So there I was, checking to see if my stained doilies were bleaching out in the sun. Soak them with lemon juice, hang them up to dry. Voila! Pretty whites once more. Only the stains on these were pretty bad. (Had someone tried and failed to tea dye them?)
Then, feeling all Martha Stewarty, I decided to check on my new red climbing rose. The first bloom! It's gorgeous.
So as I was passing the money pit (in-ground pool), I notice a very tiny little swimmer, tiring fast. Whoa! A chipmunk. "Hang on, little chipmunk!" I called (yes, I actually did), and ran for the net skimmer (with the million foot pole). I scooped him out and he (well, it looked like a he), gratefully stopped paddling. I carried him over to the ivy in the shade and he closed his little eyes and straightened out his little limbs. I don't know if he was already dead, but I'm pretty sure I didn't find him in time. I gently laid him on the ivy and he sank into it.
Sometimes they revive. Sometimes they don't. I always feel awful if I can't save whatever is drowning. How frightening it must be to weigh about 8 ounces and be unable to get out of a 26,000 gallon pool.
I find myself looking out the window a lot more in the summer months, just because I try to look out for the creatures that go flying across the concrete and don't know there's an ocean in front of them hidden over a small rise of concrete.
I sure hope the little guy made it.
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