The Ruby Rose Report: Ruby Goes to War Against Facebook.

 

The next day I got an email from Facebook that they removed the post because it was an attempt by me to link something to try and get links.
Well, duh!

I appealed the decision te

lling them I wrote the blog and my friends liked reading it.
It was immediately denied.

The only way to get my appeal heard was to go to the Facebook offices.
Foley had left direction on how to go anywhere in the world. All I had to was follow her detailed input directions for the computer, then hop on the keyboard, and I would be uploaded to wherever I chose to go.

It seemed too perilous.

But this was my blog.

That night I made my move. I put in the code, jumped on the keyboard, and was lifted to Facebook's office located in a dark tower where outside it only rained.
I hopped off one of the many computers. At first, I thought it was empty, but then I realized they were all manned by thin almost translucent minions all furiously writing code.

I slipped out of the room, past an empty Mr. Pub can, and crushed Doritos bags.
I went down a darkened hallway, past rooms overflowing with Spam, pokes, and men with European names consisting of all known vowels, who are commissioned officers of the US Air Force and all want to be your friend.

At the very top, I found Zuckergburg's lair. He was sitting on a throne made of cables, jacks, and fiber optics. I asked him why he had removed my blog and he began to speak of community standards and algorithms. That is when I saw movement behind a curtain.

"Pay no attention," Zuckerberg wanted, but I have always had a cat's curiosity. I pulled open the curtain and found a giant weasel pounding away at the computer. He was the Weasel of Oz and controlled all the Facebook accounts in the world.

"I heard your request," he pled. "It's been denied. We don't want your happy little dog stories on our site. We want ranting political statements, not please to save dogs in a shelter, we want pictures of bad food, not family photos. Most of all we want you angry, and chaotic, so we can control you and spread unrest." Then he told me they could not let me go.

I ran until I saw an open computer and was able to upload myself back home.
And now I am free to spread the word.

The Facebook weasels are trying to destroy us all.

I always thought it was obvious.

Poetry Thursday

  We are again participating in Two Spoiled Cats Poetry Thursday

Here is the photo that was selected to inspire us

When Irish Red was a little baby

Sleeping in his pretty crib

There was a plug up in the kitchen sink and the water would not drain

Irish Red said: “Give me a war each and a small plunger,”

Because the plumber’s life is meant for me

Oh Lord the plumber’s life is meant for me”

 

Now the momma she said to Irish Red

“Babies cannot fix a kitchen sink oh no,”

Irish Red took the wrench and then fixed the pipe

He said, “There never will be a leak I can’t beat, Lord Lord.”

“There’s never been such a leak.”

 

Plumber Henry heard about. the baby.

And came to see Red unplug a john

Henry said, “a plumber tiny and skilled will make me rich rich rich,”

“That little kid is going to make me rich.”

 

Irish Red climbed into tight crawl spaces

And he fixed, installed, and unplugged

Til he said to Henry the plumber “pay me my money down.

Or I’m going to baby unionize.”

I am going to baby unionize.”

 

Henry the plumber dared. Irish Red

To crawl on that picket line

Then he heard a great uprising

And saw baby doctors, nurses, firemen, and lawyers

All of them ready to strike, strike, strike

The babies were on strike.

 

Henry made a bet with Irish Red for all the plumbing jobs in this

That in a half hour he could clear ten johns filled with poo

But he worked too hard right through nap time

And Red slowed down because his tired, tired, tired-headed baby was soon napping.

 

Now Irish Red had himself a sister

By the name of Polly Sue

She walked up to the toilets and grabbed the plunger

And she cleared out that shit like a man.

She cleared out that shit like a man.

 

Since then every Monday morning

bluebird begins to sing

You can hear Red and Polly plugin ging hundreds of toilets

You can hear the Baby and Polly plumbing company working hard

The only working plumbers in town Lord Lord

The sibling babies were the only plumbers in town

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Wordless Wednesday

  

Beat This Caption

George listened intently, not betraying that this was the most boring blind date ever 

Monday Question

What do you think about water?

Do you like or hate baths?

Have you swam?

In a pool?

In a lake?

In the ocean?

Do you pull to go home if you are on a walk if it starts to rain?

Do you hate puddles?

Do you hate having wet paws?

Do you hate having them dried off?

I don't like water.

I get bathed at the groomer's and cooperate but I don't like it.

I have never swam and don't like to walk in the rain.

To me, water is only to drink.

