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Cute Overload is always a great place to get some warm fuzzies, plus they are open-minded about cuteness and do not limit themselves to kittens and puppies. And here’s the proof: A baby armadillo picture.
He’s four days old.
When I got out the ornaments to decorate for Christmas, I found another armadillo that I own.
Isn’t he cute?
I’m just back from a week in the Four Corners region of the Southwest. I got to attend the annual harvest festival for St. Jerome that is held by the Red Willow People of the Taos Pueblo. One part of the festival is a huge arts and crafts show with Native American artists selling their jewelry, baskets, rugs, and fetishes. I found the perfect fetish there.
Armadillo Fetish (with a penny for scale)
This little armadillo is made of Serpentine by Zuni artist Arvella Cheama. I was thrilled to find it.
This week’s topic at Inspire Me Thursday is polka dots, which dovetails beautifully with my armadillo theme, because I happen to own a handmade, polka-dotted armadillo. (How many people can say that?) Made for me by Donna Faivre-Roberts, doll maker extraordinaire, as a going away gift when I left Ithaca, this cutie is about 4 inches long and completely needle felted. Ain’t he sweet?
Needle-felted armadillo by Donna Faivre-Roberts
Or, Why Armadillos, part 3?
After I made The Truth About Armadillos and entered it in the Tompkins County Quilters Guild show, I apparently had a reputation in the community as an armadillo lover.
I came home from work one day to find a brass armadillo sitting on my door step. He was about eight inches long and five inches high and had a nice brassy weight to him. There was no note, no indication of where he had come from. I took him in, figuring he needed a good home, and set him high on a window sill on the front side of the house so that whoever had left him there could see he had been taken in out of the cold. I mentioned him casually to my friends, but no one admitted to knowing anything about him.
A few days later I came home and had a shock. The brass armadillo was outside, pausing during a climb up a pile of gravel that was waiting to be spread over my driveway. Not believing that he would leave the house on his own, I was certain someone had broken in and brought him outside. Then I looked up and saw the first brass armadillo sitting where I had left him on the window sill.
The mountain climbing armadillo was the first orphan’s twin. Now I had two brass armadillos and still no idea where they had come from. As time went on, I wracked my brain, trying to guess who had left me armadillos anonymously. I confronted everyone I could think of, but no one ever confessed. To this day, I do not know who the culprit was. I only know the armadillos found their way to my house, and they live with me still. Fortunately, I like a little mystery in my life.
