Oh, the agony of it all.

poison ivy

a North American climbing plant of the cashew family that secretes an irritant oil from its leaves, which can cause dermatitis.

misery |ˈmiz(ə)rē|
noun ( pl. -eries)

a state or feeling of great distress or discomfort of mind or body

Well, I gotta’ say. These two words are interchangeable in my book. I weed whacked one of our gullies about 6 days ago. Got the weed, I did. And ever since, I’ve had the poison too. Oh my goodness. I have been just about physically sick with this body rash. Okay, maybe tomorrow I’ll be on the upswing. Until then, I am going to skulk off to some corner and itch my butt off. Literally.

The Enemy

But, er, fly…….

The Black Swallowtail Butterfly is one you can get to know up close and personal. They have great breath.

As caterpillars, their diet consists mostly of parsley plants. Parsley of all things!

We have parsley plants in our garden. And wouldn’t you know……


The day van Gogh died.

On this day, July 29th, in the year 1890, artist extraordinaire, Vincent van Gogh died of a self-inflicted gunshot wound in Auvers, France, at the age of 37. It was a Tuesday.

The Lying Cow, van Gogh, 1883

(and more on it….On 27 July 1890, aged 37, he walked into a field and shot himself in the chest with a revolver. He survived the impact, but not realizing that his injuries were to be fatal, he walked back to the Ravoux Inn. He died there two days later. Theo rushed to be at his side. Theo reported his brother’s last words as “La tristesse durera toujours” (the sadness will last forever). )

I love his work.

Important fact…..

“Now there is one outstandingly important fact regarding Spaceship Earth, and that is that no instruction book came with it.” – R. Buckminster Fuller (1895 – 1983), Operating Manual for Spaceship Earth, 1963

Sun, sun, sun….

The Sun is only one of over 100 billion stars. In ancient times, the people believed the Sun was a burning ball of fire created by the gods. The Sun is personified in many mythologies: the Greeks called it Helios and the Romans called it Sol.

Little darling, the smiles returning to the faces
Little darling, it seems like years since it’s been here
Here comes the sun, here comes the sun
And I say it’s all right

Sun, sun, sun, here it comes…
Sun, sun, sun, here it comes…
Sun, sun, sun, here it comes…
Sun, sun, sun, here it comes…
Sun, sun, sun, here it comes…

Oh, what a nut….

Last week, I met this squirrel.  Her name was Skip.  Skippy the Squirrel, we all call her. Just for the fun of it.  Then we all laugh and laugh.  At any rate, Skip’s a good ol’ gal.  Bushy tailed.  Bright eyed.  You know the type.

But the downside about her, is this:  She can’t keep track of her nuts.  We’ll all holler at her (again, just for fun…)  “Hey Skip!  Show us your nuts!”  She puts her little paws up near her head, and sticks out a little furry finger, twirling it around in circles, tongue hanging out to one side,  bobbing that head back and forth.  “Not nuts like THAT, Skippy.  Your other nuts!!!”

And then we all laugh and hold our bellies…. It just doesn’t get any better than that I’ll tell you.

Old McDonald

e-i-e-i-o….. everything always comes back to Ohio.

In the 1917 book Tommy’s Tunes, a collection of World War I era songs by F. T. Nettleingham, the song “Ohio (Old Macdougal Had a Farm)” has quite similar lyrics–though with a slightly different farmer’s name and refrain:

Old Macdougal had a farm in Ohio-i-o,
And on that farm he had some dogs in Ohio-i-o,
With a bow-wow here, and a bow-wow there,
Here a bow, there a wow, everywhere a bow-wow.

(This is a do over. Mulligan. Whatever.)