Lest we get all involved and in love with Puxatawney Phil a la the Bill Murray/Ande McDowell movie Groundhog Day, let me refresh your memory what a ground hog, noncartoon-style, really looks like. You might remember this guy who stood only inches from my screen door. Yes, you see the screen in this picture. I'm sooo glad I had a screen there, and by the time he expressed his pure hatred of me, I wished for a row of bars, as well. Groundhogs are mean. At least Missouri ones are. They kill chickens and burrow in our flowers and fields. A family of them has wreaked disaster and destruction, and dare I cliche havoc, on the barn foundation.
I like all animals, and until I gentle-heartedly tried to take this one's picture as he munched my flowers as a salad, I thought I liked ground hogs, too. A long time ago when I lived at home, my son and I caught one of these critters in a live trap, and we generously took him miles away to the middle of nowhere and let him out on a picnic table.
He bolted for freedom the minute the trap was opened, but as I saw this guy bare this ugly set of teeth, I realized what a dumb idea that had been. We were entirely too close and vulnerable had Mr. Trapped Groundhog decided to turn ugly on us. Oh, yes. that was another of my stellar ,"dumb mothering" moments.
I know I'm a few days late for Groundhog's day. I remember a dear friend of mine who always ate sausage and biscuits on Groundhog's Day... Ground Hog... haha...
I was just sitting here and contemplating the six more weeks of winter thing, and it hit me to revisit my personal Phil. As Sweet Home Alabama's Mama always repeated, "Just Sayin'."
Have a good Monday. Don't kiss any groundhogs.
Whimsy and Hugs!