Rain and Then Some

It rained today. It threatened to rain yesterday at the house. My husband, having to go out of town on business yesterday, reported that it seriously rained at the plant he was visiting. According to the weather maps for Louisiana, it apparently rained on most of the state, while somehow missing us. Well, except for about 11.5 drops that fell while no one noticed.

It also rained the day before yesterday, a very nice, welcomed shower. Because of the excessive heat we've been experiencing lately, our plants in the yard and pots around the front and back porches need water just about every day. $$$$$ of water. I'm always grateful for God-given water. Well, sometimes I have to strive to be grateful . . . like back in 1989 when we had flooding rain that seeped into our downstairs, the ground being saturated with water that was, as water does, seeking equalibrium. Oh, I remember that spring!

After a few days of continual rain and vacuuming gallons on end of water from the downstairs, I finally figured out that if I dug a ditch from where the water pooled at one corner of the front yard next to the house, I could encourage the water to stop pooling there and drain out across the driveway like so many other hundreds of gallons of water had more or less politely done and gone on down the hill like a nice little river. I did perform a similar task in the back yard. My husband was not so convinced that my efforts were that effective. But I tell you, after bailing out tons of water, I was ready for an alternative. Besides, digging ditches in one's yard in the rain has its perks. You get all wet and muddy, and who doesn't want to do that?

In Church, a week or so after this exercise in hard work dealing with the plentious and copious amounts of water in our area, a member of our Church, giving either the invocation or benediction to the meeting, mentioned his thankfulness for the rain the Lord had seen fit to bless us with. That made me ponder some. After the meeting I asked, "So, please explain why you mentioned gratitude for all the rain we've been getting. I mean, some people below the dam were flooded out." He smiled patiently and then quietly responded, "Well, I figure the Heavenly Father only sends us what we need, according to His wisdom."

That made me think/ponder all the more. Perhaps God does send copious and flooding rains to see how grateful we are for all His gifts. Perhaps we don't recognize what we have until we no longer have it? Or have what seems to be way too much? Hmmmmmmm.

But, back to today's little weather anomoly: my Mother called around two something this afternoon and I noticed how the wind was blowing something fierce at the time! It whipped the trees and sounded like rain a few minutes before the shower actually began. (Also, it had been thundering, with big, black clouds and all the trappings of a summer storm for a while prior to the wind whipping things around.)

After speaking with my Mother (1500 miles away), I called to check on my son (2 miles away) who's working in a (portable, wooden) fireworks stand--selling fireworks for those who are getting ready to celebrate our Independence Day, July 4th. He reported that the wind had thrown several LARGE fireworks items half-way cross the parking lot (where his stand sits). Those items usually rest on the counter. It apparently also swept some of the smaller items off the shelves in the back of the stand and sent them flying--mostly inside the structure. He's not sure, but thinks the stand may have moved some from where it originally stood. If it did, when I looked, it hadn't moved far. (Thankfully!)

The stand to the west of his, in an adjoining parking lot, had all the props (that hold the flaps--or openings into the stand--up) were broken so they had to shut down their operation. Literally. I'm ever so grateful it wasn't any worse an experience than it was. I'm guessing my son is thinking along the lines of not wanting a heapin' bunch of wind again anytime soon. Though, he'll most likely be wishing for a heapin' of a nice breeze next time the heat hits about 90+ degrees, with humidity per centage in similar numbers. There you go. Somehow we need to be grateful for what we have--before we lose it!

A Heapin' Tablespoon or Cup Of and Relativity

I saw something on the back of a car that I thought said "heapin' " something or the other and that greased the cogs of my brain--what few there are left, anyway--to think about the relativity of how good or not a heapin' of something might be. Such as:

I'd love a heapin' tablespoon of homemade fudge icing--all by itself,

but not a heapin' tablespoon of Tabasco Sauce.

I'd love a heapin' cup of homemade Chicken Corn Chowder,

but not a heapin' cup (or any other amount) of boiled peanuts.

I'd love a heapin' tablespoon of whipped cream--to add to my fresh strawberries,

but not a heapin' tablespoon of dried squid for anything.

I'd love a heapin' cup of freshly dried lavender to refresh a room,

but not a heapin' cup (or even a scant teaspoon) of live fire ants.

(Those suckers are way too plentiful out here, and HURT if they bite, etc.)

