but then put it aside again as I wasn't sure how I wanted to finish it.

I have limited wall space (too many stupid windows) and was set on a flat finish (3/4ths of a yard of fabric "set on") but then decided that it was really too large for a flat finish.

Thought of just backing it in that fabric I had bought for the flat finish, but wasn't completely convinced I wanted that since, after all that time, I wasn't sure I even liked the fabric I had gotten.

So one rainy Saturday, I decided to do a simple turned-under hem.

The hand stitching (sans counting) was soothing, and.it.is.DONE.

And done is good.

And you will never have to look at it again...I promise.

And since I was (briefly) in a patriotic state of mind, I stitched up (and, actually, also fully finished) this little God Bless America tuck.  It is a modification of a freebie pattern from years ago by The Nebby Needle (Bonny Woomer).

{The two smaller tucks in front are older...}

I also started a large Halloween piece I have been wanting to do for some time - Halloween at Hollowberry Farms by Stacy Nash.

{My apologies for all the wrinkles...I don't have a large frame/hoop and this fabric is a hot wrinkle-prone mess.}

But YIKES...that border about did me in and it isn't even half done.

Talk about monotony.  Edgar, I know know how you can love borders as much as you do LOL.

So that got put aside.

(Can you say "AADD" ??)

From there, I moved on to One For The Crow, a With Thy Needle & Thread design.

(This is actually the smaller of two pinkeeps in the pattern. And, yes, I do intend to do the other...sometime...soon...maybe?)

Now that, too, resides in the unfinished pile.  

(Hey, 2 "out" warrants 2 "in," no?)

And now, Welcome Cats is back on my hooking frame.

(AADD is real...and so is the struggle.)

Frankly, that's all it is: Back on the frame - not much further along since you last saw it.

*******

The one thing I do not seem to have any difficulty finishing is books and I am remiss in my "recent reads report," that it will take me a while (if ever) to catch up. 

I finished this one several weeks ago...and it took some willpower to, in fact, "finish" it.  It was some kind of "intense"...not in the action department, but in the head department.  I was hopelessly out of my element on the geopolitical front here.  

It is the (true) story of Abdel Kader Haidara's (and other dedicated archivists') mission to preserve and rescue tens of thousands of ancient Islamic and secular manuscripts first from the trunks and earthen safe rooms of pastoralists and farmers and later from the even more ravaging destruction of war and the rise of Al Qaeda. 

I have to admit that even the tedious Securities & Exchange Commission regulations did not hurt my head as much as this book sometimes did. 

I'm not ashamed to admit that I knew little of this history...or of the geography or culture.  And there is a great deal of detail packed in this book.

I think, though, it was the names that frustrated me the most.  

Everyone has at least 3 unpronounceable names that I struggled to keep straight. 

But...wow...there is a world out there I knew absolutely nothing about. And the beauty of these manuscripts is absolutely amazing. (No, it's not an illustrated book, but I had to do some research you know.)

And, yes, there is a real place called Timbuktu.  At least that part I knew.

Would I recommend it? Ummm...well??  Not unless you are very strange like me.

*******

As for other things I have been doing...well, you know - watching the clouds in the sky, falling in rabbit holes (sometimes literally), and spying on the moon dancing with the fog at 2 in the morning.

Oh and, yeah...I play with angels.

July 4th

Freedom is a fragile thing and it's never more than one generation away from extinction.  It is not ours by way of inheritance; it much be fought for and defended constantly by each generation, for it comes only once to a people. And those in world history who have known freedom and then lost it have never known it again.  Ronald Reagan

Happy Independence Day.

 

La Famille Cardinale

This is a love story...or not.

 

{Apologies, for this and the majority of the other photos in this post. They were taken through a screened window of my kitchen.} 

I have learned so very much these past many weeks.

 I have learned about faithfulness, the importance of a true partner in this world; that there can be danger where you least expect it, that there are others who take advantage of others, that life goes on after loss. I have learned that the cycle of life can be both beautiful and sad, that life is better with a song in your heart, that things can and do change quickly, that "littles" grow up equally quickly, and that one should never, ever, become complacent to the point of taking things for granted.

