babybloomr

Be very afraid. from Babybloomr on Vimeo.

Well, since I have worn us all out with the sheer length profundity of the last few posts, I thought I’d give us all a break by lightening the h*ll up sharing these lovely pictures.

Most mornings I take my coffee out to the deck, still in my nightgown, sporting a bed head ponytail and trailed by the Three Yappers. Once Phoebe and Thea figure out these isn’t any food in it for them they wander off, but Pip the Squeak, bless his scrawny, loyal little soul, glues himself to my side.

**I’m usually curled up on the love seat across from this chair and if Russ joins me, that’s where he sits:

**Here’s a close-up of that pepper plant. I love it, though I got greedy and woefully overcrowded the pot. Looks great, though, don’tcha think, all glossy green and jalapeno-y?

**From my cozy vantage point, accompanied by Pip the mouth breather, I can gaze at all of my flowerpots and deck boxes. They are looking a little end-of-summer tired (who isn’t?) so I enjoy them all the more because I know their days are numbered.

**Russ brought these dried chili peppers back from Santa Fe, he just loves them, says they remind him of his time there.

But as I serenely sip my coffee, there is a constant commotion going on over at the hummingbird feeder. OK, I will tell you the truth– I am the biggest pusher in the neighborhood of what is apparently the hummingbird equivalent of black tar heroin. When I first hung the feeder, I innocently mixed up the red nectar with a bit of a heavy hand– you know, the ‘if some is good, more is better’ philosophy. Before I knew it, I think the little suckers abandoned all of the local feeders in favor of mine, because I’ve got the hard stuff. They line up at the feeder, all jittery and wiping their noses with their sleeve, jockeying for position and elbowing each other out of the way. (Wait– do hummers have sleeves and elbows? Whatever, I’m trying to paint a picture here.) There are avian bar fights breaking out all over the place, and once they get all hopped up on nectar they start dive-bombing the Yorkies. I promise sincerely I never planned on turning them into junkies (”First taste is free my little ruby-throated friend, heh heh…”), but the entertainment value cannot be denied.

**Is there such a thing as hummingbird rehab?

So that’s my morning routine (on a good day)– tell me yours!