So, where to begin?
Yesterday morning brought the dude in the big truck with the slogan on the back “Poop Scoopin Buggy.” I kid you not.
Lovely thing to watch at 7:15 a.m. while enjoying my triple shot 1/2 caffe dark chocolate mocha with whip.
He hooked up these really big, really long green hoses (why green I wondered to myself) and proceeded to suck out the contents of the septic tanks. Yes, I realize that for all you city folk out there, this is a foreign concept. What’s a septic tank? What do you mean they have to be “sucked out?” What exactly is being sucked out? (Believe me you, I am NOT going there. Figure it out for yourselves.)
As I sat there, sipping my morning shot of nirvana, I wondered, again to myself, what would happen if one of those big, long, green hoses detached itself from either end and went whipping around in the air? Spewing forth the contents from one end of the universe to the next.
Yes, I know, my mind is a very, VERY scary place. Who thinks about these things???? And why? I mean really. Really.
Actually, I find that I have to fill up the space somehow, with various and sundry inanities, because otherwise the perseveration and rumination on the current state of affairs threatens to overtake the teeny, tiny, itty, bitty, teensy, weensy slice of sanity, peace and serenity I have a slim hold of. Make sense?
Back to the current affairs here at the ranch. The dude in the Poop Scoopin’ Buggy unhooked those dastardly looking hoses, coiled them up and drove off into the sunrise. I hadn’t even finished partaking of nirvana. Amazing.
It took three (3) years for that to happen. Three years. And one disastrous attempt at cleaning out a third septic tank on the property (for those of you privy to previous emails of years past, you may remember the account of that ridiculousness–I simply cannot bring myself to relive it at this moment, but perhaps I’ll revisit it in the near future). Anyhoo. Three years. And the dude was done in 45 minutes. Things that make you go hmmmmmm……………………and most definitely make me crazy, insane, nutso, off-my-rocker, just plain ol’ mad. tee hee hee
Now on to the white stuff.
Eight inches and counting at this point. Though that was really a couple of hours earlier, so maybe add an inch or two. I’m just too lazy to go back and edit the title.
Pictures to follow.
Needless to say, the flowers are buried. I forgot the ones on the front porch. And they were oh so pretty. But such is life. The stellar jays are going through the birdseed like it’s, well, free birdseed. (All of my Republican acquaintences might call them…here…wait for it–MOOCHERS. Hanging around for handouts. Sorry, just couldn’t stay away from political references. I’ll try to get a handle on that.)
Anyhoo. The chestnut-backed chickadees (I think that’s what they are, but honestly I’ve been trying to identify them for three years now.) are back. I haven’t seen the black-capped chickadees yet and I’m not sure why. They should have been here already. And just now, as I write, a new bird just hit the window. Bad day to be hitting the window dude. You don’t want to sit out there in that snow for too long, shaking off the concussion. I’m not sure what he is, some kind of sparrow perhaps. I’ve never seen one like that here. Time to get out the bird book.
But, I digress.
The leaves haven’t totally turned yet on the aspens. In fact, most are still green. This will definitely put a damper on the fall colors here. That’s sort of a bummer, but again…such is life.
Enjoy the pictures. We’re enjoying the beauty. Not so much the cold, but it sure is pretty to look at. And the water!! Oh the water!! I say “bring it on baby, bring it on!” Every flake of snow, every drop of water is desperately needed here. We’ll take it.
Guess it’s time to break out the snow suits and the boots, eh?
(Extra points to anyone who can figure out what’s new at the ranch.)
Hasta la vista amigos!