How important it is for us to recognize and celebrate our heroes and she-roes! ~Maya Angelou
It looks like the spell of Indian Summer has left the Bogs. Rain moved in last night and the temperatures are expected to drop today. There’s snow in the forecast for tomorrow. Right now it’s raining steadily, the pitter patter of the drops almost lulling me back to sleep. It’s a good day to curl up in the comfy chair and read a book.
M the Elder and I went for one last boat ride around the pond at sunset yesterday. We’ll be putting the boats away for the winter next weekend. It was a lovely, unseaonably warm evening with a beautiful sunset. I’m glad we got one last pedal around the pond before the cold weather sets in (and before we move).
I’m going to miss this place when we move. We’ve had a great blue heron hanging out at the pond every day for the past month or two. I’m about ready to name him since he’s become such a regular visitor. Herons are usually very shy, taking off as soon as anyone walks out towards the pond. This guy started out that way but he’s obviously getting used to us. Or else the fishing is so fine that he’s decided to take chances. Either way, he doesn’t fly off.
There’s a pair of ducks hanging out in the pond, too. The ducks apparently enjoy the heron’s company. You can always find the ducks close to the heron. The heron will sometimes fly off to the other side of the pond, as if he’s annoyed with the ducks. The ducks will swim over to the heron. This goes on a few times before the heron finally gives up and allows the ducks to bask in his company.
I was surprised to see this guy when we were out on the pond:
The trapper must have been here. The muskrats are gone. The trapper comes by every November and cleans out the muskrats for us. We’re glad to be rid of them. They dig into the dam of the pond which could eventually lead to the collapse of the dam, thereby emptying our pond onto the neighbor’s property. We’ve been fencing the dam side of the pond slowly but surely. It’s going to take a while to get it all finished. The pond is 1.5 acres, more like a lake than a pond. We put the fencing under the water and up the side of the dam. It keeps the muskrats from digging into the dam. In the meantime, we’ll have to keep depending on the trapper and muskrat trapping season.
We made fish tacos for dinner last night. Good stuff. I’m not sure I should be allowed to handle sharp objects while on paid meds. I was slicing the cabbage for the tacos and stabbed myself in the finger. It’s a nice, clean cut, and very deep. I probably should’ve had it stitched up but who wants to spend Friday evening in the ER? Not me. I must have hit a nerve or the joint or something. It hurts pretty badly.
Recently watched: A Prairie Home Companion. M the Elder and I have been listening to A Prairie Home Companion almost every Saturday night for the last 30 years. I don’t know if you need to be a fan of the radio show to appreciate the movie, but I’m guessing it helps. I enjoyed it. It was pretty much like the radio show. No surprises there.
Frida. I loved this movie. Loved it. It was beautifully done. I particularly enjoyed seeing the artwork come to life. Selma Hayek was fantastic as Frida.
Currently reading: Helen of Troy. Still. I hope to finish it this weekend. I wish I could read as fast as I used to. I’m also reading YOU On A Diet. I don’t expect to find any miracles in it. The biology lessons (the role of hormones, the brain, and various organs in hunger and satiety) are interesting.
Currently coveting: Nothing, really. I need services (a maid, someone to pack for me) more than I need stuff. I wouldn’t mind having good health, either.
Current pet peeve: I can’t think of anything. I’m sure there’s something I could be complaining about but I’m not in a complaining kind of mood.
That’s about it from the Bogs for today.
One summer night, out on a flat headland, all but surrounded by the waters of the bay, the horizons were remote and distant rims on the edge of space. Millions of stars blazed in darkness, and on the far shore a few lights burned in cottages. Otherwise there was no reminder of human life. My companion and I were alone with the stars: the misty river of the Milky Way flowing across the sky, the patterns of the constellations standing out bright and clear, a blazing planet low on the horizon. It occurred to me that if this were a sight that could be seen only once in a century, this little headland would be thronged with spectators. But it can be see many scores of nights in any year, and so the lights burned in the cottages and the inhabitants probably gave not a thought to the beauty overhead; and because they could see it almost any night, perhaps they never will. ~Rachel Carson