Leaf Leaping

I will not talk politics. I will not talk politics. I will not talk politics. I hope everyone has done extensive homework. It's almost over! Happy election day!
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WHY do we have to rake leaves? I thought that the dead leaves protected the little grass, then nourishing it in the spring when the thaw begins? I really don't understand, but I've never had a "lawn" in the suburban sense, as a kid we had a "yard" I wouldn't classify it as a "lawn", & it's still a yard today. But I raked the back yard/lawn of this house anyway, 'cause then we get to JUMP in.


Maybe, if there's a layer of leaves, it's slick & rotten & nasty after all the snow starts melting? But still doesn't that dry up? making a natural mulch? I'll have to research this.
**edit**
After conferring with my local expert I learn that it's necessary to rake the leaves 'cause patchwork grass (read: laid sod, coastal, stay-green-so-the-neighborhood-looks-pretty) does NOT grow here naturally. So, to keep it alive--although dormant--'til next year, it must be raked.

Carved

Yesterday was Halloween, All Hallows Eve, Samhain...


We had breakfast, carved pumpkins, there was a Toddleator nap, and then to the Treat Street at The Children's Museum of Denver (unfortunately I forgot the camera). After chasing loot, exploring, & playing---though Fiona's favorite part was the mini-train ride---she gorged on candy as we navigated traffic bound for home. After a pit stop for burgers, I took Fiona to just a couple of houses to Trick or Treat. Finally at home, she was exhausted. The only way to tell that her battery had completely run down? Her compliant behavior. I didn't even have to ask her to remove the costume, she stripped to underpants to eat---resembling a superhero on break---with just her face painted mask and hair do, lounging about with chicken strips. Then upon "time for bed" call she toted her potty to her room (odd, but no complaints from me), stacked her 2 chosen books on her bed, promptly picked out pajamas and began the "getting cozy". I was just grateful that it was easy going, it's hard enough without the doorbell ringing every few moments with other costumed-kids. Last night was the first time Gary & I have every had trick-or-treaters at the door. Never saw hide or hair of ghouls or goblins in Hawaii. This marks our 6th Halloween together. :) So a few choice pics, and then off we go into November!

días del gato de los muertos

The unassuming cow-print cat has killed again.
About a week ago Porter-kitty caught the mouse that had been traveling from behind the fridge to under the dishwasher. It took a bit of time for him to figure out why I had moved his food dish to the kitchen. After coaxing him to sit in a chair, he drew a bead on mousy immediately as it appeared to sample some cat food. Once caught this particular mouse gave Porter a run for his money, Porter took him downstairs to toy with. But eventually, I'll now refer to it as Mouse1, escaped after being severely batted about.

Now comes the waiting. Our tireless feline stalked the kitchen for at least a day before sighting another mouse, as I now believe them to be different mice, Mouse2. While bathing Little Girl one evening last week, I heard a bang n' crash, Porter-hit-the-floor. When I was able to investigate, I saw Porter smash Mouse2 against foot of recliner chair, I do mean smash. When Mouse2 started bleeding out, a long carpet cleaning task flashed in my mind. I stopped the melee for a moment, asked Porter to move into the kitchen, where at least there is only laminate floor, picked up mouse by tail and lobbed toward the dishwasher. Porter then proceeded to do what cats do best with slightly inanimate objects, smeared it all over the floor, batted Mouse2 about, then promptly ate it up with a chew-CHOMP-CRUNCH!

Fiona watched a little, giggled at the spectacle of feline-death-play, but only at the entrance to the kitchen as I would not let her pad around the bespattered kitchen floor in her pajama-ed feet. I asked what she thought Ported was doing, she replied, "Playing!"
While doing laundry the other day, my multiple trips downstairs I noticed Bovine-Feline's excited state...then I spotted fat Mouse1 that he was hunting. A couple of hours later another trip downstairs I realized that Porter had been stalking the big chair in our bed room for most of the afternoon. Mouse1 must have claimed asylum under it. Porter was simply beside himself with kitty frustration. So, I helped. While I would never kill a mouse myself, I will provide a cat to "take care of" the mouse issue. That is after all the natural order. I lifted both the chair and the ottoman, Porter scrabbled about some, but no sign of Mouse1.
The saga continues....

Little Girl's famous words...

At the table, she held up her hand in askance for pause, squenched her eyes and said, "Ooh, my eyes g'tangled."

After my lengthy description of what we had to do one morning by way of errands, on our way down a large hill to the first chore of the day, "Rook, mommy, de errands, dehr running."

Gary's taught her, "Give me pound, dawg," commence with fist bump.

Little calls of "Here I Are!" throughout the day.

She named her toes, "Papa toe, Mama Toe, Granpa Toe, Gramma Toe, and Baby Toe."

Lately complimentary, "I rike-ah yoo-ah head. I rike-ah yoo-ah heearh."

She tries to kiss away Gary's head ache. (Why in the world would anyone not want to have kids, with little moments like that?? Little person decides that if only she gets enough kisses on your head then you'll feel better. )

Pumpkin Hunt

Pumpkins aren't that difficult to hunt. They actually sort of mill about in fields, yes, fields upon fields of pumpkins. Herds of the orange gourd* are offered for autumnal festivities, most specifically at Rock Creek Farm. Here's the odd thing, some of them are even free of their vine tethers and still they don't make a run for it. But then gourds aren't known for their speed or their intelligence. We came across a few that had the looks of escaping, it's hard to say though as they move only a bit faster than rocks.

I am in love with Rock Creek, I don't even know if they do more than pumpkins every year, though I suspect there is much more to their farming operation than Pumpkin Season. There are mazes, photo ops, baby animals to ogle (officially not for petting, though no one reprimanded us for it---how does one explain that baby animals within Little Girl's reach aren't for touching??), varieties of mini-gourds*, pumpkin products, and pumpkin honey from bees that pollinate the fields. Super-kewl. A small tip, wear proper boots, when cleaning little boots do not clap them together as to splatter field mud all over oneself---then again, a little dirt never hurt anyone!

* pumpkins aren't actually gourds, they're fruit, but I'm allowed some artistic leeway...besides, I really enjoy the word, "gourd", try it....it's fun to enunciate!