7,000 words?

I don't seem to have much to write about right now. At least not much that I can dash off and post with any sense of satisfaction. The few ideas I have would require lengthier posts than I'm willing to commit to on a work night, and I don't want to give them short shrift. So, I'm going to fall back on the old adage that a picture is worth a thousand words and hope these photos will tide you over for another day or two:

I took this shot of Kadi indoors at night, with only the light of the television and one lamp, and could only make out the barest outline of her profile when I checked it on the camera screen. Even though I bought Photoshop months and months ago, and bought two books to teach me how to use it, I haven't taken the time to explore it the way I should have. Nevertheless, I pulled up this dark photo in Photoshop, clicked on auto-fix, and, boy, was I impressed. Look what I got:


Photoshop also helped me save this shot of Butch sleeping beside my bed. There's a terrific dog bed about eight feet away from this spot, but this 20-year-old bedspread is 10-year-old Butch's security blanket. He's loved it since he was a puppy. I finally got wise and cut the thing in half so I can wash one piece of it while he sleeps on the other. (I fully expect to meet my demise by catching a toe in a fold of this blanket sometime when I make a middle-of-the-night trek to the bathroom.)


The neighborhood peacock, having lost my favor when he spurred me after I turned my back on him to carry in a couple of bags of groceries, evidently doesn't understand that there's a problem in our relationship. He still greets me many afternoons when I get home from work, often hopping out of the bed of the neighbor's parked pickup truck and approaching before I even have my car door open all the way. On the day I took the following photo, I walked around him (cautiously), pretended to ignore him, and came on into the house. As you can see (through the hundreds of dog-nose prints on the glass door), he didn't give up:


His persistence paid off. My daughter Kim was here, and it's been more than a year since he flogged her.


My next-door neighbor is a nurse, a lovely person, and an avid gardener. I've always loved to look over the fence at the green things growing in her yard, even if I don't always know what I'm seeing. Yesterday evening I realized she has a large tree I've never paid particular attention to, and it's loaded with pears. I don't even like pears, but there's something about a tree full of 'em that fills me with a sense of the earth's abundance.

In the same neighbor's yard is another tall tree with branches that hang over my driveway. As I left the house to go back to work after lunch today, I heard a rustling noise and glanced up at that tree just in time to see a big tail disappear among the leaves. When I discovered the source of the noise, even though I knew I'd be late for work, I came back inside to get my camera. Here's "hoo" I found:


I've since learned that this is a Barred Owl. It appeared to be disinterested in me and my camera, but I suspect this one visible eye was paying close attention:


I've heard owls near my house on several occasions, but this is the first time I've seen one. It made my day.