off to the great greygreen greasy limpopo river

i suppose if these were pink it would confirm all my worries about myself. Thankfully, I have not reached that point, but must say i simply have got to have a wine or three with dinner.

the little grave dancer

there is only transcendence.

coon's age

Happy Birthday to all March people. We missed the Saint Pat's parade in Savannah. I paid homage at Kroger - bought some potatoes and herein follows an irish soup recipe - peel a bunch of red skinned potatoes until you get bored. Then boil them in chicken broth until they are mushy. Mash them up and add 1 thing of philly cream cheese and one can of cream of chicken soup and some milk or half and half if you like to live rebelliously. Take off the heat and add chopped chives and crunchy bacon. Serve with a smattering of sharp cheddar on top. Go get yourself a beer and some French Bread (you can dye it green) and think of the old country. P.S. you can omit the chicken soup - i like it better - if you store this you can make potatoe pancakes because it sort of sets of like wall paper paste. Just add a mashed potatoe or two if too loose. Make sure you chop up some onions in it. Dredge in egg batter and flour and fry in bacon grease and you're off to the races.

incident In a country garden

Spring is springing and one naturally turns to the garden as a relief from inside doings. Savannah is sandy - easy to weed but then weeds find it easy to invade. i'm going for an eclectic look in the backyard. Tropicals and formal box hedges . My goal is to de-grass the backyard and have it all brick pavers and beds. We've had a mole invasion and Buckley has plowed many a furrow. He undoes me and my plans at all times. Maybe he is protecting me from Spiny Norman.

Happy easter - early. Here's hoping life is filled with the pleasantly unexpected.

Sad news. My good friend Bill is hospitalized and doing very poorly. Please send good thoughts his way. he is a flamboyant, one of a kind - sort of a J. Thadeus Toad, kind of guy. His name is Bill Grourke and he is in the Westerly, Rhode Island hospital. Went through my images and nothing really fits the bill (no pun intended).

But I suppose the cat is a metaphor for the grim reaper and the mouse with the warning bell, man's feeble attempt to ward off same.