Blame it on Bambi

The Prude and a little friend were reading a story before Thanksgiving.

A turkey plays a bit part in the story at the beginning, and plays it with charm, but The Prude was still worried.

When a turkey is introduced into a Thanksgiving tale it is seldom because tofu is on the dinner menu. How would her little friend handle the sharp axe of reality slicing through her glowing childhood world?

The Prude snuggled her little friend closer, ready to comfort her at the critical moment when the turkey’s head would leave its body.

But wonder of wonders! The author must have watched Bambi or read Beatrix Potter as a child. The turkey plays an impromptu walk-on role in the school play. Affection for him abounds and at the end of the story his warty head is still firmly attached to his scrawny neck.

The Prude looked in relief and satisfaction at her little friend.

Who looked back up at her in outrage and poked a small, wrathful finger at the last page.

“What? When are they going to kill the turkey?”

And The Prude realized that she was sitting next to a new breed of Hardy Girlhood.

A girl raised with animals whose main function is to feed growing children. A girl who has actually seen the birds and the bees in action. A girl who knows that the cute, cuddly bunnies will eventually turn up in her stew.

In short, this child did not cut her teeth on Bambi. She cut them on a nice turkey drumstick that only days before had been strutting around being charming and rehearsing, in futile hope, his entrance into the school play.

Scary Week: The Culmination

The Prude this morning is hoping Scary Week has proved that the world is, indeed, frightening. A few weeks ago she demonstrated the terror that floats several thousand feet above us in Shapes of Clouds.
Some people, however, remained unconvinced, and determined to see happy things in clouds. These same people no doubt see happy images among the mundane of their backyards.

The Prude cannot let the above assumption go unchallenged. She is determined to show that, if your backyard and surrounding environs are anything like Your Prude's, you shouldn't step out the door
without a knowledge of Fear That Lurks in Flowers (etc) . Fore-warned is fore-nervous.

In the first photo you will see (thanks to The Prude's new-found discovery of 'pencil' in 'Photoshop')

TERRIFYING TURKEY-HEDGEHOG

a former live hydrangea that can, to even the most non-imaginative among us,  resemble a cross between a turkey and a hedgehog. Add aerodynamics via the 'tail' feathers and you have a bad-tempered creature with an ugly wattle and prickles who can roll along the yard after you in speeds up to faster-than-you-can-run.

Mad Monk

The above photo shows something The Prude encountered on her walk around the neighborhood. At first, and even subsequent, examination these stumps resembled a mad monk, about the size of Yoda,  pointing accusingly at The Prude. In the interests of making the photo more ominous The Prude transformed it to black and white. She realized too late that the sunny yellow outline may detract from the Yoda-the-Monk's threatening demeanor.

Next we have a photo of the Prude's Family Firepit. It hearkened to mind scenes from Mordor and Mount Doom. To erase all doubt the Prude has drawn the furry foot of an innocent Frodo.

The Pit of Mordor

Remember the box elder bugs of the previous post? They are in some kind of collusion with the menacing sea captain who lives on the front porch.

The Mutiny

Help Me! Hey! I'm talkin' to you!

Did anyone see the movie 'The Fly'? Remember when the Fly was trapped in s spider web, the only humanish thing about him his furry little face? Remember the pitiful voice he used to cry plaintively (and in abject futility) "Help me! Heeeelp meeeee!" The Prude attempted to portray that same despair on the leaves caught in the soccer net. In case you question The Prude's sanity, be aware that she made no attempt to rescue the leaves. They ended up in the Pit of Mordor (above)

This frenzied flower needs no explanation or introduction. Next time you meet a gerbera daisy look deep into its face. And tremble.

Daisy with Destructive Tendencies

The Prude sees the woodpile on the side of the house in an entirely new light. And dark light. She has graphically demonstrated that almost every log contains a light side and a dark side (D.S.). Except for the ones that have sold out completely to the Dark Side.

The Dark Side in the Woodpile

PODS!!!!!!

We finish with an unretouched photo from right outside The Prude's backdoor. She didn't have the heart to draw on it because she felt that the artistic integrity and blurry background would be compromised.
But really, can anything named a 'POD' be menace-free? The Prude doubts it.

We bring Scary Week to a screeching halt here. The Prude needs to meet with her accountant-Scary week isn't over for her yet.
Please enjoy your weekend, stay safe in your own yard, and come back Monday when we kick off Thankful Month with Odes in Prose to the Voting Booth.