Where's the post?

Where's the post been? In my dreams. A lack of dreamless sleep leads to a lack of creative thoughts. I am awake with Newton. Poor Newton. He was given his third strike last week (urinary blockage). After having surgery to remove the last external male attribute he had - he is restless. He seems more concerned about the shaved area on his front leg and his rear paw. I thought he would be looking for his lost member. Nope. I take the cone off so he can eat and do a little self-cleaning (above the waist). He goes after his leg and paw with vigor - to me he seems agitated as if he was given a bad haircut. He is a handsome cat - so everyone tells him. I think it went to his head. No worries Newton - the hair will grow back.

Meet Einstein...

Is there such thing as a cat model? Meet Einstein. Not only is he photogenic, he poses for the camera. I hold the camera to take a shot and I swear he cocks he head to one side as if to say - "I'm ready for my close up".

It is Spring...

 

   Beatiful tulip-like flowers, growing like groundcover.

  Delicate white blossoms falling like snow.

 Trees and bushes awash in a color.

The daytime temperatures have been in the 70s.

The air is warm and clear.  

Everywhere I go there is a splash of color.

I think to myself, it is Spring.



It must be Spring...

This bearded iris is striking.  Standing alone in a dormant flowerbed, it broke into bloom a day or so ago. It must have thought it was Spring, and I can't blame it. The sunny skies over the last few days seemed to echo Spring.  It is a vibrant reminder that Spring is on its way.

Ahh coffee...

I feel tired, a little sluggish. Ready or not, my morning starts without me. My moment comes in the form of a hot, dark, slightly bitter, hint of creamy vanilla goodness. Ahh coffee... I savor the moment with a warm cup in my hands. Breathing in warmth, breathing out calm. My morning meditation.

She looks like an angel...

In this moment of restful sleep - she looks like an angel. So serene and peaceful it is hard to stay mad at the dog who chewed on one of my "finds" from the library sale. As I look at the mangled book I am reminded of her most recent digressions: puling trash from  the waste basket in the bedroom; running away from me into the living room with muddy feet, opening and eating a bag of TJ's chicken wrapped rawhide treats, and going into the garage to eat the cat's food or waste (whichever she can find).

I realize she isn't doing these things to me. She is doing these things because of me.  Who left the book on the floor in the room she likes to nap in? Who left the bag of treats out in a place she could get to them? Who didn't make sure the garage door was fully closed? And finally, who hasn't been walking the dog on a regular basis?

I look at my faithful companion sleeping - it is a perfect moment - a teaching moment.

Books, books, & more books...

As I approached the door I could smell the books, not the offensive musty or mildew smell, but that distinctive smell of old print on paper in sturdy binding. I enter from the bright outdoors into this darkened basement filled with books, books, and more books. There are books on shelves, in stacks, on tables, in boxes, roughly separated by category. The exploration begins. I look around at the rows of used books - this picture was there waiting for me to capture it.

A few of my finds, which I happily carry home, include:  A Manual of Foreign Dialects for Radio, Stage, and Screen (1942); Good Night Sweetheart and several other music score sheets (~1940s); a beautifully illustrated book Year of the Horse; Naval Regulations as issued in 1802 (1970), and A Look at the 20th Century - stock photography ~historical selects vol. 3.