We arrived home yesterday after spending the weekend celebrating the final summer holiday for 2019. Friends, who have an off-grid cabin and host an annual pig roast picnic on their property invited us for the weekend. After enjoying good food with fine companions, we settled in to enjoy a night high in the mountains complete with campfires and great conversation.
We arrived in Galway, checked into our apartment and headed to the store to pick up a few things so we could fix breakfast the next morning. By Irish standards it was a large store. We made our selections and were walking down the produce isle when an elderly man approached me. He was neatly dressed and wearing an old leather hat. He spoke with a heavy brogue and had to repeat himself several times. Tom and I realized at the same time what he was saying. He inquired of me, if he could exchange hats with my husband. Tom wanted to know why I was being asked instead of him. The gentleman replied that he knew Tom would say no, but perhaps I’d be willing to work the exchange. I laughed saying I kinda liked my husband in his hat. We all laughed. As he turned to walk away, he told us he was just making fun.
Between Ireland and England, several people approached Tom and asked about his hat. No one had an offer as good as the gentleman in the grocery store.
We had just stepped off the tube one night and were walking toward the exit. There was a gust of wind. I felt my hat move and grabbed it quickly. I mentioned I almost lost my hat. Tom said he saw that. As we continued walking toward the stairs another train blew through the station on the tracks in the opposite direction and Tom’s hat went flying. We were unsuccessful in rescuing it, before it fell into the tracks. We had nothing long enough to retrieve it. After checking the schedule and seeing we had a couple of minutes before the next train was schedule to arrive, Tom carefully lowered himself down to the walkway at the track level, retrieved his hat and scurried back up to the walk level. I breathed a sign of relief when he was standing beside me again. We were on our way up the stairs when the next train came through the station.
She’s Back! The brazen hussy chipmunk decided to visit our deck again; the deck where we grow tomatoes and herbs for our enjoyment. This time my hunter man was home. He got his weapon and was ready for action. The chipmunk avoided positioning herself in a good shot area. The goal is to hit the vermin not a piece of glass or a shop door. She dodged behind and between the potted plants. She was at the end of the deck, ten feet above ground. We were sure we had her trapped and simply had to wait for a good shot. Not so! Standing on the edge of the deck, she looked around and then she jumped over the edge. We could not believe it! We headed toward the edge and then heard “Kerplunk”! We expected to see chipmunk splat, but instead she was running for the rocks. The fact she survived the fall was more surprising to us than the fact she jumped from such a height.
Fast forward 24 hours and we looked out the window to see said chipmunk stretched out on our cement umbrella base. Who knows if this was a cooling position on the cement, a sunning position, or an announcement of ownership of the deck? The hunter and I headed outside again. The critter appeared a little confused, running to hide behind patio storage boxes. We moved the boxes and the chipmunk ran. I chased it thinking it would run to the planting area and dodge in-between the pots. Surprised again! She raced right up to the end of the deck and jumped. There was no hesitation she just jumped. Gone again.
Who would have thought a chipmunk we could be involved in training chipmunks for the miniature circus?