You can be really annoying at times, you know?

But okay. These bleeding blossoms

aren't violets after all.

They're "monkeyflowers."

Best ID I can come up with so far is Mimulus guttatus, yellow monkeyflower. Although it doesn't really match up with the photos in either my prairie or sagebrush flower guidebooks. But online, yeah, there are some that are near-perfect matches. Another name commonly used was "Seep-Spring Monkeyflower."

Really annoying.

And we don't even want to talk about how many years I've just been assuming these big yellow flowers were the same as the little yellow violets I see out in the prairie.

"A-hem." Now on with our regularly scheduled entry for the morning...

The phone rang at eight-thirty.

And like the psychic I am, I knew exactly who it was at the other end of that line.

The boss.

Who has been calling, like clockwork, around eight-thirty almost every Monday morning for what, 15+ years? For his usual checking in, seeing how things are going, what's new in our part of the state. And most of these calls have included some sort of reminder of something that needed to be done in the coming week. Some deadline, or something that was already overdue.

So yeah, I didn't always look forward to these calls. And there were a few that woke me up after a long weekend. And maybe more than once did I give permission to one son or the other to get online early that morning, just to prevent myself from starting the week with a call from the boss.

But no more. This was the last one. In three days, he will be retired. And I will have to learn the habits and wants of only the third boss in my professional career.

Only two bosses in almost 27 years. That ain't bad. And they were both good ones. Gave help when you needed it, and stayed out of the way when you didn't.

And yeah, in this his last eight-thirty Monday-morning call, he had one last deadline to remind me of, one last environmental comment to get in before he walks away. And I got to tell him the tale of the ferruginous hawks that got their nest blown up from beneath themselves by lightning. But most of our conversation was about families, his and mine. About kids growing up to go to college, and daughters getting married. About first grandsons. And his and his wife's plans for the rest of their lives. And the mutual thanks to each other, for getting the work done, and making it enjoyable along the way.

He's missing it already, you can tell. Not the job, but the people.

And I gotta tell this story, even if it isn't mine.

He retires at the end of the month. Has to. The only date that makes sense in his situation. State rules being what they are, even a single day later will cost them thousands of dollars in benefits in the future. So, beginning on Thursday, they lose all job benefits, particularly health insurance.

The health insurance they are depending on carrying them the rest of their lives does not, can not, kick in until the Fourth of July.

They're uninsured, totally, for three days. I warned him about Murphy's law, weeks ago, and the sure bet that if something can go wrong in those three days, it will. He's a believer in that law, too. Actually looked into how much it would cost them to buy insurance for just those three days.

Almost half a month's salary. Really.

So. He has informed his wife that, for those three days, they are not leaving the house. No shopping, no driving at all, no going anywhere. She's to stock up on food in advance, and for three days they will read and watch TV.

And if she should happen to fall down the stairs and break a leg during that time, he is, and I quote, "not bringing her upstairs until the Fourth."

End quote.

No idea who the third boss will be. Six folks applied (one of them one of my game wardens, but she's a long shot). Know the other four who are already in the outfit, and there's no worries there. Number six is someone from Oregon, so that's just enough of an unknown to generate some mild anxiety, but not much.

Whoever it is, they'll be a wildlifer, so you tend not to worry too much.