It 's Been More Than a Year!

Dear Mr. Beachy, It's been a while but I just wanted to say "Hi". The roses were beautiful this summer. Thanks for all your help. And the gnomes seem to be happy and not misbehaving, thanks to your supervision. Hope I get to catch up with you soon. xoxo

Stand-Off at the OK Corral

There's so much writing needs to be done to catch you up. I promise - I'll sit down and do it ASAP. But for now I just wanted to tell you about two "pictures" that I couldn't take because I didn't have a camera.....but which were so good I hope I can memorize them into my brain.

The first happened at the close of my day yesterday. The kids and Hapapapa were in the play room and I went in to say good bye. The youngest little guy was standing up with a nerf machine gun strapped over his shoulder looking like a Revolutionary from the days of Che Guevara. Reminded me so much of my little girls growing up in the '70s.

The second image was this morning. I went out front early this AM armed with coffee and the lawn mower. As usual my yard work supervisors, Blue and Waylon, came out with me. As I've mentioned before, this is crow territory and when the crows are around they make a raucus for one reason or another. Usually it's because Blue is sniffing around the church property instead of staying in our yard. Today, even over the noise of the lawn mower, I could hear one crow going nuts. I looked up to see Waylon sitting in the middle of the street. Twenty paces down the street was a fat crow shouting out insults while sauntering back and forth like a sheriff threatening to draw his gun and fire. Waylon stood his ground and there ensued a five minute stare down. The crow finally turned and flew away. Waylon, always one to accept a dare, stretched out his right leg and licked it.

Palm Sunday

I keep checking this blog and there are no new posts!!! It's been a long month of mostly rain. Today turned out dry, warm, and sunny, but it started out with a power outage. I never figured out if it was just my house or everyone's. All I could think of is how much my life is tied to electricity. Blue and I made it over to New Season's and got a cup of coffee so I could plan my next step. By the time we got back home the power was on again. But just stop for a moment and think of the things you can't do without electricity.

Besides, no fresh coffee, you can't heat up the old coffee. You can't make toast. You can't turn on the tv or radio to find out if everyone else's power's out. You can't see the fuse box in the basement 'cuz it's too dark. You can't turn on Emmett's UV light. You think maybe this will be a chance to go on-line and check your facebook pages because your computer has 3 hours of battery back up. Then you realize you can't connect to the internet without electricity. You wonder if there will be a power surge that will destroy your computer and tv and everything else that power surges can destroy.

After drinking the coffee I felt much better, then made my own coffee and spiked it with 1/2 and 1/2 and whiskey for medicinal reasons only. Later there was sun and warmth enough to work outside. I've got a really bad cold but working outside was what I've been wanting to do, so I tried not to push it, but actually got a lot accomplished. The front lawn got mowed - major accomplishment. The strawberries and some plants from my daughter's house got planted. The compost bin got stirred and there are a zillion zillion worms in it. Some of them got liberated into the strawberry pot salvaged from a neighbor's move. And most exciting - we made a clearing under the big fir tree for an elfin family to use for their summer house. They are friends of Mr. Beachy, of course. We support housing for all!

My fingers are dried out from working in the soil. And they are aching, too. So this is a good place for today's blog to end.

The 7 Degrees of Bright

It has been raining almost every day, except for the days Ms. Nimblethreads visited. Even then I think it rained some, but she brought with her sunshine. Wasn't very warm though and that leaves me wondering if it will ever get warm here. Even rain is OK if it is a warm rain.

Despite the grayness a lot of flowering trees have blossomed out. Very pretty in a soft way against the grey-blue sky. The camelia is covered in cherry red blooms and they are falling off now so it looks like red flowers blooming on the ground in front of our house. Yesterday I saw two yellow things in the way back and thought they were scraps of paper that had blown in. I trudged back bundled against the wind and the soggy ground (the grass is too tall to mow in one pass) and found out they were daffodils!

All the grey has lead me to meditate on what I callThe 7 Degrees of Bright.Perhaps it should be especially in reference to Portland, although it may have no geographic boundaries. Bright sun hurts Portlanders' eyes after a winter of gray. It's just a fact. And it takes a bit to adjust.

My idea of brightness is this: with 7 being the brightness of God and 6 the brightness of sun reflecting off the ocean or snow; 5 is a bright, sunny day with few clouds in the sky. 4 is the artificial brightness of headlights from oncoming cars at just a certain angle or turning on the bathroom light in the middle of the night. 3, 2, and 1 are the subtle variations of a Portland day.

