Just little

A formerly landscaped area has gone to seed, and the results aren't at all bad.  Here's some scarlet pimpernel, although you can call it Anagallis arvensis, you can call it Bird's Eye, you can call it Red Chickweed, Red Pimpernel, Shepherd's Clock, Shepherd's Weather Glass, or even Wink-a-peep.

The problem with this is that it's not good for rabbits.  (Always ask "Is it good for the rabbits or is it bad for the rabbits?"

Easy Like Sunday, print edition

Thoughts while scrolling:  on Twitter, I follow This Day in 1923, the work of a man who is an editor at the Wall Street Journal.  Here's one of his tweets from this morning.

I recognized Cobb in the right photo. (Tangent:  that "Can't yank" billboard was also in the background of a scene from Buster Keaton's "The Cameraman", which was shot in The Yankee Stadium, as I heard it called in radio broadcasts from decades ago.  Like the Pentagon was called the Pentagon Building in the WWII newscasts now on YouTube.  But I digress.)

The man on the left doesn't look like Cobb, and is swinging right-handed.  Baseball bugs, cranks, and yanigans like me know Ty Cobb batted lefty.  A quick visit to baseball-reference.com and the page devoted to the 1923 Detroit Tigers followed.  My answer:  Harry Heilmann, who hit .403 that season and is also a member of the Baseball Hall of Fame.   

Getty Images confirms my guess.

Another source of the obscure word above.

 

Seen along the way

Roadside color from today's drive to and from Tabby's Place.

 

Ceci n'est pas une perceuse

Not original, and I figured it wasn't when I thought of it this morning.  But it was fun.
Better versions are here and here.

The Girl Is Crying In Her Latte (or something like that)

I'd like to hear "The squirrel is flying, and it's Rocky."

Buggin' out

Lying on my back in the solarium of Suite F with Ponce on my tummy, I felt something fall inside my shirt.  I reached in and got a finger on it, but only pushed it deeper.  It didn't bite or sting, so I stayed put until Ponce got up and walked away.  Then I went into a bathroom and took off my shirt, and this fellow fell on the floor.  

I got it to crawl onto a wand toy with the felt wrapped around the handle, and took it back to the Suite F solarium.  The last I saw of it, it was on one of the screen supports.

Next, to hit Publish, then Google Image search.

The answer:  Oriental beetle, related to the Japanese beetle, and just as unwelcome in New Jersey.
 

An unexpected happy ending

Not going to Write this story.  Just notes.  I could Write it, but it wouldn't be good.

Wednesday, May 31.  Suppertime.  A noise from the front of the house.  Sounded like something hitting the glass of the storm door.  Went to check, hoping to be wrong.  Found a small brown bird, maybe a young finch, lying on its side motionless on the sidewalk.  

Happened days earlier with a young robin, but the robin was on its feet and moving.  Expected that bird to fly away after it got over the impact.  Not this one.  

Back to the table, but back to the front door minutes later.  Bird hadn't moved.

Talked about it with PG.  Got a paper towel, intending to place the bird on the landscaped side of the house, where nature would take its course.

Unlocked storm door, and at that noise, the bird suddenly got to its feet, but didn't fly away.  It stayed in that position through one or two more follow-up checks.  Finally, near sunset, one last check, and the bird was no longer there.