“The true mystery of the world is the visible, not the invisible.” – Oscar Wilde

“The most beautiful thing we can experience is the mysterious. It is the source of all true art and science.” – Albert Einstein

“The true world is a mystery.  And that, is a most beautiful thing to experience.” – Bert “The Wild Man” Oscarstein

Bert the Bug. aka Ol' Mr. Oscarstein

I ran into Bert Oscarstein this afternoon near the end of our lane.  He was eating milkweed of all things.  We talked for a while.  He’s always full of lofty thoughts.  Like, “Do these shoes match my body color?”  Or, “Do you think these antennae make me look fat?”  I asked him what he thought about global warming.  And he said, “Why yes.  I think there should be Glow Ball Warnings wherever necessary.”  Great guy.  Hard of hearing; very little fashion sense, but a great guy.  Then, off I flew.

A Butterfly’s main task in life is to mate.  I’m not making this up.  In some cases, they have to do it quickly, as many species live only a few days.

So they start out as “egg” turns-wormy-looking-furry thing.  Then, they hole up in a chrysalis for weeks, or sometimes months.  Dark cocoon-ish time alone.  Solitary.  And finally, they emerge as butterflies, with just a few days to mate, before its all over.

Most of ’em look pretty happy, I guess.  I mean, they flit and flutter.  That’s happy, right?  But something about the whole deal made me profoundly sad.

This is a Clouded Sulphur.  Male.  I think I saw him smoking a little cigarette before I shot this.  And, he was definitely grinning.

What a dang day THIS is!  P.L.Tavers was born on this day in 1899.  Happy Birthday P.L.

Ol’ P.L. wrote Mary Poppins.  I LOVE MARY POPPINS.  Oooooooohhhhhhhhhh, Supercalafredulisticexpeealidocious.  Even though the sound of it is something quite atrocious.  If you say it loud enough it almost sounds precocious.  Ohhhh, Supercalafredulisticexpeealidocious!

Um deedy little, Um ditty lie.

Well, you get the picture.  So here it is P.L.’s birthday, and wouldn’t you know it. I go to the zoo.  What to mine eyes appear?  These little dudes.  Word.  (I hope they are practicing their dance steps, and well, you know, not the other thing.  That would be embarrassing for all of us right now, wouldn’t it?)

My brother and I (that would be my brother Darryl, not my other brother Darryl), ……. have decided…. to maybe quit our day jobs and start writing Country Western Songs.

There.  It is official.

Make 'em DANCE Cowboy! Make 'em dance.

Tonight, I have a little story about Frederick the Frog.  Don’t let this flattened amphibian fool you. The Insect World knew him as “Freddy Four Fingers.”

He took out hundreds of flies, gnats, moths, and such in his day.  If it had wings, Freddy got da’ job done.  But he finally got his alright.  Tonight, while sitting there under the porch light (listening to Sinatra),  a mob of fire flies dropped a rock on his head.  Done.  Word on the street goes:  Manny the Monarch ordered the hit.  And the Carboni Bunnies were in on it too.

Freddie leaves a wife and 4,293 tadpoles.

Well folks.  Here it is, DAY 11, as I like to call it.  Yes, Day 11 since the Poison Ivy Incident of 2010.  (It is right up there with the Alamo, I’ll tell you).

Yesterday, I broke down and went to the doctor.  Right-o.  Broke all the way down.  Good ol’ Dr. T shot me up with some Steroids.  And then prescribed more steroids to take orally over the next week or so.  Mmmmm, mmmm. Good.

So it goes.  Now, most of you know me, and my little chicken arms.  No before photos….. but here is a shot of me this evening, a couple of doses of ‘roids later.  I’ll be back.

They only come out at night…..

Zombies (not pictured here), and Walking Tacos.

You think Walking Tacos are skinny?

It is pretty hot here in Ohio today.  About 96 degrees outside.

So during the middle of the afternoon, Max walks up to Winnie and says:

“What do cats like best on hot days?”

Win says: “Dunno.”

And Max returns with “Mice Cream.”

Win:  “Get the heck away from me, you dumb dog.”

And Max laughed, and laughed……

lemon |ˈlemən|
noun

4. informal a person or thing, esp. an automobile, regarded as unsatisfactory, disappointing, or feeble.

Just a reminder, don’t touch that dial.  Stay tuned…  don’t touch it.

I’m not joking.