I'd love a heapin' tablespoon of fresh Cilantro--for any number of yummy Tex-Mex dishes,

but not a heapin' tablespoon of Chutney.

These are only a slight sampling of possibilities. I may cogitate awhile and see if I can come up with some others. In the mean time, if you think of anything to add to the list of relativity, please be my guest and share wha'cha got!

I'd love a heapin' cup full of great comparisons from the 3-5 readers I have stop by!

This and That Tuesday

Took some more pictures of some of flowers/plants around the house, so I'll share.

This is my daughter's rose fully opened, as you see!

It smells so good! It's so delicate and gorgeous!

My ONE mandavilla flower this year. The color, however, is not true in this picture. I don't have the photoshop software to make it better. The REAL color is a deeper red--not fushia at all--and the throat is deep yellow, not orange.

Last Christmas's poinsettias. Don't they look GREAT?

See the spider toward the right side of the picture? It isn't quite in focus like I'd hoped, but you can see a little of it and its great zigzaggy web.

We've been painting (and of course cleaning first) and having quite a lot of fun in the process. When we get a little further along, I'll maybe take some pictures to let you see the results. It was LONG overdue--like 22+ years since I papered and painted last. I know. Reprehensible.

But, thus it is. So, we're in the process.

My youngest daughter--the one moved home in May--is quite the workaholic when it comes to getting a place in order, de-cluttered, and looking quite good. She's very quiet, but just works a person into the ground! In a good way! I need someone like that to get me working on things I should--and don't usually. I'm such a procrastinator, and a lazy person, to boot.

Sorry to have to divulge such indiscretions in black and white.

At any rate, tonight at church (for the women) I've been asked to demonstrate how to make flour tortillas. I had the audacity to mention to some of the sisters at a previous meeting that tortillias were quite simple, and could be made with stored wheat, if you had no yeast to make regular bread.

Since I haven't made them in some years, I decided to try some at home first. Glad I did that. My first tortillas didn't look so great. But they got better as I continued.

We'll see how it goes during the demo.

Flower Foto Friday

Random fotos of flowers around our yard. Flowers are our friends!

I almost forgot this one!

Froggie Went A Courtin'

Froggie went a courtin' he did ride, uh huh

Froggie went a courtin' an' he did ride, uh huh

Froggie went a courtin' and he did ride, one nice door handle outside, uh huh, uh huh, uh huh.


This is especially for my grandchildren AND for Debbie from Life's Funny Like That.

























My daughter discovered this little guy (or gal?) on a white hanging basket yesterday, looking much whiter. Today he's on a brushed silvery metal door handle and looks a little more silvery today.

Oddly enough, we opened and closed the door several times going in and out, and watching and photographing him. Apparently the only sign of his distress with our actions was a rather rapid tremor in his throat. He's still there 3 or 4 hours after first discovering him this afternoon.

Girly Meme Tagged

I was tagged again. This time by Alison at http://threetimeskewl.blogspot.com/

Like others in the chain of this meme are not great fans of wearing makeup, I’m right there with ya’ except for the fact that I have NO color in eyebrows or eyelashes. The only color I have in my face, other than the changeable blue of my eyes, are freckles. Oh, and the occasional flush of hot-flashes. (Such a blessing, let me tell ya’!) But, because I married wisely and my handsome husband has dark hair, dark eyebrows and lashes—all four of my children have DARK eyelashes and brows—which I envy. I do wear some makeup sometimes because as someone once said, “Even a barn looks better with a coat of paint.” Yep, I hope I don’t look like a barn—with/without paint!

Foundation:

Don’t much like the stuff. Minimal and occasional use is limited to mask dark circles under eyes or cover red blotchy spots (when they crop up) and freckles for greater sunscreen protection. Only wear it if/when I don’t want to scare the natives, or anyone else. I’ve used Mary Kay #1, greasy kind of foundation (they stopped manufacturing/selling this specific product some years ago) so I’ve got about ¼ teaspoon left. I’m looking for a substitute :( ifanwhen I need it.

Mascara:

I do use the black/brown or is it brown/black color? Makes me look less anemic. I haven’t found a favorite even after all these years!

Day Cream:

Aveeno Ultra-Calming moisturizer with sunscreen. Even in the VERY humid southern climate where I reside, my rather dry skin requires moisturizing. When I lived or do go visit much dryer desert-like locales, I have serious dry-skin issues and require greater and richer amounts of moisturizer. My grandmother told me many, many years ago to “moisturize your face EVERY day/night, no matter the time of year, financial situation or whatever. You can use Crisco on your face if you have to, but moisturize daily!” Eeeewwwww. But hey! She lived to be 93 and her facial skin looked pretty good!