River Song's Tails From Rainow Bridge: River Welcomes Sweetness

 

This week I, River Song, am taking over the angel blog because my sister is still hungover from celebrating her birthday to excess, and I have special connection with a cat, Sweetness, who arrived at the Bridge last week. I knew her from following her blog, but my true connection is that her brother, the celestial Paddy O’Malley, transitioned to the Bridge shortly after I did, and we bonded like college, away from home for the first time.

Because of this Foley appointed me the Doggyspace and Blogville ambassador to the Cat Blogosphere, which wasn’t necessary, since they are right next to one another, and we cross back and forth thousands of times a day but was still an honor.

When Paddy told me that Sweetness would be coming to her final forever home he did so with a mix of happiness and sadness, all angels do, happy to see long missed loved one, and sad because it is an angel’s duty to protect their family, which we do, winning more often than not, but always losing to time.

I found Paddy at his home straightening things in what was to be Sweetness’s room. There was sun coming through the four big windows landing on a white fluffy bed with Sweetness embroidered on the side. “Do you think she will like it?” Sweetness asked.

“She’ll love it,” I promised. The truth was she would have loved anything. Cats have reputations as being hard to please, but I find they are happy with a warm, soft bed, tasty food, sporadic attention, and love, all of which could be provided by Paddy.

“We should get going,” Paddy said checking the clock on the wall, “her transition has begun.”

Paddy had felt it. Angels are in tune with their people, and when her mother took all of the pain that Sweetness had been feeling on herself, and sent Sweetness free, Paddy felt it in his heart. He wanted to go to her but knew his mom would prefer he be there to greet Sweetness.

Her soul had left her body, found the first bit of water, and followed it into rivers, then seas, then oceans, until it came to the whirlpool between worlds. She went down, then came up, and was at the Bridge, then up on the bank, over the Bridge and towards us.

I told Paddy I felt bad, knowing cats did not like to be wet, but he told me it was fine. Somehow he had a towel I had not seen before. I wish I knew where pantless cats kept stuff.

Paddy met Sweetness, gave her the towel, and then they leaned into one another. Dogs, when they were reunited, go right to playing, but cats are more dignified, and hug, then groom one another.

It was quite lovely, but I didn’t want Pocket tonguing me when I crossed. It’s just the difference between cats and dogs.

I nodded my greeting to Sweetness as Paddy lead her to her forever home.

It was a much more subdued ceremony than with dogs, but neater, with no slobbering, which was nice.

But, it was filled with love, lota of love. All new angels.

It keeps the world spinning, and makes it makes it continue, without end.

Even the Bridge.

 

 

 

 

The Ruby Rose Report: Setting the Tone on Day One

Two years ago, last week, when I flew first class, with a paid escort next to me, from my Florida home to North, a land known as New England, I knew, for the first time in my life winter was coming, and I wanted no part of it.

I left on a Saturday morning, and the plane was delayed, which meant I missed my connector, and my escort and I had to sit in a Georgia airport for more than an hour, then I boarded another flight, and a few hours later I landed in Providence reeling like a flying Pilgrim. I met my parents and knew we would fit together like peas, and another smaller version of a pea,

My escort told my parent they might want to take me out of the pee, but they were instantly falling in love, which means they suspended all reason and were existing on duck farts.

So, I left my escort and took a very short walk in the sunshine to the car. Honestly, traveling to TF Green in Providence is a dream. No traffic going in, great parking, and there is a shining new concourse. If you have to go to New York or Jersey it is quicker to land at Green and drive.

We got to my new house, and Mommy told Daddy I must have to pee, and man, did I. But, I had heard stories of New England winters where paws freeze when hitting the ground, and groups of snowmen that roam the tundra eating what anything they find stranded on the snow. And don’t get me started on polar bears. I am a tiny dog and have no way to protect myself from invisible bears.

I held on to my pee. If I started peeing outside now they would expect me to do it all the time, and come winter, I would be in danger of freezing my kibbles.

River, when she recruited me to be the new house dog, told me there were pee pads in the laundry room.

You know when you have to pee and you hold it in, but when you get to the peeing place the need to go is overwhelming? That’s how I was in that yard, crossing my eyes, and my knees. Finally, my dad did the husband giving up, which only lasted until his wife told him he was a fool; and sent us back out to try again for another ten minutes until finally that lady relented. I went inside, found the pads, and peed for a minute.

After that, I have been doing my business inside, in the warmth and dry in the winter, and air-conditioned comfort during this terrible heat wave.

My advice to new dogs is to hold on as long as you can, so you too don’t have to pee in inclement weather.

