Tag Archives: rain

Cuppa Moss

Last night’s spurt of rain caused an odd silver moss to grow on the south side of the house. It feels like chenille, smells like earl grey.

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Rain Day Movie

Well this is quite the rainy day, isn’t it?

I’m mildly regretting letting Bubo turn the reading/jellyfish room into her movie theatre.

Today she’s holding a viewing of Manfish starring Lon Chaney.

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Rain Dance

Yesterday’s heat has turned into rain this morning. I don’t mind, I like the rain. While in the kitchen making my morning coffee, I heard giggling mixed in with the sound of rain drops hitting the roof.

Who do you think was out in the garden, dancing like there was nothing else? Why, my lovely specimen Beatrix, of course. I think I shall join her in a precipitation tango. It’s lovely to dance in the rain.

Bubo is having a movie day, watching all sorts of old thrillers from the 1930s and 1940s. She just finished The Girl Who Dared. I prefer it when she watches those to when she watches the old creature features. Her delight with those old monster movies usually parlays into some sort of mischief.

And Bubo mischief is not to be trifled with.

Go have a dance in the rain, my dears.

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Uliginous

I myself prefer this sort of weather – the weather other people consider dreary, depressing and morose.

Today is our 3rd day of rain in Brooklyn and it’s turned my garden – and anywhere not covered in concrete – quite uliginous.

Uliginous, defined as muddy, oozy, slimy and as growing in a swamp or muddy place, originates from the Latin ūlīginōsus – full of moisture. It’s the equivalent of ūlīgin-  (stem of ūlīgō ) moisture + -ōsus -ous.

Often when it rains this much, my old wooden house feels very uliginous; the wood seems to soak up all the moisture and fairly pulsates with swampy energy. The laboratory, with all my specimens, seems to ooze with odd smells and slime. Which, quite frankly, is how that section of my laboratory should feel.

I’ve had to keep a pair of Wellingtons in the basement – the catacombs are thick and gelatinous and I don’t like to track muck through the house. With all the odd creatures here, it’s important to be able to track whose footsteps are whose.

I was able to track one unfortunate visitor this morning; I had managed to recreate a nearly perfect clone of an Umtagati Vole from the bones of one I’d collected in South Africa. I’d let it run loose in the house, the better for it to hone it’s spells, forgetting that Bubo hates hunting in a downpour.

With my morning tea in hand, I followed the Umtagati’s tiny blue footprints to the edge of the parapet stairs, which is where Bubo caught it, more content to hunt within the house where it’s drier and easier. I questioned her rather crossly – rodent clones are the hardest – and she played coy. But there are tell tale signs when one ingests Umtagati Voles and Bubo could not hide them. Her eyes have a pale blue tint and she smells suspiciously of cherry soda. A wizard she is not; merely a great horned owl caught with her talon in the Umtagati jar, as it were.

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