For example, today the brightness is at 3 degrees - certainly gray outside, but with a crisp whitish sky. 1 is the murky dark ecru of daylight in the rain with just enough light to let you know it's daytime. That leave 2. The other day I experienced 2 as I sat in a parking lot waiting for the rain to subside enough to run into Goodwill. The rain was gray, the clouds were several shades of gray with a bit of grayish white. And then there was a fine strip of blue that radiated with 2 degrees of brightness - BEATIFIC and exilerating even at a mere 2 degrees. Ah, God is good.

And Then It Is Spring

Well, I'm not going to guantee that spring is here for good. It's been cloudy and grey, grey, grey here for a couple weeks. And I can't recall the last day that it wasn't raining. This morning I opened the front room curtains and noticed that the camellia by the front porch had several blooms on the side facing the morning sun. Later I see that my plum tree is popping out blossoms. This is cool, think I. Now the sun is out and my wanderlust is nagging at me to get outside and soak in some vitamin D. Don't think it's dry enough to mow the lawn, but maybe I can plant some seeds. Mr. Beachy will be happily surprised when he wakes up!

February Saturday Ramblings

It's cold here. Very cold. The hummingbird feeders were frozen when I woke up, so we made refreshing all the bird feeders a priority.Much to their delight! Then I watered all the plants and fed the fish and Emmett. Then I tried to get all my tax stuff together so they can get done. Then I made spaghetti for dinner. And now it's 3:15 and I'll be on my way to Mass soon. It seems like it has been a cold, grey day that has gone past far too fast. There's just a gloom hanging over it. It is staying light a little later now, but it will be dark soon after I return from Mass. And I sadly feel like I'll be sleeping through Mass today.

The bright side is that I do have a free night and may work on the ancestory tree. And I only have to wrap and address the packages that have been piled up in the living room since Christmas. They're finally all together. The delay has been for many reasons; the biggest one being that I was still making doll clothes for one of the children on my Christmas list. I was just enjoying taking my time sewing.

I grew up cynical. From my earliest years I believed that if I asked for something for my birthday or for Christmas, I wouldn't get it. I felt like I had a much greater chance of getting what I wanted if I didn't ask for that specific item. Strange to be such a cynical little child. But one Christmas there was a doll for sale on the top shelf of the little store my dad and I would visit almost nightly for bread and milk. I was probably about eight years old. My dad always went for a walk to "the little store" after dinner and accompanying him was one of my favorite things. He walked fast. I think he said the military stride was 100 steps per minute, but now that sounds like an exageragtion. I had to take 2 or 3 steps for each one of his, but still I loved it. "The Little Store" was really one of two stores. One was around the block and then up a block to the corner of Trisket and Warren Road. The other was up our block, across Lorain Ave., then down a little past the lumber yard. We called the owners by their names, but I would really have to scrounge to recall their names now. One was short, stocky, and cheerful. The other was lean and tall and always wore a white apron and not real friendly to kids. The doll was at his store. I really wanted that doll. It was a teenage doll, before Barbie's time, maybe 14 inches tall with high heels, short curly hair, and a French name. I didn't get to see it up close, I guess because I never thought to ask anyone to get it down from the shelf. One night we went to the store and the doll was gone. Shoot. But I figured I'd never have gotten that doll anyway.

Christmas came and I did get that doll! Not only the doll, but tons of clothes that my mom had made for it. It was such a wonderful gift. And how does one play with a doll like that ... you dress it and undress it and dress it again. I think the French name on the box was Monique; I named her Yvonne. It might have been the other way around! It still amazes me that my parents were able to buy the doll without me knowing and that my mom could sew all those little clothes with my two little brothers, ages little and littler, under her feet.

Maybe my proclevity for making doll clothes has something to do with working through the cynicism that grey, cold, February days conjures up in my soul.

Quarantined

This grandma is yucky sick. Little Gus has been sick almost since Christmas and I finally got the germ. Drippy nose, restless sleep, can't wake up - just roll over and switch channels. Blah blah blah . . . should be quarantined.

Little Fish

Just a comment on these little fish....Don't you just love them? I LOVE them! If you wiggle your arrow near them, they'll follow you and if you click on the pond you can feed them. Genius!

