I was talking with my beautiful mother on the phone the other day, and I was telling her about the tree people I see on my interval running route. “Do you take your camera with you?” Momma asked.

“No,” I told her. “It would slap against me as I ran. Besides I don’t want to interrupt my run by stopping to take pictures.” Truth be told, I have never seriously considered taking my camera on a run with me because even when I am out just walking our Yorkies, I have to carry Itsy on my left arm with Ginger’s leash in my left hand.

“You have to carry Itsy?” you ask incredulously.

Yeah. Itsy is the boss in our house and if Itsy doesn’t want to walk, Itsy doesn’t walk. Then it’s either drag her or carry her. I choose to carry her.

The camera strap goes around my neck (so I can’t accidentally drop it) and I carry the camera itself in my right hand for just that very reason. If I let it hang free, it slaps against me and that is just plain annoying!

Well, that’s the main reason. If I think about it, there is one other reason I carry my camera in my right hand. That’s because then it is always at the ready. I can point and shoot very quickly that way.

Now, have you ever tried to interval run with a Canon Rebel T3i with an EFS 55-250mm lens on it, slung around your neck? No? Well, because of my experience with carrying a dog and my camera at the same time, I didn’t have as much trouble as I thought I would. I had my stopwatch in my right hand and the camera in the left and I had already decided that I would not be stopping to take pictures, I’d just snap them on the fly, and if I didn’t get them-then it wasn’t meant to be.

“You can’t get them all, Peg,” is what Mike says to me when I whine about missing a shot.

Mostly it works fine for me, just so long as I’m not in a run cycle-all of those come out blurry, don’t you know...

You know something?

“What’s that Peg?” you ask.

Y’all know that I am a slow thinker. Sometimes the things that are the most obvious to you, just plain elude me. It isn’t until this very moment that it occurs to me that I’ve been doing it all wrong! And for a very simple reason too.

“Peg! What are you talking about!”

When I walk the dogs, I carry my camera in my right hand so I can shoot photos very quickly. When I take my camera on my runs with me I hold it in my left hand.

I can’t take photos with my left hand!

I have to transfer the camera to my right hand, take the picture, then transfer it back again.

“Why don’t you just carry your stopwatch in your left hand and your camera in the right?” I hear you ask.

I know, right! That’s what I’m talking about! Obvious to you, but not so obvious to me. It was just such a habit to carry my stopwatch in my right hand that when I started carrying my camera, it automatically went into my left! I never even gave it one single thought.

Obviously.

Obviously I never thought about it or I wouldn’t have done it that way! But it never dawned on me until right this very minute! I will fix that next time!

Anyway...

I didn’t take my camera with me on every run, (it gets heavy after a while) but I did decided to take it with me on my very last run at our Mountain Home in Pennsylvania. I was glad I had because near my turn-a-round point I crested a hill and saw this.

Fog in the distance with the sun just breaking free. Fall colors. Trees. Fences. Dirt road. It was very pretty. “Oooh,” I exclaimed right out loud as I raised my camera and snapped this photo. And that my dears, is the long way around to saying, this is my current desktop photo!

“Hey Peg, what are these ‘tree people’ you speak of?”

Good question! Well, when the snow plows come through on these narrow country roads, they sometimes hit the trees causing scarring. If you squint your eyes, tip your head sideways and use your imagination, maybe you can see them too!

This guy reminds me of the scarecrow on the Wizard of Oz, with his sad eyes, long nose and floppy cheeks.　

And this guy has mean eyes and a cleft lip!

　
　
　

This next guy looks all round and soft in the cheeks and was made when a tree was cut down rather than when the snow plows went through-like the other guys were. I thought you might see these three the easiest. I have others but they take a bit more imagination.

Annette, my friend, if you are reading this at breakfast, like I know you do-STOP reading right now! Finish your breakfast and come back to me later. I’ll be here waiting for you.

That is a cautionary note everyone. My next story might be kind of gross and just goes to show you the weird stuff I think about sometimes.

