The final day under the heat dome with temps in the 90's brought a front with storms. Before they arrived, folks were at the Diner taking care of business. We discovered that another Chuckette has not left and the two were having a bite:
A BigTail in a patch of sunlight:
It's warm and muggy-the Chuck family on their apartment porches:
Family portraits:
My Watergirl picked up some nice sun on her face from her latest swim this week at Lake Lansing. She had returned from working in the air conditioned splendor of her office. Time for a cold one!
It was roasty-toasty so I wasn't wearing much:
Buddy was sprawled out on the floor-Mr. Curly-tail:
With storms approaching from the darkened SW sky, he went out over to our neighbors despite my warnings:
He came back in just as the storm arrived. The temps dropped as the outflow storm winds hit:
Followed by rain:
You can barely see the Farm Bureau complex on the other side of the honeysuckle. Temps were down into the low 70's and we opened the house up. It was refreshing and we got a good night's sleep.
This morning there was a lot of leaf litter. Johnny had a couple of decent-sized limbs down in his front yard. Between late yesterday and storms overnight, we received .8" of rain.
We have baby toms!
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Fun Vids:
Australian Riflebird mating dance: what some guys gotta do to get a girl!
The Riflebird version of a Fan Dance:
Australian Hanging Rock:
Hanging Rock is a rare geologic formation. Some may remember the 1975 film, based on a 1967 novel, about the disappearance of 3 schoolgirls who were there on a field trip. Interesting vid-not only about the geology, but its place in Aborigine culture and the rather mysterious origin story of the book. The author claimed the story came to her in a series of dreams. She also claimed that clocks stopped in her presence.
Man, direct from the Twilight Zone. Great concept but disturbing if:
a. she truly believed this
b. this phenomenon is 100% factual
Yikes!
MADads:
Latest K-Y Jelly, Ultragel, ad has the tagline "the best is yet to come". (oh, pulleeze-eyeroll)
A company who sells large format photographs for urban dwellers who are minimalists. The ad shows an apartment in a major high-rise, with a lot of windows. These photographs dominate the room. What I found curious is the selection-plenty of nature shots but also alpha male images:
Bond, James Bond from Dr. No
Muhammad Ali standing over Sonny Liston, 1965
One man has just brutally struck down another man, standing over him with a violent grimace on his face. Can you imagine, having a space in the clouds with this photo as the feature of your living room?
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Weird shit:
Still from the Canadian mockumentary TV series Trailer Park Boys-a Drunken Santa who wears a white plastic bag for a beard:
He'd fit right in with the current administration. There's an opening at FEMA: Gregg Phillips, who claims he had teleported to a Waffle House has been canned. Buh bye!
FUBARland:
Three US presidents died on July 4: Thomas Jefferson, John Adams, James Monroe. We couldn't be so lucky.
It’s 4:30 in the morning and he is sitting at his dining room table with a cup of coffee. A couple of birds have begun singing as it’s beginning to get light out. He is up at this hour because he was awakened by a heavy rainstorm. Storms always do that, bringing to mind the past he cannot escape from.
When he was in high school, the Vietnam War was raging. Walter Cronkite updated the nation each week on the cost of dead and wounded. The ominous cloud of the draft hung over young males especially the seniors in their final year. Choices were few: try and get into college full-time and gain a deferment; dodge the draft and risk imprisonment, potentially shaming yourself and your family; flee to Canada or Sweden; wait to be drafted or join up and become a soldier.
He was brought up in a 7th Day Adventist family. The SDA historically advised against bearing arms and urged members to seek noncombatant roles, a stance maintained since 1864. They viewed human life as a sacred gift from God who directed in the sixth commandment “Thou shall not kill.”
By early spring in his senior year, he felt himself in a quandary. Many of his closest buddies had made their minds up: those whose families could afford it were going to college; those less fortunate were going to enlist. He didn’t want to look like a coward or un-American or a sissy to his friends. The solution came during a meeting for young men at the church. It was suggested that for those who wanted to serve, but not take part in the killing, register as a conscientious objector non-combatant. Those applying could work in clerical or supply or train as medics in a war zone. The last choice appealed to him. He was from farm stock, used to hard, heavy work and he wanted to prove himself. He was a quiet lad, introverted, kept to himself, never dated but was viewed by adults as a good kid. He wasn’t into sports or hunting, which had brought years of derision by his male peers. Sports bored him, and because he had consistently made A’s in class, his nickname in high school was Brilliant Boy.