Sunday Morning

Greetings from Mr. Beachy and me! We've had a busy Sunday morning and now we are settling down to relax and enjoy the day. It has been raining cats, dogs, bicycles, and trucks. so much rain that Noah's Ark would be afloat by now. Mr. Beachy and I spent the early morning sweeping the water off the porch and then trying to sweep away a huge lake that was growing by the back door. We had to take down one of the bird feeders, because it was full of water. The seeds had filled up the drainage system and it was disgusting!

We had to towel Blue off 3 times before 9AM because of course she had to be right in the middle of our outdoor activities. Now she is curled up at my feet, smelling meatballs cooking in the pan. They are "grandma's famous meatballs" for spaghetti, loved by short people especially. Thought I'd make some up to put aside in case I have any dinner guest of short stature this week.

And we decided it's time for an Irish Coffee, so that is brewing, as well.

We've gotten quite addicted to bird watching since the January second bird count. I'm posting some of the photos I was able to take. Unfortunately I don't know the technique needed to arrange or label the pictures, so they'll all be in a group and you'll just have to guess which bird I'm talking about.

It seems that some days we have tons of birds passing through in flocks, and somedays we see and hear no one. One day it was pouring rain and a flock of starlings and a flock of robins were busily hunting for worms. They covered the front lawns like sheep grazing on a hill. I took a photo of one bird that was among the group of robins. It might have been a juvenile, but I think it was another type of bird just hanging out with the robins. My camera slipped, just as I clicked, and so the picture's blurry and his head is missing, but I thought it's worth while to post it in case someone can tell what it is.

The hummingbirds come to the feeder so much lately that I think they may have started nesting in the nearby laurel hedge. I'm trying to take pictures of them to see if I can start telling them apart. They are called Anna's Hummingbirds. I'm not sure if they stay here year round, or if they fly up to Alaska in the summer.

I'm hoping to become a little brown bird expert, but I'm not getting there fast. I still haven't captured my elusive little brown bird on film - the ones that are living in my brush pile and run through the grass so quickly that I think they are mice at first glance. They might be Pacific Wrens, but I have to get one to hold still for a second to study them better.

The Brushtits are here and a pair of red-bellied sapsuckers. They all came for some suet we put out. It is suet mixed with peanuts and hot sauce. I think they like the hot spices because they didn't flock to the other suet I've had in past years. Of course we've seen many English Sparrows, House Finches, Chickadees, and Juncos; so their photos are included here if I have any clear ones.

Wishing all a day of rest.

New Year, New Plans

Already nine days into the new year and Mr. Beachy and I are trying to organize our lives enough to make new plans. Yesterday and today we had time to be quiet and watch the birds while planning out our activities for the new year. The Jeep's "check engine" light is on and won't fit into the mechanic's schedule until Tuesday. That is keeping us trapped so to speak. Very good for us, because we both have a tendency to just leave the house and not come back until dark. Well, I must say, going "out" is more an addiction than a tendency. Today our only venture outside was to church and to fill the bird feeders. It is wet and chilly here, so it's been nice to have a soft chair in the corner of the kitchen from whence to anchor our activities. And it was a treat to see a flock of bush-tits enjoying the suet we put out. They are the cutest birds. Remember the one that got separated from the flock one year and stayed the winter? I wonder if he was among the flock this morning. One garden project that we'd like to do now is to build a small stone wall along the walkway where the rain water runs off. This could shore up a shade garden, plus keep the soil from eroding onto the walkway everytime it rains. I guess it will take measuring and carrying stones from somewhere down on Johnson Creek. We also want to buckle down and get serious about a play structure and sand box to use this summer out back - even more important than planting a garden because flowers and plants return every year, but children grow up and soon disappear.

A Year Gone By

I know that a few of you have wondered whatever happened to Mr. Beachy. It's been one of those years that I hesitated telling you because for a while it all seemed so tragic. I hardly knew how to begin telling the story, and I was afraid if I started the words would spill out uncontrollably. It felt better to pretend it hadn't happened.

But Christmas morning I woke up to a glorious turn of events and now I must tell the story beginning at the beginning.

You may remember that Mr. Beachy took his daughter, Peaches, and her daughter, Soon, to China for a visit with relatives and friends. He enjoyed showing off his grandchild. Peaches enjoyed see her ancestors' home. She was so young when they left China that she had only vague memories of her own grandparents' gardens. They were excited to tell me about the trip and how much things had changed in China over the years. I was very happy to have them back. We spent evenings exchanging stories of our time apart, and then began to pour over seed catalogs to plan my summer garden. Mr. Beachy had many new ideas he wanted to try out.

