Between getting my daughter and her family packed and shipped off to Colorado, appellate work, and construction, I haven't had much time to update my posts. I currently am sitting in a waiting room in Santa Fe, waiting for my father to come out with a new lens in his left eye, and so will see if I can get caught up.

After having a couple of relatively mild winters, we noticed these small hills of dirt connected by shallow tunnels. Walking in the duck pasture felt like walking on sand just after a wave has gone out: you sank a bit with every step.

I do not have the same antipathy for moles as I do for gophers, even though they both dig up my yard and garden. The difference is that moles eat worms and grubs and insects, while gophers eat roots and potatoes and dill.

Same dirt-digging claws. Different snouts and teeth.

Neither can be allowed to destroy our mound-type septic system, and so both have been removed from that area. Irene was concerned that Michael and I would be kidnapped by the gophers proliferating by the driveway.

But then I explained that those were only mole hills.

My reputation as protectress of the realm is intact!