This one was in the trees over the chicken coop, listening attentively to the cacophony it was kicking up. I didn’t get a better view before shooing it off, but all indication and most likely possibility is a juvenile bald eagle.
This was stuck to miscreant #1’s butt. Literal poetry in motion, that kid. Of course I still have my mom moments with miscreant #2. Whatever she turns out to be, she is very much mine too. Poor kid’s got to be somebody’s, after all.
And speaking of miscreant #1, she was minding none of her own business when she found these pants that I look forward to learning the history of, because apparently it’s a long one.
I mean they’ve been darned. How many people even know how to darn anymore? 30″ waist and with the hem on top of my foot the waistband hit about an inch under my arm. And then I had to put them away. I developed a wool allergy as an adult which inhaling disintegrating clouds of it aggravates quite badly, evidently.
Here’s how it works around here, Mr. Happy. You ask for attention,
you get attention. No takesie backsies.