How do you keep on top of things?  The waterlilies not only have marauding coons to contend with, but in the dark recesses of the pool, something is actually trying to choke them to death!  Lloyd puts on his police badge . . . and heads into the fray.  Frequently he has to literally pry the dark villain’s fingers off of their necks, using a bottle brush attached to the end of a stick.  Villain’s ID?  Algae.

How the years fly by.  Our granddaughter, Rebekah, made her way through the audience to see us shortly before the graduation ceremonies got underway at Conestoga College on the afternoon of June 12^th.  On the same day that she graduated as an Early Childhood Care worker, she received a phone message that she had been accepted for a full-time position with Tender Loving Care, a childcare company well established in Cambridge.  How’s that for a red-letter day?

While motorcycles without number roared toward Port Dover for their infamous Friday the 13^th rendezvous, we headed to a quiet outing at Riverside Park, Guelph, with Young at Heart, the seniors’ group at Heidelberg Bible Fellowship.

The gardens surrounding the floral clock featured both peace-loving white peonies  . . . . 

 . . . . . .as well as flaming oriental poppies too hot to handle!

What do waterlilies taste like?  Maybe not so great.  I suspect it was a coon who took a chomp out of one of the waterlilies last night, and spit it back out, leaving petals strewn about on the water.

Two tall plants are in bloom by the wood fence.  One is a delphinium.  The hummingbird made an inspection of the garden a couple of days ago, hovering above yellow daylilies for a few seconds.  I do hope she will take a sip of delphinium ambrosia.

Three star-bursting spheres from the onion family are blooming not far from the delphinium, and two more star-bursts greet anyone who happens along the sidewalk garden.  When  finished blooming, the spheres dry well, and make an interesting addition to an autumn bouquet, lasting for years.

When you think of delicate flowers, which ones come to mind?  And would you think a delicate blossom would have to be small in size?  Time to think again.  This is a wondrous bearded iris after a gentle rain, with petals as delicate as tissue paper.  Can you imagine how soft its golden carpet is  for the bumblebee’s feet?

Can you find all six buds on the water lily?  Six promises of loveliness to come!

I hope Zip the Chip wasn’t watching, but I had to use the shovel again today.

A yellow swallowtail butterfly flitted through Cedar Hollow a couple days ago.  I’m sure she was searching for a parsley plant which we usually have.  That is her favourite place to lay eggs.  I dug one of the parsleys out that was being overshadowed by a vigorous hosta and planted it in the bed above the pond.  Hopefully, the two of us will be out in the garden at the same time . . . the swallowtail and me . . . and I’ll be able to photograph her.

It’s hard to gauge how fast hostas grow.  Two of the red busy-lizzies edging the back- fence garden were complaining that they were being treated like second-class citizens, and that the hostas were encroaching on their territory!  To settle them down, I moved them to a spot beneath the lilac by the deck that was calling for something bright.

Have you ever picked lettuce that you didn’t plant?  I’ve been pinching leaves off for a couple of weeks now. No, I’m not trespassing in someone else’s garden.  Whatever gave you such a thought?  The seeds just sprouted from last year’s crop in the garden on the wall.

Do let me know if you try this made-in-Ontario recipe:

Mom’s Salad Dressing

Mix in blender and put into double boiler:

2 eggs
2 tblsp. all purpose flour
1 tsp. salt
1/4 tsp. turmeric
1-1/2 tsp. dry mustard
½ c. cider vinegar
½ c. water

Stir in 1 cup of cane sugar (from Bulk Barn)
Add ½ tblsp. butter
Cook until thick.  Add a little milk before serving if it’s too thick.  Enjoy!

Howdy, folks!  I’m Zip the Chip.  Let me tell you, it sure is a job keeping track of things around Cedar Hollow.

My biggest beef is that old shovel.  Mrs. McD keeps dragging it out of the shed, and the next thing you know, something’s not where it used to be! I guess you heard that the bachelor buttons got moved a few days ago, and she told you all about her cornflower crystal.

You see, I really have to map things out mighty carefully.  One never knows when the mangy old cat from across the street will come padding into Cedar Hollow.  I’ve got to have my escape routes all figured out in advance in case she tries to sneak up on me.  Mrs. McD won’t put up with that old bird killer for a minute.  You should hear the loud psssst!! she comes out with whenever she sees it.  It’s enough to scare a dinosaur off the property!  The other day, I overheard her declaring that the next water gun she gets is going to be a POWERFUL one! I’m glad she’s on my side. 

