Monthly Archives: February 2024

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Numbers game

For Judy’s The Numbers Game #9: 130.

Photographs with the number 130. From small things to large. First, a butterfly. August, 2022, on a hike on Hurricane Ridge.

Biking on the east coast. I biked with my oxygen concentrator.

East coast forest, Maryland.

Back the Pacific Northwest. Snow on the north face in the Olympic Mountains.

Hurricane Ridge, looking southwest.

Hurricane Ridge again, layers of Olympic mountains and clouds.

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Mead Moon

Where does honeymoon come from?

Honeymoon. Perhaps from Hony Moone, Old English for the June full moon, called the Honey Moon or Mead Moon. There are other possible sources.

I took the photograph in June 2022. A crescent, not a full moon, but in the right month.

For the Ragtag Daily Prompt: honeymoon.

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Stitch

I like to play with word cliches
Geraniums red and chrysanthemums white
As I wander busy through my day
Delphiniums blue, all are dark at night
Least said, soonest mended
Except for murder, rape and pillage
Loose lips sink ships, war ended
Sinner gossip round the village
Time will mend a broken heart
A stitch in time will save nine
You’ll never finish if you don’t start
Mend that heart and change the rhyme
Absence makes the heart grow fonder
Your love grows daily, what a wonder

For the Ragtag Daily Prompt: absence.

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Oscar party

I’m going to have an Oscar party
No, not those Oscars. The trash one.
The grumpy one I grew up with.
The one who lived in the trash can
grumpy all the time. Reliable, you know.
Trustworthy. I knew how he would respond
to everything. I valued that then and now.
Let’s have a party and all come as Oscar
the Grouch. Let’s dress as muppets and be grumpy.
Let’s complain about anything and everything.

And what do you think you will hear,
listening in to this Oscar the Grouch party
as it devolves?

Laughter.

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Tile like

This would be amazing tile if it were tile. But it’s not. It is rock.

It is orbicular granite from Finland, gorgeous. I took the photographs in a Danish Museum in Copenhagen in March 2022.

Nature just blows me away, all the time.

And the long necked shadow? Oh, yes, that’s a fossil dinosaur skeleton.

For the Ragtag Daily Prompt: tile.

https://www.museumofevolution.com/the-permian-period

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Spring 2

My neighbor has tiny violas blooming in her grass, near the garage. I had a tax appointment in the morning yesterday so walked the cats around noon. The busier street by my house was noisy, so the cats headed for the neighbor’s yard, further from the cars. I don’t hold the leashes but keep a close eye. NO DIGGING, cats, at least not in the neighbor’s yard.

Little signs of spring. Spring still feels strange to me here, even after 24 years, because it is so long. We start in February but summer rarely arrives until July 4. And then it is very rarely hot. After summers in Alexandria, Virginia and Richmond, Virginia, it feels so odd to not be hot. Though my patients would complain when it’s 80 degrees and 60% humidity. “Hot and humid!” It is all relative. I have lived in quite cold areas, Wisconsin and Colorado, and fairly warm and humid in Virginia.

For Cee’s Flower of the Day.

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Paw tuck

I have two desks on my main floor, and use both. Sol Duc likes the office desk and Elwha likes the other one. Sol Duc tucks herself under the lamp. I think the paw tuck position radiates peace.

I hope it radiates all over the world.

For the Ragtag Daily Prompt: radiate.