Spring haz-mat cleaning: scoop the poop

Tuesday was a beautiful day! The sun was out, temps were climbing back into bearable ranges, and I was actually motivated to DO something.

I headed outside to prep my raised planters. Recent monsoons rains, made the backyard a smidge marshy, but other than feeling like I was walking on wet sponges, the prep work went really quickly. Now, I have two plots ready for peppers, herbs, and maybe zucchini.

The warm weather was also an impetus to clear out the mine field in our backyard.

Take two Labs, mix in long months of cold and wet weather, pour into one large yard, stir in Mother Nature, and it makes for a lot of dog poop. A LOT OF POOP. I got out shovels, gloves and a 10 gallon bucket, which I quickly filled.

The haz-mat clean-up took on a sort of scavenger hunt mystic. I discovered that The Girls really do have a strange menu of things they will ingest ~ batting from an old stuffed toy, styrofoam packing peanuts from Christmas, and cat litter.

Yes, we also have a cat. And, yes we’ve had to install barricades and a moat around the litter box… nuff said ’bout that.

To all my northern friends, those who still have a few feet of snow in their yards, I don’t envy your jobs once all that ice melts.

To all those other pet owners without yards, those who must take twice daily walks for your beloved pets to ‘do their duty’ ~ remember to scoop the poop. I cannot tell you how nasty it is to have to clean some other dog’s crap out of my yard. It’s bad enough when it belongs my own pets.

*From the Vault of IMSO: originally published Feb. 26, 2010. Edited and updated.

Harbinger

Abandoned flip flops
Trailing across warming sand
Harbingers of spring

Haiku Friday is hosted by Lou at LouCeeL

*Photo venue: Ed Walline Beach, Santa Rosa Beach, FL

Ripples

Think of all the stars in our universe like all the grains of sand on all the beaches on Earth. A number so vast, so incalculable, that for sake of argument, you could claim there is an infinite number of grains. When, in reality, it’s a finite number. At some point, the depth of sand ends, becoming rock or some other substantial substance. Expanding out, the sandbox of earth has a measurable limit at the highest mountain top, to the outer layer of atmosphere surrounding our planet.

In a single lifetime, there is no possibility of counting these grains of sand. New ones are constantly being created, just as old ones cease to exist, but there is a theoretical end to them.

Scientific principles tell us that our universe is ever-expanding, so we could postulate that new stars, much like new grains of sand, are constantly being formed as old stars die out.

We know that the stars we view in our night skies are millions of miles out in space. That based on the speed of light, these stars may have died eons ago and we are only now seeing their brilliance.

Now, speculate that our universe is fixed. That instead of expanding, it’s collapsing upon itself. That as old stars die, no new stars are created. That at some point in our existence, what we see as stars are only the lingering echo of their life force. That some day, in the not too distant future, those stars we are so familiar with, begin to blink out.

Our Milky Way slowly becomes darker and darker, as one by one, the last remnants of those last stars fade away until the only star remaining is our own sun… then it too implodes.

Perhaps we are at the beginning of the end of our days. As each star ceases to exist, the accumulation of their final measure of light and energy ripples through the universe, spawning hurricanes, deadly winter storms, earthquakes, tsunamis, and tornadoes.

When was the last time you gazed at the night sky, searching for familiar stars and constellations?

This week’s Studio30 Plus theme is “never laughed so hard,” and/or “beach.”

*Photo venue: Henderson Beach State Park, Destin, FL

Planting season

February is planting season in Florida. By the end of the month, overnight winter freezes are over and it’s safe to break ground.

This Sunday’s forecast calls for low temps in the hi-20s, but within a week, nights are expected to be a balmy 55F. Bags of top soil and mulch are stacked head-high on pallets at local garden shops and home centers, and shelves of starter plants line the walls. My own above-ground planters need weeding and re-filling with garden dirt.

I’m giving up trying to raise tomatoes. My vines are gorgeous, but I rarely get more than three or four toms mature to ripeness. My pepper plants do well. I even have a red, wrinkled jalapeño that lasted through the winter. Herbs also seem to flourish, I just have to decide which ones I’ll use the most.

