they don't want to spray
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Dawn is a delicious time to count one’s blessings.
Before placing her feet on the floor, Calliope flexed her fingers, toes, and healing quadricep. A little tight maybe… but no pain.
On the morning patrol, Thalia wrinkled her nose at a skunk-scented breeze. A-waaaaaaaaake! The skunks are up? It’s spring. Sprrrrrrrrrr-ing!
Nia pulled a gallon zip-bag from the chest freezer. Let us enjoy this preserved bounty of berries — before Mother Nature treats us to fresh and warm from the cane once more — waste not, want not.
Ruminating on negative thoughts is just like kicking a skunk…
What do you expect?
~ Tara Speak
they don't want to spray
I don't think that I would want to get close enough to a skunk, let alone kick one :)
Ha-ha-ha! Mirthful indeed. A friend of Eastern European ancestors shared a saying from the “old country”. If you find a fecal bolus it is best not to kick it.” Not unlike skunks. 🤔 Chaucer or Shakespeare wrote “...enshrined in a fecal bolus” to make light of some triviality.
I digress...
I read and enjoyed the article you linked to skunk myths. I think I would bust a gasket (mine) if I watched a skunk performing its warning dance! “You can dance if you want to”, a lyric from “Safety Dance.” 😬
Hurrah for healing quads! Up on nimble feet, what fate awaits the berries? Strawberries picked from your go-to farm perhaps? With or without whipped cream? (Is the sale of whipped cream in canisters regulated by your grocers? Huffing dangers and deaths have precipitated this action in some locations. Mostly aimed at youth. Ironic that nitrous oxide is called “laughing gas” when abuse can lead to death. 🤷🏽)
Beware of skunks, whip your own whipped cream (to avoid excess laughter while in the kitchen), and celebrate this and every day!