- Follow House of Hank on WordPress.com
…Where’s Your Ball?
Two Centsaccountability aloha animal photography art bad idea jeans beach beach photography bravery Cairn Terriers CAP Captain Henry "Hank" Stanley Chuck's Hop Shop conservation critters documentaries dog's eye view dog photography education Hank Hank & Cap Hanku Hank Williams Sr. happiness hope humanity inspirations integrity Labrador Retriever Labradors light locally-grown Middle East mysterious things peace & justice Phinney Neighborhood Association (PNA) Phinney Ridge photography poetry Puget Sound photography quirky schweet Seattle Seattle photography silly dog photos Straßenfotografie sunshine Tom Hardy's Teeth urban photography Valentine Whiskey Tango Foxtrot
Category Archives: Sciencey Stuff
Each year around Memorial Day, the skies far above the House of Hank resonate with the deep hum of four engines and in short order a whole lot of history rumbles by. At which point the airspace immediately around the House fills with a lot of Whoopee!-ing and Oh-boy!-ing … Continue reading
In what seems like a foolhardy move to Hank, and one of no particular significance to Cap, certain Persons with Thumbs just brought home a Roomba. Which is to say, a robot. That cleans. Brought it home. To stay. Yes. A very zoomy, … Continue reading
dog’s feet and Fritos if naught ceases just shifts form what’s in these again?
Hank’s going to do something special, just for you and just for August. He’ll post one short, sweet something each day—perhaps one photo or wee Hanku—because he loves summer almost as much as he loves you and he wants to … Continue reading
From Hank’s Garden to You! _________________________ And a bird overhead sang Follow, And a bird to the right sang Here; And the arch of the leaves was hollow, And the meaning of May was clear. —Algernon Charles Swinburne
March. Blech. Well, at least that’s over. Even for a notoriously dreary and dreadful month, March was particularly dismal here at the House of Hank, as an epic plague descended upon Hank’s lands. He considered naming this post What Hank … Continue reading
And of course, YOU. ______________________________________ And hand in hand, on the edge of the sand, They danced by the light of the moon. —Edward Lear
_______________________________________ Be obscure clearly. —E.B. White
Well, Hank’ll be gosh darned. The heck you say! He’s apparently been sort of using an artistic technique all these years. Go figure. Being a dog and whatnot, he tends to see things from a heads-on perspective, a looking-up-and-down perspective, a what-is-this potential … Continue reading
__________________________ The windows of my soul I throw Wide open to the sun. —John Greenleaf Whittier
LOCAL LABRADOR WALKS ON WATER ______________________________________ *pluvious, adj. Of, relating to, or characterized by rain; full of or bearing rain or moisture; rainy. Blech. The fall rains have returned. Which bites, to be honest. Autumn seems determined to arrive with a … Continue reading
Hank began Shark Week celebrations early this year, when he ventured out to the birthday party of a favorite 8-year-old and came back scarred. Bouncy castle, check. Cotton candy machine, check. Face painting, check. One small, deadly Chihuahua. Check? Ruh roh. But. And. Oh, … Continue reading
Maybe if the water tilts like this, the fish will fall into my mouth? __________________________ Hank loves the name “Snorri“. Hank is wild for salmon. WILD FOR SALMON. Hank will tap-dance for wild salmon. He will eat it off the … Continue reading
Hank’s old pal Rocket is here for a stay. Which is to say: Watch out. You see, Ol’ Rocket’s something of an unholy combination Rocket Scientist/Lone Wolf/Test Pilot. Which makes him a very, very interesting individual. He’s a star athlete and … Continue reading
Truly the end of an era.
Hey dogs, Hank needs your help figuring something out. (And brings a perfect diversion to those of you who haven’t yet filed your taxes and are searching for one more sidetrack…may Hank suggest IRS Form 4868? You’ll have more time … Continue reading