The summer he graduated, the war had intensified. He decided to become a medic in the Marines which are part of the Navy. He explained his religious situation and the Navy had no problem with it. They needed replacements asap and it would take him 26 weeks to be fully trained. And so it was, he arrived in Vietnam just after New Year’s. Training had not prepared him for what he was to experience. How could it? The jungle climate was unlike anything he had seen back in Iowa. And there was combat, with all the noise, chaos and death. He figured out quickly that in order to survive, he had to toughen up, to still function while witnessing the horror of war. He was good at his job, earning praise from his buddies and officers. In the middle of a fight, they were happy to see him.
About 6 months into his tour, his company was part of a large search-and-destroy sweep of a sector known for heavy Viet Cong activity. The yearly monsoon season had begun, adding to the misery of the troops. Endless rains, constant problems with trench foot, tropical diseases, lousy chow, poor sleep were rampant all the while going on patrol and engaging a determined enemy. The days ran together and everyone were waiting and hoping to become short and finally receiving the wake-call to go home.
In the late morning during a heavy rainstorm, they were ambushed by the Cong and there were immediate casualties. With the help of his buddies, they moved the seriously wounded to a clearing that would act as triage space, while waiting for helicopters that were arriving to drop off reinforcements and take the wounded to hospital. The clearing was filled with elephant grass which reached a good 6 feet in some places. He was tending to 6 men with more coming as the action had ramped up. The choppers were 15 minutes out so he hunkered down and tended to the wounded.
One was an old gunny sergeant whose kneecap was blown apart. The bleeding was under control and his status was considered stabilized. As the medic went up and down the triage, he was grabbed by the gunny. Son, you’d better watch that tree line on our right. They like to send a couple of guys around back and kill the wounded. The medic was shocked. He had never heard of this happening and thought it was the morphine talking. But the sergeant persisted. Here’s my .45. When they come, stand up and shoot them. I know your beliefs but it’s come down to this, son: kill or be killed. The medic looked at him in disbelief. You’ve gone through basic, you know what to do. He handed his sidearm and placed into the medic’s hand. Next to the gunny was a close buddy of the medic and their eyes met, his buddy’s eyes imploring him for Christssakes man, do it. Save us. The rain had eased and the medic rose up a bit from his crouch and scanned the tree line. Visibility was poor and he had to keep wiping his eyes from all the rain. His heart sank as he spotted movement coming out of the trees. Two Cong and they were moving stealthily towards them. Oh God he said out loud. The gunny grabbed his arm again. Keep low and keep tracking them. Are they doing a pattern or straight line? They were doing a fairly straight line. Ok, that’s good. How far apart are they? Looks to be 5 meters answered the medic. When they are about 6 meters away, stand up and shoot. You got 7 in that clip. Put 2 in each chest saving the rest just in case. You can do this. As the Cong drew closer, the rain picked up, there was thunder, and weirdly, the sun came out for a few seconds. When they were very close, the medic stood up and did as instructed. In that instant, he clearly saw the expression in their eyes-surprise, astonishment before they fell. Go check them said the gunny. The medic made his way through the grass—both were on their backs, eyes open. They looked young, about his age. He checked for a pulse which neither had. He had killed them. He stood there over the bodies, the gun still in his hand. Time stood still until finally he realized he was hearing the choppers coming in. There was work to do.
The medic had a nervous breakdown after he returned to base. I cannot do this anymore he told his commanding officer. He was fortunate in having a compassionate veteran commander who had seen men break down for a variety of reasons. He was re-assigned to an evac hospital where he could help with wounded arriving from the battlefield. He also received counseling both from shrinks and chaplains, but they were of little help. He had committed a grievous sin and felt he had been a total failure despite how the Corps felt about him. He had been recommended for a medal which he declined. How could he? He had failed in comparison to one of SDA’s greatest heroes and his own: Desmond Doss. Doss was a U.S. Army medic and Seventh-day Adventist who, as a conscientious objector, famously saved approximately 75 wounded men during the Battle of Okinawa in World War II without carrying a weapon. He was awarded the Medal of Honor for his bravery at Hacksaw Ridge. On so many levels, the medic was a complete mess.
