Oh, Autumn, How Could You?

Mother Nature, I thought we were pals. But first Irene's brackish floods turned the leaves from green to brown with no inbetween, and now this, the untimely arrival of sn...no, I won't say its name. I will only say where, oh where, are the crunchy piles of rainbow-colored leaves and the smell of woodsmoke in dry, crisp air? Release my rosebuds from these individual miracles of crystallization instantly, I insist! Really. Am putting my foot down. And then, wiping it carefully before coming back inside, because it is snowing out there. (Oops!)

Thanks For Pointing That Out!

You know you're in California when even the traffic signals direct your attention to the natural wonders surrounding you.

If You've Filled It, They Will Come

...the wee, greedy sparrows, that is...and they will bicker and spat like the Three Stooges with wings. They'll be so busy tussling, in fact, they won't even notice they're being recorded.

A New Leaf

Oh, look at that; I've been away so long Blogger has gone and changed the dashboard on me. Well, let's see if we can't get this party (re)started. The pond lily above posed for me at Longhouse Preserve on a recent Saturday roadtrip I took with my brother. We visited the South End Cemetery in East Hampton, where the caretaker powered down his weedwhacker long enough to talk about some of the interments and gossip a little about former locals like Lee Krasner, for whom he provided landscaping services. We also hit a couple of tag sales and stopped at the Big Duck, in addition to strolling Longhouse, which combines gardens with outdoor sculpture. Then we headed back and to the north, broke the fast with the Bode clan, and finally headed home. Stella Luna put on two hundred and twenty-five miles! (She's usually a homebody, but she loves to get out and kick up her hubcaps sometimes.)  

Something Old, Something New Year

It's nice to start the year with something new, which is what we got at Fire Island yesterday: icebergs! Icebergs floating past us as we walked along the beach below the lighthouse. Much smaller than the ones in Juneau, but much closer to home.

Here's a photo of Ken in front of the icebergs. For scale, of course.



The sun was out on the causeway, and so was the welcome wagon:




It was otherwise quiet along the shore, and barren but for some seagull's lunch wrapper:


We did see this fine example of the elusive "Moe Howard" variety of seaweed:



and the eversharp eye of Ken spotted this squee-ishly small starfish. Just look at it next to my monstrously large forefinger:


Anyway, Happy New Year. Hope everyone's year really "goes to eleven." In a good way.

Dig Out Your Snow Boots...

...then proceed to dig out everything else, because that right there is Fort Fiona, and the little kitter inside needs water and food and, after last night's howling winds, probably a lot of reassurance.

I will need boots. And perhaps, a plow.

I don't think there's a newspaper on that driveway, anyway, so let's not even consider shoveling that.

Almost there, honey. It'll just be another, um, half-hour or so.


I asked if she'd be going out today; she couldn't shake her head "no" fast enough. Okay, hon, I'll crack the ice on your water dish and warm up some Fancy Feast...you go on back to sleep...

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