A historically significant Galaxie.
I really am working on a couple of big posts about science and community colleges’ ways of wrenching it into relevance for our students. Multi-spectral views of the “grand design” spiral galaxy M74 are in the offing here in SherWords, for example, and in the works are guest blogs from electrifying explainers of modern Meteorology and Geology. Let’s hope that the latter guest appearances happen before global warming and/or earthquakes kill us all. (The astronomer is holding a major asteroid impact back as a trump card.)
But, meanwhile, Fort Harrington just insists on continuing to happen. And, particularly, its short, supposedly “dumb” denizens insist on being cute in ways that can’t be ignored, unless you can ignore a baseball bat applied to your nose.
You think being cute is a once-in-a-while thing? HAH. These critters work on it full time, and sometimes perversely. For example, the last post in this blog was a presumably unusually-cute picture of Emma. Yesterday, she just had to trump that with the prettiest picture ever taken of her, seriously:
Emma, January 2nd, 2008
And, the day before that (New Year’s Day), Guinness and the still-acclimating Finn McCool just had to practice their Hallmark audition:
Finn McCool and Guinness celebrate New Year's Day, 2008.
And, yesterday, even the chickens had to get into the “You just TRY to leave this out of your precious blog, pinky!” game, notably the remarkable Specks…
Speckles surveys the deck rail after the solstice.
… and Bratty, the Black Giant.
Bratty perseveres, kicking dirt to uncover worms, a month after the loss of her sister.
Bratty’s picture is both warm and heartbreaking to Diane and me. Pepper was her nearly identical sister, and (if you can believe it), Pepper’s eyes were even more startling in their warmth.
2 comments:
What a wonderful post!
Don't you worry that being around all that cute could lead to Type 2 diabetes? Just keep an eye on the blood sugar, that's all I'm sayin'.
But seriously, what immediately grabbed me was how Emma's picture looks exactly like a detail from a Victorian-era oil portrait. All that is missing is you, next to her, holding the reins of your horse, rifle under your arm and a brace of quails (tonight's dinner) at your feet.
I have never once looked into a chicken's eyes and thought "warmth." There were times I'm pretty sure I saw "even though I'm small and feathery, deep inside me still beats the heart of a 10-ton dinosaur who would just as soon eat your spleen as lay an egg for you," but never "warmth." You have just led me to re-evaluate my relationship with an entire species.
Cute mammals, too.
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