The warmer weather brings all sorts of creatures out of their hidey holes. The chipmunks are making a ruckus in the yard and we have 100% occupancy in our bird houses––five in all. Down to the A&P, I’ve spotted many a young buck in his spring uniform of choice: shorts, t-shirt, flip flops and a polar fleece vest. His female counterpart is wearing flip flops, too, usually with skinny jeans, a t-shirt and a big scarf. A variation of this getup is to substitute UGG’s for the flip flops and short-shorts for the jeans. Apparently, these young folk subscribe to wardrobe averaging. Meaning summer clothes, plus one winter item equals a legitimate spring ensemble. For …

Ida Leclair discusses how husbands work on special projects at the most inopportune times.

This time of year in Maine, it’s not unusual to see big groups of wild turkeys walking through the neighborhood. They make their rounds every morning, like it’s one of them progressive dinners, going from house to house, chowin’ down under every birdfeeder on the block. Generally, how men feel about squirrels on birdfeeders, that’s how women feel about turkey’s under ‘em. Squirrels are cute and fuzzy, but let’s face it: turkey’s are just plain ugly.Velociraptor, I call ‘em. Even the baby ones are none too cute. One turkey would be more than enough, but you get fifteen or twenty of ‘em together in your yard and boy, that’s a whole lot of ugly. These …

Few weeks back, Charlie’s out mowin’ the lawn. I’m putterin’ around the kitchen, you know, cleaning the stove top, excavatin’ the vegetable bin, when I happen to look out the window and see Charlie doin’ the two-step around the yard. Weird, I thought, but gee, he can move pretty fast for an old duffer. Later, I see him bending down, lookin’ under our big viburnum, the one by the bird house my niece Caitlin give us. When he comes in, I ask, “Charlie, what the heck were you doin’ out there?” “Mowing the lawn. What did it look like I was doin’?” “Gettin’ ready to audition for “So You Think You Can Dance?” “Very funny. …

I can’t believe it’s the end of August! No way, no how! I don’t care how hot or muggy it’s been, I do not want summer to end. I do not want to see a mum or apple cider or apples in general, unless they’re in a pie at someone’s cookout. I, for one, have not forgotten what a bear last winter was, and I want to hang on to the sunshine, the smell of Coppertone, fresh-cut grass and the feel of a warm breeze on my skin as long as I possibly can. It seemed like it went by in a blink of an eye, didn’t it? That’s what happens when you’re busy. This …

Boy, I’ll tell ya, things are always changin’ down to the transfer station! So much so, it’s hard to keep it all straight, one week to another. They take #1 and #2 plastic, but #5? One week yes, the next week no. Keep the plastic caps on the bottles? No, now you’re supposed to take ‘em off and put ‘em over there. I secretly wonder if, late at night, they don’t have a good laugh at our expense, as they mix all the recycling together and toss it into the compactor. Pretty cynical, I know, but the thought has crossed my mind. Oh, it’s just too much rigmarole for me. But Charlie, thank God, he …

Well, we had an incident up to Dot and Tommy’s camp this weekend that was wicked embarrassing. It’s really Charlie’s story to tell, so I’ll let him. After all, he is, by default, the Poet Laureate of Mahoosuc Mills. Stinkfoot, by Charlie LeClair Sunday, Ida, me and Scamp We’re up to Dot and Tommy’s camp All the gang were comin’, too Tommy planned a barbeque His plans, alas, were all in vain When darn, if it began to rain “Bring the food in!” Tommy cried And we were forced to move inside There we ate, and all was well ‘til some of them complained of smell I thought the hubbub was excessive But soon the …

Last weekend, Charlie and me were out walkin’ Scamp ‘round the neighborhood. The weather’s been nice, you know, and we’re tryin’ to take advantage of it as much as we can. Plus, this summer is already shapin’ up to be one eating opportunity after another, so we need to burn calories where we can. When you walk the same route like we do, you get to see the changes as they happen, which is fun. When the rhodies start to bloom, it’s an event, or when them stella d’oro daylilies burst yellow overnight. You head off early enough, and you see your neighbors sneakin’ out in their pj’s to get the paper or you smell …

Charlie and me were out walkin’ Scamp ‘round the neighborhood this weekend when we see Pearl Plaisted puttering around in her yard, dead headin’ her potted plants. So, we stop and chat, like you do. “Hey there, Pearl,” I says. “How you doin’?”. “Pretty good for someone married to a mowin’ fool.” Charlie chimes in, “Hank get himself a new toy?” “Yup, a zero turn mower. Hear it?” All of us listen a minute to the sound of Hank, tearin’ around the backyard on his new machine. Charlie goes, “I thought he had a zero turn.” “He did, but we were over to Home Depot pickin’ up some gardenin’ supplies, and next thing I know, …

Drivin’ along, what did I see? A big, blue tarp, up in a tree How did it get there? I thought to myself That’s not the work of some mischievous elf It was right around Whitey’s, yard sale heaven Where there’s always one goin’, 24-7 The tarp must’ve blown off their table, I betcha Perhaps Whitey Junior can climb up and get ya His father, I’m sure, will just let the thing be And Junior’s too fat to be climbin’ that tree I guess I could help ‘em to get the thing down But right now I’m busy, see you around! Now, who do you think’s responsible for that little nugget? William Shakespeare? Nope. Me? …