Tag Archives: dragons


Let us suppose that you are in your workshop, working on a balloon-enhanced pedal-powered flying machine.

Let us suppose that your brother barrels out of your house in a whirlwind of coats, scarves, early-afternoon bourbons and goggles. And let us suppose that as he does this, your brother shouts “Are you aware that there are wastrels in your front yard?”.

What could he mean? There are a few choices.

Wastrel is a noun that means a vagabond, idler, waif and it also means refuse, waste as well as one who expends resources foolishly and self-indulgently; a spendthrift.  It originated in the late 1500s and stems from the word waste plus the pejorative rel.

So what did Mordecai mean? Was the front garden awash with garbage? A gaggle of orphaned tykes? Or a profligate relation?

Upon inspection, the front yard was full of Canadian geese yelling at the dragons. Who were yelling back. I’m surprised my neighbors didn’t complain, but let’s be honest – this is the least offensive thing that’s happened in my front garden in a good while.

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Things Got Presidential in the Garden

This morning I woke early and slightly blue, perhaps feeling a bit let down from the current season of Downton Abbey ending. I brewed myself a strong cup of coffee and stepped into the garden to soak in some February sunshine and crisp air.

Instead of the cleansing solitude I had hoped for, I stepped into a tableau that included Bubo wearing a Lincoln-esque hat, the dragons chopping down a “cherry tree” ( a broom handle anchored into the ground and covered in spray-painted grapes) and the yeti warbling an off-key yet catchy tune. It’s an original song titled “John Adams Is My Everything”.

I stood silently, sipping my coffee, curious to see what would come next.

When Bubo rolled out the Gettysburg Address, the Declaration of Independence, and James Madison’s Proclamation on the occupation of West Florida, though, I left.

Happy Presidents Day, my dears.

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Springanese Dragon

Oh, my dears. It’s been a long week. And it is Friday night. The sky is dark, the moon is traveling past the stars, and much of the world is readying for bed. Curl up and listen to the tales I weave, until your eyes grow heavy and you slip into slumber, ready for the Dream Maker.

Magic has always fascinated mankind; for centuries we have worshiped it, hunted it and sought to control it. Dragons, being unpredictable creatures possessing magic, were too dangerous to share the earth with. So mankind hunted them to extinction. Or did we?

Dragons are clever, my dears, more so than our ancestors gave them credit for. And they waited, hidden away while man pranced about, thinking the earth emptied of the beasts. But now, in an age where technology and steel holds sway, a new breed of dragon has begun to emerge. The magic has found a new shell in which to reside.

Clamoring up out of the junk yards, thrift stores, and recycling bins comes this new dragon. Infused with the dreams, the magic, and the imagination of mankind these sinuous new creations embody the legends of their ancestors. Perhaps inspired by tales of companions and familiars, these drakes have appeared in a much more manageable size.

Like so many creatures, these dragons were never a danger to man, and our passionate attempt to exterminate them was based on misinformation and ignorant fear. Thankfully, these Springanese Dragons have forgiven our ancestors’ indiscretions, and enjoy the company of man with a fervor normally reserved for domesticated dogs.

Never judge a book by its cover, you know. That is only part of the story.

Sleep tight, my pets. Dream deep.


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Relatively Candied

I believe I am completely recovered from the holidays – amazing how we look forward to the festive time with family until Day Two of the festivities and then we look forward to getting back to “normal” life – even if that normal life makes us crazy.

Nothing makes one crazy like family.

My family is crazy, and thus craziness is relative.

The Winter Solstice trees have been disposed of (converted to firewood) and most of the lights have been put away (Bubo likes to keep some around her nest). Mordecai and Charles are on a pilgrimage to Antigua and my house is finally my own.

As we all know, my own means just yours truly, a great horned owl, a pygmy yeti, a passel of dragons, various specimens, mobile gargoyles, some Night Story Birds, a handful of Slate Wing Fighting Birds, and whatever comes in through the subterranean canal.

Last night it was a very tiny woman, singing sea shanties and selling cookbooks printed on handmade paper. She had hair the color of yellow split peas and smelled of ham.

Interestingly enough, the first recipe in the cookbook I purchased was a Swedish ham and split pea stew. (With Silas gone and his amazing collection of recipes, one must come up with new culinary options.)

I already attempted the candied ginger. The parlor smells of singed hair and rancid citrus, so perhaps desserts are not my forte.

The stew is in the slow cooker and all I need is some delicious fresh bread.

Yes, this is the time I wish Great Aunt Una lived closer – she bakes a mean bread.

She also makes bread turn mean around 2 am, so anything un-eaten on the counter might bite you come morning. That is the time I do not miss Great Aunt Una.


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