Today is overcast and cold, but soon, the skies will be clear and blue again. I’m ready for Spring.

Submitted to Skywatch Friday, Season 6: Episode 32

*Photo venue: walking trails at Fort Pickens, near Pensacola, FL

Dark and dreary

Dark thunderclouds closed around me, the rain coming down in tsunami waves. I had to fight the wheel of my car to keep on the road, the wind threatening to push me over the bridge railing.

No matter how fast I set the wipers, it couldn’t keep the windshield clear, forcing me to drive precariously slow. The car behind me was following so close, I couldn’t even see its headlights.

Stress bunched the muscles in my shoulders and neck, giving me a hellacious headache and making it hard to concentrate.

I was headed home, if I still had a home.

From Lance, this week’s prompt inspired by Hey Rosetta’s “Carry Me Home”

This week’s Studio30 Plus theme is “stomping glory,” and/or “headache”

Submitted to Skywatch Friday, Season 6: Episode 24

There is something wrong…

with being so cold all the time that…

~ you put your PJs in the dryer to get them toasty warm before putting them on.

~ when you buy socks it’s not with fashion in mind, but rather ‘will these keep my feet warm?’

~ you welcome night sweats brought on by peri-menopause.

~ your side of the bed has not one, but two extra blankets…  doubled over, so it’s more like four.

~ you have considered wearing a toque to sleep in.

~ you have worn a hoodie to sleep in… with the hood up.

~ even though you live in one of the hottest and most humid states in the southern U.S., you rarely wear shorts during the summer.

~ having become completely acclimated to the tropical weather of your home state, you consider it freezing when the outside temps drop below 60°F (15.5°C).

~ you’re afraid that one day you’re going to lose a toe or finger, having it snap off like an icicle.

~ your normal body temp is only slightly above 96° (35.5° C).

~ you buy one of these babies… dual controls, fits mattresses up to 19-inches deep, machine washable… then keep it on your bed year-round and set on High.

~ you sneak out of bed late at night to reset the thermostat, trying not to wake your dogs because they will rat you out by barking.

~ after you bake something and the oven is still hot, you’ll stand in front of it with the door slightly ajar so you can warm your hands with the radiant heat coming out of the box.

~ you’ve begun drinking coffee and hot tea throughout the day to help keep your hands warm.

For just one day I would love to be warm all over, and not have an extremity be so cold it hurts.

Temperatures in Northwest Florida have finally dipped to the 60s during the day and 40s at night. I haven’t turned on our furnace yet, but I have turned on my heating pad and piled up blankets on my side of the bed. I’ve been wearing sweaters and hoodies for the past two months, and have considered using the self-cleaning feature on my oven to heat up the kitchen in the morning just so I can feel my fingers.

*From the Vault of IMSO; originally published Dec. 6, 2008. Edited and updated.

Breaking the surface

I took advantage of clear skies returning to my stretch of the Gulf to head out to the beach again. I wanted to get out on the pier on Okaloosa Island near Fort Walton Beach. I was surprised to see, that even in the Gulf, water levels were obviously higher. Tides were higher, waves were higher, even watermarks on the pier pilings were higher.

It’s easy to tell when lakes or rivers reach flood levels, but it’s mind-boggling to see it in such a huge body of water.

As I walked the length of the pier, I would occasionally look over the railings. The anglers were out in large numbers and I hoped to see someone reel in their catch. One fisherman pulled in a manta It was so brutal, I simply refused to capture that image. I stepped away from the spectacle, but did see the fisherman throw the dismembered tail over the railing.

I was almost back to the head of the pier when something else caught my attention. I had noticed the absence of large shore birds in the pier. Where every lamp post usually had a heron guardian, they were nowhere to be seen. When I noticed a splash off the port side of the pier, I thought is may have been a pelican or heron diving for lunch.

But there were no birds over the water either. Still, I could see huge ripples in the surf.

Changing lenses, so I could zoom in on what was out there, I was startled to see fins breaking the surface of the waves. While I believed them to be dolphins, seeing a dorsal fin that close to shore was a little unnerving. I was glad to be so far way, and so far out of the water.