I enjoy watching 'Dancing With the Stars' on TV (although the 2nd night drumroll suspense is a little contrived.) For starters, where else could you find a way to like Jerry Springer? But, I'm reminded of the old saw about the power of a woman, who performs as well as her male partner while wearing high heels and dancing backwards. I'd like to see the men dressed in the flimsy outfits held together by tape, glue, and, I swear to god, tattooed patterns (while recovering from the obligatory bikini wax job). However, its fun to watch and since it hasn't included any violence, sex, nudity or profanity - it's a cut above the rest of the seasons' offerings.
And while I'm at it - if it's tough to dance backward in an outrageously uncomfortable outfit - try being a 'lefty' in a right-handed world. Think about it!

The deer are back - a welcome sight since all of the home construction and clear cutting of lots have frightened off many of our field animals. The woods behind out house were home to a resident bobcat, several deer families and other smaller critters. The bobcat hasn't been seen for about a year, making the lives of the feral cats much safer.
But, the deer are back - standing in the backyard for what seemed like a nanosecond and then running back through the woods to the next open space. I think it was checking out my hawthorne bush - one of its dinner delicacies. Still there, still tempting.....
Last year, one of our more unwelcome guests was a large black/brown bear. Viewed from the house it looked about 10' tall and easily 1000#. In reality, I guess 7' and maybe 400# would have been closer to the truth. We had heard stories of this bear visiting all the backyards around us and destroying birdfeeders while he ate all the available seed. We didn't realize we were next on his hit list until a neighbor called to say he was at our feeder, about 10' from the house. This was just past dusk, and looking out at this overgrown Pooh, lolling against my red oak tree, licking his chops over the finch food, was an experience! Safe in our house, we could admire him as a picture of complete relaxation as he snacked on our seed. Except for a missing TV set, he could easily be mistaken for my brother-in-law finishing up his Thanksgiving dinner. But, when he decided to amble toward our screened-in porch, possible to tear the screens and gain access to the house, my neighbor decided to act. Bringing out his pistol (he is a retired police officer), he fired into the air, scaring the bear away and driving half of our neighborhood to their telephones. As big as this bear seemed, he had a good track record as a runner, and that was the last we have seen of him in the area.
The next day, the animal control officer visited us, to make sure the bear hadn't been hit or hurt by the gun. Left to themselves, a bear will not bother humans. Barking dogs on a leash may seem threatening, but humans staring at him during his dinner hour won't bother him a bit. In fact, one of my neighbors tried to take a frontal picture without too much success until, by tapping at the kitchen window to get his attention, he caused the bear to amble up to the window, look in to see what was causing the noise, and the camera recorded a great picture of a very puzzled looking bear. But, a bear that's been hurt can become very aggressive. Since we could reassure the officer that the bear left here in good condition, we were only given a verbal warning about any future 'firing of an instrument that would sound like gunfire.'
So - the bear is gone and the deer are back...hopefully to stay for awhile, or until their homes are demolished again as we continue to become their uninvited backyard visitors.

I belong to a knitting group that meets once a week at our local yarn shop (LYS). In return for purchasing our yarn at this store, we have the use of an attractive room and the expert help from our friendly yarn lady. There's about a dozen of us, sometimes less, and we range in experience from beginner (me) to yarn artist - from Oops! to Wow! In the course of our last get-together, I happened to mention the Amish Mistake. No one knew about this - so I continued:
I first heard of this during my quilting lessons, probably to offset the frustrations of manipulating fabric that didn't want to be put in those positions. It seems that the Amish, known for their beautiful handmade quilts among other things, always put a planned mistake into every one of their endeavors. Their faith proscribes that only God can make something that's perfect, so each mistake is an admission of His superiority.
It's a charming thought, and I try to apply it to all of my other efforts. Someone once said - "We strive for excellence, not perfection." Nice to know that life has given us all that wriggle room. Rock on!

word of mouth

One of natures' road shows will begin soon, the hatching of the sea turtle eggs. Some months ago, these huge water beasts, weighing around 1000#, crawled on shore to the same nesting spot they have used for years. By means of flippers and fanny, they laid hundreds of turtle eggs and then returned to the sea. The local turtle watchers placed fences around these mounds to protect them from tourists and other predators. When the eggs hatch, usually at night, it is a sight to behold! First the mound shifts and shimmies, driven by the hatching turtles breaking their shells and digging out of the sand. It erupts with the efforts of these perfectly formed inch long babies to escape the nest and return to their water home. Since they are guided by moonlight, homeowners living on the beach are requested to to turn off all outside lights to avoid confusing them and sending them in the wrong direction. It's also advised that any onlookers not try to help the struggling turtles because this is nature's first test to select the fittest. If the little ones are able to make it into the ocean and past the first wave on their own, they have a chance of surviving.
It reminds me of another endeavor we followed while we stayed on an island south of Key West. We were volunteer lighthouse sitters for a month and one of my duties was to select the best of the fallen coconuts, plant them in a raised sandbox 'nursery', water them and keep them covered until they had sprouted roots, and then transplant them to the larger areas in the small island to grow and replace their fallen sisters. They had to weather torrential rain storms, high winds and long droughts when the only water they received came from a watering bucket, also manned by a volunteer. Traditionally before planting, each coconut was marked on its shell with a permanent magic marker with the names of family, friends, partners etc. Today, I can imagine some of the coconuts I helped to plant growing taller, and much like the struggle of the turtles' trip to the sea, besting all of natures' forces to reach their full height. And yes, I know in my heart, that the Candy/Tom tree is the tallest, with the best coconuts on the island.