Friday, April 3, 2009

THE NEWS SCANDAL OF THE DAY...

What fun it was to wake up this morning and find the big news about Michelle Obama daring to put an arm around Her Royal Highness Queen Elizabeth.

What a silly controversy. It was probably the first human warmth the queen has felt in years.

The REAL scandal might have been if Barack himself had bussed her.


R.A.T. is signing off now. This mini-scandal brought a welcome laugh to her day.

Thursday, April 2, 2009

FOR THE BIRDS

We haven't had as many birds as usual around here since the 2006 floods. This year will obviously be an exception. Birds of all types flying around two-by-two collecting nesting materials. (Now I'll REALLY be happy if my kingfishers return).
Bob really appreciates birdsong. Year before last (when he got those fancy digital hearing aids that really work), he started a new summer habit. With our second cup of coffee every morning, we'd sit in chairs in the green outdoor shade of our valley, just listening.
He hadn't hear morning birdsong or the night-time sounds of tree toads and cicada for many years.
Rather a miracle. I'm glad our local noise ordinance forgot to include the birds. Or the cicada. Or the tree toads.
R.A.T. wishes you a beautiful day, wherever you are.

Wednesday, April 1, 2009

FIRST DAY OF APRIL 2009 AT THE MOORE HOUSE...


The weather outside is balmy; the late-day sun casts a mist overall.

The much-anticipated warmth of this first day of April relaxes a reading husband into a nap.

His lazy dog Jack on the rug at the window sill watches for motion along the creek. He knows from experience that soon a beaver, a muskrat, a squirrel, a heron, a duck or a family of deer will arrive at the water...

This is a scene worth photographing and sharing with you.

R.A.T. (Rose About Town)

WHAT IS JACK THE DOG GAZING AT? AND WHAT IS BOB THE HUSBAND IGNORING?

   

MY CREEK GLEAMING IN LATE AFTERNOON SUN

 

WORMS AND PRANKS FOR APRIL FOOLS

Happy April Fool's Day. That devious worm lurking outside our computers to pounce on us today is foiled, I hope. My son Kevin emailed instructions for both computers; his instructions were good, but as he warned, installation might be slow. OOOh so slow. Got to bed late and was too wired to sleep. Do you think that worm got into my brain instead? Do you think that was the point?
R.A.T. (Rose About Town) signs off. Perhaps for the entire day.

Sunday, March 29, 2009

SIRENS AND A SMALL-TOWN FEELING

Yesterday late afternoon, sirens and red vehicles raced past our house toward the county line; soon that road was closed. We have kids in that county, and friends in that area, and we had them and their welfare on our minds.
That's a small-town feeling, even though our rural township is large enough to be a city, population-wise. Any emergency siren has us mentally "counting noses" of relatives and friends and sending up a prayer that whoever it is (even a stranger among our townfolk), all will go well for them.
If we had chosen city life, a siren might just have been a siren. There would not have been that quality of our own small-town experience of knowing that many lives touched by the sirens might have a close connection with our own lives. Or that many people in the crews that rushed to help were people we had come to know as friends throughout our many years here.
I experienced the temporary loss of that small-town feeling about sirens when my husband and I (and our eldest son, a baby) lived for several years in New York City, during construction of the World's Fair. Sirens sounded, seemingly continuous, through that broad expanse of bouroughs night and day, until they were little more than background noise, mixed with the 24-hour sound of garbage trucks, delivery trucks and other city activity.
While I admittedly enjoyed the city more than my husband did, our house and a large portion of our hearts kept residence "back home" where both of us had grown up; where our families lived; where we had chosen to marry and settle down to raise our family.
For that brief period in New York, I longed for my hometown and its people, where I could walk down any street and meet someone I knew; someone who even probably knew my dad, my mom, my uncle or aunt or cousin...
A place where sirens always spurred concern and were not just noises going by.
Home sweet home. Our roots are deep.