Month: November 2019

What Sigyn Did With All the Colored Leaves

Sigyn came home from our walk yesterday with a double armful of colored leaves.  She and the human female have shut themselves up in the craft room and are Doing Something with them.   I’ve been instructed not to look until it’s all finished, and I can hear the occasional giggle from behind the closed door.

I’m patient.  I can wait.

It’s finished? I can look now?

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Sigyn!  That is really beautiful!

What happens if we turn the lightbox on?

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Really, really lovely.  In this season of giving thanks, I am SO thankful for you, my dear.

And now let’s have some leftover pie!

>|: ]

A Very Colorful Fall Walk

The recent local weather (hot cold hot cold rainy sunny cold hot again), while making wardrobe deliberations a maddening ordeal with at best a 50-50 percent chance of success, have had an unexpected effect.  The local flora, famous for not giving a fig for seasonal expectations and remaining green until January, has decided, for once, to oblige Sigyn’s longing for a colored autumn.

We have therefore embarked upon a tour of the yard, the surrounding neighborhood, and the park at the end of the street, in order to take in all the offerings on this bright and sunny afternoon.

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cedar elm

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pecan

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woolly bucket or gum bumelia (both ludicrous names)

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upland swamp privet (an oxymoron if I ever heard one)

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yaupon holly

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post oak

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aster

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winged elm

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farkleberry

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bitterweed

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more asters

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more yaupon

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ditto (can you tell Sigyn really likes holly?)

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greenbriar

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a whole galaxy of asters  (Time for a little rest.  Dangling is hard work)

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white mulberry

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miniature dragon

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poison ivy  (Go on, human female, pat the pretty plant!)

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more mulberry

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copperleaf (Aptly named, I’d say.)

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More elmage

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honey locust

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bald cypress

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yet more elms

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many shot of a truly splendid farkleberry

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blackjack oak

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They say some medieval craftsman invented stained glass.  I’m not so sure.

>|: [

With Malus Aforethought

I think I know how to make the human female’s love of apples bear fruit. (Snerk!)

She really does keep track of all the different varieties she eats.  She even photographs them:

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That’s just a sample.  And look!  She’s even had one of those ‘Winter Banana’ ones!

She keeps her tasting notes in a little book.  Actually, make that “books.”  She’s filled one completely up and is a good way into another.

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She records their lineage, their appearance, and their taste. Her favorites get a little star by their name.

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Looks like her hundredth variety was a good one.  I’ve made sure she hasn’t found any since.

She has no compunction about lambasting varieties she finds less than stellar:

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These little books are like scripture for her.  Her memory’s not so good, so she really relies on them to help her remember which varieties she’d like to eat again and which ones to skip.  No one’s allowed to meddle with them.

Pffft!  Rules.  Let’s see if she notices my little addition…

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>|: [

There Has To Be a Way To Use This…

As I’ve noted, the human female considers herself an apple “aficionado,” and she brings home any and all strays to evaluate and eat them.

She has all sorts of (large, heavy) books devoted to the subject.  Take this one, for example:

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The names are funny.  “Ashmead’s Kernel.”  Who made that one up?  And read the description :  “Pick in October, but don’t eat until Christmas, unless pain is your thing.”  And the descriptions!  “Honeyed nuttiness, crisply sweet, not sugar sweet, but the succulence of a well-devilled marrow bone.”  I don’t know about anyone else, but— Marrow?!  bleargh!

Some of the books, I will admit, do have attractive illustrations.  This one has a few plates of well-executed watercolors.

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She came home from the library positively giddy the other day, because she discovered that those illustrations were just a tiny sample of the pictures from a larger, monumental work on all the apples of this realm and the one to the north.

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AND THERE ARE SIX MORE VOLUMES!  Really.  It’s riveting reading.

Not.

It’s page after page of dubiously-linked references, put together by a small cadre of pomaceous geeks who toiled for decades to compile the definitive list of apple cultivars.

I think they just made up the names.  Look at this one:

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‘Winter Banana?!’  Either this is one colossal prank, or the mortals are stupider than I estimated them to be.  Who names an apple after a BANANA?

But apparently, it’s a real variety.

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The amount of fruit nerdery is just staggering.  There has to be a way to turn the human female’s interest in the subject into mischief—or at least get some amusement out of it.

