My Tiny Mind

I spoke of the wonderment of seeing my first pocket calculator the other day. Maybe it's just that small things amuse small minds, but I am quite taken by the small wonder that I'm holding in my hand in the above picture. If you can't quite guess, it's a 120 gig external hard drive for the laptop that I port over to Nikki Dee's everyday.

My laptop is three years old and has a smallish hard drive. All of my photos plus all of my tunes on iTunes (for my iPod) take up way too much space for the computer's drive. While I already keep all sorts of files on another external drive, that one is too cumbersome to carry about daily, so when I saw this little beauty on sale, I took the plunge.

It doesn't need a power supply, and I can install programs on it and plug it into other computers if need be. While it's mainly for storage, it's nice to have options. Needless to say, I really like it.

As I said, small things amuse small minds. Which means that my brain must be extraordinarily tiny.

Foto Friday

The weather has taken a warm turn, so we took ND to the park where she met several children — and one huge dog, so big that he almost looks like a bear. He was friendly enough but had quite a deep woof: deep enough to cause a young lady to stand back and take notice.


Then we came home and did some watering. I ended up watering more than the transplants and bedding plants, but it was great to get in on Nikki Dee's fun.


On an earlier and somewhat cooler day (notice the sweater), we still spent some time out on the sometimes sheltered deck. ND found herself in the glass and continued to work on developing her ego.

Thanks Junie

JunieRose has tagged me here as one of five bloggers who make her day. What a nice thing for somebody to say! Thanks muchly Junie.

While I always try to make mention of tags, I usually refrain from passing them on, and I think I will continue with that policy, but I did want to make mention and say thank you to a very nice lady.

Dad's Forget-Me-Nots

It was a long time ago now that Dad came over to our previous house with some Forget-Me-Not seeds from his own garden. I'd say that it was at least twenty years ago that he planted a few seeds from his garden into ours. Over the years, they reseeded themselves prolifically wherever they happened to land and take hold in the previous year. It was quite a display that they produced each and every spring. Although they aren't the main flower in bloom in the top photo of that former garden of ours, you can see some to the bottom left of the photo as well as toward the swing near the back right. (Note: the main flowers in the top picture are ground phlox, and all of what you see came from three little plants. Unlike forget-me-nots, they are perennials and spread through root growth rather than re-seeding. I wish I had brought some of those with me as well.) These flowers became more special in the years after Dad departed. Although he was gone, every year, Dad's gift would re-spring anew wherever it willed, and I felt connected and blessed.

I don't garden very much here, but we have managed to bring a few seeds with us. In this locale, the plants no longer seem to grow aplenty, but two came up in the backyard again this spring, and Thesha has had one come up in her garden too. Once again, I'll try to make sure the seeds have a chance to find fertile ground for next year, but gardening here is more problematic, so I don't know how much longer we'll have Dad's forget-me-nots.

Meanwhile, they very well do the job that their name implies, for they cause me to fondly remember old Dad. Although it might be said that one shouldn't require a physical keepsake to remind us of past events or former loved ones, it helps to have such souvenirs to jog our consciousness periodically. We are, after all, both physical and spiritual beings, and experiencing something with one of our physical senses can cause our spirits to feel re-connected with the past.

While I am all for living in the present and don't want to dwell in the past, I do appreciate the poignancy of certain memories, and that's how Dad's forget-me-nots make me feel — poignant, connected. Thanks Dad.

Below: this years forget-me-nots.

The Wonder of it All

Since we have a two-storey townhouse and I have no fondness for ladders, we had the window cleaners over to our place yesterday. It's not too expensive, so we're willing to ante up once a year.

When it was time to settle accounts, the guy pulled out his cell phone and used it as a calculator. That surprised me because I hadn't seen a cell phone used that way before. Sometimes, I have to step back and appreciate the near-magicality of technology. You see, I can still recall seeing my first pocket calculator and being enthralled with its wonderfulness.

It was during summer holidays near the mid-seventies, and we were visiting the family in Scarborough. One day while walking through Eatons in Shoppers World on The Danforth I saw it and was intrigued. I hadn't even been aware that such a marvel existed, and this four-function beauty was on sale for only one hundred bucks! Imagine a small machine that could add, subtract, multiply and divide! Amazing!

