so i'm moderately fixated on these tulips... i should be fixated on finishing senior and sophomore classes, the upcoming exams and grades, visits from friends new and old, registration for some possibly silly summer class for the acquisition of the elusive cpdu, walking more and more, the impending relocation of two of our number (rendering us here three)... but i have tulips on the brain.. tulips and deer... and so i will try to dump it all here in a hopeful purge...

tulips do what they do in the spring... they grow...

and deer apparently also follow the logic of their own natures in spring... they eat... tulips...

my smarter than average niece sara says something about a spray of cayenne pepper... i am storing this information for next season... but i'm afraid this season is a wash... or soon will be once the flowerphagus deer return... tonight... i bet

but... there... i feel better... and will not bother you with this nonsense again... unless there are startling and dramatic developments...

my walk this afternoon found me fending off a little yip-yap terrier at my heels... the bigger dogs are plenty friendly with nothing to prove... but the little rat-dogs are funny... once upon a time i would have trembled in terror at this critter... today i laughed, said 'hey little dog' and hoped he'd keep his tiny chompers away from my ankle...

this was just after school where the seniors apparently went out in style.. no problems that i've heard of... a very affable locker-evac... not too much good stuff in the dumpsters by the time i checked them out... in the past i'd find some good books hardly touched.. not so lucky today...

Death eats up all things, both the young lamb and old sheep; and I have heard our parson say, death values a prince no more than a clown; all's fish that comes to his net; he throws at all, and sweeps stakes; he's no mower that takes a nap at noon-day, but drives on, fair weather or foul, and cuts down the green grass as well as the ripe corn: he's neither squeamish nor queesy-stomach'd, for he swallows without chewing, and crams down all things into his ungracious maw; and tho' you can see no belly he has, he has a confounded dropsy, and thirsts after men's lives, which he guggles down like mother's milk.

Miguel de Cervantes

 

 

talk to me

brtom.org