My Photo


  • a happy, ordinary, middle-aged, suburban woman who paints odd pictures, gardens in a straw hat, lives with the love of her life, is owned by one cat and the ghosts of several others, and walks a little funny 'cause she has a fake leg. She started this website because there's more to life than what we lose, and we need to let each other know what's possible, even if it's only a happy, ordinary life.

November 2011

Sun Mon Tue Wed Thu Fri Sat
    1 2 3 4 5
6 7 8 9 10 11 12
13 14 15 16 17 18 19
20 21 22 23 24 25 26
27 28 29 30      


  • E-mail me at:

    sara at saraarts dot com

    Make sure the subject line of your correspondence is clear and specific. I do not open e-mails from strangers unless I can tell in advance that I want to read them.

Shameless Self- Promotion

  • I Took The Handmade Pledge!

Good reads, grownups only

« Highlight of my week: | Main | Keeping my mind in the gutter... »


Feed You can follow this conversation by subscribing to the comment feed for this post.


A larceny of plants?? Wow...that's hilarious.

Ron Sullivan

Bwahahahahah! O that I were someone who could blame her garden failures on "possible larceny."

Then again, Joe has a story from when he was a kid about a neighbor who went around stealing people's fancy daffodils and then invited everyone to come see her gorgeous daffodil garden. Sometimes she'd substitute more common daff varieties for the ones she stole, rather like a pack rat.

The Goldfish

What a lovely bushy tail!

In Whitby, there was once reports in the local paper of a pint of milk being stolen from someone's doorstep. Not the glass bottle, but the contents therein. Now I'm completely against racial profiling, but I'd hazard a guess that the culprit may have been furry...


I live in a similar sleepy town and I agree that when this is the big crime heist of the week then life has to be pretty good indeed!



Heh. My mom used to read the Hampton NH police blotter to me - similar types of "crimes" up there.


Emily -- I know! Who knew? hahahaha

Ron -- Yes, I wish I could blame my garden failures on thieves, also. You know, all the times something I've planted has failed to return (and there have been many of those times), it has never once occurred to me that I should call the cops about it. Not once.

The daffodil thief story, though, this makes me rethink the whole thing. Oh, wait, no; in my case it really was the squirrels. Yeah, mostly. And, um, zonal denial may have played a part from time to time, as well.

Goldfish -- It really is a spectacular tail each of these squirrels grows. And I've seen them used skillfully not just for ballast but as umbrellas. I've seen squirrels grazing on fallen seed in the rain with their tails stretched over their backs and all the way over their little heads, too. I must say, it gave me a rather clearer view of a squirrel's butt than I ever dreamed I would experience.

And yes, without wishing to expose a prejudice, I do agree that someone should at least consider dusting those milk containers for prints -- paw prints.

Ian -- Isn't it the best? You know, after a certain point, I stopped understanding why anyone would want to live somewhere "exciting." Look how even simple suburban gardening can be just fraught with adventure and intrigue.

Leslee -- Yes. Very similar no doubt. My true love and I actually pay for a subscription to the Concord Journal just so we will never miss a single issue...of the "Police Log." hahahahaha We take turns reading it to each other over breakfast every Friday morning.

Michelle | Bleeding Espresso

Guilty eyes if I ever saw any....


Yeah go squirrels! Take em all, continue the invasion! Hit em high and hit em low. These poor humans won't know where to go!


Michelle: Yes. Beady. Distinctly beady.

Elizabeth: Never fear. The squirrels are utterly in charge here, as anyone who passes my garden can tell at a glance. :) I just hope our landlord is as comfortable with that fact as we are.

The comments to this entry are closed.


A Good Idea This Year, Too


I Don't Know What Came Over Me

Then There Was The Time I Lost My Mind for a Month

Blog powered by Typepad