I was out for a run one morning and I’m cycling through my walk/run cycles, keeping one eye on the time and the other eye on the road. Early in the morning, when the sun is coming up and warming the asphalt, these little guys creep out onto the road to warm their blood. When their blood is warm, like on a lazy summer afternoon, you would be lucky if you ended up with more than a little piece of tail if you were trying to catch one. They can be lightning fast! But in the fall, when the mornings are brisk and the temperatures are cool, they are very slow and sluggish, making them the perfect target for cars or a joggers foot-if you catch my drift. I won’t swear that I never accidentally squished one before I realized what was going on, but I can tell you this for sure. Once I knew they were there, I was very careful not to let my footfalls land on one. I’ve even been known to do a crazy dance or two to avoid one, but that is why-

I keep one eye-

On the road.

And that is how I happened to spot the back half of mouse. I see a gray rump, mouse tail and the tiny little pink pads and toe nails of back feet. We won’t talk about the pink edges where the rest of the mouse should have been.

I look at it.

I see it.

I see what it is.

I look away and I wonder. “How does a mouse not hear a car coming and get off the road in time?” (Mice are warm blooded and are fast no matter what the temperature.) My thought was no sooner thought than I see a snake-squished-squashed.

Do you suppose the snake had the mouse when the car ran it over?

I know! I’m just plain weird!

Our neighbors and friends, the Robinson’s are just about the best people in the whole wide world, you know that? They are the kind of people who would go out of their way to help you or give you the shirt off their own back and never complain about it. I say that and yet I feel the exact same way about our other friends and neighbors there on Robinson Road, the Kipps!

We are truly twice blessed.

But in this instance, I’m talking about water. Something you need- Everyday!

Something that is too easy to take for granted-

Until you don’t have any, or what you have stinks.

Although the Kipp’s have a shallow well with good water and have offered us all the free water we can carry, I much prefer the spring water from the Robinson’s.

Michael?

He worries about germs. “Peg, there’s algae on the water!”

“Algae won’t hurt you,” I say to him. And I much prefer the taste of algae to the taste of iron-or is it sulfur? Sulfur smells like rotten eggs, right? Iron makes everything yellow. Toilet bowl, white underwear, anything else white. I can smell my water when I come in from outside. If my washer is running, I can actually smell the water!

We got a report from the gas company. They tested our well before they started fracking in our neighborhood.

“Don’t drink your water!” they said. In other words, “Your well was bad before we started drilling for gas.”

So we don’t drink our water anymore. Although I have to tell you, we drank our water for three summers before they came along and told us not to!

The Robinson’s.

The Robinson’s so loved us that they gave us their last drop of water!

Just kidding.

It was almost our last night in Pennsylvania and my cooking and drinking water was almost gone. “Mike,” I said. “Let’s go up to the Robinson’s and get water tonight. I’ll text Steph.”

“Sure, come on up!” she texted back.

We went up, filled 11 one-gallon plastic jugs with water and visited with our friends.

“This is probably the last time this year we’ll bother you for water,” Mike jokenly said. “What we got tonight will last us until we leave.”

“Oh, it’s not a bother,” Step pooh-poohed his concerns away. “We have never run out of water in all the years we have lived here.”

Yeah.

Famous last words, right?

The next day....

“Tomorrow night is my last night in PA,” I texted Steph early Thursday morning. “You want to come down after work and help in the glass shop and drink some wine?”

“I have some very bad news,” Steph texted me back. “The Robinson’s have run out of water. If I don’t get us some water from someplace, I can’t go anyplace!”

I was sad and Mike said we should give all of the water back and the next day I went out into the glass shop and finished the seahorse all on my own. He came out beautiful and I didn’t take a picture. Sigh. I was just thinking about getting it done for Jonecca before we left the state.

Later that afternoon, when Steph got off work, she sent me a text, “Good news! The Robinson’s have water again! I’ll be down to help in the glass shop tonight if you still want me too.”

And I did.

Early evening, she pulled into the drive and I met her with a hug. “You gave us all your water!” I cried to Steph.

