So my spouse named us today as we drove the Rover over the bumpy two miles of dirt road to the Rio Verde highway! "Thundering what", I exclaimed? "Thundering turtles", Mark replied. As I thought of the imagery, I concluded it wasn't wholly inaccurate. Bucking all the trends all our lives together we have slowly but surely made our way forward to here and now. Of course, a tortoise would be a more accurate imagery for two land lubbers such as we; ne'er the less lumbering, lurching forward in a sort of slow ungainly manner is accurate - even for a turtle once it's out of the water!
We recently planted six new lantana plants in the front yard, and we've dutifully kept after them each day, talking, cajolling them into sinking down their roots and pushing upwards and out their leaves and flowers. Additionally, we placed two Mexican Bird of Paradise in Italian terracotta pots on the front loggia - their lacy, lovely ferny leaves shimmer on their narrow leggy trunks, and push out a riotous bloom of yellow and orange fire for all to see. The hummingbirds are in love with all the new flowering plants, as are the butterflies - of which I've seen two new species. One, a large velvet black creature with great yellow dots upon its lower wings. The second a smallish yellow and oragne creature of great agility.
Each evening all comes peaceably to rest. The Bird of Paradise and the mesquite fold their little fern-like leaves as if in slumber, and the many birds and small mammals disappear to nests and burrows. Only the toads come out, along with the beady glowing eyes of the occasional hunter of sleeping unwary little ones. Miss Athenais apparently has a suitor in the form of an elusive bobcat. He leaves little gemlike feces at the doorstep at night, and at night she is oft frantic to get outside and greet this visitor - whomever it might actually be. Good parents that we are she is of course utterly discouraged from such rauchous and unladylike behavior, lest she loose not only her virginity, but her noble place, oh ancestors we hear thee, in feline society; we have the battle, but whom shall win the war? Shall we arrive at the vet too late? Or will her spaying provide us all relief at last from nocturanl suitors of dubious birth?
Thus, the turtles waddle forward, one more day completed, serene in our little family troupe thrown wayward like upon the desert's grace, one air-conditioning cell and one well of lightly laced arsenic agua between us and doom. Bon nuit mes freres!
We recently planted six new lantana plants in the front yard, and we've dutifully kept after them each day, talking, cajolling them into sinking down their roots and pushing upwards and out their leaves and flowers. Additionally, we placed two Mexican Bird of Paradise in Italian terracotta pots on the front loggia - their lacy, lovely ferny leaves shimmer on their narrow leggy trunks, and push out a riotous bloom of yellow and orange fire for all to see. The hummingbirds are in love with all the new flowering plants, as are the butterflies - of which I've seen two new species. One, a large velvet black creature with great yellow dots upon its lower wings. The second a smallish yellow and oragne creature of great agility.
Each evening all comes peaceably to rest. The Bird of Paradise and the mesquite fold their little fern-like leaves as if in slumber, and the many birds and small mammals disappear to nests and burrows. Only the toads come out, along with the beady glowing eyes of the occasional hunter of sleeping unwary little ones. Miss Athenais apparently has a suitor in the form of an elusive bobcat. He leaves little gemlike feces at the doorstep at night, and at night she is oft frantic to get outside and greet this visitor - whomever it might actually be. Good parents that we are she is of course utterly discouraged from such rauchous and unladylike behavior, lest she loose not only her virginity, but her noble place, oh ancestors we hear thee, in feline society; we have the battle, but whom shall win the war? Shall we arrive at the vet too late? Or will her spaying provide us all relief at last from nocturanl suitors of dubious birth?
Thus, the turtles waddle forward, one more day completed, serene in our little family troupe thrown wayward like upon the desert's grace, one air-conditioning cell and one well of lightly laced arsenic agua between us and doom. Bon nuit mes freres!
