Stylin’ in the backyard

I’m just going to come right out and say it rather than beat around the bush.

Today I came home to this.




Yes, this is what you think it is. It’s a fishing rod with a birdfeeder attached at the end – and it’s the newest weapon in my husband’s ongoing war against the squirrel population in our backyard.

He has foiled them completely with the feeders that he strung on the wiring. See {this post} if you’re new here.

But the feeder that hangs from the house has been an ongoing issue. Sometimes I cannot believe how adept the little critters can be when it comes to getting the seed from the feeders. It doesn’t matter how slippery something is, they will keep at it until one of them figures it out.

And then they’re all over it.





This used to be a nice rod that my husband used mainly to surf fish. But it’s about 25 years old, and the cork on the handle is wearing and oh what the hey – let’s use it as a pole and attach the bird feeder to it.

I’ll tell you what . . . I secretly think it looks a heck of a lot better than the mop handle that was previously in its spot.

Don’t you?




George agrees. At least I think he does.

: : :

Another photography assignment over at Pioneer Woman’s site. This time it’s ‘Horses’, a subject near and dear to my heart. But a subject I haven’t photographed for nearly three years, since my husband stopped being able to work. He was in equestrian management all of his adult life, specifically in Thoroughbred horse breeding and we lived on horse farms since our early 20’s.

Here’s the link to the assignment: Photography Assignment: Horses

And, for what it’s worth, my first entry.



Taken in the paddock off our side yard in March 2008, I could usually go right up to the mares and foals as long as I was quiet.

Of course, the competition is crazy fierce on the Flickr group, as it always is in PW’s assignments. But I enjoy looking at the entries. And I’m especially looking forward to seeing all of them in this particular category.

Until tomorrow, my friends . . .