Mr. McD is using the reciprocal saw to cut up the lilac branches that were draping over the side garden.  I guess they were depending on the big tamarack tree to hold them up, but you know what happened to it.  The crock by the fireplace is plum full of twigs! Mrs. McD is planning on using the twigs for kindling.  I heard her wondering what lilac wood would smell like.  Do you have any idea?

As Mrs. McD was heading up the steps with a fan rake to tidy up the mess left from harvesting the lilac branches, Lady Wren alighted on the grass.  She chose an iddy-biddy lilac twig, flew up to the Swiss Chalet, and poked it inside.  I don’t think Mrs. McD raked as thoroughly as she might have after that, but that’s OK. 

Oh my!  What’s that big critter in the cage?  It seemed to be sleeping, so we had time for breakfast.

Lloyd placed an old towel over the cage so the masked bandit would remain sleepy.  How heavy he was as Lloyd lugged the caged coon to the car. There was a river and woods not far from the drop-off spot in the countryside.  How large his tail looked as he bounded away and disappeared in the undergrowth.

Lloyd and I took our morning break on the lawn swing.

Have you ever sensed that you were being spied on?  Chippy is on tip-toe, gopping at us!

 It was apparently break time for others as well.   Both mother and father cardinal alighted on the top wooden fence rail within a minute of each other, bearing a light green something-or-other in their beaks.

Meanwhile, energetic Lady Wren filled the June morning with her joyous songs.

Squeak, the Red Squirrel, listened quietly, for a change, from a perch high in the walnut tree while I read aloud the newspaper summary of last night’s TV debate.

Pollsters ranked NDP’s Andrea Horwath  the highest with her IT MAKES SENSE platform, six points above the Liberals, and eight points higher than the Conservatives.  Who knows what might change with one week of campaigning left?

Today I finished playing musical plants.  The perennials are now where they’re going to be for this season, and will no longer shake in their boots when they see me clomping along with a shovel in hand.

I must concede that the three Bachelor Buttons moped a bit after they were transplanted, but now seem to have reconciled themselves to their new location in the garden, and are holding their buds up proudly once more.

Did you know that it is the bachelor button flower (also called cornflower) that is engraved on the cornflower crystal that was so popular when I was married?  I still use this crystal for company, but cornflower crystal is now in the antique shops! Disgusting indeed when it’s obvious I’m such a youthful hostess!

As I was watering last night, I surmised that Lady Wren’s wings were just too tuckered out from a day of nest-building to hoist the last twig all the way inside.  Ever feel like that?

Take a few moments to listen to the wren songs recorded by Bryan Wells, and watch her at work:

 www.youtube.com/watch?v=W8wjCGQhhRI

Understand now why I’ve been so excited about having Lady Wren move in?

If we get many more gorgeous days like this, I’ll be plum worn out!  How is it that each spring I end up digging like a badger?  Perennials expand and have to be split up, and some bushes need to be replaced, having succumbed to the coldest winter in 32 years.

Another cause for stomping on the shovel was an article in the paper about a test of two large groups of people, one eating organic foods, and one the other stuff.  There was 89% less pesticide residue in urine samples of those who consumed organic foods.  I decided we needed to incorporate some vegetables into our flower gardens.  This meant yanking out sturdy English Ivy that was entrenched along the house foundation of one of the sidewalk gardens.  That gave room to dig out phlox, daisies and asters and replant them where the ivy had been.  Now there was space to set in some pepper plants and some climbing green beans.

Hostas and perennials were dug out from the other sidewalk garden, labelled in plastic bags, and placed by the curb.  All had been taken to other gardens by neighbourhood green thumbs by the next morning.  A row of bush green beans was sown in the space they vacated!

In the back yard, two tomato plants, more pepper plants, and a row of carrots and swiss chard went in.  Cucumbers and grape tomatoes were planted in a small bed by the back deck.

But all was not drudgery.  Lady Wren put on a heavenly symphony overhead.  Here she is beginning a rhapsody, feathers stiffening on her amazing throat as she reaches with ease the joyous high notes.

Don’t you think she is quite pleased with her choice of the Swiss Chalet at McDonalds?

In between sonatas, she gathered building materials from beneath the garden gate, the daylily bed, the shed roof, and the rhubarb patch.  This female engineer used the perch like a safety belt to steady herself as she hauled in a twig.

