Today has been a perfect spring day here at Doright Manor. As I sat outside with a wee glass of wine and a good book I began hearing a pair of owls calling to each other from across the neighborhood. I snapped this photo and dare you to find the owl. I call this one, “I Promise There’s an Owl in This Photo!”
I took this one at the Tallahassee Museum last week. That’s Studly Doright (Poppa) experiencing the Tree to Tree adventure. Let’s call this one, “Holy Crap! What Has He Gotten Himself Into?”
“Twenty-four!”
Drawn by the sound of non-rhythmic counting we approached a house. At least it appeared
to be a house–four sides, a peaked roof, an old stone porch. Even so the roughly cubed structure
was devoid of doors, and on further investigation presented no windows.
“Twenty-five,”
intoned a disembodied voice. What manner of edifice, we wondered, looked like a family
dwelling, yet gave no opportunity for entry or exit?
“Twenty-six.”
After circling the structure three full times, I banged my fist against the place where the front door
logically should be situated, just up the three stone steps, centered on the building’s apparent
Anterior surface. “Puzzling,” my partner ventured, his antennae twitching, when no response
resulted from my knocking. Suddenly, the house lifted and came crashing brutally down on him.
“Twenty-seven!”
I scampered away across the sand as quickly as my six legs could carry me, thinking, “What madness?!”
Author’s note: This tale came to me at 2 a.m. I’m not sure what it means, but it insisted on being written.
Grandson Garrett had to share a photo of his giant slice of pizza from MoMo’s in Tallahassee with his cousin in Texas. I called this one, “Wish You Were Here!”
Our daughter and her family visited from Illinois these past few days. The youngest grandchild, Harper, was entranced by our fairy house, but she also was frustrated that it had a fake door.
“How do the fairies get in?” she asked.
“They’re magic,” I said. “They just pop in and out.”
“I don’t think that’s how it works,” she said.
We left the fairies in a rearranged state and went for a quick overnight trip to the beach. I’d forgotten all about them, but Poppa (a.k.a. Studly Doright) began planning to build a house with a door that would open and close.
When we returned from St. George Island on Friday afternoon Harper was napping, so Poppa and the middle grandchild, McKayla, went to work on a new fairy house.
By the time Harper awakened most of the building was completed, but she did add her opinion.
In fact, the idea to use leaves for the curtains was hers.
Here’s the finished project. Notice the original dwelling behind the new house. We’ve got the beginnings of a village!
And the door opens, so these fairies don’t have to rely on magic to enter and exit.
I noticed a couple of wee folk have already taken possession of the new place,
along with a happy frog!
Poppa and McKayla, with a wee bit of help from Harper, made a big impact in the Florida fairy world.
Peace, people!
The youngest grandchild explored St. George Island on a blustery spring day. I call this one, “Harper Storms the Beach.”
I’m on the cusp of nothing
Hanging on a thread,
Every day seems pregnant
With a certain kind of dread.
Headlines scream, portending
Tales of glee or maybe gloom,
Depending on one’s politics
Seen as bonus or as doom.
So here we stand in limbo
One foot toeing on the ledge,
While the other seeks purchase
Having fallen off the edge.
I got my shingles vaccine on Monday.
Now all I want to do is lounge atop the house.
Studly Doright freaked out a little when he saw this critter near the beach on St. George Island. I call this one, “Dreaded Bungee Cord Viper.”
In his search for the moon, he discarded the sun, then wondered why he floundered in the dark.
He cursed as his shins cracked against the base of an antique bureau, and he was heard to mutter,
“I swear, it was right here. Big, and round, and full.”
His lady tsked, “Come back to bed, love. All will be well come the morning.”
Praying for Eyebrowz 