In the long run, your parents will thank you.

  

Poetry Thursday

 

It is time for another installment of Poetry corner with out hosts Angel Sammy and Teddy.

They provided for the photo below to inspire our poerty

Peg had an awful week

She had quit her job in a fit of pique

And her boyfriend, on a gambling losing streak

Had emptied her bank account like a sneak.

 

It was all driving her insane

The lack of job and savings would be the reason this lifestyle she could not maintain

Most of all it was an endless, throbbing, tooth pain

Which needed medical services she had no money to obtain.

Peg’s sister Marion was a pest

A mankiller, a whore, a real tempest

Who worked down town as a hygienist

And said she could get Peg, at a low cost, a dentist.

 

When she arrived at the dentist’s office there were some things that made her want to flee.

Like that the office was in a tree.

And the dentist was a monkey.

Now she knew why a bushel of bananas was the fee.

 

Pam was told to sit in the chair

While the dentist licked his arm hair

And Pam denounced this country’s expensive healthcare.

Then the monkey got on her lap, pried open her llips and took a look in there.

 

The monkey reached in her mouth and with bare stubby fingers pulled out the offending truth

And she immediately felt better if she were to tell the truth

And Pam had to admit even if the doctor was a hit uncouth

He was the best dentist in all of Duluth.

Wordless Wednesday

 

Beat This Caption

 

Honey, I am looking in the crack and I can't find the cat nip.
Are you sure this is where you put it?

Monday Question

 Where are your favorite(s) places to be rubbed or scratched?

I never turn down a scratch but I enjoy them on my lower half, specifically the butt and the belly the most 

Fireworks, what are they go for? a Guest Post From Pocket Angel Dog

 

Hello, my friends. This week Foley has allowed me to write the blog. Last Tuesday was Foley Monster Day, her birthday, and she is sleeping off a week of wild partying. Anything can happen at a Foley Monster party, save one: Fireworks.

No angel will have fireworks at a party. We are no longer afraid of them. But it is out of respect for the many mortal souls who spend the days around our country’s Independence living in fear, which, when the show begins, turns into a blind panic where we forget all our training.

I am the only pup my mom has had who was afraid of fireworks, a fairly good record for a five-dog pack over nearly 30 years.

I did not like thunder and lightning either, but the fireworks were worse because they went on for hours.

I was lucky to be small. Daddy would carry me around the house. Sometimes we would stop, and he showed me the fireworks, saying there was nothing to be worried about.

Just unexplained, loud, colorful, explosions in the sky.

Dad was very patient with me, doing all he could to keep me at an eight on the nervous scale.

I always felt bad, feeling like I was inconveniencing him. Now, when it thunders, or there are fireworks, it makes him miss me more.

My Day was doing what tens of thousands of pet owners do during the week of our country’s independence. They pet, they soothe, they hold, and they pray that the barrage will stop. Sometimes it does stop. Sometimes it begins again and continues past midnight and into the crooked numbered hours.

And it starts at dusk the next night, and maybe the night after that.

They all run together for us, that is how it is in hell.

When I was a mortal dog I never knew why people were allowed to set fire to the sky. Every other time, you can’t disturb the peace. Since I became immortal I learned the reason: Patriotism.

I used to think that word meant everyone fighting for their country, and one another.

But I was wrong.

It means doing what you want, even if it is illegal, and hurts your neighbors. And the souls they love.

To speak out against it is to be the worst thing: Unpatriotic. To avoid that label the police don’t stop these endless backyard displays. To avoid that label the lawmakers won’t pass laws to arrest, prosecute and fine those who set off illegal explosions that only bring joy to the fool with the match, and their drunken friends.

I thought when someone was killed shooting off fireworks they would stop: They haven’t.

I thought that when dozens of dogs end up getting loose and running for their lives, to be taken in by animal control until their parents are found they would stop: They haven’t.

It’s a shame.

The only time I am glad to be at the Bridge is the first week in July.

I know thousands of dog lovers who, if they could afford it, would flee the country that week.

You know, for patriotism.

Since I was a pup something has broken in our country.

I think it was patriotism.

The Ruby Rose Report: The Crate Door

 

My parents had a cookout to go to on the Fourth of July, one that I was neither invited to nor barred from. My participation was fully at the whims of my parents.

Let me be clear. I did not want to go. There would be my least favorite things there: People, and even worse, small children. Wet little tykes. Dripping from the cement pond. Who would want to hug me, pressing their wet suits against me, and I have no choice but to soak in their wet like a reluctant sponge?