We have lived in this home for 15 years, and this is the first time that a wren has blessed us by moving in.  When I was a kid, I remember how much my mother LOVED the wrens who lived in the apple orchard on the farm.

Meanwhile, several branches above the Swiss Chalet, the Red Squirrel entered his favourite eatery, and enjoyed tiny nutmeats hidden at the base of each wooden scale on a spruce cone.  It is fun to spot bare cobs at the base of some of the forest trees.  Maybe he’s composting them!

Lloyd noticed a jiggling here and there among the flowers by the falls.  Now and then, we saw just the head of the chipmunk rise above the flowers, as though he was standing on tiptoe.  What was he up to?

Ah!  He found The Northwest Passage!  There he was . . . slaking his thirst from a secret passageway in the rocks!

Who should appear in the entryway of Cedar Shake of the Black Pole but the fledgling chickadee?

Now don’t call me a Momma’s boy, he seemed to say.  Can’t a buddy pop back home now and then for a suntan on the balcony?  There’s no place like home!

John came over to help us dig out the purple smoke bush which had winter-killed.  Whenever he sat on the lawn swing, something bugged him.  A winter ice storm had broken a branch on the black walnut tree, and it dangled menacingly above the path that runs behind our fence.  John climbed a ladder into the tree and stood on a big limb.  However, from this sturdy perch in the walnut tree, he was unable to sever the vertical danger with the branch-lopper gizmo.  Not to be beat, he lassoed the offending branch, descended to the ground, and pulled on the rope for all he was worth until it snapped off!

Today was one of the loveliest days this spring!  John took a break from working on our website to join us on the back deck for some lemon-iced tea.  A recently fledged chickadee alighted on top of the shepherd’s crook which holds the hummingbird feeder.  Hanging onto the metal perch for dear life, glancing back and forth, soon his mother brought some fast food on the wing. Gulp! Looking like his feet would slip any moment, he clung on awkwardly while we could scarcely take our eyes off of him, sure he would lose his grip.  Zoom!  Back he flew into his Cedar Shake home!  This big old world was just too much for him.

Had Princess Hummer been watching all of this?

What’s so special about this curved perch anyway?  Better check it out.  I might be missing something, she said.

 Meanwhile, Lady Wren’s curiosity got the best of her.  She just had to check out Swiss Chalet on Black Walnut Lane which John put on the market a few hours earlier.  Standing on the tiny perch, you could almost hear her musing:  Would this offer more privacy than Château de la Gourde?  I’m sure it would be cooler when the leaves come out.

Wanting to let the zephyr breezes in , Lloyd and his 57-day old left knee carefully mounted a sturdy kitchen ladder.   (His old right knee went along, too.)  From this aluminum perch, using a drill, he removed the screws from the frame holding the heavy glass storm door in place, which John lifted down and stored away. 

Walnut perches, both large and tiny, wrought iron perch round and smooth, aluminum four-legged perch . . .  each stayed firmly and dependably in place while trod upon by young and old – human and winged – enabling them to carry out their tasks on this delightful day of blue sky and cotton-batting clouds!    

Sunday afternoon was spent dealing in real estate.  We were holding the mortgages, and offered 0% interest. The market was sizzling!

Our first sale was to Mother Chickadee who bought the Cedar Shake house on Black Pole Lane.

The next purchaser was a petite opera singer, who chose an exclusive property with designer-fashion lines, no less, called Château de la Gourde. 

Mother Wren must have pre-booked the movers, unbeknownst to us.  Before we knew it, she was hauling in a snow-white bassinet!  Oh yes, the interior colour scheme must reflect that of the exterior.  This was one high-class lady, folks!

Another purchaser had signed on the dotted line a few days earlier for a lot in Whispering Cedars.  She was making a chipping sound from within the deep recesses of the home she was constructing.  We forgot to check whether she had a building permit, but I’m sure her husband had taken care of those papers.  He was one handsome dude, and sported a suit jacket of shocking red!

Meanwhile, a fierce rousting-out was going on around the red drive-in restaurant on our property, and it wasn’t even listed with MLS!  I’m hoping the Ruby-Throated Hummingbird wins the competition with its plainer relative.  From our seats on the lawn swing, we kept good and clear of the pointy bills that were definitely exceeding the speed limit as they cruised past.  Yes, Sir, spring sure is the time to sell property!

