back to nature...

Illustration by Robert Lawson

After my last blog, I thought it best to keep this simple, so I'll try to find the simplest route to get you to the place where Ferdinand the bull is actually a dog, and his name is not Ferdinand, but Owen. Or, I can keep it really really simple, and you can just take my word for it. We do have a picture of Owen picking a dandelion, if that helps. Just email me and i'll send you proof. So anyway, he's adorable. He's 4 years old now, and I still call him puppy, because he is so very much so. He loves life; he's a simple dog who comes when you say come; he loves his master; and he sits when you ask him (or, at least, he very much wants to sit, but he'll often choose to shake hands instead). Oops, i forgot to mention that, of course, like most dogs, he loves the outdoors. And now, we're finally coming around to what i wanted to tell you, though i'm not sure how to describe it. Besides the fact that yesterday i read something that pretty much told me that my writing style is pure jargon, which is causing me to thoroughly analyze everything i want to say, this is a thing which is just difficult to explain. Owen has developed a certain fondness for a fern in the living room. He likes to bury his head in the foliage and simply hang out like that. It's some sort of symbiotic relationship which we don't quite understand. Seeing him like that reminded me of the dandelion picture, and i realized, this dog simply loves nature. No doubt, as he's standing there with his little leaf hat, he's dreaming of far away places where he can act like the natives and not be told to sit. I love my puppy. He's the sweetest puppy ever and super duper sophisticated. I know that everything he does makes perfect sense somehow, and i'm willing to accept, that in this area, apparently i'm just not capable of reasoning it out.

 

i'm still here...

Illustration by Libico Maraja

Sometimes i think i got too much attention as a child (bc i was the youngest), then i think maybe i didn't get enough (bc both of my parents worked). Not sure which is true, but the fact is, somehow i feel like i need people to notice me all the time. Really, it's much more complicated than that, because i don't just want people to notice me, i want everyone to like me. Ordinarily, I just sort it out by retreating to my inner lair and trying to think happy thoughts that have nothing to do with myself. Is this normal!? And should i be ignoring my kids to prepare them for the real world? That is an excellent question. The world is a busy place and people just don't have time to be noticing people all the time. Life is very complex. I wonder how people manage it all. I'm going to break away now and say something sensational. Life is like a cup of coffee... it's only pleasant if you add milk and honey, and that's all i have to say about that.

 

 

sharing is caring...

Illustration by Judith Kerr

So, i want to start off by saying, that if you receive this email, it's because you are one of my top ten favorite people of and for all time. There are lots of people who I really really do like a lot, who do not receive it, because I'm still debating with myself about whether or not I think they would care to read my silly rants. I recently discovered why I like writing so much. It's because you can ERASE! I can't tell you how many times I say things out loud only to think, later, how the thing definitely could have been worded better. But that is getting off topic. I was going to go on to say, (now that we're here and I can be myself), that I must have checked my email 50 times yesterday to see if anyone responded to an album I posted. I'm just throwing that out there. It's part of my personality, I guess. We all have one (a personality). If you are wondering about yours, there are tests you can take that will explain to you why you do such things, but they're awkward; I wouldn't recommend it. I think this is why I gave up Facebook. If I posted stuff every day, there'd be no end to checking back for responses. The thing about this online communication is that response time is so delayed! Who can stand it?! Anyway, now that the urge to keep checking back has worn off, I'm feeling brave, so I just wanted to stop by here and admit my nutiness.

sneakpeek...

Illustration by Mary Blair

I'll probably go back and change this image later, because I'm kinda funny like that, but for now, I like this little splash of color. My brain is stuck in a whorl of Walt Disney tinged by Tim Burton. I wish I had something to tell you, but my only thoughts are of things of no consequence... little tea party embellishments and frills, velour top hats, and whiskers. These are the things that make the woods woody, but they are not to be spoken of. For, like the magic of many things, they ninja vanish the instant they are discovered. They have to be noticed peripherally and if you per chance wish to photograph them, it must be in a fog or with a shaded lense, which is exactly what I intend to do. I caught wind of a gathering, and I will most certainly be there as an observer. If I find anything worth mentioning, I'll be back here to report my findings. As of now, all I know is that there will be tea and crumpets, plum jam, a couple of tweedles, and a massive, manly, march hare. Also, sweet, sweet Petunia...I mean Alice now has a proper petticoat; and I would not doubt it if all the buds on the trees burst forth to shade the event. I think they know something is up. All the birds are talking about it as well. If only there were violets in the wood. I do dearly love violets, but I think they are hiding. In the meantime, if we are all very patient, I think things will happen as they should without any further assistance. Sometimes, I confess, when I see these things stirring, I want to pitch in a little something, but I have to be very sneaky about it. Don't get me wrong, I'm not trying to give the impression that these things are done on a whim. No doubt they take very careful planning, but by whom? That is the question. I am perfectly suited for this particular variety of stealth, though. In fact, if I could not be so stealthy now & then what would I do? Remember what Bambi's mom said... "Bambi. Quick! The thicket!" Thickets are where I belong; and that's where I'll be if you need me... waiting and watching like a little dormouse, sneaking a morsel of crumpet and plum jam.