Hot days, cool kitty

Lost in translation?

I've been reading Temple Grandin's "Animals in Translation" and have been discovering many interesting things about autism and about animals. However, I believe the relationship demonstrated below needs no explanation beyond that which is already obvious to the uneducated observer.

"Whatchoo lookin' at?"

Ozzie and the cistus x corbariensis

     Last Sunday I finally really noticed that one of the bushes in the back yard had an awful lot of dead branches. I knew it did, because Mum and I had made a start on clearing them out in March, but I had sort of developed a blind spot about it as all the spring blossoms got going. This bush, which grows as a mass of tangled stems, normally has some pretty light pink blossoms that open into little white flowers.  Seen from the geek's study, the flowers seem to float on a pleasant light green backdrop. Except I was sitting in the geek's study on Sunday, procrastinating, when my unfocused gaze out the window suddenly focused on all the rusty bits that were where the pretty floating blossoms should have been.

     I am telling you all this because the next thing I did was rush out the door and grab the clippers, hacksaw, and bypass chopper thingey, and attack... without taking the requisite "before" pic. Indeed, I realize now that I have avoided taking pictures of this nice bush for well over a year. One whole view in the jardin neglected by the camera for months and months, all for the want of a bit of pruning! 
     So all I have to show you are the "after" pictures. These document that I am indeed a procrastinatory pruning diva. And that Ozzie did a thorough inspection, and approves.

Finally, here it is, your moment of zen:

All hands on deck

Blue toes and cat