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I like this little poem, and blogged about it a couple years ago.  Now I found the pictures to go with it. So I present here the illustrated Fog.

Fog

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It wuz foggey.  It wuz foggey

evreywhare.  It wuz, in fact,

foggey over the hoal wurld.

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The fog icstendid unyuzialey hie.

It startid at the ground an went up.

Planes cood not get tu the top uv it.

It went aull the way up tu the moon.

Moon peepul sed, “It’s foggey.”

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The fog ixtendid out intu space.

The sun hisst az it swept thrue the fog.

Stars cood not fynd thair orbits

and began wonndering aimlisley, laust.

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By Rafeal Chambers, from Powums for the Immachure, Colectid by Cheops Dorn.  It is reprinted without permission.

(This is a booklet that I bought in Yellow Springs, Ohio, about twenty years ago, focused on phonetic spelling.)

Pictures from Sep 22, 2011, and unchanged except for cropping and resizing.

Provided by God.  From May 23, 2012.

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Sometimes words just get in the way.

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From our garden, June 10, 2012

The summer of 2012 was a good one for hummingbirds here at Awed Manor.  I happened to get a picture of one against Bettie’s sunflowers

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I think he’s watching for dive-bombers, rather than gargling – but one never knows.

This poor guy wasn’t watching where he was going, and thought he could fly straight through our picture window.

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Occasionally we have a back window open, and the birds try to fly through the glass.  This winter, I have seen several birds bounce off the window and keep going – but hummers get going faster quicker, and energy increases as the square of the speed.  This guy didn’t knock himself out, but he was definitely stunned.

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He did eventually gather himself together.

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He flew away about a half-hour after hitting the window.

Bravo, little bird.  Bravo.

We have a big garden – more than twice the square footage of our house.  We like to protect it from marauders, intentional or accidental.  In addition to the plastic down to stop weeds from sprouting, there’s an electric fence up around it, and we use horse tape to make it stand out better than wire would.  Still , deer can get inside.

We caught this one chowing down and looking guilty in the summer of 2011.

Guilty deer

We saw the first hummingbird of the year today.  Woohoo!!

Valentine’s night, I’m sick and Bettie is tired.  We spend the evening doing separate things, and then an event brings us together.

Something in the basement is beeping.

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This is about my right to bare arms.

Oh, I meant the NRA flavor – bearing arms.  Little ones.

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How much is a life worth?

About a hundred and fifty bucks.

No, I’m not starting up a side business to remove annoying people for a fee.  I’m actually trying to save lives.  With this:

Here’s how.

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I never thought it would happen to me.  I have tennis elbow.

Actually, it’s chainsaw elbow.  I haven’t touched a tennis racket in decades.

The day after Thanksgiving we had designated for some outdoor work, and one of the things on the list was sawing down trees that could potentially block the driveway this winter.  We had picked up the chainsaw a couple years ago, I think, but never used it.

It wasn’t a fun day.  I was cranky, and didn’t want to do the work.  Bettie was gently insistent, and she was right that the work needed to be done, but she wasn’t the one doing the work.  It was the first time we started the chainsaw, and we didn’t have the dude from the store showing us how easy it was.  I must have missed a step, because the stupid chainsaw wasn’t starting.  I kept trying to get it to run, pulling on the starter cord and getting angrier (expressing my inner child, I mean, and he’s obstinate).  It was the adult equivalent of a temper tantrum.

I knew I had hurt my arm by the time we finally did get it going.  We still sawed down the trees and got them into movable-sized pieces, and my arm still hurt.  I tried to be gentle with it, but the damage was done.  I could not hold up a gallon of water, or even a glass of water, with that arm.  I’m just not as dextrous with my left arm/hand, so I kept on using my right side.

After about three weeks of  “it’s not getting better” I made an appointment with the doc.  “Tennis elbow”.  So I am wearing an elbow splint, and taking generic Aleve , and I’m supposed to ice the area down every so often.  The doctor also prescribed diclofenac, which kills vultures in India.  I’m not taking it, but it’s because I was unready to pay $240 for 60 patches when I needed seven.  I’ll put up with a little bit of pain to keep my wallet in decent shape.

So I’m healing.  I’d better be healing.  Because of the elbow splint keeping my arm fairly straight, I’m having trouble reaching into my right-hand pocket, and some difficulty brushing my teeth.  I want there to be some significant benefit for the suffering I’m going through.

And while I’m suffering with this damaged arm, my inner child is probably off sulking about something else.  I am still learning the lesson of that day – don’t let the inner child drive the bus that’s my body.  Nobody wins.