new word; new lips

Who needs lip injections when you live with a rambunctious deerhound?

Much as I love Katherine [Marg Helgenberger] of CSI fame, her lips just look funny these days. I had assumed she was 'plumping up' with some sort of injection. But who knows, maybe she got a deerhound!

Luther gave me a similar look this morning.

Here's the formula: one ball, one rambunctious deerhound, and one owner reaching down for the ball at the same time rambunctious deerhound is delivering the coup de grâce to said ball. [The coup de grâce, by the way, consists of rearing up and then landing - stiff-legged - on the object in question].

Position human and hound head in close proximity just before the rear-up, and - voilà! - fat lips.

It was easily and neatly done, at no expense. No muss; no fuss; no needles. Argal*, Marg must have a rambunctious deerhound in her life. You see, this is a whole lot easier than plastic surgery, not to mention less embarrassing to explain.

It hurts, though.

What's that quote about pain and beauty?
"The pain passes, the beauty remains."
[attributed to Pierre Auguste Renoir]

Here's hoping those lips don't remain. . . .

_________________________
*the new word, of course.

four hundred twenty blackbirds

. . . . baked in a pie?

No. But several hundred blackbirds filling the sky!They swirl through the trees like smoke. Then, in an instant, gone.

another day; another photo shoot. . . .

My friend Cheryl at A Simple Yarn has posted pictures of a gorgeous scarf she's been unable to photograph.

Yes. You read that right. She explains all, here.

What I find interesting is that she could so clearly see the colour combinations that showed a lovely zing with my colouring, ever-graying hair, Corinthian Gray granite and the brilliant red, white and black of the scarf. On the day in question, I felt like the worst kind of wash-out. . . . I guess it just goes to show that you can't really tell. Sometimes you just have to go for it, no matter how you feel!

Or, maybe you just need a talented photog, like her talented photog hubby. He's taken other photos of me that are way prettier than I really am. I like that in a photographer.

Anyway, here's the non-photo of me wearing the unphotographable scarf.

She's opened a shop at Etsy, online, by the way, for those of you who [like me] like her work! Whether or not this particular scarf ever makes it to the shop. . . . [Hey - send her an email if you don't see this one online!]

Five? Did I say five?!

More like twenty-five. The venue is growing.

More, arriving.

They're gone now. Perhaps this is their morning roll-call before they head out to take care of . . . . well, to head out, let's just say. The king has taken to calling their tree the Gallow's Oak. It sits at the top of Blind Man's curve. This is all very Edward Gorey-ish. You remember him, don't you? Of the PBS Mystery fame.



Very macabre indeed.

a venue of. . . .

. . . vultures.

Great.

We did see what we're calling a wild turkey the other day, so you can easily imagine how I felt when I found the wild turkey tree, right where neighbors have reported a wild turkey crossing, towards the front of the Greenwood. Cool! Wild turkeys are very friendly feeling around Thanksgiving time. There they were, five of them, all perched comfortably in a big old snag tree, big dark blobs against the sky.

"I didn't know turkeys roosted so high off the ground." I said. "Or roosted communally like that." the king added. We trained binoculars on our subjects.

"Hmm. That doesn't really look like a turkey beak." the king said. I looked through the binoculars.

"Nope, it doesn't." I pulled out the North American Birds reference book. Where to start? Wild turkeys, hawks, eagles, they were all in the same section. Well that makes it easier! These are all big birds. But what kind? I flipped through the pages, and stopped. I looked at the picture; looked at the birds; checked the habitat range and size. It all fit.

"Great." I said. "There are vultures perched in that tree. Figures. I guess every stone tower needs a vulture."

Well, we've got five of 'em. Black vultures. Roosting, that's a venue of vultures. Soaring, we've got a kettle of them.

Somehow that adds an element I wasn't quite counting on.