AT THE SPRINGS

Ah, Gentle Readers, today was a day like any other day.

Any other day, that is, when an infrequent meeting of the Rock Springs Rumble is held.

Baseball Steve organized this lunch gathering at the famous Rock Springs Cafe.

Steve is shown here accepting the plaudits of the other participants.

Or perhaps doing a perp walk, one can never be sure.

Others on hand included Legendary Lew Ruggiero.

That's just water with lemon, not a gin and tonic.

And King Karl Kindberg, here about to attack a giant plate of nachos.

Karl told me today I should drop that "Gentle Readers" crap from these posts.

In spite of my high regard for the man who for reasons I can't explain acquired the nickname "Doc", I shant.

And a new "mystery guest" to these gatherings, as Steve put it.

One of our number who still actually works for a living, Al "Bert" Macias.

Oh, yes, and your scribe was there too, though my photograph comes from my files.

And though it may resemble it, not from beyond the grave.

As usual many tales of long ago were told.

Some of them true, one would guess.

I shall not repeat any of them here, regardless of the statute of limitations.

Suffice it to say a good time was had by all, as always, and none of us got arrested.

POTPOURRI

That ought to wake you up and get you prepared for mailing off your 2017 tax return, if you haven't already done it.

I e-filed mine back in early February.

It's a pretty simple return and I haven't had to give the IRS any money for years.

One of the advantages of a retirement income.

* * * *

SWMBO had an ear ache yesterday, following a couple of days of a runny nose, apparently caused by spring allergies, which are rife here in the Central Highlands of Arizona.

So this is for her.

Actually, I think it's about over.

* * * *

On the political front, the best headline of yesterday came from the Stephen Colbert show: Hannity Insanity.

"Who, me?"

* * * *

And for all of you Gentle Readers who have grown fond of my birds-at-the-bird-bath pictures, let it be known that I have been bested not once but TWICE by my companions on the Great World Wide Web.

This morning it was Steve in London, who posted these amazing pictures from LONDON on his blog Shadows & Light.

And yesterday my friend Lori, who used to live down the street but now is across town since we moved, sent me this link to an eagle's nest in Decorah, Iowa where three eaglets have been born and are being raised by a pair of adults.

The live camera views are simply fascinating.

So I've been outdone, not once but twice in less than 24 hours and may have to retire my bird bath photography.

Oh well, I've still got my cats.

AVIAN-ONICS

Red stopped by this morning for a dip in the pool.

After a soak and some vigorous splashing he perched on the edge and slaked his thirst.

Guess he'd never heard mama saying "Don't drink the bath water!"

And then he flew away again.

And this afternoon, just a few minutes ago, we had another visitor.

A mockingbird!

But no bath for this nervous fellow.

Just a couple of quick sips and a rapid departure.

A TEENSY HELPFUL NUDGE

THE FRIDAY FUNNIES

Gentle Readers, please relax, in spite of the day/date.

You must remember that triskaidekaphobia is only a superstition.

Nothing to worry about just because it's Friday the 13th.

After all what can happen?

Well, yes, there is that.

But let us persevere and move on to some jocularity.

Oh sure but can he/she do the Downward Dog?

While you're pondering that, Gentle Readers and Yoga Practitioners, let me wish you a scintillating weekend full of frolicking among the flowers.

And always remember to keep laughing.

Here, kitty-kitty . . .

(Hmmm, a bit of a tight fit . . .)

THE BIRDS

The Weather Gods say today is going to be very windy here, with gusts up to and over 50 miles per hour.

Maybe that's why the birds have been visiting our birdbath in droves this morning.

I have observed a robin(!) who stopped on the ground facing me and stared for a second, then used the bird bath for what it's named.

Then in rapid succession I had a mockingbird, the first I'd seen this year, house finches, the Say's Phoebe and one of our local doves.

They all seem to appreciate the water, whether for drinking or bathing.

Since this is ThrowBack Thursday, I thought I'd include a better photo of a robin in the birdbath.

Same birdbath, same modus operandi, different location, at least a year ago.

And, BTW, the BRD completed another trip around the sun yesterday.

So, happy bird-day girl.

(NOT) A ROBIN

A fairly frequent visitor to Catalyst's Watering Hole could be mistaken for a robin.

But his rosy-hued breast is not nearly as bright as a robin's.

And he's a tad smaller than those big bullies.

Searching Sibley's "Birds of the Arizona Central Highlands I have identified him as a Say's Phoebe.

He's quite a thirsty fellow and when he visits spends quite a well either at the fountain or pecking around for insects in the yard.

He was named after Thomas Say, a 19th Century naturalist who was born into a Quaker family in Pennsylvania.

Say spent time in the offshore islands of Georgia and Florida, and on exploratory missions to the Rocky Mountains and the tributaries of the Missouri River.