Oh...and I learned about cardinals.

I am not certain where to begin, but perhaps the beginning would be the best place, no?

First, for some introductions:

Papa Cardinal...

If you read my last post, you would have seen a cardinal camouflaged in a tree in the following photo.  That would be Monsieur Cardinal.

Most times, cardinals can be a bit elusive (sometimes making one wonder if it was illusive).

But Monsieur Cardinal was a constant - and quite vocal - visitor.

{Trés beau, non?}

Had I been a bit more perceptive, I would have realized why the very trees seemed to bleed with song:

Mademoiselle Cardinal

There was an official courtship underway.

So, being cognizant of my both my moral duties and my legal duties, I married them forthwith.

Now, to be truthful, I am not entirely certain which came first - the chicken or the egg the ceremony or the nest.  All I can say is that things happened quite quickly, and I was relieved to learn that, unlike most humans these days, cardinals mate for life.

And soon Monsieur and Madame Cardinal were expectant parents.

{Although difficult to see, there are two eggs in the nest.}

I then realized that my duties did not end at just being the officiant and making an honest woman bird of Madame C.

Oh no...they had just begun.

I had to defend those little eggs from predators. 

And let me tell you, Nod may be the furthest thing from a big city you can find these days, but there are a great many predators here.

So, when I wasn't warding off these:

{Snakes...not concrete tortoises....}

...chasing off these guys:

...or trying to shoo these:

{A red squirrel just for you Saundra...}

... or climbing on top of things no person should climb upon just to get a peek or take a photo, I worried.  (And I bet you thought I was doing nothing since I last posted. For shame.)

But the happy day arrived, and the first little "chirps" wafted through my kitchen window.

But like "real" life, no love story is without some sort of tragedy or heartbreak.

There had been two eggs, but there was only one hatchling.  😢

I am not certain what happened.  Had it been a snake who climbed up there (THIS has happened, trust me...there is a post somewhere way back in my older posts that contains gruesome evidence of that), I would have thought both eggs would be gone.

But the more I pondered it, the more I REALLY started worrying.

Cowbirds are plentiful in these parts and cowbirds are notorious brood parasites - meaning they will pirate and/or destroy the eggs of another species bird's nest and leave their own eggs for the mistress of that nest to raise. 

And so I worried some more.

But worry just steals one's joy, so I put it quickly behind me, and watched the little one thrive (and studied photos of cowbird and cardinal nestlings just to be sure the nestling wasn't a cardinal imposter.)

{Love the little wisps of "hair" feathers on the top of his head...Think he had nest hair that day.}

I also gained a whole new respect and admiration for cardinals.

Papa Cardinal wore himself to a frazzle helping Maman Cardinal build the nest, then flying back and forth to the nest feeding both Maman and Bébé Cardinal.

It is also his responsibility to change the diapers (i.e., carry out the nestling(s)' poop sacks).  (True story...research it.)

During this time (assuming she is like "typical" cardinals), Maman had built another nest (cardinals do not reuse their nests) and started a new family, taking turns tending to her newborn and going back to sit on her soon-to-be newborns.  Papa, in turn,  was truly stretched to the limit flitting back and forth between two homes nests, changing diapers, feeding Bébé and feeding Maman.

And then "that" day came - the day Bébé left the nest.  I kept thinking I would have more time, but he grew so very quickly.  Like I said previously, there is hurt in every life and some sadness in every love story.  Papa and Maman, however thin their time was stretched, were there for the big moment. 

They took turns flying back to the nest to coax Bébé further and further.

And then Bébé was gone.  

I waited and waited for him to come back, but hours went by and he didn't.

Papa did come back a few times checking the nest, but no Bébé.

Finally, close to dusk, Bébé returned, by himself, to the nest.

He did not stay long, however, and did not, to my knowledge spend the night there.

The nest now sits abandoned...and each time I look out my kitchen window, I am reminded of the joy La Famille Cardinale gave me if only for a few, brief, weeks.

But, oh, is it quiet.  I had grown accustomed to their songs every time I stepped outside or opened a window.

The mockingbird is here still and sings such wonderful songs, but he does not know the cardinal's song.

The End