Gary, common yellowthroats are exceptionally pretty, aren't they? Even if they ARE common warblers, the male yellowthroat is so bright and colorful. I'm only used to seeing them along roadside ditches, but I'm sure they show up other places, too. But I think SPF would have noticed that mask...it is SO prominent. However, I also know that yellow is one of the more common colors on warblers, and getting a quick glimpse of one makes it tricky to figure out which one it is, especially if you aren't a hardcore birder. Poor SPF. We have totally confused her now. I'm tellin' ya...birdwatching ain't for sissies! Haha. Marcia (ps...just to make it more confusing, they get ya with names, too. The Common Yellowthroat is one warbler and the Yellow-throated Warbler is another. At least those two don't look much alike, thankfully. The Yellow-throated is black & white with a bright yellow patch on his throat, where the Common Yellowthroat is mostly yellow with a black mask. Getting MORE confused yet?)

I liked being an owner and the intense joy that my incredibly loyal following enjoyed from my hard work. I had many people who just stopping by my garden center could revisit the feelings they had when they walked in their grandmothers garden. Some came as a form of therapy. Others came at night when I advertised in advance about the opening of the Night Blooming Cereus. Still others loved the fragrances, oh how I loved finding new and aromatic plants. Hummingbirds loved my place for they knew dozens and dozens of tasty plants awaited them in all sorts of colors not just red. For some I was the home greenhouse they wanted but could enjoy none the less. The joy I felt in treating the poorest customer just like I did the customer who (literally) was a millionaire and founder of a NYSE listed company. Being in the greenhouse in the quiet of January and feeling warm and seeing beauty all around me. Working harder than I knew I could work and feeling pride and fulfillment. Sharing moments of excitement with a customer who for the first time saw an American Goldfinch or Red Breasted Nuthatch at a feeder I sold them with the correct food to attract them. Being well known in a 6 parish area(county for those of you not from Louisiana) for the fantastic diversity and quality of the plants I sold. I had the pleasure of dining with the late J.C. Raulston of North Carolina. Knowing the late Dr. John Griffin of Louisiana Tech University, a man who made you feel like the most important person in the world,at least to him, every time you visited with him. It was about me but it was also about connecting with all kinds of people.I have been out of the business as an owner for 7 years and I miss the people the most.

Many birds are amazing mimics; I remember several Starlings back in the 1970s that used to sit on a wire outside my apartment window in Louisville and perfectly mimic the crashing, squeaking sounds of the cars that bounced across the pot-hole filled parking lot. Many other birds "speak" that are generally not noticed. Our male Pekin duck, "Pillow," talked so clearly one of my kids' playmates ran home and told her mom my duck was possessed. Our geese also spoke our names clearly and mimicked the dogs barking so perfectly I had to look at the dogs to make sure. My hand-raised canary used to call me "Mom" as did most of my hand-raised baby parrots and finches. The adult birds-parrots, canaries, finches alike-called me "Rachel" but only if they needed something. I tried to make sure all feeders and sippers were full to make sure nobody had to call my name for assistance. I no longer raise exotic birds but even now if a wild bird feeder is low, birds tap on the window, yell against the glass to make it amplify through the house, come to my car window to tell me about it, or even follow me up the mnt behind the house chirping in my face. But everything communicates even if it can't "talk"; our frog splashes the side of the tank-HARD, when he wants another earthworm. The snake comes out and follows us up and down the side of the tank when he wants mice or his tank sprayed down. The mule stands in the corner by the gate and brays when he wants me to tether him out to graze. Whistle, the retired racking horse, also does so, but whinnies.

"Icicle injuries are NOT an urban myth." The urban myth to which I was referring was the one about the icicle falling off whatever and impaling the victim like a shish kebab, as opposed to just hitting them. Getting thunked by anything falling from significant height, from a piece of ice to a can of Pepsi, can certainly injure someone, that's pretty much a "duh" as long as gravity exists. I've been clonked by plenty of ice chunks myself (up to softball size), getting very nasty bruises and a possible collarbone fracture once, which is why I make sure to keep the icicles knocked off the roof over the stairs since that's the one place I can control, and I stay well away from places where falling ice would be expected. It becomes second nature. "If you have a little to medium dog that is let out to use the backyard on it's own, you need to shovel pathways for it if you get a major snowfall." We have a medium-sized dog and we make a point to shovel the deck stairs (to keep them from getting icy) that access the back yard and an area on the ground for a doggy restroom. Learned that several years ago after he went out to eliminate in a very snowy yard and came back in with his underside caked with yellow snow. The friends we begged to help clear snow a couple of months ago thought we were insane to be shoveling out a toilet area for a dog that likes the snow, but he's just not smart enough to stomp down an area so that everything "falls" like it's supposed to, KWIM?