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Posted on 06/01/2007 6:53:35 PM PDT by Soaring Feather
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I have finally started doing that this year..No point in risking losing my computer and all my files. I leave one TV to watch and unplug the others when it is really stormy..
All birds seem to love sunflower seed. I used to buy just that, well some smaller seeds for finches and such.
I just realized I have not seen any finches around here this year. Of course, no one is feeding the birds either. I do keep water in the bird baths -don’t see anything happening there either. Oh the bees come for water, woo hoo.
I think the birds are resting now too hot for them to zoom around. Squirrels just collapse on a tree branch and pant.
All the preparation that you do is great but a lightning rod works well.
Chickadees just came to grab seeds and fly away..I have a squirrel who lounges in the Youpon tree a lot.
I buy millet and cracked corn for the doves and critters and toss it on the patio..The sunflower seeds are an all around favorite..I put it on the patio and in the feeder. I have house finches but did not want to have to fool with thistle..I might get goldfinches if I did.
I keep it simple. My daugher has many feeders around her backyard.
I haven’t seen a lightning rod in years..Many houses used to have them.
However, for an adventure, one could climb up on the roof and hold a 12 foot long metal pole in order to get an electrifying feeling. Just kidding of course. 8^)
I was thinking in terms of electrical, I think that have to be grounded, this is an old house wired ions ago -speaking of which it’s thundering now.... so long for now.
You are correct. Most houses are grounded by either a 3 wire or a 4 wire system. I believe that the lightning rod uses a seperate grounding system as the heavy gound wire is usually buried. A lot of the buildings (even new ones)on Federal property have lightning rods.
Nice picture! ...We have a few squadrons of those cruising around off our coast here, too.
Thank you Seadog. They are fun to watch.
Hi LJ. Thanks! I am ‘bearly’ here. Blazing headache, and the phone has been ringing off the hook today, for some reason. Worst thing about being out of town, I think, is the coming back to clean up all the stuff undone in the interim.
I wish you a sandpiper.... The Sandpiper by Robert Peterson She was six years old when I first met her on the beach near where I live. I drive to this beach, a distance of three or four miles, whenever the world begins to close in on me. She was building a sand castle or something and looked up, her eyes as blue as the sea. "Hello," she said. I answered with a nod, not really in the mood to bother with a small child. "I'm building," she said. "I0 see that. What is it?" I asked, not really caring. "Oh, I don't know, I just like the feel of sand." That sounds good, I thought, and slipped off my shoes. A sandpiper glided by. "That's a joy," the child said. "It's a what?" "It's a joy. My mama says sandpipers come to bring us joy." The bird went gliding down the beach. Good-bye joy, I muttered to myself, hello pain, and turned to walk on. I was depressed, my life seemed completely out of balance. "What's your name?" She wouldn't give up. "Robert," I answered. "I'm Robert Peterson." "Mine's Wendy... I'm six." 0 "Hi, Wendy." She giggled. "You're funny," she said. In spite of my gloom, I laughed too and walked on. Her musical giggle followed me. "Come again, Mr. P," she called. "We'll have another happy day." The next few days consisted of a group of unruly Boy Scouts, PTA meetings, and an ailing mother. The sun was shining one morning as I took my hands out of the dishwater. I need a sandpiper, I said to myself, gathering up my coat. The ever-changing balm of the seashore awaited me. The breeze was chilly but I strode along, trying to recapture the serenity I needed. "Hello, Mr. P," she said. "Do you want to play?" "What did you have in mind?" I asked, with a twinge of annoyance. "I don't know. You say." "Ho0w about charades?" I asked sarcastically. The tinkling laughter burst forth again. "I don't know what that is." "Then let's just walk." Looking at her, I noticed the delicate fairness of her face. "Where do you live?" I asked. "Over there." She pointed toward a row of summer cottages. Strange, I thought, in winter. "Where do you go to school?" "I don't go to school. Mommy says we're on vacation." She chattered little girl talk as we strolled up the beach, but my mind was on other things. When I left for home, Wendy said it had been a happy day. Feeling surprisingly better, I smiled at her and agreed. Three weeks later, I rushed to my beach in a state of near panic. I was in no mood to even gre0et Wendy. I thought I saw her mother on the porch and felt like demanding she keep her child at home. "Look, if you don't mind," I said crossly when Wendy caught up with me, "I'd rather be alone today." She seemed unusually pale and out of breath. "Why?" she asked. I turned to her and shouted, "Because my mother died!" and thought, My God, why was I saying this to a little child? "Oh," she said quietly, "then this is a bad day." "Yes," I said, "and yesterday and the day before and -- oh, go away!" "Did it hurt?" she inquired. "Did what hurt?" I was exasperated with her, with myself. "When she died?" "Of course it hurt!" I snapped, misunderstanding, wrapped up in myself. I strode off. 00 A month or so after that, when I next went to the beach, she wasn't there. Feeling guilty, ashamed, and admitting to myself I missed her, I went up to the cottage after my walk and knocked at the door. A drawn looking young woman with honey-colored hair opened the door. "Hello," I said, "I'm Robert Peterson. I missed your little girl today and wondered where she was." "Oh yes, Mr. Peterson, please come in. Wendy spoke of you so much. I'm afraid I allowed her to bother you. If she was a nuisance, please, accept my apologies." "Not at all -- she's a delightful child." I said, suddenly realizing that I meant what I had just said. "Wendy died last week, Mr. Peterson. She had leukemia. Maybe she didn't tell you." Struck dumb, I groped for a chair. I had to catch my breath. "She loved this beach, so when she asked to come, we couldn't say no. She seemed so much better here and had a lot of what she called happy days. But the last few weeks, she declined rapidly..." Her voice faltered, "She left something for you, if only I can find it. Could you wait a moment while I look?" I nodded stupidly, my mind racing for something to say to this lovely young woman. She handed me a smeared envelope with "MR. P" printed in bold childish letters. Inside was a drawing in bright crayon hues -- a yellow beach, a blue sea, and a brown bird. Underneath was carefully printed: A SANDPIPER TO BRING YOU JOY. ...Tears welled up in my eyes, and a heart that had almost forgotten to love opened wide. I took Wendy's mother in my arms. "I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry," I uttered over and over, and we wept together. The precious little picture is framed now and hangs in my study. Six words -- one for each year of her life -- that speak to me of harmony, courage, and undemanding love. A gift from a child with sea blue eyes and hair the color of sand -- who taught me the gift of love. ##### NOTE: This is a true story sent out by Robert Peterson. It happened over 20 years ago and the incident changed his life forever. It serves as a reminder to all of us that we need to take time to enjoy living and life and each other. The price of hating other human beings is loving oneself less. Life is so complicated, the hustle and bustle of everyday traumas can make us lose focus about what is truly important or what is only a momentary setback or crisis. This week, be sure to give your loved ones an extra hug, and by all means, take a moment... even if it is only ten seconds, to stop and smell the roses. This comes from someone's heart, and is read with many and now I share it with you... May God Bless everyone who receives this! There are NO coincidences! Everything that happens to us happens for a reason. Never brush aside anyone as insignificant. Who knows what they can teach us? I wish for you, today, a sandpiper. |
Oh my..tears running down my cheeks..Just beautiful. Thank you, Seadog.
I wish you a sandpiper....
Beautiful, thank you.
| Your Personality is the Most Common (ISTJ) |
 About 14% of all people have your personality, including 9% of all women and 17% of all men You are Introverted, Sensing, Thinking, and Judging. |
I’m barely here for sure. Spent hours at the hospital today to find my sugar’s astronomical, I’m sick as a ___, and still had to teach art class tonight.
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