An open letter to the plants in the yard.

You’ve all seen the plaque on the front porch. It’s a lie. There is no dedicated gardener dwelling in this household. It was an earlier occupant.

With that said, it’s time for you all to get over your bad selves. Some of you are here by choice; others just happened to be in the wrong nursery at the wrong time. You all have my condolences, but it is time for a stiff upper lip (or branch as the case may be).

We’re here and we’re together. So let’s work out a living arrangement that we can all live by.

First: I promise to all of you plants in the front yard that I will do everything humanly possible to keep Ralph and Trixie off you. Those of you in the backyard; you’re on your own. Backyarders, you will have an abbreviated life span. But, you are all there by choice. Well, except the poor rhododendron who has spent the last three seasons in a dormant state, (ever since I caught Ralph running around the back yard with him in his wet mouth, like he was a twig. I replanted the rhody, but he hasn’t gotten over the shock yet. I don’t know that he ever will.)
In exchange, I ask that you drink less water than last year. We’re all cutting back, so don’t feel singled out. I’m not sure it is appropriate, but I will bring up global warming just to give you all a little more inspiration!

Second: When the weather is ideal, I promise to tend to your every need, unless I am too tired, have other plans or am just not it the mood.
And for your part, if you chose to stay outside in the heat, you’re all on your own. I know that most of you love the hot sunny days, and I think that is really neat-o-jet, but if it gets above 85, I ain’t running out to hold a parasol over you.

Third: I will always speak kindly of you to strangers.
Unless you chose to kill yourself and cause me extra work. Oregon does have an assisted suicide law, and I fully support your right to take your own life. I just request that you have the common decency to take yourself out to the compost heap (just beside the shed on the north end of the property) before you drink the poison. Don’t make me handle your corpse. I will be in mourning and unable to cope.

I thank you for your assistance.

My health is fine.

Sadly, the rest of the package ain't what it used to be!

The Sunday Comics

It’s the Sunday of a three day weekend. It’s a beautiful day. You’re out in the yard when Richard comes home from mass and doing the weekly shopping. You take a break, come in for lunch and to scan the Oregonian (read the funny page).

And there it is. In full color. A retelling of last night.
(Click on comic to enlarge!)

Yes, the names have been changed to protect the innocent (and paradoxically, the guilty), and some of the dialogue was mis-translated from 'madcat'. But there is no question but it was my Saturday night relived.

The Lilacs Are Blooming

So Sweet.

I know that most of you will be surprised, but I have been having technical difficulty updating my blog. Until today, when miraculously, the clouds parted and the gods allowed me access.

Mt. St. Helens

I remember the day well.

I was, of course, exceedingly young at the time, but still I remember it well.

I was living in North Bend, Oregon and working at Little Farmers Market. Actually, it was a great little gig, albeit one with no future. Or maybe my memories are better than the reality was. Either way, it was 29 years ago today.

What an adorable little kid.

They just don’t make toddlers as cute as they used to!

Best Supporting Actor

When the word “Theatre” comes up in reference to our household, seldom does my name happen to be mentioned. But I want everyone to know I have a decorated past on stage.



And I'm not impressed with your awards either, Mr Hanks!

Stray Pictures

Have you ever wondered why rhubarb flowers aren't popular?

Happy Birthday, Rocky.

The Oregon Grape in Bloom

Happy Birthday, Peggy Jane

Lazy Sunday for Some!

You come in for a break from working in the yard.

And somebody is playing solitaire!

A fine spring day in the valley.

I took this picture to show the blossoms on the trees. But all I can see is the mish-mash of wires across the sky. I half expect to hear a trolley coming up the driveway.

New Hampshire

Will Governor John Lynch sign the bill, making New Hampshire the sixth state to allow gay marriage?


Or will he veto?

Sweden and Maine

Two in one day!

Miss Trixie

She always looks so wise!

Ten signs you have lived too long with Saint Bernards:

#1. You find it perfectly acceptable to go out in public wearing pants with a huge dog-slopper mark on the front of the left leg. Deep down, you think you did pretty good getting out of the house that clean.

#2. You can look at a lumbering 20# cat and honestly think he looks tiny.

#3. You can no longer see out the French doors because of the drool and caked mud, and it doesn’t bother you at all.

#4. You can say from experience that it is not a good idea to train your cute, little puppy to high five. It takes a whole new meaning at 200#.

#5. You seldom refer to April as springtime. The term “mud-season” seems more appropriate.

#6. You’re never sure if you’re putting on a T shirt or a short sleeved sweater and you don’t really care.

#7. You make a phone call, and the party on the other end can’t understand what you’re saying because of the loud rumbling noise in the background on your end of the phone. You have to apologize, because you hadn’t noticed the dogs were asleep until he mentioned it.

#8. You consider the drifts of fur in the living room as something of a badge of courage.

#9. Your ideas for landscaping the backyard are always predicated on plantings going into the holes the dogs have already dug.

#10. When you retreat to your happy spot, there is always a big, sweet dog laying next to you with his/her head on your lap.

Republican Rep. Virginia Foxx is Wrong!

Matthew Shepard was murdered in 1998. He was brutally beaten and left to die in on a fence in Wyoming. He was sadistically killed because he was gay.


"We know that young man was killed in the commitment of a robbery. It wasn't because he was gay," Foxx said during debate. "The bill was named for him, the hate-crimes bill was named for him, but it's really a hoax that continues to be used as an excuse for passing these bills."

Virginia, there is no excuse for your stupidity other than hateful prejudice. Time for you to join Kenny Clueless in the infamy of American history.

May Day, May Day

Right wing extremists are blaming swine flu on illegal aliens.

Stop the madness. Stop it now.