BEWARE —warning about TICKS

Danger on new leaves
Rimmed with first molting of ticks
Vectors of illness
Bear … 03 21.2015

The first molting of ticks is even smaller than the seed ticks. They tend to be found along the edges of game paths or in high grasses and brush. In appearance they look like a soft edge of tan or light brown along the outer edge of a leaf or grass stalk or just a stick that protrudes where warm blooded animals, including people, birds, squirrels, deer, dogs, cats, etc., will brush against them.

I have had all different molting fall out of trees onto me, even into my coffee cup sitting at a picnic. And sometimes they jump, just appearing where they could not be without jumping several feet. They can be, and are, anywhere that warm blooded animals are or have been.

Motionless, waiting to ambush they look like nothing more than a film or rim dust or pollen. Under magnification they more resemble a mite than the adult ticks in most illustrations. BEWARE. These tiny vectors bite and carry disease, just as the adults do.

If it is possible that these practically invisible arachnids might be on your clothing, disrobe in a tub so that they are contained and not disbursed. Check children carefully. The nasty little critters especially like to get in armpits, under elastic (such as in waistbands), and tight clothing, on small boy’s testicles, and under skin folds in older people.

There are many varieties of ticks, and they are all over the world. It is my personal opinion that as wild-life habitat diminishes, and more animals are domesticated; ticks, and other potential vectors, are forced into contact with encroaching domestic animals and people. They don’t prey on us, as a preference, but we fit the habits of prey, and we are warm blooded.


SPRING — Music Theme

Eva selected the theme ALL THINGS SPRING for this week.  I have chosen the theme RAIN for May 15.
I am late put SPRING as I was Away From The Computer as the guest of my sister, Nancy, to hear Rising Appalachia, in St. Augustine, Florida. Below are some You Tube versions of songs they sing, which are not quite the same as live.  Mechanically reproduced music doesn’t ever sound as resonate as reality, nor does it record the evolution  of time and people, but the elimination of most of the distracting background noise, and the preservation of a moment in time, has its advantages, too.

FREEDOM — Rising Appalachia

They sang one other  a cappella song that was truly transcendent, but the audience wouldn’t be quiet .  Leah and Chloe, not the chatter boxes, apologized and sang it anyway.  Zavidi Me Lalino (Bulgarian Chant) can be found on the CD Dirty Filthy South.
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SUNU — Rising Appalachia

FILTHY DIRTY SOUTH –Rising Appalachia
SWOON — Rising Appalachia

CAMINANDO — Leah Song — Rising Appalachia
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SCALE DOWN — Rising Appalachia

LOVE STAYS — Leah Song –Rising Appalachia

EVA:   Eva  Eva picked the theme for this week; All Things Spring.
JOHNNY:  Johnny
LISA:  Lisa  I am SO happy to see you again, and thank you for posting the photo of YOUR drum.

Fallen Petals

I inscribed my heart on fallen petals,
Decaying flowers, as spring heats into summer.
Written with soft rotting dreams
Dipped in the memories of my muddy song.
Kisses are dropped silently into the flowing
Tannic waters, drifting, floating away
To the salty ocean or sinking down
As flickers of light into the deeper waters.
Food for darting fish near the surface,
A raft for small water beings, bits of love
Sinking down, food for the bottom feeders,
Cat fish, worms, larvae, poets, my own
Self hungry, swimming below in darkness,
I capture lost flickers, lost light.
My words, my dreams, my loves settling
In the sediments, muddy ink my new song,
Or drifting away forever into the
Darkening east.

Beauty thoughts in petals
Floating or sinking, my messages
Sent to a fisherman I know to
Be downstream, not a big message, only
That I am here.  My Dear Love see
I am sending my broken heart in tiny
Words and color in the current. A flash
Catches the eye of a passing raptor, but is
Rejected as unpalatable, the bits
Of me float on, disturbing the
The surface for my lover, the fishermen
Downstream. Softly cursing as rubbish,
As bothersome tree trash, forest litter,
He pushes away my broken lost
Pieces of color and song, my wind chaff.

The fisherman stirs these reminders
Away, though the stirring neither
Hurries the river nor smoothest
The surface. The fisherman did not
Know that his quarry followed the
Words flickering just beneath
The surface, lovely lures without hooks.
The fish more curious than fisherman.
Themselves the interpreters of my dreams,
Fallen petals, my self floating in
The current.

His irritation disturbs the fish
Away and scrambles the messages
Arranged by the drifting currents.
No fish, no color, no symbolic words,
No petals, the fisherman swats
At swarming mosquitoes, gnats,
Knocks a horsefly into the water,
And curses again, but softly,
Wishing the fly to have been on a hook
When ripples and shadow take the bait,
Also swallowing a few of the
Unrecognized symbols, but no hooks.
Meaning and food to be digested together,
Flower petals scattering as
Chaff on the surface.

The fisherman reels in his line.
He will fish on another day,
When he doesn’t feel
So disturbed. Perhaps
There will be less debris on
The water’s surface.
Bear … 04.25.2014
ⓒ Bearspawprint