Scribbles and Scrambles ~ Harey Fun and New Friends ~

Elizabeth Bennett Bunny

Bunny hunting

Here’s a story. One about how I now have two Jane Austenesque bunnies at my house.

The face of a man resigned to new pets.

It might be an enchanted fairy tale. If nothing else it might be the picture of the power of prayer. Odd as it is, it is true. Very, very little embellishment. (I know. From me?)

Mr. Darcy

About a month ago & and I headed out at dusk to walk the dogs. In front of us, in the weedy ditch, we saw a hopping little animal. The girls saw it as well and were very interested. Knowing it was a bunny we were ready to wrestle the girls past the little critter when we both noticed that there was a whole lot of white on that bunny.

Turns out the bunny we saw looked nothing like the traditional brown bunny in our areas. It looked very much like a cute little pet bunny.

But, why would a cute little pet bunny be out and about? We thought perchance we had made a visual error as it disappeared into taller grass.

A few days later we saw a white bunny in the neighbors yard. Chewing contentedly, just hanging out. Had to be the neighbors bunny. Right? Of course it was. And it was most definitely a domesticated pet bunny. Indeed, the little cutie was a mini-lop if I've ever seen one.

And a few days later, we saw him again. Never in the light of the day but always when heading out for a late evening walk. We still wondered why the bunny didn't have a cage, but, well, he clearly was home.

Then we saw a wee bit of a difference one evening. He was suddenly a white pointy-eared bunny. Two bunnies?

One morning both bunnies visited our yard. Brace yourself for a scary moment that ended with no casualties. Imagine a cartoon visual of a large black dog racing after a small white critter, back and forth, back and forth. Yep. That's what I saw the morning I realized the bunnies had begun visiting us. Fortunately for all of us the driveway has a bunny-sized tube and Lily is not bunny-sized.

At this point we began to wonder if these bunnies really did belong to the neighbor. And if so, why they were out and about, unprotected by fencing. So I called. No answer. And we had to leave for a long weekend away. & began to pray for the bunnies protection. And that when the time was right, if the bunnies were not the neighbors that she could catch them and find them a good home. 

This pattern continued. Until Monday night. We had gone out and as we arrived home we saw both bunnies in the neighbor's yard. Our fake extended-female-family-members were with us. Two of the more exuberant ones jumped out of the car and ran down to see the bunnies. We followed as did the neighbor who was no doubt curious as to why there were strange teenagers/young adults running willie-nillie in his yard. We chatted. The bunnies had just shown up one day and he thought that maybe they were ours. He was worried about them getting into traffic and wildlife encounters of a bad kind.

Now. We decided we must try to catch them. Indeed, it is probably a miracle that they both survived. There are two busyish streets and raccoons, badgers, owls, hawks, dogs, cats, goodness, there is danger out there. We couldn't just leave them to try to survive any longer on their own. We know lots of people who love bunnies and would love to offer foster care and a friendly home for the cuties.

Shockingly, we did indeed catch them. And they are tame as can be. And dog-gone it (as Rob expected the entire time we worried about the bunnies) we became the welcoming, friendly home.

Yes. Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth Bennett Bunnies have found a new home.

Now could you resist these faces? 

Scribbles and Scrambles ~ Organic Farm Fun... Bless Your Little Pea Picking Heart...

Well, I thought I could fill your minds and thoughts with some rich "root" of meaning for a phrase I have become close with of late. 

Turns out, I can't. So I'll just have to ramble enough that this is worthy of posting, or at least makes you get off the computer and do something of value with your time. You can thank me later. 

Food has wormed (excuse the organic farm pun....) it's way into our very language. In medicine, well, it's pretty cotton pickin disgusting. Coffee ground or cottage cheese are not something you want to see in your medical record. Nor do you really want watermelon flesh. Anyhoo, if you're still hanging onto your cookies, I'll move forward. 

Food phrases... how about bean counter. Hmmm. Bet you've heard that term. Egg on your face.

The phrase that I thought might be rich with deep meaning is Pea pickin... as in the famous and possibly only use "Bless your little pea pickin heart." Ala Tennessee Ernie Ford.

