The Daisys are all out napping in the sun, enjoying the warmth. Daisy-Mae's eyes are still super gnarly but she lets me tend to them without much opposition. She really is a beauty and has an even better temperament. I'm really happy I could help her.
I've opened windows and doors, cleaning my little place inside. I got a bit overzealous yesterday (when I spent most of it outdoors) and am feeling the effects of histamine overload today. Just took my DayQuil along with my anti-psychotic meds so the day is about to brighten all the way around. It's been a very rough two months and this fever thingy I've been battling (for weeks now) is maddening. My blood work last week says I'm perfectly fine. Stress is a breeding ground for all kinds of ugliness.
Even though it involves being outside again, I'm going to wash my windows and reorganize the plethora of dog bedding washed and stacked on the porch. It all sits there, waiting for our new arrivals...I know once I get my driveway graded professionally by (hint
) a kind bulldozer owner/operator; then I need about 60 tons of (hint
) donated gravel delivered to cover said driveway. Afterward, same bulldozer could level out some of my ground surrounding my living area. Once simple fencing can be erected, I'm back in business! Of course, I have a few more appearances in court before I can be fully functioning as Save That Dog Sanctuary but that's the prize on the other side of this wall of obstacles.
Which makes you wonder about the unduly septic system the health department is trying to impose on me, aren't you? Well, after some research it seems that I
have the power here, not MY (taxpayer!)
health department nor MY (taxpayer!)
animal control [board]. But let's save that backstory for some snowy night, in front of the fire. LHT (attorney!)
doesn't want to give the clueless clues but I will
say it looks very, very good...then again, I did
just start taking anti-
psychotics medication a few days ago...
Back to the windows. One of the wonderful things about living here in my loyal little camper is it's many windows. Sitting here writing, I can take mini-breaks and look out at the ridges of hills covered with trees, and watch the birds flitting from branch to branch. A lot
of birds since I feed them, too. They're so happy being reminded of spring today. I've been playing my Andrew Bird CD's and the birds--and my dogs--love his whistling. The windows need cleaning. I hate dirty windows. They're depressing.
I'm looking for mannequin arms with hands still attached, if anyone has that sort of thing laying around. I'm turning them into bird feeders; the birds land on the arms and eat from the hand. I mount the fake arms to my porch railing, the trees, wherever I want to. It works like magic! I
did it a few years ago and the birds take right to it as long as you DON'T
talk to them when they first land on you, at least not at first. DON'T
talk to them as they eat from your hand, at least not at first. And when you first try to talk, don't "speak" words. Instead, softly make a cooing sound like a baby bird. I hum made-up tunes to them very, very softly. You woo the bird.
Relax. Let the bird teach you
rather than you trying to control the situation. Once you succeed you can tell your friends that charm the little birds from the trees...update:It's almost six bells.
The dogs and I went down to the creek and we bulldozers down there to manifest the small lake that is screaming to be built. Three knobs privide three quarters of it's dam. Lots of run off and
Little Indian Creek to boot.
Quiet night. Time for bath. I shot some video of the Sillies aka the Daisys. Gotta find someone to do the Sanctuary's youtube and the like to upload my stuff.6:20pm estFour flocks of Canada geese just flew over, coming from the south. Maybe winter is over. As I write the sun is setting and a big ray of it's light is shining through where my camper door should
be. Who knew not having a door could be so easy and lovely. The stove is hissing as the water in my stock pot heats up. No music, no talking, no television, no barking--
--a silent communion.