Also, I would not be the only dog there.

Mommy’s nephew brings his dog Aiden. He loves his family the pool, the kids, and the heat. It loves everything.

If you ask me it’s a little with the loving.

He lets wet kids hug him, as well as dry old people, and damp middle-aged people.

I have not met him, but I have smelled him on my people, which is rude.

So, what I’m saying is I didn’t want to go.

I didn’t want my parents to go either.

This is when having a mischievous angel sibling is fun,

I am more comfortable in my crate on the rare occasions I am left alone so I was not responsible for what happened next.

My parents said goodbye and were ready to go out when the door on my crate fell off.

You all know crates. They are tiny plastic fortresses. Doors don’t just pop off, at least not without some pressure from the inside.

My parents put the door on, and locked it, then went to leave again when the door fell off, and I heard River snickering.

They went to put the door on again when they noticed the clip-on top of the non-locking side was missing. Then looked for it and could not find it.

It made no sense. But they weren’t counting on the interference of River, a devilish little angel.

There was no way the door was going on, that was clear, but my parents are intellectuals which meant they spent 15 minutes trying to outsmart the door and get it to stay. They failed, and they were now twenty minutes late. The people, already at the cookout, began to hope that “those dreadful people,” would not be attending.

My Dad, who thinks everything can be fixed with duct tape, picked up a roll, My Mom dismissed it with a curt “no.”

They remembered when they first got me they had bought a soft-sided travel bag and got that, but it was seven pounds, and a few inches ago, and they could not leave me in such cramped circumstances.

They realized they could put the crate facing the wall, which would hold the door in place, but they didn’t want me to not be able to see what I usually could when created, the floor and the bottom of the couch. How would I survive without such reverting entertainment?

Finally, they settled on using an unplugged space heater which would block the unhinged part of the door.

Of course, they could have left the door off. I had no desire to be out of the crate.

Once they were gone River appeared to me and explained that her interference was not to keep me out of the crate, but to delay my parents’ arrival by a half hour, cutting the time of attendance on this hot Fourth of July by a half hour,

Angels help our humans even when they don’t realize it.

The River came into my crate, and we played canasta until my parents got home.

And they ordered a new crate.

This is what they could have done, but they have some ideas on how to fix it without paying for a new one.

I may never be left alone again.

 

 

 

,

 

 

Thursday Poetry

 

It is time for another installment of Poetry corner with out hosts Angel Sammy and Teddy.

They provided for photo below to inspire our poerty

When Bob was small he had a great imagination

He called himself crazy Bob the daredevil sensation.

The announcer said Crazy Bob has no trepidation.

A hero for this new generation.

 

Bob put a small board on top of a rock.

And how the neighbors did gawk.

He pedaled his bike and jumped over the side walk.

But in his mind he flew like a hawk.

 

He pictured it being the Grand Canyon where he did jump.

And when he was the highest his first he did pump.

He landed hard hurting his rump.

But he didn’t care, after that no one would call him a chump.

 

But soon the time came for Bob to put aside his childish dreams.

Such things won’t fly when you’re in your teens.

He was told to get good grades, be a good boy and no daredevil scenes.

Being a normal hardworking student was now his theme.

 

Then came marriage and then came kids.

Doing anything out of the norm was forbid.

There were bills, work, and doing everything right to keep the family off the skids.

And it became more so when the kids’ made grandkids.

 

At 65 Bob did retire

His wife passed and kids moved to the Berkshires.

He lost his balance and walking became dire.

He was alone in a chair with nothing to aspire.

 

Then he saw a boy wearing googles that he did like

Leaping off a ramp like he was Fonzie on a motorbike.

And Bob smiled, hit the gas, and let out a yell most warlike.

He soared over canyons, and into the sky, even ancient, he was again a happy tyke. 

Wordless Wednesday

 

Beat This Caption

 

My tunneling skills come through again!

They think the can lock me in the bathroom!

You can't lock up sweet Mr. Wiggles

Monday Question

How did you do with the fireworks?

And can our parents do anything to stop it, especially the back door ones

 My parents are I were lucky, i am not bothered with by fireworks, but feel terrible for my friends that do.

My dad has, since the days of Pocket being scared to death, has said he was going to talk to his State Rep, but the knowledge that it would change nothing stop him

Foley's Tales from Rainbow Bridge: The Twice Saved Dof

 

We all know humans can be stupid. They are so enamored with their stupidity they come together every four years to elect the dumbest one as their leader. 

