I have an animal that lives around here in the woods. It has a distressing habit of leaving its scat in the middle of our trails as a token of the high esteem in which it holds me both as a person and a writer. I suspect that it is a coon but I have no way of knowing at this time. It does not pay to wander along, gazing at the tree tops. We have taken to putting sticks on either side of the stuff it leaves, so we can know to avoid it. I fear that the Raccoon may think we revere his work so much that we have framed it. It is reasonable to assume that he is now on an ego trip and thinks he's like one of the great Impressionist painters of bygone days. Even now he may be spying on the trail, watching to see our reaction, rubbing his little hands together in glee as he awaits our arrival. I can visualize him in his tiny beret and his stained smock. Whatever.
Here's a pic of that crypt I mentioned the other day in The Lost Graveyard. If you haven't read that post you might want to look to your right and click on it. Its pretty good.
My wife was at the doctor's office the other day and she was playing a game on her I-Pod Touch. A guy sat down beside her and proceeded to read on his Nook. She thought, "I've sat down in the middle of a flipping commercial." During the next few minutes she read a short story, played a game and listened to some music. She watched a little kid going a bit crazy from boredom and thought that he would rather be quietly playing a game on her I-Pod. Clearly, it is a magical device, like my man Steve Jobs says. (Oops, that's the I-Pad. But the Touch is a mini I-Pad, I think.)
On the squirrel situation, my wife says that she's been seeing them dig in the yard for their buried acorns. As you may know, they bury acorns here and there, in the fall, then come back and dig them up in the winter. The difference this year is that they are digging in spots where there are no acorns. I fear that lean times are upon Squirrelville.
From the author's green, and lean, retreat, I'm CE Wills, the animal art critic.
Here's a pic of that crypt I mentioned the other day in The Lost Graveyard. If you haven't read that post you might want to look to your right and click on it. Its pretty good.
On the squirrel situation, my wife says that she's been seeing them dig in the yard for their buried acorns. As you may know, they bury acorns here and there, in the fall, then come back and dig them up in the winter. The difference this year is that they are digging in spots where there are no acorns. I fear that lean times are upon Squirrelville.
From the author's green, and lean, retreat, I'm CE Wills, the animal art critic.
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