So I’ve neglected my pitiable blog in recent weeks. I’ve been way too mentally drained to do much more than keep up with my fantasy baseball team. (That sounds pretty lame doesn’t it.) But, I’ve come across an idea I’m planning to put into effect that may allow me to increase my productivity here. Maybe. We’ll see.
Here we go with the first ITISY (Interesting Things I Spied Yesterday) post.
My twin nephews (true country boys to the nth degree) got creative with my mom’s mousse and decided to do fauxhawks. Chase went with the straight-up hawk, while Chance had more of a rockabilly front, mohawk down the middle. Newscoma’s camera was being futzy and before I thought to grab my cameraphone, Chase had already wet his head and erased his creation. I did manage to snag a poor phonepic of Chance’s do. I wish it were a better snap and I wish I had taken a shot of Chase. Too bad.
Twice yesterday I drove by towering dead trees that had buzzards perched in the upper bare branches. An eery Stephen King sort of sight. The dark feathers of the birds in stark contrast to the bleached, barkless branches. And to see it twice in one day. A harbinger? I hope not.
The other sight from nature countered the darkness of the previous images. As we drove home from my visit to my mother and sister and nephews, we passed a wheat field that nestled into a sharp, near-90-degree corner. Rising above the golden wheat, which is just a day or two away from being harvested, was the elongated, graceful neck supporting the head of a deer. The doe’s long neck appeared to stretch above the wheat like a giraffe’s rises above the African horizon. The dun colored pelt nearly matched the yellow wheat straw darkened by the long afternoon shadows cast from the trees bordering the backroad across the way. A mere 15 yards from the blacktop, swiveling atop this swan-like stalk, the deer head, with ears twitching and eyes focused on our approach, turned to follow our travels as we slowed to watch her. She never moved until after we rounded the corner. I watched in the rearview mirror as she left the camoflage of the wheat, crossed our trail and headed into the dark green of the cornfield on the other side of the road.