Eco Friendly – Hot Dog Cool Cats

There Is A Season

A time to be born, a time to die. A time to plant, a time to reap. (The Byrds)

Far be it from me to question Mother Nature, just like the Man in the Moon (Is a Newfie?) appears to be, well, I am having trouble saying this, but smarter than me.

Look at Mother Nature. One day it is hot as blazes, the next morning there are multitudes (it seems to me) of children swarming the sidewalks with bulging backpacks and new super charged runners with neon laces…..and you had better get out-of-the-way because those students in their fervor, can not even see a sable and white Policy Wonk Doggie like me. I tell you, brought up by wolves, I am thinking, like a bunch of magpies on speed, as they catch up on all their adventures since school ended last June. I mean, how important a mission can it be, in comparison to the Ultimate Earth Dog with Attitude, (not to be mistaken for the Beatitudes.)

Oh yes, as summer gives way to fall, first there is frost on the pumpkin, then the leaves drift down to the ground and Momma rakes and rakes and rakes some more….Like there should be a magnetized part of the lawn where those leaves gather in one spot…and I am so on it!!! Less work for Momma, more fun for me since I ♥ to bury myself under layers and layers of golden– orange–brown foliage.

Suddenly the trees stand naked to the world at large, shivering as their branches are bit by the dropping temperature. Winter has come…A season of magic as frozen raindrops turn to crystal white snowflakes, blanketing the ground, the trees and the glistening roof tops. I ♥♥♥ snow…to cavort in, to catapult myself over drifts, to burrow my nose deep, tracking the squirrels, chasing the winter birds, flying airborne, all the while my heart racing…. I know, I know, ‘You might be a Husky, if…Mush Mush is all you dream of.’

Good times always end but good news… I ♥ Spring… Ah, Mother Nature, you did it again.

Little buds break forth on trees, snow bells give way to every shade of tulips and yellow daffodils and all the little creepy crawlies resurface, again…..I am a committed bug, ant and worm enthusiast. I just sniff them – okay, okay, one day, I accidentally sniffed an ant up my nostril, got a most reprehensible tickle and snorted till it flew

a hundred miles an hour, over and out. Stop laughing. It is so NOT funny.

It seems in no time, flowers of all shades and colors adorn the gardens, the grass grows green and Summer has arrived. Sometimes it is a mite too hot, even in the shade but it is the nights that thrill me, when humidity and temperatures magically drop and the Big Old Moon rises, high in the sky, surrounded by enchanting, twinkling stars in an inky blue sky. You got it. I ♥ Summer….outside on a clear night, watching the God Given Light Show as the Angels and Fairies in our Garden gather to twirl in the Circle Dance… Cross my heart and hope to die.

There is a Season, turn, turn, turn (The Byrds)

It is a dilemma, Mother Nature. You make it impossible to have a favourite season…and if an Einstein Ultimate Earth Dog has problems deciding, pity the rest of the world.

Listening to You, I Get the Story

Another day, another dollar, and oh, goody….another walk. I love walks, especially when Momma lets me mosey along, nose and eyes to the ground, sniffing each blade of grass, spying the little ants and beetles busy, busy, busy…they somehow remind me of Momma, rushing to and fro, accomplishing very little.

Yet today, I had an experience….oh, I know, you are going to say, I am getting just like Momma, spinning tales that sound so far-fetched that you don’t know where the truth ends and fantasy swoops in, distorting, yet enhancing reality.

Jakita listens intently to the tree whisper.

So…we were walking along and just as we got to the big old insidious maple trees, I was sure I heard the leaves, high up, whisper, ‘Jakita, Jakita.’ What? I have good ears but even a better imagination so, what? I plunked myself down to survey and gain control of the situation. I was pretty sure trees don’t talk. Did a Two Footed Joker climb up, way up to tease and taunt me? Momma, with her usual impatience, gave me ten seconds and then told me we had to get going…as usual, she had things to do….places to go.