Horrors!  Mr. Gold Finch alighted on top of Château de la Gourde!  Quick!   Where’s that SOLD sign?   The House Wren has already signed the Offer to Purchase, and we’ve accepted it!!

The answer:  An oil painting (by commission) of penguins in beautiful Antarctica!

It was the best wool hat you could imagine!  That’s what the roses said of the HUGE blanket of snow that sheltered them from winter’s fierce cold.  Usually there is quite a bit of dead wood to be pruned off the end of the canes every spring.  Not this year.  The whole stalk on every rose bush was green!

Since painting “Beside the Still Waters,” I have been totally occupied uploading two books that I wrote about our Bonaire experience titled On That Little Dutch Isle – Part I and Part II.  I’ll let you know in the BOOKS ‘N STUFF column on our website as soon as they become available.

Lloyd underwent a total left knee replacement the end of March and has needed my assistance.  I am proud of his persistent effort to persevere through the painful exercises.  They began on his first day home from the hospital, and will need to be carried on for a few more weeks yet.  Just yesterday he began trying to walk around the house without a cane!

The studio is much more spacious since we sold the framing equipment.  I’m eager to pick up the paint brushes once again, and enjoy working under the natural light there.

After the pre-Christmas ice storm, I opened our side door  to take the mail in.  The pointed evergreen that sticks six feet above a neighbour’s roof caught my eye.  It was bedecked with stars!!  It really was!  I ran inside for the camera.  The afternoon sun caused each icy tip of the spruce to twinkle brilliantly like a star!  What a sight!

A few years ago, Lloyd built a yard-high star and outlined it with a rope of white lights.  From atop the miniature pear tree, it beamed its reminder to passersby at Christmas that it was a star in the heavens many years ago that informed wise men in the East of the birth of a Jewish king. They knew from this special star that He was none other than God incarnate.  We read that when they finally arrived after a long journey, they “worshipped Him.”

One of the greatest understatements in all of literature is found on the first page of the Bible in the sixteenth verse: “He made the stars also.”

Today we are constantly learning that the Hubble telescope and other such instruments are still finding galaxy after galaxy that they hadn’t seen before.

Can you grasp the wonder of Psalm 147:4?  “He telleth the number of the stars; He calleth them all by their names.”

How many names can you come up with?

With the first light snowfall on Friday, the Canada Goose who had taken up residence temporarily in our basement, declared that the snow was his cue to head south!  He wished his cohorts a Merry Christmas, not expecting to return until March 1^st.

I was up at 4:00 this morning to see John off. He was driven to the Toronto airport by a fellow Grand River Transit operator, Chris. You have probably guessed by his wonderful countenance that Chris is also a Christian.

About a year ago, John began planning this epic vacation.  He stacked the 2013 and 2014 vacations back to back, worked statutory holidays, etc., to pull together a four-month stretch of vacation.  His goal:  To take courses on Bonaire in order to become a certified scuba diving instructor.  As you realize, John’s childhood spent on Bonaire, Caribbean Netherlands, introduced him to the WONDERS OF THE SEA, and he fell completely in love with it.

In preparation for the upcoming three-month course, John took in-the-lake and on-land instruction this summer, studied several challenging manuals, and completed tests online.  He hopes to finish the reading material while in flight today. When he takes early retirement in about ten years, John wants to utilize the scuba diving instructor skills to finance future vacations and see the world.

What could not have been planned were events unknown one year ago.

John rented out his condo from October 1^st until the end of February, and came to live with us for October until today.  When I was scheduled for surgery to remove my thyroid on October 31^st, John was here to help out, which was truly a godsend.  His benefit package allows one week per year to help family members if a medical need arises.  My recovery has been going along very well, and I have been thoroughly enjoying the pampering by my menfolk!

Just as John completed his scuba studies online on his computer in the basement, I realized what a perfect opportunity was now available to use his computer’s InDesign program to input a book about our Bonaire experience which I’ve been working on.  It would be too expensive for me to buy such a program, and my aging computer would not have the gumption to handle it anyway.  John had me watch tutorials yesterday, and then sat down last night to coach me . . . and now the project is underway!  I was able to input the first three chapters this morning.

John also joined his Dad as the two of them carried out chimney sweep work!

 During the past week, John patiently coached his Dad, and enabled him to now post his own Bible studies and link them on the Internet for his website ministry at: closerlook.ca.  John has previously done this work for his Dad.

Who could have arranged ahead of time, with precision, the blessings of these past five weeks?