It was one of those early days at the beginning of spring when the ground is soft enough to work and not too saturated with rain. Mr. Beachy started digging. Now I'm not sure what was going through his mind, but the more he dug, the more he wanted to dig. He would take only short breaks for water and he wouldn't let me come outside. He said it would be better if I waited to see the results and he did not want me interfering with his garden ideas. Well, I wasn't quite sure what his plan was and I had a squirmy feeling it wasn't something that was going to match my own garden plan. But I let him be because it was just so nice to have the family back home again.

What started off as a very pleasant activity soon turned into what Fireling would call a full blown manic episode. Mr. Beachy would dash into the house tracking dirt into the kitchen, drink a glass of water, then be off again. The first night he came in, cleaned up, and I think had a good night's sleep. But he was up and at 'em early the next morning. I would call out to the backyard to remind him to take a break and sometimes I had to call out 2 or 3 times to get him to come in. I had a hunch that he was up to something I'd rather not know about. And at one point I started to go out to take him some water. As soon as he heard the back door creak he was at the door with a delirious scowl on his face. "No sir. You no come out yet. Too dangerous for lady. You will be surprised and happy happy."

It occurred to me that he was staying outside digging in the garden later and later each evening and getting up earlier and earlier. At some point I realized that he had dug straight through the night and was so consumed with the garden that he hadn't even changed his clothes. Peaches agreed we had to take some action here. Apparently she had no idea what he was up to either. One night as he came in covered in mud and tracking it all across the kitchen to the sink to fill his water bottle, we both pounced on him and told him he had to take a shower and relinquish his clothes until they were washed. I was afraid all that mud would clog my drains! And I was just glad that Soon was asleep and didn't witness this confrontation.

While Mr. Beachy was in the shower, Peaches and I took the flashlight and headed outdoors to see what he'd been up to. We figured since we had taken his clothes he wouldn't leave the bathroom and be able to catch us spoiling his surprise. Well, we were surprised. No doubt about it. What we found was a hole about 15 feet in diameter and so deep the flashlight couldn't shine on the bottom. All the displaced dirt was heaped in a pile that covered the back driveway and was so huge that I could barely see the tip of the fir tree. I wanted to cry. For Peaches sake I didn't. I remember thinking it was a good thing we were looking at the hole in the ground at night because we really weren't able to see very well.

Quickly Peaches and I devised a plan of action. She would start cooking Mr. Beachy's favorite meal and I would get down the bottle of whiskey. We pushed a table in front of the backdoor and set it with candle light for a nice meal. We heard the shower go off and quickly passed clean pajamas through the door. We knew he wouldn't wear pajamas while working in the garden. There was quite a bit of grumbling coming from the bathroom, but we ignored it. He'd have to put on these clothes to come out. When he did, we grabbed a chair and started serving. The whiskey, then the food, then more whiskey. We feigned excitement and anticipation as we begged him to tell us how the garden was coming along. He finally relaxed and gave in.

And the plan he had! There was now no going back on it. He was determined. He had enjoyed the trip to China so much and had been impressed by their new technology and especially their bullet trains. He felt that Soon should grow up in China among her relatives and absorb the culture of her people. But he knew he would miss Missy Peachy and Soon far too much to be so far away. And he also knew that his heart was here working in my garden. So he had devised a plan to dig to China and once there, have the authorities install a vertical bullet train that could carry him back and forth at a very rapid pace. Why he could garden here in the morning and help Soon with her homework in China, then be back by bedtime. "Much work now delivers great prize in end."

Mr. Beachy had lost his mind.

We were at a loss to know how to handle this situation. He was so happy. The warm meal and 3 glassed of whiskey didn't slow him down. He fell asleep in the chair, but I heard him before the crack of dawn finding his overalls and boots and heading out to the hole. Well, we weren't allowed to call it a hole. We had to speak of it as "The Esteemed Tunnel Passage to Asia" or the ETPA for short.

He wasn't going to stop. He was convinced he could do it. He told me it wasn't something he undertook on an impulse; the dig had been brewing for quite some time and furthermore, he had researched the entire geography and technology of the plan before that first spring morning when he picked up the shovel. Peaches decided to take Soon and travel to China to wait for Mr. Beachy on the other end. I never had the heart to tell her I didn't think this was going to work. I spent days sitting inside and wishing I knew how to stop this craziness. Then I gave up. I started working in the front yard and side yard and only ventured to the back occasionally.

