I could've sworn I heard a sheep

This evening I heard it again...the same sound of a sheep that I heard coming from our neighbor's yard about this time last year.

This time I did not do what I did last year. I didn't scrutinize surrounding neighbors yards for the sheep I just knew they were keeping as pets in their back yard. I didn't start picturing in my mind which neighbors might have children raising sheep for a 4-H project. I didn't start wondering what restrictions on livestock within the city limits The Small Town has. I didn't ask a neighbor who was out for a walk if he had heard or seen the sheep. I didn't narrow down the location of the bleating to our back yard. I didn't follow the sound of the bleating to a certain spot near our back yard pool.

This year I did not take any of the above actions because this time last year, I did a search on the internet and read about sheep frogs.

We get a few different types of frogs and toads in our back yard every spring. There's an occasional bullfrog, and of course thousands of tadpoles in the water on top of the pool cover, but thankfully they are eliminated when we open the pool for the season. I find the sheep frog to be most curious. It is one of a group of animals that can imitate other animals. I think also of catbirds, mockingbirds and parrots. I'd rather have the pretty birds, and save just a frog or two for the garden.

sign of spring #4

Wasps.

I'm quite sure there's more wasps around here than up in The Big City. Perhaps it's due to our more southerly location. Last summer, My Darling Husband advised me that he sprays the inside of the garage every year with wasp spray to keep them from building nests in there.

Wasps everywhere.

Ok, not plague proportions, but I've spotted at least three inside our house this last week. I never see them fly in when we're going in or out the door. I don't know how they get in, but they belong with their buddies outdoors. They meet their Maker instead.

Tonight I suddenly heard one buzzing (that's always how we spot them inside...suddenly buzzing out of thin air, as if poof! wasp abra cadabra!) two feet behind me in the office where I sit, innocently minding my own blog business. I cried for help, and My Darling Husband came to the rescue with fly swatter in hand, just in time for that wasp to fly to the next room.

That room happens to be our storage room that happens to have a lot of stuff in it, so I'll probably be looking for something in there one day soon and happen upon that wasp and poof! it'll come screaming at me at top speed, stinger first. Or hopefully it'll have met it's Maker by then due to natural causes.

sign of spring #3 or, a tale of three lilacs

Lilacs. The word itself is pretty. Add the delicate yet stable physical beauty and the wonderful scent, and you've got yourself an old-fashioned charmer. They remind me of my childhood...grandparents...playing in Mr. & Mrs. Mace's (elderly neighbors I grew up next door to) yard that had no fence...and like Alicia, the scent reminds me of the Midwest--home.
One set of my grandparents always had a lilac bush or two in their yard (other grandpa would've mowed them down, so other grandma dared not plant any). When we went for a visit, I and/or grandma would cut some lilacs to decorate the house. The lilac bush in the Mace's yard served as a hiding place for frequent games of hide-n-seek with the neighborhood children. Sometimes we would just plop ourselves on the grass or cement wall next to that lilac and pass the time.

The lilac pictured above is compliments of a friend here in The Small Town. I'm currently trying to start a new lilac bush from a cutting off hers. The plan is to plant it near our bedroom window so when we have the window open during lilac season, a west breeze will send the scent into our nostrils at night.

The vase with the lilacs on it is an heirloom from my mother's ceramic-painting days.

The blue lilac in the painting on the wall was done by a friend of my other grandparents some decades ago. So even if other grandma couldn't keep plants alive thanks to other grandpa, at least she could see them on her walls!

sign of spring #2

CutieDog's tuxedo coat.This guy sheds more than any other dog I've ever had in my life. So much loose fur that I could spin it into yarn and knit myself a BorDal Sweater if I ever had the desire to smell like a wet dog. BorDal Sweater, you ask? CutieDog is part Border Collie, part Dalmatian, and knitting patterns usually have a name. He shakes so much loose fur around the house that our vacuum cleaner is fast becoming a prominent feature of our home's interior design.

