People, places, and and the uncommonplace telling stories as they travel with Morganica (Cynthia Morgan) in mind and memory; neighbors, friends, and findings

31 05, 2019

A bird in the hand…


This is, apparently, Jeff the cedar waxwing, recovering from threatening a window. For someone who really isn't into The Wilderness, I seem to be encountering a lot of it lately. Last night I sat on a brick planter box for an hour, waiting for the bird in my hand to fly away. Clearly, The God of Adventure thinks [...]

A bird in the hand…2019-05-31T17:30:09-07:00
27 05, 2019

Memorial musings


Willow probably isn't pregnant but has eaten rather too many potato chips... I'm gazing out on the fading rhododendrons and azaleas, the dogwood blossoms and iris, the lush banks of strawberries, the burgeoning berry vines and bushes (not kidding, the blueberry count will hit the THOUSANDS this summer unless the birds get there first, and we're going to [...]

Memorial musings2019-05-27T16:19:18-07:00
9 05, 2019

Spring forth…


Driving into work when the plum blossoms are out...amazing. Holy cow--it's kinda like I've forgotten about this blog, right? My apologies. Building a new non-wheelchair normal and working at a full-time-plus job and investigating neat new technologies AND trying to do art (and and and) eats a giant hole in my 24-hour day, just enough to put blogposts [...]

Spring forth…2019-05-10T12:59:10-07:00
13 02, 2019

Cookie karma


Some of us are born just absolutely stuffed to the gills with winkarma. The rest of us get it doled out out by the God of Adventure, who is one stingy bastard. I used up my winkarma allocation decades ago, on a box of cookies.

Cookie karma2019-02-13T19:33:04-08:00
16 11, 2018

Shrooming: Take a walk on the wild side


"Knock knock!" called the Resident Carpenter through my bedroom door, far too early on a Saturday morning, "Wanna go pick chanterelles?" the wilderness? Where there are bears that rip off your limbs and eat you and angry mooses that run you through with their antlers and army ants that swarm over you until you are a mass [...]

Shrooming: Take a walk on the wild side2018-11-17T10:25:16-08:00
17 10, 2018

William the Conqueror-squirrel comes a-fostering


William the Conqueror-squirrel is now part of a household already enriched by Lola, Nikki, The Resident Carpenter, about a million saltwater denizens of the deep, assorted garden vegetables, and a number of wild critters living (only, I hope) in the backyard. This is the story of a squirrel orphan being rehabbed to the wilderness.

William the Conqueror-squirrel comes a-fostering2018-10-17T14:05:04-07:00
3 07, 2018

Driving out niggling nags


Snuck out of the house early Sunday morning, hobbling downstairs to the garage and deserting the Resident Carpenter, snoring peacefully at the other end of the hall. I slipped into Chiquitita the Porsche, dropped her top, and just ... drove, the niggling nags jacketing me like a cement overcoat: The backyard slugs and moles and coyotes and birds and squirrels [...]

Driving out niggling nags2018-07-03T14:27:10-07:00
7 05, 2018

End goals and impossible things


We saved Elmo. Now to do some impossible things. (such as say "thank you") Alice laughed. “There’s no use trying,” she said: “one can’t believe impossible things.” “I daresay you haven’t had much practice,” said the Queen. “When I was your age, I always did it for half-an-hour a day. Why, sometimes I’ve believed as many as six impossible things [...]

End goals and impossible things2018-05-08T13:29:52-07:00
30 04, 2018

Getting rid of granny(walker)


"Excuse me," says the little girl, shyly, fingering the rails of my grannywalker, "Are you really old? My great-grandma has a cage like that too, and she's REALLY old." Don't kids--the ones who survive the next five minutes, anyway--say the darnedest things?  It's take-your-kid-to-work day, and my new mini-coworkers are endlessly fascinated with my mobility assist tools. Wherever I go [...]

Getting rid of granny(walker)2018-04-30T22:15:39-07:00
26 04, 2018

Jury booty


A month ago, traversing this sandy path down to the river would have been unthinkable. Yet here I am. "SHE," said the guard, pointing to me, "is what we call S.T.U.B.B.O.R.N." "Absolutely," I grinned, and continued to climb the courthouse steps with my grannywalker. "Ma'am, we HAVE a wheelchair lift," the guard repeated, patiently, "Wouldn't you feel...safer...not climbing [...]

Jury booty2020-03-02T07:45:25-08:00
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