Could I have ever used that little gizmo. I was teaching, and computing averages was an exercise in brain power augmented by a slide rule type of device. It wasn't an actual slide rule but a cardboard wheel that used some slide rule principles. I would use my noggin to add up a kid's scores and then use the wheel to calculate the average. Sometimes, I'd make a little mistake while adding in my head, and the wheel could also be a percentage point or two off.

So, you see, I sure could have used that handy dandy little calculator.

I didn't buy it though. It was too dear; a hundred bucks was more than ten percent of my monthly salary at that point, so I resisted. Within a year or so I found one at Sears that had more capability for only thirty-five dollars. Now, of course, they are cheap almost throw-away instruments that we value little.

But it seemed a wonder to me back then and seeing a cell phone put to that use yesterday brought back that sense of wonder to some degree.

Doggy Says Woof Woof

A week or two ago, we reported to Mom that Nikki Dee said "Doggy, woof woof." Mom was pretty skeptical, but when we asked the kid what doggies say, she replied, "Woof woof," for Mom's benefit. Mind you, when I said the word, Dolly, yesterday, she also said "woof woof," but I stand by my assertion that The Bonnie Wee One is a genius. :)

She is quite interested in doggies but is also a wee bit hesitant around them. Here she is meeting the neighbours' Retriever yesterday. I really like this picture.

7 x 70

The mind is a funny thing ... or at least mine is. I thought of the following words while brushing my teeth (go figure) the other morning.

Then Peter came and said to Him, “Lord, how often shall my brother sin against me and I forgive him? Up to seven times?”

Jesus said to him, “I do not say to you, up to seven times, but up to seventy times seven.

Matthew 18: 21-22

You can hear a concept any number of times without it really and truly registering in your brain and affecting your life, but sometimes the same idea comes to you unbidden from your own cranial depths, and it is then that you realize the truth of it. It is then that it begins to make sense, take hold, and stick.

Forgiveness is tough. Most of us hold tightly onto hurts for what seems to be forever. The problem is that the holding on does us no good whatsoever. It doesn't affect the other person, not in any sort of positive way at least, and it makes me, the holder of the grievance, miserable whenever I think upon it. That is why, I suppose, that Jesus told Peter, and thereby us, to forgive someone 490 times, or in other words, as often as it takes.

You see, old hurts just keep resurfacing in our brains. We rethink the old thoughts and are wounded anew every time as we relive the grief, anger, pain, and sorrow from the past. We re-experience these negative emotions every time we replay an old, hurtful episode in our heads. It makes no sense, for it does us no good and usually affects the other party not a whit.

So, it's important to forgive: important for one's own peace of mind. When we forgive we shunt aside the concomitant negative emotions that rob us of happiness and joy whenever we think upon them. But we're human and such thoughts insist upon resurfacing, and so we must forgive again and again — 7 x 70 times — or as often as necessary. I have to believe that each incidence of forgiveness makes it easier to forgive again the next time the brain dredges up that same recollection. I believe that, as we persist in willing ourselves to be forgiving, we will begin to experience those old, negative emotions less and less often and for shorter and shorter durations. And that will make us happier. You see, forgiveness is about us.

I think there's another linked reason why Jesus taught us to forgive 7 x 70 times. It's that many people will be repeat offenders because they can't change or at least they haven't been able to change yet. Whatever combination of nature and nurture that causes a person to perceive the world as he does and, therefore, to behave as he does is fixed in him until some sort of mind-altering revelation occurs. Of course, many, if not most people, go through the greater parts if not all of their lives without experiencing such an epiphany. And for that, they are to be pitied — forgiven as it were. As often as necessary. For our own sakes if not theirs.

These thoughts are most certainly not original. I have heard this concept expressed and have understood it to some extent for some time. Somehow, however, after recalling these words of Jesus the other morning, I think I grasp the notion better and will be able to live it in a truer way. It won't be an easy, one-time occurrence. Writing these thoughts in this blog post will not be a magic pill but a lesson that I will have to keep reminding myself of — up to 7 x 70 times. But it's important that I apply it because this teaching of Jesus is chiefly for my benefit, for it's the forgiver much more than the forgivee who benefits.

Timbits on Silent Sunday

Lilac Heaven

It's true, we are in Lilac Heaven these days. They're all over the place. While out driving yesterday, I could have stopped myriads of times to take pictures. Be thankful that I sometimes exercise some restraint. The first four photos (including the closeups) are from Thesha's yard. These plants are new and varied. The other pictures are all from our drive-about; they are very mature plants — pretty well wild by now, in fact.