I shall have to think about this…

>|: [

 

Weeeeeep! Alert! Alert! Beeeeeep! (I Got Bored)

The fire alarms in the human female’s workplace have just gone off.

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Like good little lemmings, the building’s occupants have all trooped down the stairs, the fire doors slamming shut behind them.  Now they’ve scattered.  They’re all supposed to gather on the lawn across the street, but it looks like quite a few are milling about down the street.

The staff are hard at work, defending the perimeter against hapless passers-by who, eyes glued to phones, insist on wandering through the evacuation zone.

We’ve been out here for a while now, and I’m having a hard time deciding what my favorite part of this prank is.  Is it that:

A.  No one seems to know what’s going on.  Are we in imminent danger of immolation?  Supposedly a drill was scheduled for today, but we had the brief “this is a test, you don’t need to evacuate” alarm earlier today.  The voice on this recent alarm didn’t say anything about a drill, so…

B.  The human female didn’t have time to snatch her all-precious USB drive out of her computer before she left.  Her *life* is on that drive.  It’d be a real delight if it managed to burn up, wouldn’t it?

C.  As the staff were checking that all the rooms on the human female’s floor were empty, they discovered that about half of the red “everyone’s out of this room” door tags were mysteriously missing.

D.  This is the third evacuation this week.  I made an fire alarm trifecta!

Ehehehehehe!  It’s E—All of the above!

Ah.  They’ve finally figured out that it is a drill, but they want us all outside anyway.  Hey, at least it isn’t cold and raining, like it was yesterday when everyone was standing around out here!

What’s the record for most evacuations in a semester?  I think I can beat that.

>|: [

 

These Trips Get Shorter and Shorter, Part III: A Colorful Finish

The humans usually finish one of these jaunts with a trip to the Large Market, and today is no exception.

The plantings in front of the market are enjoying one last bit of warm weather before things turn colder.

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The human female has, of course, headed straight for the apples.  Kanzi is one of her favorites.

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What?  You don’t like this one with the special dimple?  Snob, that’s what you are.

What Lovecraftian nightmare is this?!  Sigyn!  Get out of there!

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Oh.  Right.  I do remember this “beast.”  It’s just a harmless buddha’s hand.

The floral section is a lot less alarming.

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What are those spiky silvery-blue ones?  I like them.

Sigyn likes these red and yellow ones.

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But I think the zinnias are her favorites.

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Ah, my petal–you are the prettiest thing here.

>|: [

These Trips Get Shorter and Shorter, Part II: 餃‎: ‎ 間違いなく美味しい

There is one part of a jaunt to a Big City that I actually do like.  Any chance to enjoy a lunch that is not of the human female’s making is a real treat.  A visit to a different city affords a chance to dine at an establishment that does not consider peanut butter and jelly the pinnacle of lunchtime fare.

The human female has used her phone to locate an “interesting” place to eat.

Hmmm.

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Some of the menu options look quite tasty.

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Sigyn is seduced by all the colorful photos.

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Don’t do it, Sigyn!  It’s raw fish.

We have ordered, and the food is about to arrive.  Oh, no…  I forgot that this sort of food means eating with sticks.

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But the chicken tempura looks amazing.

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And I could easily eat this whole boat-dish of gyoza by myself.

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The main course comes with a salad.

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Sigyn approves of the ginger dressing.  It does smell good.

The human female is is even more boring than usual today.  Teriyaki chicken!  She has no imagination.

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The male has ordered a curry, which is somewhat more adventurous.

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I will let the others eat all this up.  I’m heading back to the kitchen to see if there are more of those dumplings…

>|: [

These Trips Get Shorter and Shorter, Part II: Finally, Some Merchandise to Fit My Needs

As I suspected, our first stop in the Big City to the South is the Purveyor of Pens.  This is where the humans and their bachelor friend will spend an interminable amount of time sampling inks, trying out pens they can afford, trying out pens they can’t afford and shouldn’t be messing with, and abandoning Sigyn and me to entertain ourselves while they dither and dawdle.  Come on, people!  How many scribing tools does one mortal need?

Hmmm.  I have discovered something on one counter which, while not pen-related and not actually for sale, is certainly something I could use.

I really, really like this sign.

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No, wait!  I want this one!  When I take over Midgard, I will have this sitting, front and center, on my enormous desk, right near where supplicants must stand.

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Right over the trap door into the dungeon…

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