Hotel California addition

 

Wayne found this today

 

Every so often, my International Fall friend checks his game camera set up in likely spots in the northern woods. He sees wolves, coyotes, beaver and any wildlife activity that triggers the camera. The images are usually from night time activity and are often blurry and hard to make out. But today came this gem, a magpie taking a selfie thanks to Wayne's strategically placed box.

Coming home. . .

 

Checking in from Rome on the last day of their trip around the European must-see locations, Hai and Xuan report calling on the Vatican....... but the Pope didn't answer their knock. Coliseum had to do for the final leg to this memorable jaunt, that all started in her nail salon in Menifee, California.

Birdie in the Sky with Diamonds

Call us sentimental, but we can't always help it. Saw an unusual cloud formation yesterday evening and shot a few pictures for fun. Had Kathleen look them over and pick her favorite. Sure enough, she went for the one that looked like our dear late poodle, Birdie, trademark puppy-cut and all. And then, like Birdie, it was gone, like everything else in this ephemeral existence. But it brings us joy in the meanwhile.

Do you see her? Facing to the right. All dogs go to heaven, you know.

Absolutely topless, the marquee said

Honest-to-goodness bare breasts jiggling across stage? Absolutely topless? Imaginations ran wild that night as four college boys explored the Mighty Midway at the 1969 Minnesota State Fair. Worn, painted signs made it very clear that there would be bra-less, half-naked bodies inside that grimy side-show tent. Nothing at all left to imagine, the old barker boasted in a grizzly rhythmic chant.

For boys attending a college that didn’t even allow dancing, it was just too much to resist. Really? Topless? Bra-less? Just a dollar? We wondered how could they not be shut down by fair board management. Unbelievable. Bare booby.

We put our money down.

Directed through a canvas tunnel into a dirty, dark and depressing tent, we eagerly found folding chairs as near to the front as possible, and waited in anticipation. As the tent filled with testosterone, breathless expectations were palpable. The music began.

And there she was! The beginning of the show. Only one dancer, true, but so fine. She writhed and teased and we were caught up in her spell, but never forgetting what the real point of all this fore-play was. It wasn’t long before the performance came to a climax. Sure enough, with one quick motion, she deftly snatched off her wig and cast off her bra. Totally topless, alright. We were shocked, stunned.

Three Lutheran farm boys and the preacher’s son had just been introduced to their first-ever female impersonator. Bare-chested and crew cut now, he scampered across the stage, grinning and laughing and mocking us, then quickly disappeared, presumably for his own personal safety.

We licked our wounds and retired as gracefully as possible, victims of ourselves, of our naivete. Our hormones.

Yes, there’s one born every minute, someone said.

Arts in the Park

Musically, it was probably the worst concert I’ve ever heard; Emotionally, it was among the best.

While exploring the Arts in the Park booths at yesterday’s annual event, with their usual offerings of handmade products, pictures, pottery and paraphernalia, I stumbled across a free concert in a packed adjacent pavilion. Two young men, amped and wired and staged for rock 'n roll, had a half hour scheduled, the little marquee said.. The duo was known only by a family name, and the crowd seemed held in rapt attention. I joined them.

Just guessing here, but it seemed to be a young man and his dear special needs brother, singing the songs we all know, heavy on the Beatles, Johnny Cash and similar, and they were belting them out with enthusiasm and courage. The audience loved it. The sounds were. . .unusual. Occasional brilliant keyboarding was contrasted with exuberant renditions of the popular tunes.

Johnny Cash may not have delivered “Ring of Fire” exactly that way, but undoubtedly he’d approve its unique interpretation. And the Beatles would have enjoyed "Hey Jude!,” starting out gently, softly, then a crescendo into a screaming Judiee! Judiee! Judiee. The one of a kind jubilant performance closed with an a cappella version of “It’s a Wonderful World.” Satchmo was never more earnest or sincere.

Program finished, the spirited audience rose as one, thrilled, teary and excited, giving a rousing, standing ovation as the duo acknowledged the robust acclamation. The pavilion brimmed with mutual love and support.

A latecomer, I really don’t know exactly what happened here yesterday, but this is what I saw.

And then I said to myself, "what a Wonderful World."

Wrath over Purgatory Creek

 The sunset to the right and this passing rainstorm combined to paint this last night. Sudden rain, then gone, leaving this almost Biblical image before bedtime vespers.

"Spring Snow"

 Heaven has come to Purgatory Creek Park.

Can you see me?

Right under the Brick and Bourbon restaurant sign, way beneath our window, Mrs. Mallard decided this was a warm, safe place to raise her chicks. Sitting very still, passers-by rarely notice, except an old retired guy with nothing better to do than wonder where all the ducks went this spring. We'll keep an eye on her, hoping the leashed dogs don't find the nest, and report back if we see her taking the young ones for a first swim. She's got to cross a busy street to do so, bad planning on her part, maybe we can get an assist when the time comes. Or she'll wait for nightfall, for a moonlit swim.