Fallen

Who doesn't love fall?



The roses in the spring were lovely but the rosehips are fabulous.



True, the garden is lying in the gutter with it's stockings torn and it's skirt over it's head,

but it's easier to get at it's goodies. (ahem)



The monarchs are fueling up for their migration down to Mexico,



And the box elder beetles are cannibalizing their weak and their dead



to gather strength and numbers



for their annual assault on my house.



Marching over my floors and my walls.



Mad-kitty initially tried to hunt them down but now ignores them as they apparently neither taste good nor provide good sport. Unlike the moths, who satisfy both urges. Frequently she can be found cleaning moth scales off of her pus. Yesterday, for a change, she decided to try slug, but found the texture wanting and had to take multiple breaks to clean the slug snot off her paws. She didn't want to give up, though, so tried bringing the slug into the house for further keeping, perhaps thinking that time would tenderize it, but Charles and I quickly vetoed this little plan and flung the slug from the balcony onto the ground below where some bird will reap the windfall.

Should you come to visit, please accept this advice: Don't kiss the kitty. She's a disgusting little thing.

Molly would like you to know that she'd never eat a slug and is safe to play frisbee with. As long as you don't look too hard at the frisbee.