I have heard it said that native North American Indians find it strange that the white man has to look at his clock or wristwatch to know whether he is hungry or not!

The faithful timepiece in the garden has proven very helpful whenever we’re working or relaxing outdoors.

Have you ever heard of . . . or seen . . . a wannabe clock?

We have one growing just outside the back gate!  Let me describe it for you:

–       It’s about 40 feet tall.  We can’t bring it indoors.

–       The main part of the clock is at least 12 inches across.

–       It has a deeply furrowed grey-black finish.

–       The pendulum is composed of 15–23 green pieces, all paper-thin.

–       Whenever there is the slightest breeze, the pendulum rhythmically swings back and forth.

–       It is absolutely silent – no tick tock.

–       Although the pendulum is rather unpredictable, this particular clock has no face.  It just enjoys keeping time!

To help you see it better, I put a dab of white-out on the bottom points of the pendulum.  Can you see the pendulum  swung to the left?

Now it has swung to the right:  (See the white tips?)

Yes, our Wannabe Clock is a black walnut tree!!

Time is such a precious commodity.  Mornings find me in the studio, which often stretch into the afternoon, bringing more pink roses, their leaves and buds, to life on the canvas of Beside the Still Waters.

Did you know that in the future, a very powerful angel, with one foot on the land and one foot on the sea, will declare:

 “…that there should be time no longer.”  Revelation 10:6.

What then?

Every time I mention streptocarpcus, the blue flowers hanging on the wall by our front door, Lloyd hears the “strep” part, and often retorts:    “It sounds like some disease.”  We have all heard of strep throats, and how sore they are.

This elegant plant comes in a fantastic variety of colours, but somehow I have only found the heavenly blue ones.  I was delighted and surprised this week to see the hummingbird sipping from the slender throats of the dangling blossoms.  It seems that hummingbirds are attracted to flowers with nectar-filled throats . . . even if they are not the touted colour of red!

The white throat of one of our hostas is scented like lily of the valley.  (Its botanical name is Tetraploid sport of plantaginea.) It had been in our back yard for a few years, but refused to bloom.  I moved a piece of it to the sidewalk garden to fill in a vacant space caused by a pesky rabbit who had chomped off everything in sight.  The lily-like hosta approved of its sunnier location, and now has pushed up several stalks loaded with buds which elongate by the day.  Can you tell me Who fills their throats with this wondrous scent?

Bumblebees disappear from sight as they fly into the brown-striped throats of yellow allamanda blossoms, and then wriggle their way back out, and zoom away.

It’s September, and it’s time to care for our own throats.  I’m going to practise the nightly ritual of gargling with warm salt water before retiring for bed.  My friend claims it will prevent getting a sore throat, the precursor to the common cold.

Today I’m imagining the fragrance of roses . . . as I begin painting luscious pink blooms onto a mass of shrub roses bordering a quiet river in PEI.  The painting will be titled, “Beside the still waters.”  Six sheep are quietly grazing on the far bank.

The Chipmunk Express pulled over onto the shoulder of the highway a few days ago to release its non-paying client to its new home in the country.  This was number ten.  I just saw another one scoot up the trunk of the miniature pear tree on the front lawn.  How many siblings are there?  Their mother must have been like the old lady who lived in the shoe!

It has been surprising to see a heuchera plant take root of its own accord this summer on the rocky shoulder of the waterfalls next to a mossy patch on the right.  Even more surprising was that it had enough energy to send up a mini stem of white bells!

When we take a break on the lawn swing, camera always at the ready, powerful shoulders bear guests within our viewing range, making nary a sound.

 Today I finished constructing a rugged zigzag fence across the shoulder of a pasture field in PEI.  It was rough old cedar to work with, but I managed to finish the job without getting any slivers!

The previous day I was listening to the uplifting audio story of R.G. Le Tourneau, a mover of men and of mountains, and did a little earth scraping myself.  I changed the contours of the pasture in the painting to accommodate a barn for the sheep which will soon arrive on its slopes.

“I hope you don’t think I’m a Peeping Tom . . . but I’ve just got to ask you a question, if you don’t mind.” 

“Where are you taking the chipmunks in that wired box thing?  I see you putting them into the trunk of your Smart car.  I’d kind-a like to get a ride in that cute thing myself.”