Essential Beauty Product:

I love Alison’s from Three Times Kewl: Laughter. I’ll add smiles because they are so closely related. I think the best thing any face can/should wear is a genuine, heartfelt smile. Old or young, bond or free, white or black or anything between, smiles reign as the MOST beautiful and essential beauty product!

OH! Thinking of my grandmother again: Don’t smoke! Her younger sister did and she looked so many years older than my grandmother! I’ve noticed the same thing in others, too. Smoking does bad stuff to your everything.

Perfume:

I like what some others wear—lavendery or rosy scents. Don’t wear the stuff any more as a rule. Do love the subtly pungent fragrance of white ginger flowers, however, and want one in my hair or close by when and if I catch them in bloom. They are one of my (many) favorite flowers grown here at home.

Hair:

I’m adding this one because I think a woman’s hair should be shiny and healthy and frame/compliment her face well. This is the one thing I feel really blessed to possess. (Gotta take the good with the bad, right?) I was born a strawberry-blond, which I guess is one of the more unique natural hair colors around. I’m not bragging, of course. ;-} (Even so, I’ve always been jealous of people with rich, dark brown, glossy hair—like my husband. Oh, he has fine hair! It is a really great ‘salt and pepper’ color now, which I also really like! AND I’m glad I’m his barber of choice.) As I have aged, I think my hair is my best feature—something to do with the fact that in recent years I've had complete strangers (other women) in various places (cities not close to home) come up to me and compliment my hair color and style. It amazes me that people do that—and it makes me feel good. It’s unsolicited, and they’re not trying afterwards to sell me something. Now that I’m nearly 60 years old, you can probably imagine that I have lots of white mixed in with the original color. It’s true. Now I think of my hair color as “silver and gold.” And it’s majorly easy to deal with. I wash and crème rinse with Aussie brand shampoo and conditioner, blow it dry a couple of minutes and it’s good for a couple of days. It’s got just enough body that it curves to my desire—most of the time.

Nails:

Been blessed to have good strong nails. Keep them trimmed most of the time, but don’t mind them being long—if they’re filed and smooth. CAN'T STAND wearing fingernail polish! It just drives me crazy and I peal it off usually the same day applied—IF it gets applied. As to toenails—I will admit to wearing red or much more neutral polish during the summer. That I don’t mind and think it looks pretty good.

Hands:

Not particularly lovely. They’re not small, but have long fingers, freckles, noticeable blue veins and freckles. (Did I already mention freckles?) Require a LOT of moisturizing lotion. I use several kinds—whatever is handy, though I do like Banana Boat and Vaseline Intensive care, healing kind of stuff. My hands don’t react well to dishwashing detergent and lots of time in dishwater, which I insist on being hot. (My father was a fanatic about steamy dishwater. Must have rubbed off on me.) Something in that mix makes my skin dry up and peel off. In winter, particularly, or in desert climes, my hands will crack deeply and hurt. Then I use lanoline rich kinds of moisturizers, if I can find them. (Once long ago, I carded and spun raw sheep wool. Now that stuff was rich with lanoline—but didn’t smell the greatest!)

Feet:

Like others mentioned before me, my feet love their freedom! In the house I run barefoot mostly. I will, however, add little socks or slippers when they get cold. Sports shoes are worn ONLY when absolutely necessary for protection. They make my feet too hot and confined. I wear flip-flops – casual or dressy when trekking about to town, etc. I do have some soft slip-ons that I wear when the weather requires. I have to use a pumice stone and lotion nearly year-round to keep my heels in check. The dry skin monster attacks them regularly.

Three Products to Bring on a Deserted Island:

Drinking water—another of those essentials for good health and lookin’ good.
Scriptures—can’t do without good reading material. Scriptures never get boring however many times I’ve read them.
Lots, loads, tons of Moisturizing Sunscreen

Women I admire for their beauty:

My mother is a beautiful woman. My mother-in-law. My daughters, all three of them and my one granddaughter. And many others. I think women who value high moral standards and love and serve those around them are the most beautiful women.

