I can’t say for certain that a few drops of rose geranium oil applied regularly to the dog’s collars keeps ticks away. But I can say it’s been a good week or so since I’ve had to perform a tweezer extraction and/or sighted one of the fatfuggers waddling around, drunk on blood. That’s all I’ll tentatively declare.
It seems that we’re one of the only few families in the neighborhood who subscribes to trash service? Which I find so odd. Where are all the other cans on Trash Day? Are we elitist for having pickup?
I wrote a letter today. And judging by the fatigue in my forearm, I really ought to hand-write more often.
I also did some work-I-love by setting up a flickr photostream. As an amateur. Who has no sights set on anything other than offering a view of the world captured through a cheap camera lens.
Mammoth sunflowers – they have buds. The tallest is *only* just taller than me, rather than the promised 7 to 12 feet. But I’ll take it. Next year, I want a whole field of them. A giant rectangle of former lawn-turned-sunflower-patch. Is this unreasonable?
And lastly: geese. I don’t know, m. How could one reasonably suggest to keep them as pets. They’re not all mean, I understand. They don’t all hiss and carry on. They do allegedly feast on ticks. But they are just so…grabby? Entitled? Insatiable? Honky? Yeesh. Their collective soul is like that of a teenage boy in your kitchen after sports practice. Except all you’ve got on hand is half a bag of bread crusts and no more. Which means you’re practically unarmed against the force of them.
Well anyway. Behold. The geese down by the river.