Monday, September 22, 2008

A Ham Is Born

Milo recently made his publishing debut in an article I wrote for eHow. He received the standard rate of treats and tummy rubs for hamming it up for the camera.

A Precocious Season

Officially, today is the first day of autumn. Unofficially, harbingers of fall--especially foliage--have been conspicuously visible since mid-August. I can't remember seeing so much color so early in the year (brought on perhaps by weeks of unseasonably cooler nights).

Not that I'm complaining. I love all the seasons--even the harsh, protracted Michigan winters--but fall always has held a special place in my heart.

Below are a few samples of the burgeoning fall colors in our yard:



A viburnum flaunting lustrous purplish-red jewel tones.



A sugar maple already adorned in full autumn splendor.




Another viburnum with leaves gloriously hued in rich wine shades.




This sumac tree has been displaying flaming orange to crimson colors since late August.




The berries of this winterberry shrub (also known as Michigan holly) turned bright red only this past weekend.

Wednesday, September 3, 2008

He's Ba-ack!

I miss having the windows open while I work, so Mr. Michigander and I decided that if the ventilation pipe were moved, it might deter Tony Peanut from climbing up to the double windows. Then we could put back the screens and once again enjoy the summertime sounds and smells of our wooded backyard.

Last week, the heating and air conditioning men came out and spent most of the day cutting and removing siding, knocking out holes, disassembling, refitting and then reassembling the ventilation pipe roughly three feet away from its original spot--the maximum distance our local building code allows.


Still, the vent pipe no longer provided easy access to the double windows so we happily popped the window screens back into place.

In spite of all the racket, Tony came around once or twice. Much to the workmen's amusement, he sat on the deck railing munching his peanuts and monitoring their progress.

"That should fix his wagon," I told Mr. Michigander, smug in the knowledge that Kamikaze Tony would finally be grounded for good.

I was wrong.