Natural is the cycle of life and death. Normal is civilized man believing he can control all aspects of nature. There is little natural about normal.
This big turtle might have met my tires, if I wasn’t such granny driver. I haven’t seen one quite like him before around here, so I turned around to try to catch him with my phone camera. I tried a dozen shots, he was so stealth and so well camouflaged, this was the best I could get. I have a great new respect for wildlife photographers!
Spot the butterfly enjoying the vetch I planted. The bumblebees and honeybees like it too. The hummingbirds visit the salvia all the time, but I can never get even a remotely decent shot.
This baby cardinal flew the coop where he was nesting in the veggie garden. His parents keep close watch on his effort, which I assume was successful after this first fall, because they were all gone by the next day.
The making of our fruits and vegetables requires the repeated exile, territory confiscation and/or downright murder of rabbits, voles, squirrels, deer, feral hog, wandering cows, untold number of stink bugs, aphids, cabbage worms, hornworms, ticks, fire ants, snakes, scorpions (and occasionally spiders, by accident).
The reason the gardens look so awesome right now is because they’re getting loads of poop. Well-managed grazing livestock work in far better symbiosis with nature than vegetable gardens do, but don’t tell the vegetarians that, they might pout.
Speaking of poop, our dear Papi, who I recently rushed to the vet because half his tongue was paralyzed, made a turn for the worse once he got back home. Seems the pharmaceuticals I agreed to give him hardened his stool to such a degree he would hardly eat or drink, for nearly a week. Why would I allow such a cocktail of drugs be ingested by our dear pooch when I’d refuse them myself for sure?
Out of fear, ignorance, and the misplaced trust stemming from those apertures. I’m quite ashamed of myself. I love him so much, I made his life worse. Sounds like I have something significant in common with our current political tyrants, except that I really do care about him. But, I have little confidence in my pet healing capacities, and that must change. Another gift of Ba’al—that giver just keeps on giving. Our old buddy’s back at the vet, fingers crossed even tighter.
Our prized borrowed ram has already lost interest in his harem and is apparently pursuing a bromance with the car. He spends hours leaning against it each day while his girls are nowhere in sight. I suspect he’s not missed too much by them anyway, as his primary deed’s surely been accomplished by now.
In the land of milk and honey co-exists more death, disease, disaster and drama than any man could ever wish for, so why, oh why, I wonder, would he ever need to recreate it all through so much media?