With a sigh, I stood up, stretched, started to walk away and heard, ‘Jakita, Jakita, Jakita, stay awhile…we have some catching up to do.’ Now what? I craned my neck this way, then that way, like swiveling like casters on a chair. Way, way up there, hard to actually prove, it looked like a Floating Face, with eyes, ears, nose and mouth, made of green leaves, gazing down at me. Huh?

Being a logical Policy and Procedures Dog, my first question was… ‘How do you know my name?’ ‘You are here all the time, Jakita. I watch you and your Momma…I keep you cool in the summer, shelter you, house your wild life. Besides I was here in this park before you and Momma were born.

Pink Clouds that transport you to Paradise. — **Pink Clouds** that transport you to Paradise.

God willing, I will be here when you have sought and caught your Pink Cloud to heaven. I know all about you Jakita. Think about me when you are warm and cozy at home in the next Arctic Vortex, come winter. Think about me in your air-conditioned house in the heat waves of summer. Think about me in the droughts as you lap up fresh water. Think about me!’

I looked at Momma…had she heard the Floating Face?…..I didn’t think so because she did not look incredulous, just impatient to get going….no, this time, the revelation was mine, mine, mine to wonder and ponder.

Trees buried in snowbank...Momma is happy...she is on her way inside! — Trees, their branches bare of leaves to protect them, buried in a winter snowbank…**Momma is happy.**..she is on her way inside!

Truth be told, (and I am all about the truth, LOL), if you had asked me before that day, I would have told you, I don’t believe trees talk, (no matter what Momma claims)…and there was definitely no such thing as a Floating Face…but now…I am not so sure…and come to think of it, now I have a lot more compassion and understanding for the plight of trees…

I am just saying…you had to be there.

Let Me Tell You About the Bees and the Bees

Feature Moon Beams ….And the flowers and the fleas and the Moon up above and a thing called…

Spring has sprung…it is actually at the tipping point of summer. The dead brown grass magically pushed its way out of the earth and turned a lush Irish green. Flowers appeared, perfectly formed, like a paint by number canvass set strategically created by an artist of nature, with a vision. Buds, like little fists, opened on branches of the trees, once again dressing the limbs in glorious green and red leaves that shade the heat of summer. It is what we wait for through the trials of snow, ice, and those dreadful Arctic vortexes.

And yet, it also brings, well, you know, the undesirables. I am talking about bees, big as humming birds, noisy as jet fighters, on a mission. I know, they are part of God’s plan. I know they pollinate our food crops, produce sweet honey that is consumed, added to baking, used in healing processes. Still, I am not feeling them.

Now, if those bees want to flit from cherry blossom to cherry blossom,

Bee hones in on blossom. Fr: Morguefile By: ranbud 11/l/1447552342mwa60.jpg — Bee hones in on blossom.
Fr: Morguefile By: ranbud 11/l/1447552342mwa60.jpg

no problem. I am on the down low, they are high in the tree, doing whatever they do. Or if they are in our flower garden, buzzing and pollinating, I will stay out of their way. I mean…it’s their thing…do what they got to do. But don’t go crowding my front door, trying to enter the minute an unsuspecting Momma holds it open for the Kitty Club Med members to leisurely saunter in. Momma is not as fast as she used to be and as fast as she is, she can not match your top speed of 15 miles an hour.

A summers day. Got the garden, check, the grass to chew, check, the flowers to sniff, check, the stone steps to nap on, check. Paradise, check. — Gen on Quality Control duty, looking for birds and bees to catch.

Just today it happened. Who knows how you entered…you are like a stealth jet when you invade our air space. However, as soon as you see a light, you are drawn to it and dive bomb it, going around and around it, at dizzying speed, emitting that high-pitched buzz…and that annoys me. Even more infuriating, Diva Calico Gen Cat goes leaping in the air, trying to catch you, but p–l–e–a–s–e, she is thirteen now so she lands back on the floor with a thud, winds herself up and tries all over again.

