May Twenty-Four

Published on 24 May 2026 at 08:13

Sunday, May 24, 2026, 36*, 70% RH, 0600

     Frost. No fanfare, no brilliant colors, sun glowing behind clouds. The three find something to bark while I’m filling their water dish. They don’t tell me when it’s empty, so I keep vigilance. Zara (my first Great Dane), bless her, would bat the stainless mixing bowl around until I retrieved, filled it. Meister (my first German Shepherd) guarded a cloth squeaky toy; would not let another dog lie on the bed where he put it. Carried it room to room as if it were a real thing he needed to take care of. He was another shelter dog, we had several before shelters required information on every pet you ever had, what happened to them; before shelters had to investigate your home, make sure you had a fence, determine if you were a good fit, meet your other pets, know whether or not you own your home, consult with your vet, your neighbors, meet the people that come and go and who might visit. A newsletter yesterday “protect our night sky; light pollution” … lowest wattage, only the light you need to see to walk, aimed at the ground, don’t leave lights on.

     Yesterday I examined wildflowers- Star Flowers & Lily of the Valley, both in bloom, Red Sorrel, Everlasting Flower, Fringed False Buckwheat. Photographed a Tiger Crane Fly this morning perched on a make-believe leaf. Ferns are spreading out over the shredded tree debris path.

 

Without approval, green emerges from leaf-covered ground.

 

Photo: LJ Austin