/ex/amine/
writegirl2000@hotmail.com
The walnut trees are heavy with thick-skinned green nuts this midwestern year. The branches hang low, quake and snap from the extra weight. And with the new bounty I have a pack of mad squirrels that trill a click-cluck chasing each other up and down the tree trunks then scamper across the lawn.
When I am out watering the gardens and soaking up the sun the squirrels zip within a foot of me. They frighten me in their over-enthusiastic romping. I have taken to shooting them with water, which causes them to take on a war stance as if they are set to attack and defend.
I almost miss the raccoons.
It has been a bountiful year for mulberries too. I have the sweetest, best-tasting berries within three counties. That's according to my visitors. The human ones. I think it has something to do with the soil here.
The abundant ripe berries have attracted a ground hog. Yep, when he stands up he looks just like the pest in "Caddyshack" that drove Bill Murray insane. He (the ground hog, not B.M.) has a wife and they live in a large burrow out on the point. She stays home most of the time. He is the adventurer. Or it could be vice versa since I can't tell the sex part.
I give the wild animals lots of allowance. They get free reign of the entire front yard. So last Tuesday when I caught the ground hog (btw he looks like a fat friendly rat except with light brown hair and a little scruffy tail) in the back fenced area I tried to shoo him away. He kept coming back by the patio. So I became forceful and ran toward him. Ha! On me. He hid under Art Hut and poked his nose out at me
Men are like that too. You say goodbye and they still keep coming at you. It's another midwestern summer full of heat and electricity. I love the violence.
Last night, fast asleep, when I was lifted a foot off my bed. I let the storm rage on blinding me through the curtains, rain pelting the siding, thunder rolling down my throat.
In the morning I found a 4-foot slice of wood in my yard. Less than 50 feet from my house lightening had shredded a huge old weeping willow on the edge of the river. The heat was so intense that the moisture in the tree literally boiled off the tree bark.
I once knew one man who could do that. Most can't.