I start whining and warbling, ‘Momma, do something.’ I know Momma always has a plan. She grabs a bar stool and a squeeze bottle and starts squirting water at the bee…mostly she misses and there is water on the ceiling, the walls, the kitchen floor, the stove, the dishwasher, the microwave. I take off for the living room. I was already groomed once today. I am not looking to be blow dried again today, even if I get more treats for my outstanding behaviour.

Finally, Momma connected, stunning the bumble bee which fell to the floor still buzzing and complaining. Momma covered him with a glass, slid a piece a paper under and released the unwanted trouble making, peace disturbing, jet propelled wonder of nature, outside.

Is that a Bee headed for the door? Do something, already, Momma!

Bees will be Bees. Just no breaching security put in place to keep you out…Not-In-My-Neighborhood. Read my Policies and Procedures for All Creation and get with the program. So, are you with me or are you going to be a problem?

Rock-A-My-Soul, Oh, Rock-A-My-Soul

Happy days were here again...... — **Happy days were here again……**

So, who says trees don’t have a souls? Probably that same malcontent who said trees had no hearts either. But what do those folks know?

Who knew that an average size tree provides enough oxygen to keep a family of four breathing for a year? So my question to you, the Scurrying-Two-Footed, is…what have you done lately for mankind?

Yes, you Scurrying-Two-Footed walk by us, minds fixed on your petty little lives, like what kind of breakfast sandwich to buy or where to vacation to get the most bang for the buck. Yet, here we stand, steadfast deciduous trees, that mark the seasons, starting with the tiny green buds in the spring, to thick green leaves that provide shade and cooling down, in the summer, not only for the living but the Lived In Homes, when planted strategically. In the autumn our leaves turn a sea of bronze, gold and blazing red, before falling to the ground to compost the earth.

Shivering, stripped bare of protection but we will survive...spring cometh. — Shivering, stripped bare of protection but we will survive…spring cometh.

Then our bare bones of branches hibernate, waiting for the coming promise of spring. And we are always there for the wildlife, be it raucous squirrels, the sad possums, the stealthy raccoons, or the birds with feathers, fine, fair or foul. Even the deer may nibble at us, from time to time.

Our most amazing, sought-after gift is that we contribute a long life to the landscape. Still, every living thing has foes, even sturdy, strong trees with thick trunks and long roots that snake down to China and back. Our enemies are storms, with hurricane or cyclone winds, or ice storms, all which snap us down like we are match sticks. Sometimes part of us are salvageable – sometimes not so much.

A trunk may be left for the wildlife but poor little birds, returning after a long winter may find, not only their nests they have used year after year gone, but the very branches that held them. We hear some twittering then – like they blame us because we did not prevent the destruction. We tell them, ‘Talk to God…and get insurance.’ But do they listen to us? No, they are bird brains.

What therefore God hath joined together, let not man put asunder...Our d-i-v-o-r-c-e becomes final today... — **What therefore God hath joined together, let not man put asunder…Our d-i-v-o-r-c-e becomes final today…**

So this is how I found myself one day after a horrific little twister with thunder and lightning touched down…so humor me… allow Momma to write my obituary…put it in the Friday night Guardian so all those bargain hunters will read it and weep.

It is with great sadness that we tell you that somewhere between 10pm. June 27, 2015 and 2am June 28, 2015 our Majestic Life-Giving Deciduous Tree, was torn asunder by a wildcat strike of lightening, accompanied by gale force winds.

Our Majestic Life-Giving Deciduous Tree is survived by his Deciduous Family, various saplings and part of his Trunk, which will be the home for baby squirrels to use as a lookout. He joins his brethren in Nature Valley, where he will once again be restored to his imperial days of glory.

Although the branches reaching to heaven are no longer visible to the human eye, Momma pauses each time she passes the remaining trunk and she can’t say for sure, but it looks like our Majestic Life-Giving Deciduous Tree gives her a wink, to let her know he/she/them… is still….out there.