Women with the best sense of style:

My mother-in-law—though she’s no longer in this life—would be on that list. My own dear mother, would not. Great fashion style is not her great gift. Unconditional love is hers, so maybe I better put her here. And then, my youngest daughter is our personal fashion consultant in the family. She has her own style and has for many years. Others would like to copy her style, but just don’t carry if off as well.

How do I define womanhood:

Womanhood is one of the greatest of God’s gifts. What greater potential for good is there in the human race than that of a woman? Who else is so richly endowed with creativity—the bearing and raising of children, or compassionately, tenderly ministering to the needs of others—than those who bear the gift of womanhood? In no way should womanhood diminish the role of manhood. Together, men and women, who work together to make this world a better place for everyone, is the pinnacle of human endeavor. Families are the stronghold of society, and women can and should reign as queens—life-giving, hard working, nurturing, loving, exemplary, righteous queens—in their homes and families equal to, though differently endowed than their husbands—if married. Rich and vibrant are each of the roles of men and women, separate and grand their potential to compliment and magnify each other’s individual gifts and talents.

Favorite Fashion Publication:

Scriptures: Particularly Proverbs 31:10-31

Now the question is: Do I measure up? Not yet. But, I’m workin’ on it!

So I must pass on the TAG to MEME. Hmmm? Who shall it be? Jeanie might tag her sister, Bush Babe, or not. But, I can! And do! Bush Babe at Granite Glen and my daughter Amy at Bugs in the Desert.

I’m going to close my eyes now and push the buttons to make this magically appear on my blog. My fingers are crossed, I’m hopin’ I don’t mess up, three, two, one ……

Blog for Peace

Before checking out my favorite blog friends’ posts today, I didn’t know it was “Blog for Peace” day. Who doesn’t want peace? Well, there are obviously those who don’t, i.e., check out the whole globe where killing and hatred abound—hence the topic of the day.

I wasn’t going to say anything about this topic because it is so wide, and so deep, and so . . . should I say, divisive? We’re all filled with deeply felt passions about the problems facing us and our nation(s) and the world in general. So, thinking long and hard about this opportunity, I’m venturing to share some of my thoughts on the subject. Not without fear and trepidation. My goal is not to step on ones toes or deeply held beliefs, but simply to share my own thoughts, beliefs, etc. on this topic.

I am the daughter of an Army officer. As a young child, I saw the results of World War II first hand—in Japan and in Germany. It touched me deeply then and now. War is horrible and sometimes unavoidable. (The Bible, Old Testament, as only one available historical record—is filled with accounts of wars and why they occurred.) My perspective is that defense is essential for the preservation of peace—when someone wants to relieve me or others of that commodity. There will, I believe, always be those who are so self-centered that they desire power, wealth, and everything attached thereto for only themselves at the exclusion of all others. And at nearly all cost.

There are also those who desire peace at any cost, even to the point of allowing themselves to lose everything but the air they breathe, it seems, to avoid conflict.

These two opposing view points exist in this world, and a multitude of others between them. It seems a simple solution is impossible to attain.

Some time ago, during a church service, my mind was brought to attention as our congregation sang America the Beautiful. Yes. As a hymn. I believe it is a deeply heart-felt prayer and could apply to any people in any nation anywhere on this planet.

Ponder, if you will, these words:

“…God shed his grace on thee, and crown thy good with brotherhood From sea to shining sea.”

I honestly believe that we are literally all brothers and sisters, sons and daughters of God, no matter our points of origin, color, race or station in life. Well, sure, you might say. Brothers and sisters get into fights from time to time. Truly we do. But we shouldn’t. And if we do, we should both forgive, and forget, and improve the communication and caring for each other, right? Rather than escalating the disagreement.

Next line in the hymn–this is the one that jumped out at me—goes:

“…God mend thine ev’ry flaw, Confirm thy soul in self-control, Thy liberty in law.”

It goes on in subsequent lines:

“…May God thy gold refine, till all success be nobleness, and ev’ry gain divine.”

So, from those words I understand that self-control, not self-absorption, is essential to liberty. When we care as much for each of our brothers and sisters everywhere as ourselves, we will find not only liberty from strife, but peace sublime. It’s not an easy task. Just read the histories from Adam and Eve all down through mortal time.

