Skip to main content

Two Ducks and a Donkey

What I saw driving down the road today.

The animal farm of North Rear Road. 

The animal farm on North Rear Road is flooded. The pond is usually on the small side but because of last night's rain, it has turned into a small lake. Now there is a small mud trail clinging to the fence-lined banks. There are many animals on the farm. There are goats, chickens, donkeys and a variety of ducks. All are walking in a clockwise fashion around the watering hole. Every animal is covered in mud except for two ducks. These two didn't want to swim in the muddy water. They didn't want to walk on the muddy bank. Instead, these two ducks went for a ride on a donkey's back. I never saw how they got there. Whether they landed or jumped off the barn roof. Around and around they went. I don't know if the Uber donkey eventually dropped them off at the trough or if they were sightseeing. I drove away and thought I should have taken a picture nobody is going to believe this

Metaphorically speaking, the image of a big beautiful bill and an ass fits. Walking around in circles throwing mud and getting washed up at the same time works too. 


Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Humming

We have a rose of Sharon bush in front of our  living room window. Every year it attracts humingbirds. Now the blooms are bursting with color. I patiently waited for this little guy to return.  Expectation and joy brings colors to life. The fluttering of wings, the souls delight.  To savor the nectar of a the new day. That is just the hummingbirds way.

A pane in the glass

One pane of glass. One red, white and blue basketball. And one frustrating day in the window repair business.    My father was very good at repairing windows. He had plenty of practice. Our backyard was our arena, our stadium and the scene of many sporting errors.  Who done it? It all started on our one-lane road.  Every homeowner could hear the crack of the bat and then the smash of a ball. Where it came from, no one knew. We split, leaving the bat suspended just above the dust cloud. Not a kid in sight. Who done it was an unsolved mystery. All they could see was the weapon, the bat, the ball and the glass now littering the living room floor. Opps Things were different in our backyard. A wayward slapshot way upstairs. Crash. A change-up and a foul tip. Smash. Today's error: a basketball. A hook shot, nothing but air and glass. Bang. Shortly after the initial impact we heard something else, my father cuss "Friggin Kids" It was the only f word my dad was all...

Teachers Toast

One class I wasn't a big fan of was Home Ec. I had already learned most of what I needed to know from my mother and my sisters. Mr. Long, our teacher and chef, is dressed in white, from his paper chef's hat down to his shoes. He has two prominent features: a  Fu Manchu moustache and a wandering eye. For that reason (not knowing which one to look into), I never engaged in conversation.  Today's lesson is breakfast preparation. Some kids are across the hall, setting up the teacher lounge for breakfast. Every place setting is decorated meticulously. There is a huge coffee urn gurgling in the corner. Teachers are hovering, waiting for their morning elixir.   I am in the kitchen learning how to paint lightly browned Texas toast with butter. Every slice has a round circle of yellow that never seems to reach the edges, stacked on a plate. I never understood why they gave us a paintbrush instead of a knife. I found this unacceptable. I have never spread my favourite spreadables t...