It’s pretty bad when all I can find to offer are a couple of photographs with the challenge
Where’s the aeroplane?
It’s actually not that hard to spot.
The sky was lovely, that night. I even braved the mosquitoes.
It’s been a bit glum, ever since… me too.
Try as I might to avoid the news, you just can’t bury your head. To do that would be to turn a blind eye to too many dreadful things.
There is nothing I can do to help, but I don’t want anyone to be able to say I didn’t care.
Perhaps my upcoming appointment with a new psychologist is what I actually need.
Maybe he will be able to explain to me why I shouldn’t carry around so much “survivor’s guilt”.
That is what I am sure it is.
Completely useless, of course.
But it eats a hole in my gut.
The milkweed is drying up, but this spider is still hanging out hoping to catch a morsel or two.
Every day I say “good morning Mr Spider”, and I swear he acknowledges me.
“Oh God, her again! Scaring off my breakfast!”
How this chap ended up on my window screen, I can’t think. I didn’t know they even existed here.
A Stick insect!
Quite small and it seems a little bemused.
Like “why am I here?”
Perhaps I should offer it some of these:
On the other hand…I think I’ll leave it to Nature.
When we found the broken butterfly, I so wanted to repair it’s wings, but I haven’t the dexterity anymore and I was afraid I’d only make things worse:(
A broken butterfly, like an injured bird, so poignant.
My resolve is to only attempt to fix things I can:
Boxing Tinkerbelle’s ears, when she torments Sophia:
As if that makes the slightest bit of difference!
No, I didn’t box her ears. See that look? Insolence! Defiance! I have enough scars from cats that loved me! I sent our wicked Miss off downstairs to talk to Grant.
She’ll probably con a treat off him.