Veni, Vidi, Ventus --
The randomly chaotic and crafty scribblings of a deranged, wannabe artist allowed too many colours in her Crayon box.

Surgeon General's Warning: Some content of "From Pooka's Crayon" may not be suitable for: work, blue-haired little old ladies, the politically-correct, rabid moonbats, uptight mothers, priests, chronic idiots, insurance claims agents, Democrats, children, small furry quadropeds from Alpha Centauri, or your sanity.

Sunday, May 04, 2003

Butterfly Kisses

The wildlife difference is just astonishing. At the apartment, we'd see sparrows, maybe a few house finches, and occasionally hear doves. And the bugs, always the bugs.

While sitting on the porch last night, I had no less than five different species of birds in the yard around me. We have a score of regulars that have learned we'll happily feed them. The doves are getting braver, as are the robins. The male cardinal sings to me almost every morning when I go outside.

I've never seen blue jays this ... blue. Their colouring is strong and utterly spectacular.

There are two adult squirrels that we see on a regular basis, a male and female. Fiesty and brave. Earlier yesterday, one of them was just going bananas, complaining and fretting and spitting and bitching up a storm for a solid five minutes. Hmm.

About 10 minutes after that, I could see why. A very, very young squirrel, still a little uncertain about his footing, scampered hesitantly along the back fence. He'd stop every so often and cower in fear from the doves that were substantially larger. Watching him try to figure out the fence corner, where tree limbs cross over and make a straight shot difficult, was wonderful.

Left my shoes and chair out in the lawn to go refill my "pesticide" spray bottle (it's amazing how well dishsoap and water repell plant-munching pests), and when I returned, there was a huge fat dove SITTING IN MY SHOE, along with another four right around the chair. Oh yeah, they're REAL scared of me. Not.

It's the butterflies that create the greatest thrill. I don't have an awful lot of butterfly/hummingbird friendly plants yet, but that doesn't seem to slow them down. There's a swimming pool next door, and one behind us, so moisture is always there for the butterflies. My petunias are a particular favourite, along with the tomato plants.

Squinty-eyed Pooka looks over at one of the bright pink petunias, wondering if I've caught one of the leaf munching pests in the act. All I can see is a long strip of green, like a cutworm or so. Grr. Must confront.

Closer, closer still. Then it opened.

Softest lime green, even the body, the butterfly was happily nestling into the heart of the petunia, drinking away. I watched it for the longest time, then reached to pinch off a wilted blossom in the same pot.

The butterfly startled, and rose.

He didn't go far. Pastel greens hovered around my head, then settled instead on the tomato right beside me and began delivering butterfly kisses once more.

Large black ones, easily the side of my hand. Smaller black butterflies with brilliant blue spots. Monarchs. Neon yellows. There is always colour out there now, a vast cry from when we moved in.

Butterfly kisses are always welcome in my yard.

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