Fridaaaaay!… +

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We took a little road trip to the east of us to visit friends in their new home in the Prince Edward County area.

I could move.

This was taken at Campbellford, Ontario at Ferris Provincial Park. You can traverse a suspension bridge into the park, which I did. Yes. Me. Little Miss Vertigo. And the only reason I attempted it was because the bridge was metal. It stilled swayed and provided a hand-clenching below bridge view.

I never looked down. And I might’ve rushed those last few feet.

Gracie G-Pup watched her mama from the van.

At the park on the other side, I was taking some clicks when a man came out of the woods with a black poodle. He started across the bridge and I started to giggle. That pup did a complete four-paw stop. I was too engaged in the moment to click a video.

He stopped, picked up the pup and said, “Yeah. That’s what I figured.”

Still laughing, I said, “At least you can pick your dog up. We had to leave Golden-Pup in the van.”

They struck off and I watched the pup bouncing along on his shoulder as I pondered which would be worse — a night in the woods alone with no gear or making my way back across that bridge. And then I saw the couple with their two lively young sons, probably 4 and 6, make their second trip, and I moved my tail. I was not going to be outdone by two little boys. That would just be the bunny hill all over again.

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Wellington, Ontario and Lake Ontario intersect in the loveliest way.

I could move.

In Other News ~

It’s the perfect rainy, autumnal day in my neck of Canadaland. I can see the little Autumn Blaze Maple that was planted this July at the boulevard from my office window over the garage. I’m rockin’ a pair of jeggings and a purple tee that has Neighborhood Witch plastered across the front (courtesy of the LOLSister) and a long sweater, aka a fanny cloaking device. Getting my pre-Halloween on.

When the weather turned, we put the outdoor umbrella away for the season but left the bistro table out on the back patio. It looked lonely, so I moved two big and bright crotons to it and added some pumpkins. I like a good gaze with my morning decaffeine.

I looked out this morning and the crotons on that bistro table were shaking like a van on the back corner of a dark parking lot. Next thing I knew, Demon Squirrel popped out in his birthday suit. The fact that he was alone did give me pause. Damn that geriatric squirrel. I want to be mad, but I’m laughing too hard.

Here be Friday.

You know what to do. Meet you in the bar in 3…2…1…

Happy weekend, y’all.

Elen

Single Shot Monday: Before and After… +

I’m hot.

And not in an I’m too sexy for my hair/shirt/skirt/flip-flops way.

I’m hot, as in we’re pushing 90 Fahren here in my neck of Burbville.

And with my winter-thick Canadaland blood… I Am A Goner.

Goner.

It’s like a heat wave.

And you know what that brings to mind…

Martha and the Vandellas. Heat Wave (1963)

I’ve always been smitten with M & the V’s, because early Motown + girl groups = swoon.

But especially today because — you know — heat wave.

Okay. I admit it. I have a thing for Motown.

Period.

In Other News ~

The Pigmunk is under control, at least where the strawberries are concerned. I was cooking BLT bacon a few days ago and I looked out the kitchen patio doors to see that wily chipmunk dashing through the lemon balm, up the wood rounds and through the potted wandering jew, making a leap to the garden crypt, dashing through the herbs, and scouting for any weakness in my chicken wire cage.

[insert air-sucking deep breath after run-on sentence]

Any. Weakness. At. All.

I tried to get him on video for you, but by the time I had the smartphone out and the camera open and swiped to video setting, that critter had shrugged his little chipmunk shoulders and moved on. I thought I might have heard a little chipmunk swear, but it’s hard to say.

Enter Demon Squirrel.

Demon Squirrel shuffles the soil out of my pots of basil and lettuce and tomatoes and carrots making space for his peanut plunder. Sometimes he leaves the broken peanut shells on the alfresco dining table and container soil scattered on the chair cushions. He’s a smart-ass demon squirrel is what he is, with ‘tude.

And then Baby Undead Bunny hops onto the scene.

Literally.

Before ~

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Anticipating a bright future are they.

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Baby Undead Bunny took a leaf-munching trip right up the stalks of my Asiatic lilies until he got about four rows to the blossom… and moved on.

We’re done here. Burp!

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After as seen from above.

Stealth Baby Undead Bunny.

And these pesky gardinators are so freakin’ furry-cute that I’m hard pressed to care too much.

Sorta.

Kinda.

Of course, there’s a fine line between sorta-kinda-hard-pressed-to-care-too-much and This Means War!

Uh-oh. I counted three shots. My bad.

Here be Monday all freakin’ furry-cute and hot.

Let’s roll.

Elen