Two caterpillars have hunkered down under the eaves of my front porch - big ones! I found one chrysalis and one huge, fuzzy guy turning himself into a chrysalis. Here the evil twins (my dogs, Skippy and Juno) guard the bugs and the house:
If you’re standing on my porch facing away from the door, the still-fuzzy caterpillar is directly in front of you. The one already en-chrysalized is to your left in the corner. Yeah, yeah, the one on the left looks like dog poo - but it’s not! My dogs are too old to climb the porch ceiling and poop upside down. I’m sure it’s a moth chrysalis.

I’ll keep an eye on these guys and post pictures. I would love to photograph them moment they break loose!

Below is an artalicious photo of my leaded glass porch window.

Hey, wait a minute! Cats wash themselves! So perhaps my most recent amazing invention is less than practical. I’m sure, though, that the cats would love it.

I’d love to illustrate a children’s book.

Skippy and Juno are my gals!

Twelve years ago, my family was in the market for dogs, so we called the local vet. As it happened, a client of theirs had recently brought in his newly-adopted shelter dog, who wasn’t feeling very well.

A couple of hours later, she gave birth to eight puppies. We got two girls from the litter. They’re part border collie and part handsome stranger. Typical herding dogs, they bark a lot and chase anything that moves - children, cars, bicycles, other dogs.

The black and white dog, Skippy, is the head dog. She controls the other dog, Juno, and my husband, by staring at them until they bend to her will.

Juno is my shy girl. Early on, she decided staying out of trouble is the way to go. She sticks pretty close to my feet.

This weekend, they’re both hunkering down under tables and desks. People in outfits are re-enacting the Civil War down the street from our house. Cannon-fire makes dogs nervous.

Duelling lawn gnomes.

The McFarlane family - my husband, Dave and his three brothers, all our families, and clan matriarch, Verda - goes camping each year at Devil’s Lake State Park.

It’s our turn (me and Dave) turn to coordinate the party, although it doesn’t take a lot of coordination. We’ve been doing the Family Campout for so long - many, many years before I joined the family - that people know what they’re supposed to do.

A little bit of controversy does arise each year about whether to serve chicken on Friday and pork chops on Saturday, or pork chops on Friday and chicken on Saturday. The issue is resolved by the family coordinating the campout that year. That family then must live with the consequences of their choices for 12 months until the issue comes up again.

This year I have sent out this postcard to remind people of the Campout and ask for information about the number of people coming.

This is first in a weekly series of sketchbook pages which I’ll scan, tweak and present here. Each image is a stand alone; after this I won’t comment. But you can.

Four babies are expected in the family during the next six months!

My mom sent me a vintage baby bootie knitting pattern. My sister and I wore booties like these; apparently they stay on a baby’s feet better than most knit booties.

Back in the day, booties were the only baby footwear. Oshkosh B’Gosh had yet to invent those cool little socks with non-skid rubbery stuff on the soles.

So I’m knitting booties these days, trying to keep up with the onslaught of infants.

My husband’s mom moved to an apartment last Wednesday, from the house she and her husband built in the mid-1950s. Here, Dave takes a picture of the almost-empty dining room.

I’m back from a week in London, but not really ready to be here in Wisconsin.

London is so interesting, and oddly familiar. Many of the stories I’ve loved through my life took place in England, from Peter Pan and Alice in Wonderland on to the more grown-up tales of William Shakespeare and George Orwell. Visiting London was like finding out that my inner life has a city attached to it. Wow!