Evil Dora and the Attack of the Puffy Paint Bugs

Here is what the previous owner apparently considered art. This was Aidan's room before daddy attacked it with sandpaper (those bugs are done in PUFFY PAINT!!!) and a coat of lovely blue. And by the way, that paint in the closet is the color our entire master bedroom was. I guess not only did they not want to waste the leftovers, but their daughter got to practice her mural abilities in there as well. I don't think they should send her to art school just yet.

It's Them, Not Me

So if any of you out there are actually here to look at the photos I promised, it's not my fault, really. I've tried numerous times and I'm still working on how to load more than one or two photos per blog on this thing. I promise I'll keep trying. Don't give up on me!!!

There's a Squirrel in my birdfeeder

After years of pining, we're here. The Pacific Northwest beware: the Maranos have arrived. We bought a lovely house with a forest for a backyard. Ok, so it's not really our backyard, there's a county fence. But about 50 feet from our side gate is the legitimate entrance to what Aidan has nicknamed "the jungle" and we can go adventuring anytime we like.

The house came with many things. It came with a cat that peed all over the porch, maroon trim, rotting siding, a leaky hot tub, a murky koi pond complete with non-functioning waterfall, a mural that can only be described as
"what?" and some of the worst interior and exterior paint work ever done on a building. But, with much determination, hard work (and money) it's turning around. When it gets overwhelming; which it does, we go out into the backyard and look up.

Which brings me to the other thing our house came with: a new appreciation for God's creation. The trees behind us are about 50 -80 feet tall and sway in the wind like you wouldn't believe. After leaving out much in the way of critter bait, we are now being regularly visited by Stellar Jays, finches, and a couple of squirrels who find the bird bath and feeder quite comfy. I'm working on taming them. I plan to buy peanuts in bulk.

Two Sides

Mrs. Funkiller has a blog. So let me just start by setting one thing straight. I am no funkiller. I cannot even begin to compete with my husband's amazingly intellectual and poetic writing. My blog is mainly a way to keep in touch with the many people we've left 1,000 miles behind. Ok, so I'll occasionally use it to comment and vent. But I start with making clear the fact that I am no funkiller. At best, I am the yin to his yang. Everything has two sides and I am my own unique side of us.

Why the title "Dandelion Wine"? If you are familiar with Bradbury, you may know the novel. For me, it's more about the title itself. Making wine, an honorable drink, from dandelions, an often debated plant. Like couples, there are two sides to any good debate. You either think dandelions are a weed; the scourge of your lawn and the bane of your yard-keeping existence. Or, you think they are a flower; beautiful things of sunny yellow or gossamar white. Personally, I have always considered dandelions to be a lovely addition to any landscape. At the peak of their flower, they can be shoved in a button hole, made into a stunning necklace or even a crown for a nature-loving princess. Ask any mother and she'll probably tell you she's been handed a dandelion by the smallest of hands, as proud as can be of their precious and beautiful gift. And, of course, a dandelion gone to seed is a special treat. They have a rather intricate design if you take the time to notice and can be stared at enjoyably for quite some time. Certainly, no one can discount the pure joy of sending these feather light wands on a glorious dance in the breeze.

So, I guess, it's all how you look at it. If your expectation in life is a perfect swatch of manicured green, a badge of your gardening prowess, a sign of your dominance over weed and gopher and mole, then I suppose a dandelion is a problem. It upsets the predictability of your plot. It dosen't flow with the pattern from your mowing. They certainly don't blend in. Personally, I love dandelions. They remind me that no matter how hard we work to control things, all it takes is a child in one lazy moment, picking up a big white puff of dandelion and.......blow.