Thanks for stopping by. Have a good weekend.

Published ...

... sort of ... well, not really ... but I'm bragging anyway ...

I have Flickr contacts who have had their photos used in publications. -epm, a fine upstanding Yank, had one put in a tome about Canadian Geology if you please. My SIL had one photo placed in a British educational publication and another made into a souvenir. So, the following is not a great accomplishment by any means, but nearby Mississippi Mills had grabbed one of mine for a little poster advertising rental space in the Old Almonte Town Hall. I suppose I will see my work live, so to speak, when I will be there for a concert in another week or two, but, meanwhile, they have sent me a copy via email to assuage my thirsting ego.

More Arizona Memories

These photos are all from Monument Valley. We took a three hour jeep tour near sunset with a native guide (whom you see in a few photos), and it was marvellous. This was the single best thing we did in Arizona, better than the Grand Canyon in a very real way. The tour guide (Frommers)that we followed suggested doing four main things if one had only one week to spend in Arizona: The Grand Canyon, Sedona, Monument Valley, and Canyon de Chelly. Due to distance, I had some doubts about the latter two, but I decided to follow the suggestions and was very glad that I did.

About the slideshow: I do know that Flickr and Picassa support slideshows and have used both. But AFAIK Flickr will only generate a show based on a whole set, but I didn't wish to display a whole set or to create another set. For Picassa, I would need to re-upload photos that are already on the web, which seems to be a waste. This site, Slide, allows me to import whatever pictures that I have already posted in Flickr, and it does so fairly easily. I tried several sites, and this one seems to work most efficiently for me. Also note that I've gotten rid of the butterflies in this display. :)

A Few Photos ...

... from Sedona and the Grand Canyon two years ago. Partly, I just wanted to experiment with this slideshow. I could do with a plainer, non-butterfly version. There are lots of options, but most are somewhat fancified for this plain old guy. You do get a plainer and somewhat better rendition by selecting View All Images below.Maybe I'll do another show of other parts of the trip tomorrow.

We Are Thirty-Nine

One can hardly fathom, where the time goes, but Cuppa and I are thirty-nine today. Just as it was all those years ago, it was the rainy Saturday of our May long weekend. Of course, at the time one barely noticed in the hubbub of a wedding, reception and getaway.

We were married in Toronto and spent our one official honeymoon night (yes, one whole night!) in Stratford where I had proposed a year earlier in the Shakespeare Country Garden after we had seen Shakespeare's Midsummer Night's Dream: not that the play had spurred my proposal, for I had pretty well decided on the timing, and the garden seemed a romantic spot.

My heart was pounding, but I'm not sure why. It wasn't as though marrying this girl frightened me in any way or that I expected her to refuse. Nevertheless, it's a once in a lifetime occurrence, and one wants it to go well. Poor Cuppa thought that I was about to tell her that I had decided to leave her for a year or longer whilst I ventured to New Zealand. I had distant relatives there, and they had sent calendars and photo magazines over the years, and I had always thought that it would be a wonderful place to visit, long before Lord of the Rings may have increased its popularity as a destination. I still do think that it would be a grand place to experience, but I have no real hopes of ever getting there, and that's okay too. Some dreams pass or at least seem less important as time creeps forward.

In an poor and awkward segue, I do want to connect the old part of our story to a more recent one by referring to another trip, our holiday to the west coast last year around this time. We were walking around English Bay in Vancouver when I began to consider which of our vacations had been the greatest highlight. Was it The Rockies, The East Coast, Arizona? Cuppa was somewhat in front of me at the time, and I recall realizing that it was not a vacation that was the highlight of my life but that the wife of my youth and middle age and dawning old age was .... and is.

Foto Friday

I don't know that I've ever quite clearly explained our babysitting gig, a labour of love that will go on for months or years. Right now, we're committed for the remainder of this year, and we'll reassess then. So far, it's going well despite illnesses on everybody's part. While I have been recovering well for over a week, Cuppa is still under it, so I have been doing more hands-on baby care. Hence, for the second day in a row, we had a onesie incident.


On a typical day, Cuppa and I will get up at six o'clock and head over to the kids' house shortly thereafter. We both port our laptops every day. It may seem silly because there are computers in the house, but it's nice to have access to your own, and that's what notebook computers are all about anyway. The thing is The Bonnie Wee One often wants to be involved. She likes to look at pictures and videos of herself, and I have also found some cute YouTube clips for her such as a hippo singing The Lion Sleeps tonight.


