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Organize your many years of family photos so that your sons won’t be left with that overwhelming task.






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My sister left Florida to go back home after helping Mom and me make huge progress in our massive photographic undertaking. I arrived a day before her and as I sorted boxes of pictures, discovered a tiny Tracy-head photo from long ago. I taped it to the wall next to the work space, wondering how long it would take my sister to notice.
Less than an hour.
But now it’s just me, Mom, and that June Cleaver-esque pinhead.

At least no one expects me to wear pearls and heels while I slog through the photos . . .
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Tricolored Heron
is feeling kinda stabby.
Where are all the fish?
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Thankful that sister Katie arrived to help archive our mother’s eighty zillion photos.

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Just found some photos Zippy took ten days ago.

There are five Common Grackles in this photo. Can you spot all of them?
I looked for a quote about grackles, but only found a poem by Ogden Nash which I chose not to copy here because of its serious anti-grackle ‘tude.
I’m a huge grackle fan. Ogden Nash fan? Not so much.
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A bunny at ease
sudden bushy invader
hey, got any nuts?
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Took a cue from Marcel, and spent the day reading and revising in our patch of sunshine.

Keep your face always toward the sunshine – and shadows will fall behind you.
~ Walt Whitman
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This morning I was in my living room when I felt eyes upon me. I looked up and out the window.
I’d noticed these inflatable horrors in the new neighbors’ yard yesterday, but at that time the leering jack o’ lanterns and coked-out cat were oriented toward the street. Somehow, they’ve all pivoted a bit to the right so that they’re now staring across the street and directly into my living room window.
At me.
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I photographed these delicious organically grown peaches on the day that Zippy bought them at the farmers’ market way back in July, when the sun was still high in the sky and the days were long.
This morning I didn’t want to get out of bed because the house was cold. And even after doing my routine of exercise-yoga-hooping, I’m still chilly. My hands and feet are cold, and so is the tip of my nose.
Autumn is a truly beautiful season and I know it’s not yet winter, but today I’m feeling the cold and chill of what’s to come, and missing peach season.
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This morning I settled into a chair to work. A while later, I got up for a coffee refill and returned to find an interloper:

Loki bares his teeth to keep me from reclaiming the chair. (Actually, his black fur makes him ridiculously difficult to photograph which results in lots of these blurred “action” shots.)
In my family, we call that getting sharked. As in, “Loki just sharked my chair.”
Anyway, I was feeling generous so I moved to another chair, one that actually suited me better because it’s next to a window and big patch of warm sunshine, and worked there for some time. I then left to take care of something in another room and when I returned, found this:
Sharked again!
Maybe I should bring the rocking chair up from the basement. I’ve heard that cats get real nervous around those . . .
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Wildebeest’s first job was at Casa Bonita where he performed in skits while people sat poolside and choked down horrible “Mexican food.” The one time I visited the Denver-area landmark was to watch him in action and fortunately, because I ate no food, suffered zero digestive issues. I’m also happy to say that I very much enjoyed the show. One of the roles Wildebeest performed that day (and on a regular basis) was Black Bart.
Wildebeest loved his Casa Bonita job and has had several less-fun jobs since then. He now lives elsewhere and works part-time as a bellhop while going to school. He works in an historic hotel that puts on a melodrama in its theatre during peak season. The other day he was at work schlepping luggage for the guests (a job he truly enjoys) when a crisis arose: one of the regular performers for the melodrama hadn’t shown up. Management came to Wildebeest in a panic and said, “You’ve done gun fights before, right?”
He assured them he had, and then Wildebeest the Bellhop put on a costume and had a shoot-out on stage once again.
Moral of the story: you never know what part of your resume will come into play.
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I’m “supposed” to be working on my middle-grade revisions, but am having a hard time getting motivated. As in, I haven’t touched it at all today. Instead, I took some photos of visitors to the new feeder location and realized it’ll be a whole new learning experience due to the lighting differences. The feeder used to be sheltered by the branches and leaves of the maple tree. Now the feeder is exposed on a slope where the afternoon light hits it hard.
My feathered friends’ photos ended up washed out, and I just spent a while playing with contrast, white balance, etc. settings.
All that time playing with settings, you’d think I’d have something more impressive to show for it. Guess I need to get on those revisions so I actually accomplish something today.
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If you have a garden and a library, you have everything you need.
~ Marcus Tullius Cicero
I put three hours into my garden today and it still looks like Flora Run Amok. Right about now I’d welcome a garden abduction.

Asters take up a lot of garden real estate and don’t bloom for a very long time, but when they do, they are lovely. (I can admit that. I’m not a monster.)
Now off to read a book from the library . . .
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I loved HARRIET THE SPY from the very first time I read it, which was approximately one thousand years ago. Harriet inspired me to carry around a notebook so I could jot down whatever thoughts came to mind. (I remember that my furtive watching and scribbling creeped out one of my good friends, probably because I hadn’t fully absorbed the importance of how Harriet’s friends were hurt and angry after getting hold of her notebook and reading about themselves.)
I know I’m not unique; plenty of writers were inspired by Harriet. But to this day, HARRIET THE SPY resonates with me. I love filling notebooks. I love watching people and making up scenarios for what I observe. And I love my cat who conjures up one of the all-time best character names:
My cat’s name is Marcel, but those pink ears and nose always transport me back to HARRIET THE SPY. Maybe someday I’ll know a cat that brings to mind Ole Golly . . .
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We’re still way below our usual numbers, but birds are starting to show up at the feeder again. However, many seem to prefer the top of the pole to the actual feeder dish.
Baby steps…
(* apologies to Dylan fans for the very bad pun)
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