An inquisitive old fart with a camera
The Spinky-Faced Oriental Sandhound and I have walked a few times now with Syd and his five dogs on his private 197-acre reserve. Well, OK, it’s not actually his private reserve, but hey. Nobody else seems to particularly own it.
At this rest stop, one — Jordie, the alpha male — had temporarily abandoned his haram, searching, no doubt, for rabbits.
Leaving five dogs, pictured. Turns out the Spinky-face has found a kindred soul (Kiya, foreground).
A little late getting this posted. As usual, cacophony at midnight. The cat hid behind the couch; the puppy curled up under an end table.
Not sure what inspired them to get to work again, but they have.
Beach nice and clean again, even a liner in the “trash can.”
The street not as much, but still a major improvement. If there were any full-time residents living near this one, someone like me might take a shovel and finish the cleanup.
No, Uruguay is not tropical and mangoes don’t really grow here. Unless they do. We’ll see.
We returned from an afternoon in Punta del Este to find a new pile of sand (which, here, starts at a depth of 5 cm). I added the concrete top later to halt further work until proper permits were obtained.
The hole was surprisingly large, and the proud culprit was quick to demonstrate it. I thought he would start digging more. Instead, he disappeared underground before re-emerging.
The message seemed to be, See, human? This is how you get out of the heat.
And when you hunker down, no one can see you. Understand now, human?
What one word connects these two photos?
Well, other than to let you guess whose iPad that is, and who normally sits there….
I’ve spoken of our trash collection system before.
Last night, for the third time, our closest container was burned. Yeah, it makes some kind of great sense to collect trash in flammable containers.
Just as it makes sense to purchase for Uruguay trash containers from a country with absolutely no UV problem: Germany. Plastic doesn’t fare well here.
However, the irony—or synchronicity—in this current destruction is that my wife took a shovel yesterday to remove the body of a dead possum (comadreja) from the road, and threw it in that container.
So the little critter got a proper cremation.
Well, almost. From the attention our garbage-hound Gita gave today, apparently there are some Cajun tidbits still edible by her standards (shared by almost no other living thing besides ants and bacteria).
This is what happens when you stick the bottom of a head of bok choy / pak choi in dirt and let it go. It didn’t make another head, but we did harvest quite a few leaves before it bolted. The bees love those flowers. Next: collect seeds ….
Those are heads of lettuce either side of it, from seedlings courtesy of our friends Don and Jan.
I don’t know why I find this interesting.
In fact, I’m not sure I do.