Buster T. Butthead punched his ticket — the one-way trip to the Great Porch in the Sky, where the slow truck made of meat rolls by every hour — just a couple days before his legacy saw daylight:
I just hope this litter turns out better than the last batch. I really hated it for them… three of them died of possible birth defects, one was completely blind, two were partially blind and/or deaf, one was “normal.” There’s eight of these… we thought there were nine, but I only see eight in the photo I took above. One of them has already gone walkabout, demonstrating the Houdini-like “quality” of its mom and managing somehow to get out of the pen entirely. Fortunately, I found it lying outside and returned it.
Since I didn't get a chance to post these earlier, have a couple of crepe myrtle pics too. This one is a big sturdy booger behind the house; it had no problem being used as one end of a woodpile. I don’t ever remember it blooming out like this before; it started at the top and worked its way down.
This is one that Mrs. Fetched and I put in a planter near the detached garage. It and the lemon balm are busily trying to choke out everything else. Mrs. Fetched hopes it will get taller and the branches will get out of the way; right now, you have to brush past it if you park the car next to it.
The Evil Twins and family are coming up for lunch… time to get started.