A person is a true danger when that stupidity is matched with cruelty. That point was made crystal clear to me last week.

I got a page to hurry to the angel-swearing-in spot. This usually happens when a [et dies suddenly, and it is often a hard transition, as an animal’s mind becomes confused somewhere between our worlds,

But, luckily, Max, the pit bull, remembered his last horrifying minutes.

He, his kitty sister, and German Shepherd brother were going on vacation together. Their tired parents pulled into the parking lot of a hotel where they hoped to spend the sultry Indana[polis ni[eght. Their parents, Norma Light and Charles Thomas, realized pets were not allowed to stay in the hotel, so those parents locked their pets in the car and went to bed blissfully enjoying the air conditioning.

I will pause here to let out parents scream into a pillow.

I had no idea how to help the two animals being cooked live, but angels rush in where fools fear to tred. I got to the car and saw there was not much time left. Neither pet could breathe and were so thirsty. I asked myself what my dad always does in the car and told the German Shephard to blow the horn.

It was the most unnatural thing for a dog to do, but when you see the Bridge Angels coming for you, and you chose the survive,  it is time for unprecedented behavior.

The Shephard stood on the front seat with his paws on the horn, and pressed, first weekly, then, like Rose in the North Sea. louder and longer until forces came to his aide

The hotel manager went outside us to see what was causing the ruckus and saw a desperate German shepherd honking the horn. Upon further examination, the manager saw the cat close to death, and that the pit bull had expired.  Having no way to break the window the manager ran back to his office and called the police.

Officer Poe was the first to respond. He broke a window and opened the door. The German Shepherd jumped into the officer’s waiting arms. The surviving duo were taken away to cool down and be nitrated.

The car was traced back to the duo who had arrived the evening before. They were arrested and charged with felony animal cruelty-kill. This is where they exit our tale.

The animals needed new homes. And it did not take the German Shepherd long because his saviior, Officer Poe wanted to save the dog again. After a few approving scribbles the German Shepherd was given a new home, a new dad, and a new name: Abby.

Abby’s life was saved by good people. His pit-bull brother lost his life because of bad people.

There are many more good people than bad.

But the damage the bad people do make up for their small numbers.

Thank DoG Abby found good ones

Ruby Rose's Garden Report: July 5, 2024

 It is the second week of my garden report. We were going to start in Foley’s Garden but the butterfly bushes in River’s Garden have bloomed and I thought you would like to see one of them.

Next up is, in Foley’s Garden, a turf war between a Wood Lilly and the daisies which the Lillies are winninThe New Guinea impatiens are doing well this year. Sometime they struggle in the hot sun, but this batch looks good

Here is Next up is, in Foley’s Garden, a turf war between a Wood Lilly and the daisies which the Lillies are winninThe New Guinea impatiens are doing well this year. Sometime they struggle in the hot sun, but this batch looks good

another picture of Shasta daisies which are doing better without fighting for attention with the Wood Lillie

Here is Saint Anthony looking at the Johnny Jump Up Daisy like he didn’t order them and does not intend to pay for them.

Big Impatients in a wheelbarrow, little Impatients in a window box.

We have moved to Pocket’s garden where another wood Lily lives.

Twelve years ago Hobo Hudson sent us a little Hydranga. It is now the star of Pocket’s garden.

The Ditch Lillies grow good in Pocket’s garden too

The large Siebold’s Plantation Lily Hostas is just starting to bloom

The Ditch Lillies in the Ruby Rose Rose garden is awakening

The Plantation Lilly around the big fake rock are small and real.

And finally in the Ruby Rose Rose Garden is the 100-year-old Ruby Rose bush.

That is it for my garden report for July. I’ll check back in during August/

Poetry Thursday

 

It is time for another installment of Poetry corner with out hosts Angel Sammy and Teddy.

They provided for photo below to inspire our poerty

 

Larry was a very worried bear

Almost to the point of despair.

It was a week before the polar bear ball

And did he have a date? Not at all

He didn’t have a  thing to wear

And no one to go with, Sabrina said  no as did Cousin Clair

The morning of the dance Brother Bruce found Larry sitting on a bank

And decided with Larry he needed to be frank

“If you want to attend.” Larry said “just go stag”

Larry answered that if he went with a gay deer he would be a punching bag

Bruce remembered what his mom said was, in dealing with Larry, a rule of thumb

Speak slowly and clearly because Larry is a litle dumb

Bruce knew Larry didn’t stand a chance

Because at the ball it would be clear Larry didnd’t know how to dance

So Bruce decided to do all he could do

To teach his brother to dance, knowing it would fail, in all likelihood.