When his tour finished and he returned to the States, he did not go home. He couldn’t face his family, SDA community or friends. What had happened in that clearing did not make the national news so no one outside of his company knew of it. He wrote his folks a letter saying that he was going to travel for a bit, that he needed some time to deal with it all. His family were disappointed but non-SDA friends who had been in combat understood and gently explained it to them. He wandered the country picking up odd jobs. He didn’t sleep well and rainstorms triggered memories he couldn’t get rid of. He never went back to church and, like many men, self-medicated with alcohol.
He hit rock bottom in a small town in West Texas, being found unconscious in the street during a rainstorm. He had lucked out: those who found him took him to a group who helped veterans with PTSD. While under treatment he had another stroke of luck: a former SDA minister who had left the church but still administered those in need in the spirit of Jesus. It was a long, agonizing process but it worked. He stopped drinking, found work, made friends. But more important, managed to move beyond the guilt and shame which so many never did. He also fell in love and married.
Rainstorms, especially during sleep, still send him back to that jungle clearing years before. They are not the screaming nightmares of the past. He doesn’t see their eyes anymore. Now, he would awaken with a start, realize it had been a dream and get up quietly so not to disturb his beloved. As in this particular morning, he would make some coffee, and sit at the dining room table, gazing out onto the backyard. He doesn’t ruminate like he used to, having finally come to grips with what had happened. He had made a choice: he took the lives of an enemy to save the lives of his buddies. But there’s always a price to pay in one form or another and you had to live with that. He wishes that he could tell this to his younger self.
He wonders about the sergeant who warned him: was this an expression of one of the deepest fears of a warrior? Throughout history, the killing of an enemy's wounded was a common practice. The Geneva Conventions from the modern era forbade it but of course it still happened. Was this a case of morphine-induced prescience? Or, was it some form of Divine intervention? This idea was put forth by the former SDA minister who helped him during rehab and continues to intrigue him after the shock had subsided. The God who forbade the taking of human life, intervened via the sergeant to motivate him to take the lives of the Cong in order to save his comrades? He has thought about this for years, finally chalking this up as an example of God working in mysterious ways.
The sun was nearly up by the time he had finished his coffee, and a pair of redbirds had flown up to the feeder in the back yard. He smiled as the male cocked his head and fed his mate. His beloved would be up soon so he thought he would do the same and make her some breakfast. It was another new day and it was worth celebrating.
Army paratroopers in elephant grass, 1965 AP file photo
We finished June with 5.15" of rain, 1.39" above average, and we're in the middle of a heat dome that is pushing temps and humidity into the 90's. But, the nice thing about MI is that if you don't like the weather, wait 3 days and it will change. This is one of my main arguments about living any further South. Gawd, the deep South-month after month of this heat and humidity; live in the SW-turn your oven on to 500° and stick your face in. That's Phoenix in July. We've managed ok without A/C relying on fans especially at night to cool and move the air. During the day, I practice what my family did in the country without A/C-by 10 am, windows are mostly closed and shades drawn. They are opened 8-9 pm so the cooler evening air will come in. The dome moves on preceded by days of storms and by Sunday, the forecast high is 78°.
Palliative care for the big willow: only 2 Japanese willows that I planted 15 years ago survive and both are now failing. The biggest one of the lot really took a downturn since last season with about half of it dead. The culprit for their demise has been back-to-back Summers of drought-not good for willows who like moisture. As I did in the past with the others, I spent time cutting out deadwood to spruce (bad pun 😸) them up in their final months. An end of a era.
We discovered that, as often happens, the Chuckette who stayed close to its Mum is still around. A typical scenario for many mammals: the young mature at different speeds than their siblings. But, I think its close to heading out on its own as we do not see it with MamaC. Best of luck, kid
One morning, I saw an object on the top pool rail. As I thought, it was a Cope's Gray Tree Frog:
Buddy has healed up from his battle wound and is navigating the warmer weather in his fur pajamas.