So what the heck does that mean? 

At the farm yesterday I picked some peas. So the recipe for picking peas... Apparently it takes intense 95 degree directly overhead sun. Why? I'm not sure, but I do know that the cool breeze we felt before and after the pea picking was non-existent during. Also, many hands are required. And those many hands can pick 66 pounds (66.4 - says my inner bean counter. Every pea counts. Trust me.) in about 12 hours of woman time. Yup. That's a lot of peas. 

Pea picking also really should require a gymnast or yoga master. Pea plants grow way low as in "how low can you go" low. Peas like to hide in their swirly, viney foliage. So I think I can say that it is painstaking and back painstaking work. 

However, there is a nice benefit. Okay, several. 

One, all the peas you can eat while you work. Okay. That's pretty good. So we probably picked 68 pounds between the five of us. 

And while working side by side the conversation flowed nicely. And not so nicely. Someone I picked with, who won't be named to protect her reputation, was sometimes inappropriate. There was a wee bit of laughter while we worked. A few stories, too. 

So we sweat(sweated, swat????) and laughed and whined and got thoroughly filthy. At one point the farmer got separated from the pack (I think it might have been by choice) and when she rejoined us she said. " You know, while I was over there by myself I was listening to you. I couldn't hear the words most of the time. But, the rhythm of your voices, the laughter, the buzz of conversation, it was just beautiful. I enjoyed my background music very much." 

Sigh. And to think. I never really liked peas very much. Seems like they've wound their little tentacles vines right around my pea picking little heart....which is indeed blessed.

Scribbles and Scrambles ~ Sand and Turf?

Lots of activity the past few days. 


Here are some pictures of sand castle building in the middle of the city streets this weekend. 

We dropped in before the event started to peek at the behind the scenes building. Good choice. We didn't get to see the displays in all their glory but we didn't have to fight crowds either. And it was pretty cool watching the artists at work.

I love this tree trunk. My favorite piece of sand sculpture.

Scribbles and Scrambles ~ Monday Morning Raccoon Pooped on My Shirt Blues

How often in life does one get to write out a title like that? Or get pooped on by a raccoon? Rarely. So how can I not blog about it?

My crazy friend, (Most of them are, so she won't be offended should she happen to wander by and see that I have referred to her as crazy. She'll never know I'm even talking about her. Ha. Ha. And actually, craziness is pretty much a requirement to be my friend.) is a animal rescuer who definitely puts her money where her mouth is, or her curtains in the line of fire, or her sleep patterns on hold.... she just got three baby raccoons to "nurse" until they are old enough to brave the great outdoors all by themselves. The lady who contacted her currently is bottle feeding 30...been a rough year for raccoon mamas. 

& and I had to go see this triple raccoon threat on Saturday. Oh my. They are cute. 

The trio didn't care for & and I exactly. Oh, there were no "Does somebody need a hug? moments but some chatters of complaint when we held them. One climbed up over &'s back and down an arm and onto a vanity. And the one I held finally cuddled in a bit then moved along my chest. Turns out she was pooping on me. Yeah. Only one who got pooped on during this little visit. All across the chest, down an arm and on my hand. 

At least it was baby poop, I told myself, I've had lots of experience with baby poop. 

Going to have to go back and visit them a few more times before they are ready to be released.

Scribbles and Scrambles ~ Crittercized

Critters.

nothing to do with critters. a salad named fresh garden salad. ha. ha.

1st handful of raspberries. AMAZING

A few critter experiences of late.  Coincidence? I think not!

Chipmunks have been a problem in Wisconsin. I found a tip for making their homes less welcoming and sent it to our Wisconsin friends. Hopefully, the changes in their environment will mean they'll move to a better location soon. 

Soon to be moving chipmunk?

(The chipmunks, not the people.) 

Spicy front door.

I found a few friendly little critters while at the garden shop in Wisconsin. Mine is now sporting a nice blue stripe that wasn't there when I bought him. Someone, who broke his little neck, wondered why anyone would keep snakes on the floor. I wondered why anyone would walk without looking. But it's all good.