Even setting the machine up can be problematic. Every morning I crawl under the able to hook up the power. Yesterday, she crawled under there with me, and it took awhile before she would let me out again. Needles to say, both Cuppa and I find it hard to get a lot done while we're on the job. We might start out to do something, but the kid may have other ideas.


Yesterday, we went for a little drive and ended up at a park where we stopped to feed Nikki Dee a little lunch.


Although you can't see them in these photos, the black flies have come out to play, so we didn't stay too long. But here are two closer shots of the kid having lunch.



And here's the view from the other direction. The park is on the Mississippi River in Eastern Ontario (not the Mighty Mississippi — just the little, unmighty one).



On a normal day, we'll cook supper for us and the kids, so we sometimes don't leave until after seven o'clock. It makes for a long day, but it's a good and worthwhile thing for us to be doing.

Time to get back on the job. Cuppa has been occupying the child while I wrote this blog, and it's my turn to shoulder some of the workload.

Ain't it Grand?

Grand Auntie visited on the weekend; she and Grandma took The Bonnie Wee One for a little walk.

Poor Grampa

Hi, It's Nikki Dee here, and the way that my grampa dressed me this morning cracks me up.



The old guy didn't realize that he was putting a onesie on me until he pulled my jeans up. By then he was too flummoxed to be bothered fixing his mistake. Grampa hates onesies, but I have no idea why.

Anyhoo, for his sins I made him work very hard holding onto me while I spent some more quality time on the table.

Up and Down

This was the kid climbing up and down her little picnic table the other day. She had been doing this for some minutes before we started the video. I kept trying to make sure she didn't fall off the other side. BTW she's wearing my hat. Cute, eh?

Changing Times

For not the first time I felt badly this weekend when I walked into the grocery store. It was a largely due to the changing times.

The Sea Cadets had their tins out and were collecting donations from the store patrons. I was unable to help because I seldom carry cash — not in coinage anyhow. In Canada, if you don't have coins, by default and definition, you are not carrying any denomination less than five dollars. And that's too much to toss into an unexpected charity collect — for me anyway.

It's due to technology in my case because all I need to buy groceries is my cash (or debit) card, so I seldom carry coins. The result is that some charities, those who are stuck in old paradigms, lose out. On the other hand, I am fairly frequently asked if I'd like to donate a buck or two for this cause or that at a checkout. I seldom, if ever, refuse because it just gets added to my grocery or gas or whatever total, and my pocket book doesn't even seem to notice. Those charities win out in the new era of technology and cashlessness.

In another example, just recently, I had an email request to sponsor my nephew and nieces to participate in some sort of athon for the Canadian Cancer Society. The oddity is that they're in Korea. They're raising money way over there for the Cancer Society over here. Not only that, but all I had to do was to click a link in the email to take me to a page that made sponsoring and contributing easy. When I had pledged my donation, almost immediately, I was sent an official and printable income tax receipt by email. It was all done easily and painlessly.

But I still feel a little badly when I am unable to contribute to the kiddies by the doors of the grocery store. I used to be one of them after all.

Once Seems Not to be Enough

Twice in the past two weeks, I have used pot holders to carefully removed a covered dish from a hot.

Twice, I have put the pot holders down.

Twice, Cuppa has asked if the dish is hot enough or if it needs to go back in.

Twice, I have picked up the lid ... with bare hand.

Twice!

Speaking of Birds ...

Just yesterday, I said that I had only ever see robins hurtle themselves repeatedly into windows, and I stand by that statement. However, putting it in print like that reminded me of another bird that flew into a window and into our lives.

I was sitting in our family room maybe fifteen years ago when I seemed to partly hear and partly glimpse a tiny thud into our patio doors. I know that you can't actually see a thud, but something registered in my vision and about the time I heard some sort of splat against the glass. In a few seconds it dawned on me that it must have been a bird, and I lumbered out back to check on it. And it was indeed a tiny bird who seemed relatively unafraid of me, for he stayed near when the other birds (who had been trying to pick on the poor exotic creature) vamoosed.