Deck Yoga with Mum!
So cute with his white chin and bent paws
Once I am up, he enjoys sacking out on my bed after a snack
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Fun Vids:
Funny satire: That's Ai!
MADads: Fruit of the Loom: poor schmuck comes home to find that his wife is staging an Undervention:
Inter-species squabble between squirrel and Chuck at a Diner. Mr. Crow, quietly having a bite, was aghast at this behavior saying Gentlemen, gentlemen...
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Australia's Wurdi Youang ancient Aborigine calendar: an arrangement of stones which, based on dating of nearby artifacts, is estimated to be 10,000 years old making it the oldest astronomical observatories in the world.
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FUBARland: Republican Mike Cox, who is running for MI Governor, has gone all in portraying himself as Mr. Tough Guy. He brags that like his father, he never backs down from a fight. Claims Trump doesn't either.
Evidently, he thinks his voter base hasn't heard of TACO Don. That's fake news created by traitorous libtard terrorists.
Ahh, civilization-The first day of Summer here was marked by the parking lot for Sparrow West, just over the berm, getting new asphalt. Hours of Beep, Beep, Beep-not so constant as to trigger a misophonic outburst but still annoying. The following day, we were treated to the detail work with liquid asphalt by the smell of it. Some beeping but it was the odor that kept us inside due to a steady North wind bringing it directly into the house. Bummer, it would have been a beautiful day to have supper on the deck.
The hydrangea is in full bloom:
We didn't see any Chucks out of their apartment, probably due to the commotion and smell. On day 2, MamaC came out to forage and enjoy some bread but no sightings of the younguns.
A big tail imbibed as well:
At one point we had a young squirrel up in the birch, BigTail and MamaC at the Diner:
Our wind chime: a wedding gift from 15 years ago from one of C's colleagues who is now retired. We're not big fans in general of chimes especially those that tinkle constantly. We appreciate this one, in fact as a tool for it takes a good stiff breeze to get it going. Hear chime=big wind.
Tiger in my backyard:
Life with Cats: Something we appreciate and value about our big guy is his communication abilities. There are nuances, believe me, if you are not responding to what his Lordship desires, he will let you know. You get the stare or it upgrades to vocalization. Other times, he can be casual as he was the other day: would you like to come in? I ask opening the slider screen. He was on his side at a slight angle, looking at me with his green eyes. Well, I don't know he answers and shifts to a different position. Oh, the temperature is lovely (shifting again) but then, you have correctly observed that the odour out here is acrid. But then I'd have to get up. On the other hand (rolling and licking his lips) I am a tad peckish. Well, I said, I'm going into the kitchen to make some food for myself. He didn't answer-just began licking his rear foot.
I put together the rice mix as the water was boiling. I finished up and pivoted over to the sink and saw him sitting in a Bastet pose, staring at the window. I raised my finger (uno momento, senõr), grabbed his dirty food dish to soak, got a clean one ready and went to the slider. He chirped as he strode in, tailed me affectionately heading for the kitchen where I made him a snack. He ate heartily and retired to rest on the side of the couch where I usually sit. It carries the scent of his Dad.
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First calla lily bloom:
C and I were out front weeding the front bed. I discovered that our Pruner Girl has sampled the day lilies-something I don't remember deer nipping before. Sigh.
6/25: Fireflies are here!
Still no sign of the chuckettes. It seems a bit early for them to have left home-past posts confirms this. Perhaps MamaC sent them out because of the parking lot repaving noise/odor. Stay tuned!
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Hodgepodge for $500:
6/17-Mothership supercell storm, Westfield, IL. Turquoise color often is an indicator of a tornado-in this case one that is rain-wrapped.
Drew Brummel
6/25-150th anniversary Battle of the Little Big Horn:
Painting Custer's Last Stand by Edgar Samuel Paxson, 1899.
Sand Cat: meet Mr. Felis Margarita. First discovered in Algeria in 1858. Recently, a video first posted in 2017 turned out to be the first material evidence that this is the world's only felid adapted to true desert conditions.