They slightly swayed to and fro

Shuffling their feet in the snow

Until it was time to go
Larry was ready to put on a show

He strolled in asked for a dance from the first girl her saw
And when he began moving the other bears stood in awe

Because Larry moved like a hair ballerina 

Impeessing his date, the princess polar bear, Angelina

He slipped, he slid, he stopped, he bopped, he bumped a did the grime

He moved so quickly he did not see the line

His thoughts in his dancing paradise

He fell through the ice

Usually Larry would have been crestfallen

But he did not care that he had fallen

But nothing bothered him because he had found the answer

From this day forward Larry was a dancer

Wordless Wedneday

 

Best This Caption

 

Tommy can't come out to play today. He’s disemboweling a squirrel 

Monday Question

It is Independence week the states, a country of immigrants. And I want to know the countries where your parents originated. 

It is Independence week the states, a country of immigrants. And I want to know the countries where your parents originated.

If you are not an American, what nationality are your parents, and will you take us in after the election?

My mother is Irish and Portuguese.

My dad is Portuguese and English. 

Foley Monster's Tails From Rainbow Bridge: Jessie crosses

 

Dear reader, if you have perused my prose before, you will know what happens when a soul transitions to the Bridge to become immortal: At the moment the life cycle of their mortal body has expired, their soul flies to the nearest body of water, and it goes from waterway to waterway until it reaches the River of Life that runs under Rainbow Bridge. The soul is reborn when it climbs from the water, and after crossing the Bridge, it becomes an immortal angel.

Some dogs don’t want to cross over, grieving all they have lost, But, eventually, they all climb out of the river.

Jessie will always be a Jersey Shore girl. She spent many summer days swimming in the water there I think it was when she was the happiest. Hier mortal life. Others wander away to walk between two worlds as a troubled spirit.

Not that Jessie had many unhappy days,  especially after leaving the shelter and joining her mom’s Sandy, and dad’s Hobie’s pack. That is when she met Willie, who, for the time they were together taught her some important lessons: Love your pack, play hard, swim fast, and die hard. 

Willie showed Jessie how a proper dog does the latter, but fighting off cancer, and many other illnesses, and even losing a leg. But, each morning, when the Bridge angels arrived, Willie gave them the same answer: “Not today.”

You can only say that so many times and Willie said it more than any other dog I know, but the Bridge always wins. Willie was suffering in his quest to stay, so his parents helped him,

When the Bridge Angels came for Jessie, she gave the same answer:  “Not today.”

The Bridge Angels gave her a lot of reasons to accept their offer. She and a tumor on her spleen or her liver, which caused her discomfort until it burst, and her insides turned to fire. “Not today,” she said.

Her body was filled with so much fluid she could not breathe, but she could still say “not today.” She would still be saying it but her parents could not watch her suffer, so they said: “Today.”

There were hundreds of us, some of Jessie’s family members, some of her real-life friends, and some of her online ones, waiting for Jessie. Willie spotted her doing the backstroke and told her to get out, she needed to be sworn in.

But Jessie had never been able to resist the water, and she stayed happily swimming. Soon, I felt Willie brush by me. He jumped in the water and he began to splash around with her sister. Soon, the gathered angels joined them.

Another swearing-in ceremony has gone off the rails.

So, I did the only thing I could. I joined them in the water, where we played all night to dawn’s break. It was colder, and we were tired, so Jessie relented, and let me swear her in, both of us dripping on the grass. Then she followed Willie to her new home,

I feel sorry for the mortal slide, which has been lessened because Jessie joined us.

But for her friends here it has been a blessing. It is like eternity just became short.

Or at least more

The Ruby Rose Report: Nature Friday continued

They have lilies, they have hydrangeas

And a hundred-year-old rose bush

So now we have to get ourselves 

Back to the gardens

We will do Blake’s Garden, and River’s Garden today, since there is so much to show, and to do so in one week would be work, something I avoid.

Here are the dazzling Western Blue Virginsbower Clematis by the light pole

.

The Japanese spiraea in Blake’s garden has just started to bloom.

Pictures of Lily that make my life so wonderful

Pictures of Lily that let me sleep at night

Pictures of Lily that solved my childhood problem

Pictures of Lily, they make me feel alright

The hydrangea is just starting to bloom.

I will be back next week with Foley’s Garden, Pocket’s Garden, and my garden