So… quarantine. Someone who doesn’t wash his hands around here got sick, surprise, surprise. But I hadn’t been stuck indoors due to that, not quite. But because my right shoe broke in such a way that part of it rubbed slowly cut into my foot. And thus I couldn’t walk outside.
Gawd, it was good to get outside again. Hobbling in the process of buying new shoes wasn’t great… and worse that the shoes we bought were awful dress shoes that did not match the display shoe (face-palm). (Going back, I found none of them matched that shoe!) But I got the idea to tape some paper towel into my broken Air Monarch shoe, and got back out walking.
Looking-like-a-dork-with-a-mask-on aside, I was grateful for the sun and fresh air.
With all this pandemic and complications from it, I’d almost forgot that everything had been blooming.
So… where was I? Oh, yeah. I can get silly sometimes.
My mother bought this snowbird in December of 2016. A traveler with a backpack, it was a nice addition to the home. It also gave me something I desperately needed since the conception of the blog: a decent avi. I gave that bird a few shooting locations.
Many of the ducks at Deering Oaks were wise to flee if I got anywhere close. Large beings… potential predators.
I watched some of the ducks fly from the hills to the water, gliding in as they landed, I guess using their legs as a source of friction to eventually stop.
According to Boreal Songbird Initiative, mallards (the “most abundant duck in the world”) are a member of the “dabbling duck group”— that is, they “feed by either tipping up or dabbling along the surface, capturing food and straining excess water through the lamellae (small boney tooth-like structures along the sides of its jaw).”
“When field feeding, Mallards generally feed around sunrise and again at sunset; however, in some instances, especially during a full moon, they will feed throughout the night. They will fly up to several kilometers to reach their feeding area, generally a crop field (e.g., corn, peas, barley).”
Friday the 16th was a full moon day… I thought I heard some voices or something outside the house when night fell. I couldn’t actually tell what the sounds were, to tell the truth. But back to the park… which wasn’t a crop field.
Last week of the season. More red leaves are showing up, and the temperatures are dropping with them, into the 40s F. At least where I live.
September 11 was not only the 15th anniversary for the worst day of terrorist attacks on U.S. soil, it was also a day of debris at home. Powerful winds and thunderstorms. Dark skies during the day, and, for some odd reason, the ground was dry in the afternoon.
Most of the greens are still mostly green. Maybe not quite verdant now, but in the green range.
And the digital lens on the smartphone camera is still too sensitive.
The flowers at USM Portland are still vibrant.
Yes, after months of virtual solitude, I finally got off the property. The main impetus: uploading large files because I don’t have inexpensive broadband at home. Unfortunately, no one seemed to appreciate what I uploaded… countless hours of fixing up music to sound much better, and… sigh, I guess I did it for me alone, then. (It was game level music, but still…)
The skies were mostly blue Monday. Tuesdays, temperatures dipped low enough that the in-coming precipitation turned into a blend of rain and snow. The gutters were still dripping (water) during my walk. I got snow on the sides of my hair despite wearing a cap.
The weather’s returned to spring today. Three sunny days in a row, according to the Accuweather forecast. …But there is still snow on the ground around the house… So… how about some new photos to remind us of what spring is supposed to look like, alright? All right.
Shirt changed, short-changed, destination change, arrival.
Stupid paper, entertainment all—no wonder the 60% public distrust of the media.
That courtesy of a door held open? No, and not a word spoken, but a dirty look.
Hit the stairs, seven floors, and recent memory of all run many times at once in rage.
The common break, to wait your turn, to sit and scan, memorize…Emmy® winners.
This time bowels may need to be held, standing up—damn GMO white corn chips. Continue reading Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday: on-ON-off→