drowning at 7 feet sea level
Ran across this account of Hurricane Wilma’s aftermath while cleaning out my desk. Though I wrote about Hurricane Andrew’s passing, it’s certainly not for consumption. Our experiences after Wilma, though, are simply boring. Putting it here to save it.
Hubris and the Hurricane or How We Found our Miracle
::Cue the Gilligan’s Island theme::
Continue reading “Wilma”As usual I went out with the dogs early this morning. The day was breaking. Soft tendrils of pink floated across the western sky.. then billowed, like cream in coffee. Then upon entering the back yard, I saw much the same, but on a grander scale: the eastern sky was alight with corals and pinks! Alive with color, pinks alone wove their way north then settled west, as if the angels were knitting.
No, I can’t take a decent photograph of the sky.
Not this morning. Dug this out of my drafts folder.
Continue reading “Pink Sky at Morn”I can’t seem to identify this one… and that’s Sevin dust, not snow. It doesn’t snow in SoFl.
Pretty much every day during the summer months is a rainy day for us. Today was no different, except that when it became dark and rainy I took to the comfy chair and watched Daisy. She doesn’t care for rain, but it doesn’t stop her looking for chameleons and delivery trucks.
Found this while going through old files. Unfortunately the birdbath is long gone.
There was just something about it that made me happy. Possibly the dragonflies.
I’m calling my yard a ‘garden’, if that’s alright? K.
Perhaps I need a third crepe to name ‘Love’. A red one!
So, the yard guy doesn’t know that Purple Heart is a valuable member of the garden community. Either of them! I am bereft, but they’re tough little monkeys; I’m sure they’ll be back soon.
She is actually tearing the rock apart. Daisy once ripped a lawnmower to pieces. Tires, rubber thingys that hang down, etc… We thought it was so incredibly cute we let her do it.
That’s who we are; enablers.
I’m currently working in the front. So far I’ve pared a bed of areca palms by half. It’s hot, nasty, ant riddled work, but satisfying. Pictures to follow. Of course.
…is a happy Dachshund.
The little auld lady, a.k.a. Her Majesty Queen Daisy, 13 years old, goes in for the kill. Er… up, rather.
In the last post the purple heart has some odd thingys in the middle under the bloom. What the heck? They look like spider legs but I’m sure it’s just…. new leaves? Yep, let’s go with new leaves.
pamibe 