Sometimes Mr. Beachy would pack a lunch and be gone for days. It was a wonder that the shovel never broke. Then one day I went out and the hole had caved in. It took hours, but I finally reached Peaches by phone to tell her about it. We were both sure that Mr. Beachy had died in an avalanche of rocks and soil somewhere near the center of the earth. It was many days before I could quit crying and every time Peaches and I talked by phone she would be sobbing so much she'd forget to speak English.

You can see why I couldn't write about poor Mr. Beachy's demise. After a while I knew he wasn't coming back. And once it started raining, the hole became a huge muddy mess. I thought about it for a long time, then finally called a landscaping crew to come fill the hole in. By this time the dirt was piled so high that I felt like my house was surrounded by mountains. No way could I see my neighbors. And I was afraid the rain would cause a slide that would block the alley. That would involve the City coming out with a complaint and a fine. So I hired this crew and tried my best to think of Mr. Beachy dying a happy death fulfilling his dream.

After a while Peaches fell in love with a man who owns a tea plantation in the higher altitude outside the city. His name is Ahhavee Anplums. That's how I think it's spelled. It sounds like "Harvey" when Peaches talks about him. The wedding was lovely. She sent pictures. She knew her father would be pleased that she and Soon had a place secure in the world surrounded by beautiful gardens and the aroma of tender tea leaves. All the relatives approved. Now instead of Peachy Beachy, her name is Peaches Anplums. And Soon attends a little school nearby with all the children whose parents worked on the plantation.

One day in mid November I received a call from Peaches. The line was so crackly and she was talking so quickly that I could barely make out what she was saying. At first I thought she was calling to say she was pregnant. When I finally got her to slow down, she told the most amazing story. Apparently, unbeknown to either of us, Mr. Beachy had not died in that avalanche. It had been very dangerous, but he had escaped the rain of heavy boulders and been able to continue digging. He wasn't able to eat for ages and became quite weak, but there was enough spring water trickling down in little streams to keep him from dehydration. He pushed on and continued digging. At one point he heard voices and thought he was a goner and almost gave up. But it turned out that people on the other side of the soil heard vibrations from his shovel and started digging from their end to find out what was making the noise. With their help he emerged into the fresh morning air after days and weeks underground. He must have been a sight.

The people who found him were very kind. They showed him the best of hospitality. They took him immediately into their home. Mr. Beachy seldom has trouble with speech, but he realized right away that the dialect being spoken was a little tricky for him to make communication easy. It turns out that his geographical calculations were off by several thousand miles and he had ended up in Mongolia. His new friends provided him with warm clothes. (He said his old ones were so soiled that they wouldn't even burn when they were thrown into the fire. They just melted like a plastic bag and left a hard piece of black goo sitting in the pit.) The sunlight reflecting off the vast terrain of snow covered plains was very hard on his adjusting eyes. A cousin was sent to buy sunglasses at the nearest store. Turns out the store was in a village two weeks travel away. So Mr. Beachy enjoyed a much needed month of rest in the shelter of his finders home.

The cousin was instructed to call Peaches from the village store, but once again the dialect was a barrier and Peaches couldn't understand at all what was being said. So it was mid-November when Mr. Beachy showed up on Peaches' doorstep unannounced. He had traveled on horseback, scooter, rail, and bus to finally reach the ancestors' home place. Quite a parade of relatives and neighbors escorted him from the family home to the tea plantation. The children were just leaving school at the bottom of the hill when the group leading the traveller approached. Soon recognised her grandfather immediately. She was bubbling with excitement and wearing out her grandpa's ears as she led him to meet her new father and reunite with his beloved daughter. Peaches began sobbing again as she told the story.

Later that week Mr. Beachy called me. We had a better connection. He asked if he could come again to live at my house. He sheepishly promised to never dig a big hole like that again and to work together planning the garden. When I said yes, he said he knew that all would work out in the end. And Christmas morning he arrived, a brand new shovel wrapped as a gift for me. You know, he won't be able to take a bullet train to see his family, but I'm sure he'll find a way to visit and he seems so very happy right now asleep in the living room chair with Waylon on his lap.

Mr. Beachy Where Are You

Mr. Beachy.
Mr. Beachy.
Mr. Beachy?
Mr. Beachy!
Mr. Beachy, where have you gone?!!!!
Mr. Beachy, get back here this minute!