When I described the incident and the bird to my colleague, Dave, the next day, he identified it as a zebra finch. He went on to tell me that it was a pet bird, a bird normally kept indoors in a cage. As it turned out, he was quite correct in that but most incorrect when he also informed me that these birds have a beautiful song. You see, led by Cuppa we captured the bird that day and kept him for three years, but in order to prevent the narrative from getting too long, I'll forego describing the capture for now.

We called him Beaker because zebra finches have a colourful and distinct beak. We later also called him Beeper because that was the only sound he ever made. If zebra finches can sing beautiful melodies as Dave claimed, we sure didn't hear any in the three years that he lived with us. All we heard was a lot of beeping.

The beeping didn't just come from Beaker but also Squeaker, the avian friend that we soon purchased for The Beaks. They were cute birds. We called them the Beepin Buddies and/or Brothers of the Beak and/or Friends of the Feather.

Squeaker died after about two years with us, and shortly thereafter we discovered that Beaker was a girl because we found an egg in the cage. Imagine that! After two years together, a bird near death impregnated his friend. They say that people's evolutionary impetus around death (the death of others, of course — I assume) is to have sex (ie death is at hand, make babies), and maybe it is so with birds as well.

Regardless of whether that is so or not, Beaker stayed with us for another year after Squeaker's departure, but we took her to my mothers' for her to mind once when we were away. Mom put the cage outside on a fine summer day, and when she came out, the cage had been tipped over and Beaker was hopping around. Mom lunged for Beaker who flew off in startled fear, and we never saw her again.

No doubt that's how we found Beaker in the first place, or rather how she found us. She left her previous house as a result of a similar accident, stayed with us for three years, and then was lost.
I felt badly, for this little bird was ill equipped for life in the wild, and I really doubt that she would have been lucky enough to be rescued again. I hope that she had three good years with us and that it wasn't too hard for her in the end.

I still feel bad when I think upon it. She was a cute little being who deserved better.

Inspiration

Third post of the day, but I need to introduce some of you to Pam at Mind Trips. This woman is an inspiration. I am tempted to say that she suffers from ALS, but that wouldn't be correct, for her life is about joy, not suffering. Somehow, this talented woman still finds a way to do wonderful Photoshop work, and she writes great poetry too, like the one in today's post. Pam doesn't post often, but if she's not on your list, I think you owe it to yourself to read today's post if nothing else: an inspiring post by an inspiring woman.

Little Treats

Since this babysitting gig began, one of my morning rituals has been to take the Bonnie Wee One for a morning walk where I walk and she rides. No matter how whiny she might be before our jaunt, she always settles down with delight and anticipation as soon as we set her in her little push-car thingie.

For the past two mornings, I have picked her two daffodils and have been quite surprised that she clutches them for the whole walk and into the house where Cuppa took this picture.



We don't have to walk far to see this glorious sight because it's right on Thesha's front lawn. This bush is not a beautiful sight for most of the year, but, for a week or two in spring, it is an absolute eye feast. When I go close I see it being swarmed by many busy little bees.

A baby clutching dandelions and beautiful pink flowers: what a treat! Life can be great.

Bird Brain

For the second morning in a row, I have witnessed a bird brain in action. As I sat in the living room gazing out of the window wondering what happened to the sleep that I had been enjoying so much before I was so rudely awakened, I saw this robin being very silly way across the street. S/he would sit on the railing and fly into the window (follow the path of the red arrow in the photo). Again ... and again ... and ... so on ...

This used to happen to us back in Sarnia too. There was a demented robin who would fly himself into our kitchen window, hour and hour, day after day. Cuppa took to hanging tin foil pie plates and other miscellany, and those items or time caused the silly bird to turn to other pursuits.

It's always robins, never any other birds in my experience. I've had a few budgies in my younger days, and they always seemed to possess a certain intelligence. And we surmise that parrots possess some smarts because they can talk a blue streak.

You've heard the old saying, "I must have been around the corner when the looks (or talents or whatever) were passed out," but methinks that the original robin was around more than a dozen corners when bird brains were being distributed.

Grampa's Bond

A few months ago, I posted a few blogs about Grampa. That spurred me into doing a bit of genealogical research (a bit, I said) on other ancestral lines too. I made some notes at the time but haven't gotten around to doing anything with them except for a brief post about my grandmother's family all being from Kent, England.

At the time, I thought I was done with my memories of grampa, and I suppose that I still am, but one other item has recently come to mind: the $500 bond that he willed to me.

