Begin Began Begun

There was an old man named Michael Finnegan,
He had whiskers on his chinnegan,
Along came the wind and blew them in again,
Poor old Michael Finnegan. Begin again!

There was an old man named Michael Finnegan,
He kicked up an awful dinnegan,
Because they said he must not sing again,
Poor old Michael Finnegan. Begin again!

There was an old man named Michael Finnegan,
He went fishing with a pinnegan,
Caught a fish and dropped it in again,
Poor old Michael Finnegan. Begin again!


This children's song has a lot to teach about blogging and gardening both.  


Circumstances change, a practice that was once easy is made more difficult, the gap between what should be and what is becomes stretched.  Nothing new under the sun there.  


Or here.


As is usual this time of year, I've kept an eye out on the hummingbird feeders.


Not to watch the birds when they feed, but to watch and see if there are indeed any birds actively feeding.

The two Special Ops Hummingbird Strike Force, the irritable guys who show up annually to resume staking out both a front and back feeder as their exclusive territory, seem to have moved on.  

No migrating stragglers have been spotted for at least 10 days in our little corner of the world.  


In fact, I've seen more butterflies this past week than I have hummingbirds.  Which is saying something.* So I took down our hummingbird feeders and put them in the dishwasher to get them clean for storage until they are needed again.  

[*This year, considering reports that GMO soybean planting has nearly eliminated milkweed thereby threatening the survival of Monarch Butterflies, along with the more obvious hardships caused by our drought and heat, we've seen very few butterflies.  Maybe one or two a day are working the Fall Gratitude Blooms along with a smattering of bees, but nothing like what we usually experience. ]

Move over feeder, it is the bird house gourd's turn.

So ends another S/Hummer season.  Pool floats are out of the water, a shovel leans against the house close to a garden bed that is past due for a thorough turning over.  The need for work continues even if the nature of the work has shifted gears.  


And, oh, yes, there is this one other shift of note.  I am back at the blog again.  Yup.  I suppose you can just call me Ms. Finnegan.