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A bad case of the Tuesdays at the grocers:
I was at a local grocer looking for Impossible Burger. I don't shop there often and couldn't find it in its old location in the Meat Department freezer. There's no buzzer to gain attention so I had to wait and win the lottery of actually seeing a Meat employee. I was lucky. A 30ish dude appeared in a barely lit corner by a butcher's saw, opening a large box. "Good Morning" I say. No response. I say it again, projecting my voice. He's handling a large, plastic vacuum-sealed hunk of beef. He answers without turning his head. "Be right there". Certainly a bit of irony here as I'm about to ask a meatman where to find vegetable matter impersonating cow flesh. He puts the hunk down and comes over. "Yessir?" I ask my question. He's obviously heard it before as he answers quickly "Aisle 21, section 8B". I must have had a puzzled look on my face. "Yeah" he says with a sardonic grin "they like to move things". I thank him and go to Aisle 21. Where it has moved to makes sense: with other frozen "meat" in the "alternative meat" section. Clearly, the guy was having either a bad day or just another day in Retail Hell.
As I go though the self-check out lane, I don't see many familiar faces from 6 months ago. Then, I hear a voice do I know-their store director-who snarled at me once, whom I witnessed verbally mistreating a clerk. A major reason I don't shop there. She was doing what she seems to do best: bitching to someone about a bagger/clerk/slave- "I gave him 2 things to do: this and that. I go out there and only one thing is done and it's wrong". Luckily, I am moving out of earshot towards the door for the rest of the rant, thankful to be retired.
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Another trippy vid from the Ai created group Frugit She Holds Me Like This-clever use of cat's personality translated into the human loving experience:
Yikes! This was a strange one: Purcell's The Cold Song from his opera King Arthur:
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MADads: A telling sign of where our country is at the moment: A quickie from Home Depot featuring a gift for Father's Day-surveillance equipment.
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FUBARland: Algae, a parody of the song Alfie from the film with the same name.
6/21-Solstice Day was grey, warmish with a bit of humidity. Rain promised for later on and overnight. Buddy was taking it easy:
He rested his chin on the edge of his outpost:
These days, the hydrangea is the star of the Back 40 with its glowy blooms:
I've been less fastidious about mowing the lawn as of late and I found that I enjoy it. I realized that I have a variety of greens for our wild friends to enjoy especially our 7 live Rombas like the one pictured above. The result is a visually softer landscape featuring these days flowering clover. I'll mow soon and this cut makes the greenness more uniform.
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A real life Attenborough event:
As I was walking through the house, I glanced out front and saw a dark object in the middle of the street. "Hmm, a big rock" I first thought. Once I focused, I realized that it was moving and it was a turtle! I watched as it made its way into the front yard and stop. I ran to grab the camera and hollered at C who was doing yoga. When we arrived, the turtle was digging into the ground:
I described its markings and mused it might be a Snapper. My former Girl Scout corrected me and said that it more likely was a red-eared slider based on my seeing a red area on its head. She ran and got some water for it. I was off petting Bud when she hollered "She's laying eggs!" I missed it. C went inside and googled the critter for more info. Upon returning, we witnessed the turtle moving loose soil. "Yep" C said, "now she will sit on the soil using the weight of her shell to compact it. Then she will cover it and will be leaving soon". Sho' nuff, within 15 minutes Mrs. Turtle had left, presumably for the creek which lies 80-100 yards away to the East. The eggs will hatch in August-September with the little ones emerging at night and heading to the creek. I put a cloche over the nursery to keep the predators away and hopefully we can time lifting the cloche with the emergence. Stay tuned!
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Another unusual find: I was putting away some trimmed limbs on the brush pile when I spied a skull near the new access hole MamaC had dug into the apartments. I used a gardening trowel to show scale:
Based on size, the hump on the top of the skull (the saggital crest) which indicates a mammal whose jaw strength can crush bone and teeth that this belonged to a opposum. It is missing its canine teeth. Now, just where did this come from? We've had a resident Blossom (our nickname for the species) but haven't seen her since late Winter. Is this her? Did she die in one of the apartments and MamaC cleaned house? Tis a mystery.
6/22-first full day of Summer. I was out mowing and was treated to see this visitor:
If indeed this monarch is a descendant of one who visited this garden years ago, according to google, it is roughly 7 or 8 generations removed. Made my day!