Spring

The Fairy Files

After deleting the fairy diary, I discovered that I could start a new blog dedicated just to that story as long as I keep up with Miss Ingu and Mr. Beachy to keep the peace here. That might be hard because I've been so scattered lately. Besides feeling very ADHD, I am revisiting the questions that come along in the teenage years. For example, I have just too many things going at once; yet I can't just do one thing at a time. Right now I have several sewing projects going - a baby quilt, a pillow cover, plus a pair of blue jeans and a sweat shirt to mend. I'm working on a family tree and a painting for a friend. And my kitchen table is full of Christmas cards to answer. There's also nursing CEUs to complete and a ballot to fill out for voting. Not to mention the LEGO galactic bases to be made and battles to be fought and a new little wee person to hold......The questions are those age old ones of what is important, what to do with my life, and how much is important and what is just straw. They are the kind of questions that you have to be very quiet and very still to answer.

In Which Miss Ingu is Served Breakfast In Bed

The sun returned today and everyone's mood is much improved! In fact, I was surprised today when Mr. Beachy brought me breakfast in bed.

Coffee had been made and a sweet fruit and cheese plate delivered to my bedside. Yum-m-m! The cheese brought back good memories and it was a special gift because I'm sure Mr. Beachy doesn't even like cheese. I don't know anyone besides myself who likes this kind of cheese. Perhaps he's making up for the past week's silent treatment.

The cheese was Ektegjetost from Norway. It's a sweet brown cheese that taste almost like carmelized sweetened condensed milk. You put a sliver in your mouth and let it melt. When our first child was born everyone we knew was church mouse poor. Our baby was just a day or two old when a friend of ours, named Richard Birnbaum, showed up with a gift of this cheese. I knew that he probably spent all the extra money he had for it. It was like a gift from a magi.

Richard was a tall, thin graduate student from Columbia who had dark curly hair and a scraggly beard. He was very shy and soft spoken. He wouldn't sit down, just wanted to stop by for a moment, but we made him hold the baby and share some of the cheese. He must have been her first visitor. And she was most certainly the first baby he'd ever held! I heard later that he had become a legal advocate for immigrants.

Mr. Beachy had also prepared a mango cut in half with the seed removed. He filled it with my favorite plain Greek yogurt and chopped almonds. A meal fit for the gods!

It's just - we're grumpy.

Faithful readers will notice that the recent Fairy Garden entries have been deleted. This is due to honesty issues. Mr. Beachy had been holed up in his room for several days and I finally approached him to ask what was the matter. He...was...grumpy. He explained ever so curmudgeonly that this blog was supposed to be OURS. Not some silly fairy tale. And I considered his comments and especially his grumpy way of showing his feelings, and admitted to him that he was right. After promising him that I would delete said entries, I heard him outside in the garden. Chilly and damp as it was, I could hear him whistling and I know all will be better for it.

First Day of 2010

Mr. Beachy woke up grumpy again this AM despite sleeping through the fireworks last night. Couldn't remember the password for this blog. So much happened in 2009 that it's impossible to recount it all. This picture of Emmett, the chameleon(whose name used to be Scout, but was changed to Emmett because of his sad clown smile), just goes to show how much has changed. He is now 6 inches long minus the tail, which could be another 6 if it's uncurled. That's a lot of crickets consumed! Harper has grown. Impossible to realize he'll be 6 yrs. old in another few weeks! And, it took all year, but now we have a new member of the family. His name was secret for so long that I almost forget he has one. It's Gus! And Gus it is! The brothers are already conspiring together - Gus uses the Force while Harper maneuvers the Wii Jedi characters. All is well and as it should be as this new year begins Happy New Year!

a wee christmas blog

just wanting to say amerry christmas to all. love, mr.beachy and friends

Amazing

The other day, SIE and I went to the pet store on Broadway to get a better cage for the chameleon. The box was about 4 inches thick, but about 2 feet x 2 feet. SIE wanter to carry it and he was doing OK as we manuevered between the aisles. When we got over to the checkout, I turned to help him lift it. He was emphatic: "No-o-o!" Then with a lower voice he says for my ears only, "I want them to see how amazing I am."

My Dear Gardener

Mr. Beachy informs me that a wee creature is growing out near the cabbage patch. He tells me it is definitely male, but so small that it may take 5 months or more to ripen. Oh, the joy that the Christmas snows will bring this year!