Better

This morning a male hummingbird stopped at the oriole nectar feeder and sat still long enough for me to get a decent picture.  I snapped a couple of him drinking while hovering but they're not as sharp.



 

I love how the chipmunks look when they sit up on their hind ends.  So thoughtful, as if they're thinking deep thoughts.


 


The bleeding hearts are looking wonderful, all pink and white and dangly,


 


pretty soon the lilies of the valley will be open and making the patio smell like heaven,


 



and the ferns are fronding all over the place.

May 23--Jacob Gerritszoon Cyup, Michiel Pompe van Slingelandt at Six Years of Age.  What boy wouldn't want to be him?  He had a hunting dog, his own falcon, and a kid-size sword.  Even if his mom dressed him in red velvet with gold embroidery and lace.  Sissy clothes but you can see that he was living a real boy's life.  Patch, his dog, was a good hunter, fearless at chasing rats and weasels out into the open so the falcon, Ransom, could swoop down to catch them.  Sometimes Patch lost patience at losing his prey and leaped to snap at Ransom but the bird would lash at the dog with his sharp beak or razor talons and put an end to the problem.


This is all you get.  I spent the afternoon shifting things around in the basement so the furnace installers have room to work tomorrow.  I have to be up early so I'm outta here.
--Barbara