Five hundred dollars was quite a lot of money back in the late fifties. I suppose if cashed, it could have provided either rent or food for about six months and may have purchased one-quarter of a new automobile. I'll leave it up to reader to figure out what sort of equivalent amount that might be in your present situation.

It was a church bond for their building fund, but it came due a year or two later, and Mom thought we should turn it into another bond in our new, little, neighbourhood church. They met in a school, and Mom thought they needed a building and that my inheritance would spur them on — as if! As it turned out, they didn't quite get it but saw it as a gift, so it was goodbye to these funds. I didn't mind that much; I hadn't used it, and I was happy being a kid — so whatever — easy come, easy go. However, my mother, whose brainwave this had been felt an obligation to me and eventually saved $500 to replace what was lost. I think I spent it in our first year of marriage in 1969.

However nice the money was, it was the fact that Grampa remembered me that came to mean a lot to me. No other grandparent did the same, nor did my only uncle of whom I was very fond. Even my father left me no remembrance except to pass his millions (lol) to me if my mother had predeceased him, which she didn't. Although I never carried a huge sense of loss over not being remembered by these people, I was also someone disappointed at being overlooked. It wasn't a windfall that I was looking for, but an acknowledgment of some sort would have been nice.

However, now that I am the one who requires a will, it's easy for me to understand how it works. It's easier to leave it all to the spouse and trust him or her to pass appropriate remembrances along because you really don't know what the financial situation will be when it's your turn to shuffle the mortal coil. Situations change, grandkids are born, and new partnerships formed, and one simply wants to have a will that works for the long haul because they're too pricey to change incessantly.

Nevertheless, I have always been pleased that Grampa found a way to remember me the way that he did.

Silent Sunday

Quirks? Me?

I have posted several odd things memes in the past, but I have been tagged by Amanda to describe six unspectacular quirks. That's hard for someone who is spectacular in almost every way, but I'll try. (said with humour doncha know)

I sometimes eat breakfast standing up. I really don't have to because I'm seldom in a rush in the morning anymore. But why not stand after being prone all night? It's not like I'm worn out yet.

I may sleep in three different beds/chairs in one night. Well, I may not actually sleep in all of them, but I might very well try.

I'm a finger-licker: my own fingers, I mean. If they feel dry, I find myself quickly passing my finger tips over my lips. I think I started this when I was teaching and was often handing out paper and trying to separate sheets. I now apply hand lotion frequently in order to fight the dry feeling that leads to licking. It's not a terribly healthy habit, eh?

I almost always wears socks during the day, even on a hot day when my feet are shod with sandals.

I am addicted to Diet Coke. I follow my morning coffee with DC. I follow most things with DC. I must address this quirk someday. I have stopped, albeit briefly, a few times, but I always start again because I figure of all the bad habits that one could have this one ain't so very terrible.

I often say words backwards. Sometimes I find myself saying some of these backwards words without remembering (at first) what they mean. I do this backwards thingie much less than I used to. I must be getting old. D'ya think?

I don't usually pass these tags along, but I offer it freely to any takers.

Incongruity

I didn't have my camera or I would surely have stopped to take a picture, but I saw a sign with the following message yesterday.

Hiring Now
Volunteer Firefighters

---

Meanwhile, yesterday was a tough one with the little one. Whether she was teething or not, I can't say for positive, but she seems to be and was very very whiny let me tell you. On top of that, the old guy was experiencing yet another relapse day, so it was difficult for all. But we made it through. So far, today is not as problematic, but we are not quite our healthiest and sunniest selves either — neither the babes nor the grand.

Taken In

While it may not be easy to fool Mother Nature, it's pretty well a snap to fool Grampa AC. I took that picture last week while we were out walking. Oh, I thought it was too early for tulips never mind Irises, but there they were so, I stopped questioning. I was so taken with the complementary colours that I thought I must be looking at the work of a master gardener, and who was I to question a master. Even when I posted the picture, there was something that didn't compute. It was as if I could see an odd texture to the leaves, but I reasoned that it was simply an oddity of the photo. It took Cuppa to perceive that the flowers were silk or some kind of fake.

So, I confess to being taken in even though I saw more than one warning sign and should have been able to catch hold of the truth myself. But the arrangement and the context — spring flowers outdoors in spring — were enough to thwart my supposed powers of discernment.

No Grampa Nature, I.