|The wiley wabbit from a few evenings previous.|
I was sitting on my deck pounding finishing nails into a shoe cabinet I am making featured on Ana White's website. Handsome Son has returned for the summer with his 35 pairs of shoes in tow, all of which are seemingly congregating in my entryway, like shoe-apalooza. (This must be something inherited from his dad; I have, like, two pair of shoes--one for the gardening and one for not-gardening.)
They could have been goslings, I hope not. I don't think they were as the goslings here are already nearly three times the size of these guys. They were four little brownish-blackish yellow balls of fluff with black webbed feet, completely capable of hopping up the stairs of my neighbors porch and with the ill-conceived idea of waddling down the road to find the source of that tap, tap, tap from my hammer. I want to think they were wood ducks. I did not take pictures. You'll have to take my word on this.
|And then he was on my side.|
A few nights previous, we had heard loud whooping coming from the street. My son looks out to see Darrel chasing three rabbits from his yard into mine. Before seeing the object of the whooping, my son had a momentary though that the neighbor has finally lost it. (Young people are constantly looking for signs their elders have "lost" it-- whatever "it" is.)
Another incident of which I wish I had damning photo-evidence.
Could you see the YouTube videos going viral? "Noted Horticulturalist Whooping in Street at Wiley Wabbits"? ""Mother Goose Leading Her Goslings"?