My husband just returned from chauffeuring Chipmunk No. 8 out to the country – maybe it was Peeping Tom himself!  When Lloyd opened the door of its mesh holding cell, the chipmunk scooted a short distance, then stopped, and paused . . . gathering his bearings, or maybe just stopping to say, Thanks for the ride!  He was a sanguine little creature, indeed, certainly not what you would call a Type A!

If that had been a squirrel, he would have charged out like a bolt of lightning the second Lloyd raised the door.

P.S.  Oh dear.  The Chipmunk Express is becoming too popular.  Before 5:00 p.m., Chipmunk No. 9 was demanding a ride in the Smart car, too!

It had just started to rain, so we obliged right away.  As we headed out, Lloyd said, “I’ll soon have to start charging.  I’m closing down the Chipmunk Express for the night.  Two trips in one day is enough.”

Well, I’m heading back into the studio to paint some more of PEI’s gently rolling hills that we fell in love with a couple years ago.

Every morning I have been fetching the hummingbird feeder in, cleaning it, and filling it with an inch of fresh nectar.

Taking a break from the studio where I’m working on a painting of Prince Edward Island, what did I see a hummingbird choose for high tea?  Bee Balm!  He’s gone completely green, all right.   No thanks to that concoction in a bottle surrounded by plastic flowers!

Can you see the open end of the petals?  How quickly the hummingbird moved from one petal-tube to the next on the mop-like crimson flowers.  He then flew to a clump of bee balm a little lower in the garden and rapidly sipped his ‘tea.’

No bells rang out, announcing his visit, but some golden bells were joyous nonetheless.

I found these golden bells at Sheridan’s this spring, and bought the vine instantly, and planted it by our pond.  Its proper name is allamanda.

We grew this vine when we lived on the Island of Bonaire, Caribbean Netherlands.  The vine filled a trellis at the end of the veranda with its wonderful scented bells and long, chestnut-brown, pointed buds.

Have you ever had a helicopter land on your deck in absolute silence?

After landing, it paused . . . then flew straight up, and back down again into the very same spot!   Was he having trouble with his landing gear or what?

Once upon a time, I did a watercolour of the climbing rose blooming by our side door – Sir Wilfrid Laurier.  The story was blogged previously about how a lady in Ottawa had moved this same type of rose bush to another part of her garden, but it did not survive.  She had received the rose for a birthday gift, and dearly loved its classic shape, and its long-stemmed blooms.

Terri, for that is her name, had been trying unsuccessfully to find another Sir Wilfrid Laurier rose for about ten years.  When she stumbled upon my painting on the Internet, she emailed me.  The result was that I sent her several cuttings in the mail.  I explained how my husband’s mother successfully started new roses from cuttings, putting the end of the stem in the soil, and sheltering the rest of it beneath a glass jar.

This month, Terri emailed us that she and her husband and niece would be returning from a vacation in West Virginia, and could accept our previous invitation to come by and see us and Sir Wilfrid Laurier on their way home.

In the meantime, unbeknownst to me, something wondrous began to happen by our back door.  Sir Wilfrid Laurier must have sensed that Terri was coming . . . and set quietly to work.  Lo and behold, he managed to produce a baby not half a foot away!

However, by the time Terri arrived on July 12^th, there wasn’t a single bloom on Sir Wilfrid Laurier.

Sir Wilfrid Laurier had absolutely outdone himself this spring, and I photographed him daily, and emailed several photos to Terri.

But now he was resting.  All that could be seen on the healthy climber were promises of another round of roses – fascinating little crimson shoots.

Baby Laurier had been carefully dug out a few weeks earlier and placed in his own ‘play pen’ (pot).  Mind you, he was just a baby with only two small legs, and a few of his leaves dropped off like baby teeth!  However, I’m eager to hear how he likes his new ‘bed’ in Ottawa.  I know he will get all the pampering a baby rose could possibly want.

Just ask the chipmunks.

I didn’t go along with Lloyd when he took his double catch, Chipmunks No. 2 & 3, out to their country estate.  He told me that he thought they might be frightened . . . so he sang hymns to them all the way out!

Today, Sunday afternoon, I went along to escort Chipmunk No. 4.

Have you ever tried fitting a seat belt around a chipmunk?

He soon settled down, however, and sprawled on his tummy, hind feet behind, for most of the trip.  Once we reached the vicinity of his cousins and stopped the Smart car, Lloyd hoisted the cage out, and lifted its end gate.  Chipmunk No. 4 exited like a shot out of a gun, jiggling the tips of the tall grass on the embankment as he sped along.