This summer seems endless.
First it was Sammy the snake, then Hank the heron, now it’s an osprey. I was down at the pond checking out the life that is coming back into it. Baby frogs are hopping all over and about a dozen fish have reappeared and are swimming around. The dragon flies were zipping here and there, pausing on a water plant every now and again. Even the two hummingbirds were visiting the pond flowers. I was very happy.
Next to the pond is a very tall ash tree. Many birds sit in that tree during a day, including bald eagles. The pond and ash tree area is usually maintenance free. The woodchucks, deer, and rabbits crop most every weed that grows in that area. So I was surprised to see this little plant snuggled up against the ash tree. I wasn’t wearing my glasses so I got pretty close to it and had to bend over to get even closer to identify it. I never noticed the osprey eating in the ash tree.
I was completely bent over when something wet, slimy and weighty plopped on the back of my head, slid down my cheek, over my neck and landed in full clear eyesight range in front of me. It was a decapitated fish head looking right at me. Trying to expel a full throated scream while bent over and twisting away at the same time does horrible things to the human body unless one is a gymnast and very flexible. The full throated scream came out as a squeak when my right back muscle decided it wouldn’t contort itself into the escape position I wanted. My neck muscle agreed with my back muscle and went rigid too.
Resembling the Hunchback of Notre Dame, I managed to hobble in a crouched position away from the fish head. My back and neck were not letting me stand upright but I managed to turn my neck just enough and swivel my eyes up the tree to see the osprey in all his dining glory. Fish scales, fish skin, bones, all fell from the tree as he discarded what he didn’t want.
In my hunchback position, I stumbled up the hill and into the house. Yarn Rascal thought I was playing some kind of new game. He ran, leapt and squealed with delight all around me as I made my way through the house to the shower. The Skipper said, “What happened to you?” when I passed through the living room. I didn’t say a thing. I merely raised my index finger at him, which means don’t ask silly questions I might just go over the edge.
The truth is, I am longing for snow bound, ice cold winter to appear. The kind of winter weather where only an idiot would be outside. The kind of weather where even all the animals hide. Then I am going to don my snowshoes and take a relaxing, albeit freezing, walk around my yard.
Oh yes, one final thing. I finally wrestled the picture of my dad’s blanket from the circuitry of this infernal computer. I still need to learn how to work the photo software.
I am still waiting on the rest of the yarn, but that’s alright for the moment. I need to give my neck and back time to rest.
Oh yes, the plant I was looking at? Poison Ivy. Don’t even ask how I know.
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