birds bugs bees bunnies beetles

Today was awesome.  No humidity and temps in low 70’s.  I moseyed around the backyard this afternoon, stopping here and there to see and watch and look and peep and view and observe and glimpse at all I could see around me. 

A couple of bees briefly buzzed around me, then went along their merry way.  I settled back into a comfy chair in the shade.  A large buttercup yellow butterfly put on an amazing dance just for me, then slowly disappeared from my view.  I know her dance was just for me because there was no one else around except me.  It really was an awesome thing to see.  I’m thinking she did her best ever dance just for me, because I talk.

Yep, I talk.  I talk to them.  In my backyard haven, my secret garden, I talk.   To butterflies and bunches of birds* and grasshoppers and bumble bees and ladybugs and earthworms and lightning bugs and tree frogs and other frogs and praying mantises and snails and caterpillars and beetles and bunnies and crickets and squirrels and goldfish and spiders and stinkbugs and ants and aphids and June bugs and feral cats and moths and dragonflies and turtles and, and, and...

Oh, I forgot: once to an opossum and a black snake and a raccoon and a couple of puppies and a cute little lime green snake.

Hey, a girl’s gotta draw a line somewhere, and I have drawn mine:

I do not talk to wasps nor slugs nor bats nor gnats nor hornets nor some other stuffs.  And (drum roll...), I don’t talk to mosquitoes.  I just smack ‘em.

*for Mother’s day, my sweet grandkids gave me ‘The Birds of the Carolinas’ book so I can look up (by colors) birds and learn about them