Greeting to all and welcome new friends to the EastWing.
The official EastWing Orange Tree has grown 7” in height and has produced two limbs extending out some 10”. Gona be a good year for growing stuff. I can just feel it in my bones.
Late last summer I planted a maple seed, you know that maple helicopter seed kind, and produced a little tree about 7” before the time came for all good trees to go to sleep for the winter. And sure enough, my baby maple tree turned it’s little maple leaves pretty colors and shook ‘em all off just like the big boys did. Pretty little tree, acting like a big boy tree. And guess what? Yep, the little feller got a jump on the outside big boy maples. The leaves of maple have come early to the EastWing. More specific, the little boy growing with the orange tree has sprouted the first leaves of the EastWing Maples. In the past, I had two EastWing Maples, it’s now two and one little boy. Think I’ll name him Marlow. Marlow Maple. Now if ya don’t like Marlow, then get your own maple and name it whatever you like. Till that happens, don’t give me any crap on Marlow Maple, ‘cause Spring is busting out all over.
Just like it’s supposed to March is going out like a lamb. March 31st and the temperature is projected to be above 60° for the first time in a long time. Happy days.
In response to all the emails asking for an update on the health and well being of the She, the She is doing well. The very best we could hope for is to say that her recovery is completely uneventful. Every day I could see a little improvement is her condition. Every day the She got a little bit better. She’s not all the way back yet, but the future is bright and the prognosis is good.
Prognosis, now that’s a pretty cool word. Prognosis,,, it just sounds like it’s an important word. You don’t know for sure if it’s good or bad, but it sounds important. When you say Prognosis, well, people just think you know what you’re talking about. If you do or don’t is kinda secondary to what people think. Prognosis, big ass smart word, Prognosis.
I remember a creative writing course a while back over at that little school in central Ohio. The Ohio State University it was, when a particular professor had his class buy a subscription to Readers Digest. Readers Digest was the official text book for that forth semester class in creative writing.
One interesting thing about the course work was we used paper and pencil. Yep, real paper and real pencils. Couldn’t even type the work out. Had to be paper and pencil. Don’t see a lot of those things around, paper and pencils. Paper, yes, to feed the printers. Pencils, not so much so. It’s fingers on keyboards and magic words appearing on screens that spelled the demise of pencils, and to a lesser degree, paper.
Our EastWing weekly visit is a classic example of the “sign of the times”. No paper and pencil here. It’s keyboard producing words from my screen to your screen. Paper and pencil lost another round to words that travel by the magic of technology from me to you. Pictures that exist only in your mind, never to see the light of paper.
It was the first full day of spring when I get home from work, the Beagles, Sharolette and Barbaree were having a track and field meet in the front EastWing garden. The five lap yard race was the first event. When I came into the house and looked back into the front yard, the second event was getting underway.
It was a relay event. No baton to pass along, just a front lower leg bone from one of the less fortunate in the neighborhood. Proud little girls, prancing around the south EastWing garden carrying that long bone. These little girls started out last summer both carrying the same stick. It was a favorite game of summer past, carrying that stick. Now they’ve graduated to bigger and better things. Well, at least, bigger, I wouldn’t consider a deer bone better things. ‘Course I’m not a Beagle either. So guess I look at things different than those closer to the bone.
Then when the girls come in from play, the first tick of springtime arrived on the back neck of Miss Sharolette Beagle. Barbaree also got a complete tick inspection as did Mr. Bentley. Only Sharolette had a hitchhiker that day. It was right then and there that the full TICK prevention program swung into full force.
The Beagles, Sharolette and Barbaree, got the medication applied on the back of their neck and down their back. Mr. Bentley got the new type 8 month type tick & flea collar that just came onto the American animal market last summer. Had the same for Mr. Bentley last year, works great. Kinda pricey but works great for the big boy. It’s lots more fun to deal with protecting the pets from ticks and fleas than dealing with blizzards and below zero days. Happy days of springtime.
That damn Spike hid and jumped out and scared me three times today. I almost peed my fur. I hate Spike. I wish cats could shoot guns, I’d shoot Spike’s ass first thing. I thought God was gona kill Spike like I asked him to when I prayed that time. But he didn’t, so I’m gona have to pray again to find out what’s going on with that deal.
Went outside today to potty in the springtime dirt. And who do I see outside? YES! Spike. I hate Spike outside and inside. I went in the house then ran downstairs and peed in Spikes litter box before he came back inside. Damn Spike being mean to me all the time. He’s gona get his.
I think Spike is sneaking over and stealing food out of my bowl when I’m not around. His bowl has more food than mine. The ugly bald human likes me better than Spike, so I get more food. Spikes taking my food and putting it in his bowl. I’m gona tell on him. I hate Spike. Now that I know he’s stealing my food, and trying to starve me to death, I hate Spike even more.
Stay safe in Afghanistan.
From The EastWing, Trees of The EastWing, The She Update, Prognosis-Big Smart Word, An Old Professor From The BuckEye School Remembered, The Death Of Paper & Pencils, Beagle Relays & Neighborhood Bones, Tick Time, Sophia’s Diary
I Wish You Well,