I remind my children—and myself—from time to time that refining gold is a really tough experience. The raw ore is placed in a container and subject to intense heat. This process causes the metal to melt and lose its former status as a solid entity and become liquid. (Simply put, it hurts-grievously.) In its liquid state, all the impurities come to the surface and are burned off—as I understand it. Only after that intense, burning, melting down process where everything impure is purged, is the metal pure. It isn’t pleasant to be the gold being refined. We have to give up our egocentricity and replace it with following God’s directions to love our brothers as ourselves, just as His Only Begotten Son did/does for us.

I believe, that when we place God first in everything we do and treat others like we want to be treated—without rolling over and playing dead—we’ll be closer to heavenly peace than we currently are.

Please, with all that said, don’t get the impression that I’ve mastered that plan. I certainly have not. I struggle with my own issues of thinking some people are stupid, aggravating and so on and so on. I have a long way to go in many areas of my life, but my goal is to work on me. I can’t work on anyone else.

Thank God for agency—or as some refer to it “free will”. It is a sacred gift from God. Some individuals’ goal is to remove (or diminish) that sacred gift of agency from the rest of us. With the gift come the consequences of how we use or abuse it. There are always consequences for every choice we make. Good choices=good consequences. Bad choices, well you know the answer.

We really don’t need more stuff in our lives—though we seem to ever strive to have more stuff. We need the pure love of Christ, and we get that by unselfishly giving of our time, talents and means to those in need. Not by government legislation, but out of personal, genuine concern for the welfare of others. (Governments, in my opinion, aren't able to legislate goodness. It's personal choice for good that results in goodness.) May God grant us all more peace as we strive to follow the path of His Son who lived and died for us that we might enjoy eternal peace, is my prayer.

A Bug Story--But Still No Pictures

As I read 'Scribbit's' post this morning titled "How to Get Rid of Tapeworms" I laughed. (You can find this great blog and this really great post at http://scribbit.blogspot.com/.) Truly, I did. Laugh, that is. Then I began to respond in the comments section. Before I hit the post comment button, I began reading the other comments left there. I laughed even more!

One mom apparently felt she was safe from the collecting of bugs, etc., as she has 4 girls--at least for now she feels safe.

To all those mothers with girls. Ha, ha. Oh, ha, ha! BEWARE! I was a girl once. (Female still. I'm a grandmotherly woman now. Not a girl. Just so you don't get confused.) I kept grashoppers, etc. in my closet, turtles under my bed, parakeets in a cage. In fact, I remember gathering bees in my little hands (I might have been four or five at the time)--and getting stung, of course, in the process. But they were so fascinating and my Mom actually let me put them in a jar for awhile--with some clover flowers, of course, in case they got hungry. And my second oldest daughter is an entomologist! (Can you imagine?)

After she married, I can't tell you how many TONS of bugs she collected in our Louisiana back yard to classify in my house, on the dining room table! And I've captured a few (bugs) over the years for her to assist in those classes she used to take. I sincerely find them rather interesting, facinating actually, to this day. Oh, just as a side note . . . those tons of bugs--caught at night, of course, with a blacklight under a white sheet strung over long flat tubs of soapy water--stink when the vile mix is brought inside for classification purposes. Just keeping to the facts. Full disclosure, here, you know.

Which reminds me. When we lived in Texas--this child was like 2 years old when we moved there and 8 when we moved away--we had these really pretty, fuzzy black with white polka dots spiders that liked our kitchen bay window. Yes, on the inside. Their eyes and fangs were metalic peacock blue. Honest. They were really "pretty". We named any such spider, "Herman." Don't ask me why, we just did. They were jumping spiders, not the web-spinning kind. They seemed rather tame. Never bit any of us.

Back then this daughter collected a few caterpillars and we kept them in a large, gallon size pickle jar while they pupated and turned into gorgeous butterflies--Gulf Coast fertillaries, or something like that. We even have pictures somewhere of her turning them loose.

A few years ago she and her husband went on another bug collecting trip while he was still working on his masters--botany/plant genetics--degree. Yeah. They make a very compatible comple that way: the plant guy and the bug girl. Anyway, when my daughter was classifying bugs one day, their not yet three-year-old daughter watched as Mommy did her thing and asked if she could help.

Before I go further, I must explain. This child and her one brother (at that time) have been raised with all kinds of books--many of which were books about bugs. She knew the names of the bugs and could tell me about them as she showed me the pictures--at two. So, when this bright child asked Mom if she could help, Mom handed her a pair of bug tweezers and told her what to look for. My daughter called me that night to report that her daughter had done an amazing job of selecting just the right kinds of bugs her Mom was looking for out of the soupy mix. We're not talking HUGE bugs here. Little bugs.