p.s.--Happy Anniversary to my parents!

purple inside and out or, sign of spring #1

When there is a grape hyacinth bouquet inside our house, that is the signal that My Darling Husband is about to give our lawn it's first mowing of the year. Since I can't have these lovely purple heads just mowed down, I decorate the table with them when he says "it's time to start mowing". There were already some grape hyacinths planted in My Darling Husband's yard when I married him, then I planted more last year. I can see it now: a grape hyacinth and daffodil meadow in our front yard. Grape hyacinths are popular in this neck of the woods. There are many yards in our town where you can see these growing naturalized. Cheri has a lovely landscape photo of grape hyacinths on her blog A Joyful Handmaiden.

anouncing Easter in a small town

My Darling Husband and I spent the Easter weekend with my family in The Big City. When we came home, I glanced at Sunday's edition of our local newspaper.My eyes immediately fell to the top of the front page and I was pleasantly surprised. You know you're in a small town when the local newspaper editor is unafraid to declare that He Is Risen!
I have an educated guess that the editor of The Big City's newspaper would never allow this.

CutieDog very truly likes going to his "grandparents" (my parents) house. He gets to play with his "Uncle Dog" (my parent's Jack Russell Terror)...

and he gets to be a spoiled "grandog". See, he's not allowed to put his paws on our furniture here at home. He soaks up the extra allowances there. The first time we visited my parents with CutieDog, he tried to get onto our furniture upon returning home. This second time, he surprised us by minding his manners when we got home.

Smart and cute. Good choice, My Darling Husband.

I am

Thanks be unto the Lord for His gift of salvation! Wishing fellow believers in God's love and forgiveness a blessed Easter.

Lapel pin by Bob.

just call my name and I'll be there

Dog training is...progressing. Sometimes Cutie Dog comes when called and sometimes not! "Stay" actually means I'm so cute you can't help but want me to come in his doggy brain.But if you need help with replacing the kitchen faucet, he'll be happy to lend a helping paw.

pick me! pick me! PLEEEASE!

Yesterday and today are National Adoption Weekend. It's a pairing of the Petco store with local animal shelters to promote and sponsor pet cat and dog adoptions. Petsmart is having theirs next month.

A local animal shelter is where one of my Christmas presents came from. My Darling Husband surprised me with him. I'd been chirping on forever about adopting a dog, waiting for just the right time (the moment M.D.H. says yes) and just the right dog. "Right dog" to me = lap dog. I was thinking Sheltie, Schnauzer, terrier size. M.D.H. grew up with larger dogs, so we compromised and are now the pround "parents" of a medium dog. I planned on adopting a dog from either the local animal shelter or from someone whose dog accidentally produced offspring.

I like this accidental canine offspring. He is part Labrador Retriever and part Border Collie. Around blogland he is known as Cutie Dog. Although he isn't exactly lap size, he does like a lap to sit on occasionally. You big baby.

Christmas lingers on my blog

This is the official photographic essay of where My Darling Husband and I went for Christmas.

From the hills of Tennessee......to a place near Walhalla, SC.

Near, yet so far away.Tucked away in the woods.Is a cabin where one can peacefully and quietly enjoy visiting with family members after a long drive.And then, after a good night's sleep, awaken on Christmas morning to this view:An enclosed back deck invites one to sit in the great outdoors in warmer months.The deck beckons you down to a river. We hear that the fishing is good in this area.On the way out of town--

You know you're in the South when you spot a general store selling boiled peanuts.

Up here in Kansas and the rest of the great Midwest, we have snow-cone stands in the summer. Now that makes perfect sense to my always-lived-in-Kansas-mind: one needs a cool something to slurp in the sweltering heat and humidity. On our trip to South Carolina, I saw a snow-cone-and-boiled peanuts stand. I suppose that the snow-cone's purpose in Southern life is to wash down the peanuts.