Caterpillar Invasion


I have been trying really hard to enjoy the outdoors.  Parts of the area have been invaded by the dreaded army worms. Yucchh. They crawl all over everything and eat the leaves of trees leaving behind a naked path.  I supposed there is a purpose for them, the Creator created them for some reason. Anyway soon they will be cocooning and then turning into moths which I believe lay eggs for next year and then die? Adios, I say!

I have turned my attention to the fowl life, the birds, ducks and loons.  They’re much cuter. We have little swallows making a nest on the light fixture on our deck.  They fly in and out of the covered deck with their twigs and mud, busily working away to make a home for their family.  I think they have chosen a good spot because the seagulls can’t get to them on the light fixture. They squawk at me to move when I’m sitting outside trying to have a nice glass of wine.  I won’t move; they’ll have to get used to me. I’ve already been pooped on but they’re in my space so I’m staying.

The other day we stood on the dock and watched the loon swimming under the water as he approached and then popped up beside us.  Loon feet swimming under water look a lot like a frog. The little hummingbirds come to the feeder early in the mornings or evenings.  They are quite greedy and fight with each other.  Don’t want to aggravate those birds.

This morning, I took Maggie for a walk before it got too hot outside.  We walked down to one boat launch area where she went for her swim and then over to another boat launch for another swim.  I was holding her leash while she swam around for awhile and then heard a voice behind me say, “Now, that’s the way to do it.” I turned around to see Santa Claus sitting in a lawn chair. Seriously, I don’t know where he came from.  He had a Southern accent. Even Santa is a tourist of our lovely little town!

The Cedar Canoe is still waiting for me to paddle it away. It has been taken out on the water already by my son and his girlfriend, but my time is coming.






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