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In memoriam: Major Oak, Sherwood Forest
The 1,200-year-old Major Oak in England's Sherwood Forest, famously linked to the Robin Hood legend, officially died after failing to produce any leaves. Conservationists attribute its demise to decades of soil compression from millions of tourists, combined with prolonged stress from recent extreme heatwaves and droughts.
Conservationists will leave Major where he is. His slow decay will provide a home for many species including mammals, insects, birds and mycelium. This is what I am doing with Grandfather Birch, whose one of three main trunks has died. I had the top of the dead trunk topped off so we would not have to contend with the constant dropping of limbs. Hopefully, this trunk one day won't collapse at once onto the house🙀
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Hilarious vid concerning Stoffel, a famed honey badger, who is one tough MFer, take on zookeepers at the Moholoholo Wildlife Rehabilitation Centre in South Africa in a lengthy inter-species battle. Above everything else, Stoffel shows that apes aren't the only species who create and use tools.
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I came across this kid's TV show from my childhood: The Beany and Cecil show:
Created by animator Bob Clampett after he quit Warner Bros. and based on a television puppet show Time for Beany which ran from 1949-1955. It was revived in 1962 and joined The Jetsons and The Flintstones as the first color cartoons on ABC.
I vaguely remember the series (I was 8 years at the time) and did not care for it. I was (and still am) a devoted fan of Rocky and Bullwinkle which was also on ABC beginning in 1959. I didn't care for the dumbed down characters and lame satire plus it seemed like a rip-off of R & B right down to their secondary character (shown here in the boat to the left of Beany) of Dishonest John who looked a lot like Snidely Whiplash. Oh, and the magpie who looked to be a close cousin of Heckle and Jeckle. Boo hiss.
Another animation tale:
During WWII, famed animator Chuck Jones and Theodore Geisel (Dr. Seuss) created a series of propaganda/training cartoon for the troops featuring Private Snafu. From 1943 "Spies":
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The Enchanted Highway: From Wiki-a collection of the world's largest scrap metal sculptures constructed by local artist Gary Greff beginning in 1989 at intervals along a 32-mile stretch of a two-lane highway in SW North Dakota.
Pheasants on the Prairie
Geese in Flight
Grasshoppers in the field
Deer crossing
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David Hockney's dachshund paintings: his beloved dachshunds, Stanley and Boodgie, served as his primary muses between 1987 and 1995. Following a difficult period marked by the AIDS crisis and the loss of close friends, Hockney retreated to Malibu and used his dogs as a way to process grief. He created over 40 colorful, intimate portraits of them, famously capturing them asleep or lounging in his studio.
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Our eager algorithms-you can click on a couple of semi-related vids on YT and they will whisk you away to a new realm, so buckle up!:
Southern Culture on the Skids Camel Walk southern stoner/punk music with insane earworm riff from 1996:
From the satirical mag The Onion: First openly gay racehorse:
Mr. Six, mascot of the Six Flags theme park, likes to party:
Frugit, reportedly Ai generated with I Knead Dem Biscuits with fun animation:
Jones' Goodass BBQ and foot massage-created by Ramiro Castro in 2004:
Whole lotta misspelled b'day cakes:
Smells like Teen Spirit in classical latin:
With stars of the series Trailer Park Boys, The Kittyman Sea Shanty, arrgghh:
From British Electric Swing group The Correspondents Fear and Delight 2014:
Finally, the very surreal Finland's Leningrad Cowboys cover of These Boots from 1993:
Whew, what a long, strange trip it's been.
And now, a dose of our current reality:
FUBARland: the Reflecting pool mess has gone from bad to now, an environmental disaster. But since the EPA has been neutered and all the problems being blamed on vandals by the regime, it looks to remain the very swamp that the Roach was elected to drain. As I have noted in earlier posts, one of the hallmarks of this regime is irony. This disaster as well as the destruction around the White House, DOGE and everything else that Roach has done, indeed show the effects of a Vandal-in-Chief.
Meet Mr. Reflecting Pool contractor John J Cafaro, Roach donor and Mar a Lago neighbor:
Where do they keep finding these creeps? A MAD magazine character comes to life. And you think what I have just posted about my journey with the algorithms was nutty? Sheesh.
