HIPPITY-HOP

 Here's something you don't see every day.

Well, if you don't live in Arizona.

I suppose locals who (foolishly) go out for hikes in our 100 degree heat on a daily basis probably see plenty of them.

I, suffice it to say, am not one of them.

Now Judy, aka SWMBO, claims to have seen one of these critters in our yard before but I believe it's a new sighting for me.

So don't allow me to leave you in suspense for another second.

It's the Wily Roadrunner, paying a quick visit.

He came hopping through the yard, then leaped to the top of the fence, where I managed one quick shot (photograph) before he leaped down into my neighbor's yard and was gone.

Without resorting to all those trite and untrue witticisms about the worthless coyotes and Acme products I will only say that these rascals move fast and an amateur photographer has to be very lucky to get a frame to brag about.

Beep-Beep.

WEEKEND HEAT

 

Apropos of nothing . . .

THE FRIDAY FUNNIES

 I'm cheating.

I'm actually putting this together on Thursday night.

But it's because I'm still revved up over the Phoenix Suns victory in the second game of the NBA Finals.

For those of you that don't understand or don't care, that's American basketball.

And this is the end-all of the season.

Whoever wins 4 out of 7 games wins the title of National Champions.

For one year.

And Phoenix has won the first two games.

It's a really big deal.

But not quite as big a deal as these moments of risibility (a word I just learned this week. Look it up if you don't know it.)

Y'know what?

I think that's enough.

If you aren't holding your tummies in glee by now . . . you're probably groaning in agony.

So let me wish you an angst-free weekend full of glorious ecstasy.

And don't ever forget: keep laughing!

Here, kitty-kitty . . .

EVOLUTION

 

Hippie Catalyst - 1971

Crazy Grand-Pa Catalyst - 2021

What a difference 50 years can make.

TOMATO, TAMAHTOE

 Scanning some of my blog colleagues work today I decided it was time for a little update on our gardening efforts.

So we examine the back patio tomato barrel.

It's looking a bit sun-withered but what are you going to do?

We live in Arizona, which is a notably sunny place, and our rainfall this year so far is even below normal.

But the hose is there and there are signs that something is working.

There are two different plants in there this year and these are products of an alleged Cherry Tomato plant.

Getting down and peering into the interior we can see signs of progress on the other plant too, which promises larger tomatoes.

So we keep on with judicious watering and waiting to see what will develop.

As the Guy Clark song says, there ain't nuthin' in the world like Home Grown Tomatoes.

ELEMENTARY, WATSON

 Get the bird books!

We've got a new species!

It resembles the Cowbirds that frequent our back yard but this one appears to have a blindingly white beak.

I've never seen one like that so it must be something new.

Let's blow this photo up a bit and get a better look.

About that time SWMBO, watching from the other room, said "It doesn't have a white beak, it's carrying something around in its mouth."

She said she'd been observing it and watched it even wash the object off in the lower water container before hopping around the yard with it.

I hate it when she's right so quickly but at least she *couldn't* identify what it was carrying.

The Cowbirds (if that's what they are) are a delight to watch as they usually fly up to the wall and strut along it's length.

FUTURE AND PAST

 I know I'm growing old.

After all, I was born in 1940.

But apparently that word has gotten out.

I received what I would call a "spam" email this morning from an entity inviting me to take a virtual tour of what they call "11 Beautiful Cemeteries" around the world.

Now I have no fear of my onrushing demise but I'm not encouraging it either.

So I declined the invitation to visit famous resting places.

I have been to the gravesites of my parents and my grandparents and I have seen a photograph of my great-grandparents tombstone.

But there's one place I probably will never visit but would like to.

It's now called the Taylor-Bray Farm and it's on the original site in what is now Yarmouth Port, Massachusetts where my 7th great-grandfather, Richard Taylor, settled after arriving from England in 1639.

He built his home near a large rock and became known as Richard "Rock" Taylor to distinguish himself from another Richard Taylor who had come over the pond at the same time.

The farm stayed in the Taylor family until the late 1800's when it was sold to George and William Bray, who farmed there for another 50 years.

They had a stone plaque installed commemorating the first Taylor's founding of the site.

I know, I can't read much of it either.

Now, in the way of the Bible, Richard begat Richard Jr, who begat Jasher, who begat Isaac, who begat Stephen, who begat Ansel, who begat Emmons, who begat Berthold, who begat Franklin, who was my father.

Of course there were many other children "begatted" through the centuries.

I remember once coming into a genealogy of our family and was being pretty impressed with myself until I read that Taylor was about the sixth most common name in the country.

But back to the Taylor-Bray Farm.

It's a National Historic Site now and a preservation website claims it was inhabited by Native Americans for some 10,000 years!

So there's a lot of history there.

But I bet Richard "Rock" Taylor would never have imagined that a very distant relative of his would someday make his living for a time as a "rock and roll" disc jockey.