Snakes on the floor = broken necks, who knew.

The farm this week....the lettuce. Well, let's just say critter season is in full bloom. And if you buy organic lettuce at a decent price, you should probably find the farmer who picked it and give him/her a pat on the back, a huge hug, or a jumbo java. Because, if their experiences are anything like mine, they need hugs, pats and java. Let's just say, after I picked the green or white gutted vermin off the lettuce leaves and stomped them over and over again, I got a wee bit queasy. Not tomato worm weirded-out, but, it changed me. 

Not THE squirrel...a country cousin.

Finally, Mrs. Toad Boy (my daughter-in-law) and Toad Boy strolled to a local restaurant and had an encounter with a squirrel. Now, this girl LOVES squirrels. I've seen her stand statue still for a VERRRY long time to get some good pictures of rodents. So, no doubt, when she spied the squirrel she was probably giddy. 

But, then, it started chasing/stalking them. She said they'd stop and look at it and it would veer to one side and become all incognito and pretend that it wasn't following them. But peripherally she'd see it keeping pace and even creepier, gaining on them. She said they sped up and actually rushed the entrance. Heart pounding, feeling like they had escaped an awful fate, and the squirrel, seeing that they got away, went and hid behind a car and peeked at the door.  Was it waiting for them to come out? 

She said the walk home was a little tense, especially down the block where the incident occurred. They did arrive home unscathed but a little shaky. Methinks her squirrel picture taking days will include a catcher's mask and some leggings now. 

Watch your backs, people. That's all I'm going to say. 

Scribbles and Scrambles ~ Oy Vey, Watch That Mouth ~

I learned something yesterday. 

Let me back up a bit and give you some history. I have three bosses. (Technically four, however, one might choose only to ground me vs. get rid of me, and we'd have five if one of my coworkers got her way.) But that little aside is beside the point. 

So my three bosses have all fired me at least once. One of them got up to seven or eight times (I lost count) but then he decided that since I just kept coming back post firings he needed to up the ante. He began publicly booing me. When I forget to do "the only job that I really need to do/worry about is keeping paper in the printer" I get a hearty boo. (You'd think, since that's my only "have to" chore I'd never forget, but I kind of like getting fired and being booed...call me an adrenaline junkie.)

Yesterday said boss comes in complaining because he has a hole in his pants. (No, that was my first thought, too, but it was on the side of his pants.) He said he felt like a (insert now forgotten Yiddish word here). I said, "Bummer, Dr. (insert forgotten but parroted Yiddish word here.)"

His eyes got wide and he stared at me. "You can't call me that!"

I smiled. "You just called yourself that, why?"

"That's a bad Yiddish word. You can call me (rattled off 6 or 7 Yiddish words that sounded suspiciously like THE word but I've forgotten them, too.) but (TABOO YIDDISH WORD) is reserved for bad situations or used by very elderly Jewish ladies who's frontal cortex has lost it's inhibition filter."

Ha. Ha. Good thing my memory is like a colander or I might be tempted to slip it into everyday conversation. Next to a good public booing, or firing, my favorite just might be shocking my bosses into speechlessness or leaving them laughing. 

So, my advice, get out there and act like a (insert forgotten but TABOO Yiddish word here) and see where that gets you.

Scribbles and Scrambles ~ Weekend Adventure

Dairy barn. Beautiful girls patiently waiting for milking.

We spent a bit of time in Wisconsin over the weekend. First time for me, ever. I may have crossed over the border on my way elsewhere, but this was my first time hanging out in this lovely state. Here are a few highlights. 

This little guy really liked me...enough to eat me. Ha. Ha.

We created a prayer garden out of a blah section of the Bible camp. We walked past a cow who was in labor. (You don't probably want details. Let's just say the calf wasn't appearing yet but other stuff was.) & discovered that lazy Wisconsin rivers can contain some impressive rapids and have electric fencing strung across them.

Some moving water in the lazy river.

The lazy part of the river.

Beautiful buildings....

Nice discovery on returning home....blueberries almost ready.

Raspberries, too.

Popcorn loving chickens.

A wee bit of the Secret Prayer Garden.