Robins eating juniper berries. If you click on the picture, you'll be able to see the berry in the bottom bird's beak. Notice all that snow on the roof behind the upper bird.
There was supposed to be a post about contest rules yesterday, but there wasn’t. Such is life.
It was tax day. And there was all this snow, a foot of it since Tuesday. Also birds. It was necessary, therefore, to take photographs. And to go skiing.
(Actually, the judges were taken hostage by a crew of irate gardening fanatics wielding sharpened hoes, heavy hoses, and the Herman’s Hermits’ complete playlist. They have commandeered my study, locked the judges inside, and are demanding that the rules be expanded to allow a wider range of categories.
The cries of outrage and pain, audible even over “I’m ‘Enery the Eighth, I am,” have ceased, so I assume that progress is being made and that the finished rules will be slipped under the door shortly. I hope so, because I am getting very tired of “Mrs. Brown, You’ve Got a Lovely Daughter.”)
In the meantime, I will do what I can with earplugs and a woofer blasting the White Album.
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Ha! Give me Herman’s Hermits over The White Album anyday (except, maybe, for “Norwegian Wood”). I love the idea of shutting them up in conclave like the cardinals choosing a new pope…
OFB— I really should have named one of the earlier Beatles albums, shouldn’t I. Something cotemporaneous with the HH stuff I was denegrating. But even so–do you really prefer HH to early Beatles? I shall have to rethink this friendship. Or shut you up with the judges…
–Kate