No flowers, please, but next time you walk past a big old deciduous tree, pause long enough to hear its’ leaves rustling, whispering hope, whispering health, whispering: Hallelujah… Forever…. Amen….. So-Be-It…. Amen!

Come Here and Take A Lesson

To my way of thinking and it may sound esoteric, trees call out to me, if I will take the time to listen – not all trees but let’s be truthful, but not all Four Footed or Two Footed inspire me, either.

It is majestic in size with the hint of an interesting base, even this far away. — My Smart Tree is majestic in size with the hint of an interesting base, even this far away.

It seems some individuals have that ‘seen one tree, seen them all’ attitude and just bolt past them. Oh, ye of little understanding. If you are one of those unfortunates, listen up and learn the secrets whispered in the wind, shouted across mountains, lingering far and wide, over the great expanse of time.

Once upon a time (oh, you heard that story already), well okay….you know how Momma and I go walking. I observe, I sniff, I listen and I respond. I mean, no kidding, you may meet up with a flower so exquisite, with such an intoxicating smell, that it is impossible to go by without stopping. Or I can gaze for hours at Momma’s shiny stones in her rock collection or lay in the front garden, watching teeny, tiny ants and beetles, busy, busy, busy. Let me tell you about the miles Momma and I have walked, the paths we have taken and all the trees we have seen. Yet none compare to my Smart Tree.

A huge tree, with a thick foliage of leaves, it shades all takers from the hot summer sun or even provides shelter in a rainstorm (NOTE: Stay away during a thunderstorm). It is young enough to be vital and strong, yet mature enough to have a history. And it communicates, not just to me but to all who would take the time. I recall the first occasion I heard it whisper to me, the leaves, rustling gently. I stopped, looked up, up, up, so far that I felt my neck crack in protest. It was a tall straight tree with such symmetrical branches, it looked almost engineered to perfection.

Is that an Eagle eye or a human eye? Is there an angel with a dog's head. Do you see the monkey perched on branch? It is like a ever changing kaleidoscope vision. — Is that an Eagle eye or a human eye? Is there an angel with a dog’s head. Do you see the monkey perched on branch? It is like an ever changing kaleidoscope of possibilities.

Then my eyes scaled down the trunk to the base of the tree and I could not believe what my eyes were showing me. It was as if an artist had painstakingly carved an eagle eye that could see forever and back, a monkey perched on a bench surveying all, an angel with the head of a dog. The more I looked, the more I saw. And toes, much longer than a Two Footed. And is that a forked tail? Is that even possible? No, these toes and tails must be the fossil of the dinosaurs or dragons long since extinct.

On one side of the tree the toes dig in to the earth, stabilizing its position. And no toe is that long? Is that a forked tail? You tell me!

Momma, Momma, Momma what can this mean? I hear the tree tinkle with laughter – like Momma would know their well guarded secrets! Still, Momma has an answer, because well Momma always has an answer, even if it is not the right answer. It is Mother Nature, Jakita, driving rain, wind, ice, exposing roots and carving messages in the trunks, cautioning us, and warning us, while at the same time inviting us to celebrate their wisdom and truth, earned over their long life span. The only problem is that the Two Footed are pretty much deaf to tree whispering.

Not me Momma. I could come here every day to listen, look and feel the power of this tree. It is like the carvings play mind games with me, confusing me by appearing different each time I gaze at them. Some days they appear frightening, some days they are benign and some days they are friendly like, welcoming me to come closer. I am not sure what that is all about but I do know that tree is calling me, beckoning me to not accept things at face value but always be ready for change because change is inevitable.

Here I sit by my favorite Smart Tree. Look at that gnarly, carved tree base.

Still I wonder, what if Momma is wrong? Maybe it is not Mother Nature but instead those wee people who come, in the dark of the night, with chiseling tools and lanterns, to carve the tree trunks.

I mean, Momma, you are the one who taught me, ‘All things are possible.’ Let’s come back some night and see if we can catch them in action, okay, Momma?

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