It's enough to suffer through being tagged with squeaky toys, slapped with the rope toy she shakes from side to side. Now she learned I'm squeamish about being touched with dead things. She'd been visiting the armadillo graveyard to bring home trinkets, pieces of shell. Today she turned up with a skeleton. I am sure it was from an armadillo, given the size, the flat pelvis piece and the vertebrae all joined together. She alternated chewing on it and chasing me with it, like a bad little schoolboy with a garter snake.
I didn't make a pic of the armadillo skeleton. Just imagine it.
Hillstar, a jonquilla
Minnow, blooms smaller than a quarter.
Daffodils and Hyacinths are almost all gone.
Azaleas are deciding whether to wait for Easter,
while Dogwoods are showing white cupped blooms.