He married and lived in the utopian society of New Harmony, Indiana, where he died at the age of 47, apparently of typhoid fever.

But the bird named after him lives on.

Say's Phoebe.

A NEW LOOK

We're in the perfect months of Spring right now in Arizona but summer is on the way.

The climate has changed a bit where we live.

It's just about a mile high in elevation.

Like Denver.

But being closer to the equator, i.e. further south, it gets warmer.

It used to get to 100 degrees Fahrenheit maybe one or two days in the summer.

But recently we've had stretches of that kind of heat that lasted weeks.

We used to live in Phoenix, back in the 70's and 80's.

Once the mercury climbed to 122 degrees.

That was in June of 1990 and we fortunately were living in Guadalajara, Mexico then.

Guadalajara is known as the place with eternal springtime.

But if you want true heat you have to travel about 360 miles west-northwest from here.

To Furnace Creek, in the heart of Death Valley.

It got to 134 degrees there once upon a time.

I got to wondering what I might look like if I had spent my life as a roving, gold-hunting prospecter in Death Valley.

Maybe like this.

I guess I'll stick to my sedentary ways, out of the direct sunlight.

And the heat.

TWEET TWEET

I TOLD you the birds were going to be happy about that tree leafing out, didn't I?

Oh, I know.  

When you saw the title on this post you were expecting something about the Donnie in D.C., weren't you?

Nope.

No politics.

Just bird talk.

SPRING IS BUSTING OUT ALL OVER

The tree outside my window, which has been a barren forest of branches all winter, is finally heavily abounding in buds.

It's not a flowering tree but it will soon be filled with green leaves, judging from the looks of things.

The birds can barely wait.

MAKING BREAD

I have heard that some bread bakers insist that all of that kneading is good therapy.

Me?

I let the machine do it.

I love my bread machine.

It takes all of the work out of bread production and turns out perfect loaves.

That's a loaf of whole wheat studded with craisins that I (the machine, actually) turned out yesterday.

Can you smell it?

SWMBO could and came in from the other room to slice the top off and tell me it tasted great, as usual.

As a special treat for my wife of 47 years, as of today, I have a loaf of rye with caraway rising in the machine now, soon to bake and send forth those enticing aromas.

THE FRIDAY FUNNIES

Another week of lunacy in Washington has left me scratching my head and wondering "Can I even match the Trumpster for humor?  Huh?  Can I?"

Frankly, I don't know but I'm gonna try, Gentle Readers.

So let's kick off the weekend with some toast.

Oh, I mean "A" toast.

Honestly, it's enough to drive one to drink.

Okay, pals, let us get out there and make every effort to have a Masters-ful weekend (heh-heh) and always remember to keep laughing.

Here, kitty-kitty . . .

(Oh, man)

TBT: THE GOOD OLD TUNES

Going way, way back to the year I was born . . . here's what was on the hit parade.

Asleep at the Wheel has done a much more recent version of that song.

And then there's "Maybe".

For someone who can't come to grips with Rap or Hip-Hope, whatever the difference is between them, sometimes the old tunes are the good tunes.

Or maybe I'm sinking into the senescence of my years.

MLK

JUST THE FACTS

There is a slight but burning disagreement going back many years about the ownership of the Grand Canyon.

Since it crosses my state's northern border, Utah tries from time to time to claim it.

But Utah has Arches National Park.  And Bryce Canyon and Canyonlands and Capitol Reef and Zion.

So down here in Arizona, aka Heaven on Earth, you Utahns just leave our Grand Canyon alone.

One car's vanity plate says it best.

Incidentally, those are Saguaro cacti.

(It's pronounced suh-GWAHR -oh, for you aliens.)

It's bloom, which comes out of the top of it, is the Official State Flower of Arizona.

And that critter in the middle is a Roadrunner.

But while Roadrunners are prevalent in this blessed state, the official state bird is the Cactus Wren.

Class dismissed, Gentle Readers.

COO, COO, KACHOO

"Coo, Coo, Kachoo, Mrs. Robinson, Jesus loves you more than you will know, Whoa Whoa Whoa"

Who really knows what that lyric from the movie "The Graduate" means?

I just thought of it when I was looking at this photo of one of our multitude of doves that inhabit the neighborhood and occasionally hog the bird bath.

They strut around the yard, posing as if they are thinking they are as pretty as peacocks.

They are somewhat sleek and the lack of a crested head removes any ferocity from their appearance.

So I'll put up with them.

And bliss out on Simon and Garfunkel's music.

Here comes your ear worm.

(giggle)

Maybe evidence of an "April fool" which took place a day early.

The couple out for a spin in their fancy red hot rod apparently found themselves stalled at the side of the road.

The fellow in the cowboy hat had stopped and walked over to see if he could help.

Sometimes, looks aren't everything.

(A short time later the car was gone so maybe all ended well.)