Sunset

"Never brag," my dear departed mother used to say and I never did until I became an American. When I lived in Europe, I was constantly told that Americans were "uncool" and "show-offs."

So - some Americans are boastful. Not all Americans are but some of us don't mind being thought of as fools because we tell everybody how lucky we; so blessed to have the freedom to be and do and make and own whatever we want.

Here are some pics that Chas took of the sunset on the day that we had a forest fire in the mountains ten miles east of us.

The setting sun casts the shadow of the big old alder tree on the house.


















The big old alder tree with two wild-bird feeders. We scavenged those picnic tables from the RV park as they were falling to pieces. Now they provide shelter for the chickens from hawks (a real problem) and a place to have a cup of tea and some home-made cookies on a sunny afternoon.


















The sun begins to set through a haze of smoke from the forest fires. These photos don't capture just how ruby red the sun was.


















The big old alder is beautiful in all seasons and stands in sharp contrast to all the pines and firs with which we are surrounded.


















Swanky, the tomcat, watches the sunset from the front verandah. He's basically a good-for-nothing, lazy, pleasure-loving, decadent commie - like all "cool cats" and other hippie types.


















His Imperial Majesty, Swanky, the RV park cat that I "adopted" from a tenant. Yep, Swanky thinks he's royalty as most deluded, drug-addled, Democrat-voting, welfare-sucking, hand-out hustling trash do. But he's so pretty.


















Swanky has not been his usual happy-go-lucky self ever since we had his wife, Smudgy's, wheels removed and she is no longer interested in playing hanky-panky with Swanky.


















Smudgy casually pretending not to be stalking some hens. She, like all lionesses, is the real hunter genocidal maniac in our feline family and has single-handedly wiped out an entire tribe of squirrels and a whole nation of chipmunks. She specializes in bearing gifts of half-eaten baby possums, wood-rats, field-mice, moles, voles and assorted birds and snakes.


















Meantime the almost full moon rises in the east behind the house. If I could wake up in the middle of the night and take the time to dress warmly, I would take some pics of the forest and the meadow in the moonlight. Moonlight in the deep darkness of a country garden is beyond simply magical. Maybe I'll do that next summer.


















Going.


















Going.


















Almost gone.