Now, my oldest grandson, her now 3 year old brother asks, whenever he talks to me on the phone, "Grandma, what kind of bugs do you have at your house?" I begin on the list--which my daughter is, of course, far more qualified to explain than I--one type of bug at a time. After a bug or two he asks, "Do you have any mosquitos?" "Oh, yeah. Lots of them." "Do they suck your blood?" he asks gleefully. "Oh, yeah."

Then in the background I hear his excited comments: "Mom! Grandma has mosquitos at her house. And they suck her blood!" Next question in his innocent voice now: "Grandma, do you have any cockroaches at your house?" "Yes, dear. We live in the woods. We can't help it." He repeats the delightful news back to his mother. Then from the background I hear my daughter chuckle and respond, "Mom, are you sure you want the world to know you have cockroaches at your house?" To which I, of course respond, "Hey! You lived here once. You know they only come IN the house on occasion--and without a invitation! We get rid of them as fast as we find them, thank you very much!"

Grandson then asks about a variety of other creepy crawly critters before his Mom decides the list is endless and she takes control of the phone again. Then my daughter reports that for a few days her two oldest would taunt each other with, "There are mosquitos or mites in the room with you. And they're going to SUCK your BLOOD!"

I think I'll end on that cheerie note. Kids. What entertainment possibilities. Glad I had all four of mine. Even more glad to have the grandchildren. Somehow they're even more entertaining. (You can't see me smiling, can you? I'm smiling. Big.)

I Didn't Do It

Okay, okay, okay. I do not blog every day. Well, I don't post a blog a day like some of my favorite bloggers do. I'm just not as talented or dedicated or something. But, I read my favorite blogs nearly every day.

I wanted to blog on Saturday, but I had a list of things to do and I was really tired after moving our youngest daughter back to the house. I'm really becoming a wimp of the first order.

But, back to what I really wanted to blog about: the little Mocking Bird Fledglings. A week or three ago I think I mentioned that I happened on a nest containing 3 little birds, mouths agape, cheeping for food. I wanted the camera that was with my husband a couple hundred miles away.

When the camera came back home, I dutifully went about looking for the little feathered babes (with camera in hand) so I could introduce you to them. Sob! They were gone. I might have mentioned that earlier, too.

However, I heard them this past Saturday. I'd gone out to check the mail and heard their familiar cheeping. Three distinct cheeps from nearby, but coming from three slightly different directions. I knew they must be close because two parent Mocking Birds tried to distract me from my quest to spy their little ones.

Finally, after staring into the nearby leafy branches of the (meanacing and weed-like) private bushes/trees for several moments, I was rewarded with zeroing in on the little bird making the most racket. Momma bird flew in close with a bug in beak and baby dutifully opened his/her mouth to accept the morsel. But no. Mom was trying to lure the babe into flight, I surmise.

The siblings were still nearby chriping their little immature chirps. The visable one continued on plaintfully seeking comfort in his distress. Patiently looking for the other two little birds, I was finally rewarded with visual contact after they moved about in the same leafy branches, not far from their whining, lamenting nestmate. Mom and Dad were close by and continually trying to coax the scared little bird to do something more than just complain about the injustices of being a little fledgling that would rather be back home in the tidy nest having Mom and Dad bring home the grub--or grubs as the case may be.

Eventually it did manage to hop and flutter onto a bare portion of a pine branch close by where it continued to plead for assistance. The other siblings were more active and less vocal. Eventually the crick in my neck overtook my joy in watching the energetic travails of new birds getting started with living in the real world.

Nope, I didn't have the camera at my disposal at the time. Yep, I figure that had I returned to the house to grab the machine to capture it all for future posterity, I'd have lost the whole event unfold before my less than perfect, but eager-to-see eyes. (Not to mention that I would have been shooting pictures nearly blindly. I often just point and click in the general vicinity because I cannot see what's in the view finder screen all too often when outside in the sunshine. I'll have to figure that problem out one of these days. Hopefully.)

And that's that. I didn't capture the little birds once more. You'll just have to trust me that I'm telling the straight story. Or not. It was fun to watch the little ones interact trying to encourage their little sib with Mom and Day nearby trying to help it along as well.

Somehow, the whole thing reminded me a little of my own nestlings and the one who's reluctant to move on out of the nest.