Blog updates

How nice of Melissa to encourage me! I was thinking the other day that maybe I should strive for shorter posts. I'm talking too much. That got me to wondering why I'm doing that. I remember that when my parents got older and were living alone they were very noticably more talkative when I called them or saw them. My Dad especially. He wanted to do no listening at all. If you said more than a few words he would interrupt, obviously annoyed that he was no longer in control of the dialogue. He told me several times that his best friend had repeatedly called him on this. Then my Dad would laugh indulgently like this was just a little oddity about his friend. How odd that I should admire Emily D. and then talk too much. The thing about her was that she trimmed away every unnecessary word. But a harmless thing, to chatter away on your blog. Isn't it? Ski trail conditions are bad again. Warm dripping weather followed by a return to winter has our whole world covered with ice. Husband goes out much more than I do and falls down sometimes. Even Bear slips around. I borrow my husband's ice shoes to put over my boots and once a day teeter out to feed the birds. If we would get just a few inches of new snow to soften the ice, it might be possible to ski again. I don't know whether to wish for it or not. Yesterday I put in my seed orders. My mind is turning in that direction. I went to Knutson's Store in Roosevelt the other day. The elder Mr. Knutson was there. He and his wife ran the store when we first moved here. Several years ago his son and daughter-in-law moved here from Kansas and took it over so that the parents could retire. So he is not sitting at the desk just beyond the dairy case as often as he once was. But he is sometimes, and he was there the day I last went. He said he might as well go home because he wasn't doing anything but then again he wouldn't be doing anything at home either. He said he likes to feed and watch the birds, but not all day. He doesn't like being retired very much. Then we compared notes on the birds we had coming to our feeders. I respect Mr. Knutson's opinions. He's lived here a long time. He's knows the people, the area, the animals, where to find blueberries, etc. So I think that he is probably right when he tells me that I'm not seeing a sharpshinned hawk patrolling my feeders. He's seeing a merlin and I probably am too. Actually that's more exciting. I think they are a rarer bird. The store has stuffed animals all along its upper walls. My husband tells me everytime I'm going to the store to look at the stuffed marten. We're also trying the identify the animal that's been killing our poultry. We've had a glimpse of it several times. I forgot to look at the stuffed animals in the store just like I always do. Whatever it is, it doesn't have far to go to wipe us out. We're down to one skinny little hen. Sometimes Bear catches her and drags her around the yard by one wing. My husband wonders if she's trying to "help" the chicken in some way. Isn't that sweet? That man is such an optimist.How come this
doesn't publish?