Ominous Fungus

Tiny Dog did not know what to make of the enormous mushroom that has sprouted after all the rain (and hail) of late.  She approached it tentatively several times, backed away, and then began barking at it.

Good girl, Tiny Dog. Save us from the ominous fungus!

Pocked Shed

Herself, being of rather short stature, did not find anything amiss outside after the recent hailstorm.  Yesterday, though, Offspring the Second -- who is a good five inches taller than Herself -- was out doing some yardwork, and called everyone's attention to the roof of the shed. 

HOLY MOLY. 

At least the roof is two-layered; only a few holes punched all the way through, which means that the tools and things inside the shed were relatively well protected. Still, this might be the last straw for the exhausted shed.  It's flooring needs replacing anyway, and now the roof.  Perhaps we shall retire it.  Thank you for your decade of faithful service, Shed.

Cookie Meme

We saw this meme last night:

(This image found here: http://www.thethingswesay.com/sometimes-me-think-what-is-friend-and-then-me-say-friend-is-someone-to-share-the-last-cookie-with/)

This is very sweet.  It's also not how the original song sung by cookie monster went.

What Is Friend?
Sometime me think,
What is friend?
And me think,
Friend something very special....

Well maybe friend somebody
You give up last cookie for.

Yes. That's right. 

(If you like, you can read the full lyrics here: 

http://www.songlyrics.com/sesame-street/what-is-friend-lyrics/)

Sweeping Out The Inside

I've  been doing some mental housekeeping. Out with the old, in with the new. It is good.

I'm inherently somewhat suspicious of self-help books; there are so many of them, and they are so often touted as being life-changing, spectacular, this-is-the-answer-you've-been-searching-for-all-your-life manuals for perpetual happiness. Life is a wee bit more complicated than that. Still, occasionally there is some helpful information to be had. This weekend, I read a book that has been useful. It's not terribly complex, nor is it all-problem-solving. All the same, it validates a few things. And that is good.

Sometimes, we really need another's voice to say, it is OK to feel the way you do.

[T]he only way I knew to get what I wanted was to give up what I wanted and hope that someone else would give it to me.  And what I wanted was to know, with a conviction as unshakable as Sally's redwood tree with the trunk that is twelve feet around, with the leaves that cut clouds in two -- what I wanted was to know once and for all that yes... you have a right to need, to want, to ask, to have.  You can bloom now. 
- Geneen Roth

AfterHail

Went for a walk early yesterday morning to see what the damage was in the neighborhood following the Great Weather Bonanza of Friday. It was still cloudy (and, in fact, more thunder clouds rolled into the area in the afternoon, although there were only a few sprinkles thereafter), and it was the most humid I've ever felt it to be here.

First, the plant in the pot out front: alas, naught but stems remain. 

At a neighbor's house, it was clear that the thin-leafed trees -- mesquite, willow -- took the hardest hit. 

A lot of yard landscaping had washed into the roads. 

The silt and detritus in the man-made arroyo was several inches deep.

Oh, dear.

Even the natural arroyos were carved afresh.

It's awe-inspiring to see the force of nature at work.

I love rain in the desert.

Holy Weather, Batman

Giant RAIN and THUNDERSTORM and ENORMOUS HAIL, with flash floods and inches of debris in patches the entire breadth of roads and feet of flooding water washing down the streets and leaves and decimated plants and arroyos flooded with dirt and rocks and incredible flowing rushes. 

This is water in the desert. It is magnificent.

I would have liked to take some pictures of the arroyos, but it was unsafe to do so.  Here are a few at home.

Out front, by the flower pots:

The back yard.

More back yard, with angry storm clouds.

A poor bedraggled bird. "I'll just sit here for a few OK thanks."

Just a handful of the piles, for size reference with a penny and a quarter.

I love this weather.

Have Mercy

Herself posted the picture of yesterday's vinegaroon on Facebook, because fascinating bug to share. She was amused by the multiple cries of some variation of "no": nyet, nope, nopenopenope, a BIG FAT nope, neaux, nah, NO.  She understands completely; it's certainly not the type of creature one would want to encounter in an up-close-and-personal manner. She was surprised, though, that more than one person expressed an opinion that the vinegaroon should die -- and more specifically, that Herself should have killed it.

What?

A wild animal, minding its own business, out in its environment.
Kill it? Why?

Perhaps Herself is biased because she knows a vinegaroon by sight and knows it is harmless? No. Even if she had never seen one before, there was no reason to cause it harm.  She could certainly outrun the creature; and at any rate, it had its own agenda that clearly did not include attacking a passing human being.

What if the vinegaroon had appeared in her house? That would be a bit more alarming, certainly.  The best tactic for such a large intruder would be to trap it with a plastic container, slide a piece of cardboard under it, and remove it as expediently as possible to the out-of-doors.  She's done that more than once with other insect life in the house.

Suffer the creatures. Even the 'ugly' and misunderstood ones. Especially those.

Will we kill the vinegaroon?

No.

Go to the Harrell House Bug Museum in Santa Fe, and you too can hold a vinegaroon.