“It’s all Jon’s fault!” she says stepping back with a huff. “I told him!” and Steph put one hand on her hip and started shaking the finger of her other hand, “I said, ‘Jon Robinson. Go see how much water is left in the well.’ Did Jon go and look? Like he is supposed to? Twice a year?” she asks and not waiting for any answers she goes on. “No! He says,” and here Steph does her best imitation of Jon. She straightens up, puffs her chest out, puts both hands on her hips and in her best Jon voice says, ‘It’ll be all right. We’ve never run out of water.’” Steph rolls her eyes skyward, drops her arms to her side, her shoulders droop and she says, “And what happens?” Boo-hoo. Her hands and her eyes go skyward and so does her voice. “We. Run out of water!”

The straightforwardness and simplicity of it tickled me and together we laughed.

The Robinson’s cistern is spring fed and the weather in Pennsylvania has been so dry that our pond dried up and the Robinson’s ran out of water-for the first time EVER!

Our departure date to leave Pennsylvania was decided with the intention of catching up with Mike’s brother Cork and his sister-in-law Pam before they head back to their home in Las Vegas for the winter. They were in Missouri visiting Lin, Pam’s sister and they weren’t that far from our place. We were going to meet up with them and head out to Iola, Kansas to see cousin Suzy for a couple of days. More on that trip latter.

It was also decided that Mike and I would have the mill all closed up and winterized, the RV packed and ready the day before we were going to leave. No last minute surprises that way. Right?

Friday was a hustle and bustle day. There was so much to do! “Peg, I hear a kitten crying out in the mill,” Mike said to me when he came in.

That was all it took for me to drop everything and go take a looksee. Sometimes kittens wander away from their nest and get cold and hungry and start crying for mama. I went out in the back part of the mill that we use for storage and I hear the kitten crying too. It didn’t take me long to find a little calico wandering around by herself. I picked her up and she seemed healthy enough. I looked around a little bit more and found a pale-yellow kitten, still alive but cool to the touch. “Don’t you quit on me,” I told him and rubbed his little face. I thought if I could get him warm and maybe get a little warm milk in him, he might live. Well, it wasn’t meant to be.

Mike only had one thing on his mind and it certainly wasn’t taking care of crying-hungry little kittens. “Put those things down and help me!” Mike said. So I took the kittens into the cat room and left them in a bed.

Early Saturday I went for my last run, came home, showered and couldn’t get the kittens out of my mind. One more day! If we hadn’t found them for one more day, we would have been gone and their fate would have been sealed by nature. But we did find them. “Peg, we don’t need any more kittens,” Mike said to me and of course he is right.

I kept worrying it over in my mind like an old dog with a bone.

I went out into the cat room and the little pale-yellow guy was almost gone. The calico, on the other hand, was still very hungry and very vocal. “Mike, can’t we please take her?” I begged. “I don’t want to keep her. I’ll get rid of her. I just want to give her a chance.”

His heart softened and he agreed. I called Momma. “Momma, do you have a dropper and a little warm milk?” I asked when she answered.

“Sure. What for?”

“I’ve got a hungry little girl here and Mike is going to let me take her, as long as I find her a home.” With no milk forthcoming, she cried herself to sleep and slept the whole way to Dushore.

I have to tell you that when we parked our RV at Cast’s Pond, just across from the Terrace where Momma lives, it took my breath away. It was just beautiful and I knew it would only get more beautiful as the fall progressed. I was a little sad to know that I would not get to see it in all of it’s fall glory, because we were leaving Pennsylvania that afternoon, but none-the-less, I took a photo for you.

Our plans for that day were to leave our RV parked across from the Terrace, pick Momma up and head down to Lewisburg, an hour and a half away and have lunch with my oldest brother Ed, his wife Barb and one of their sons, Tim. “I think Melissa is coming along too,” Ed told me.

“Melissa?” I asked.

“Tim’s girlfriend,” he explained.

The kitten put a hinkey in our plans. (Think wrinkle, Momma.) A small hinkey, but a hinkey none the less. So with kitten in hand, I headed up to Momma’s. Maybe Tim and Melissa will take her, I think to myself.

Momma fixed us up with a dropper and some warm milk and the little calico greedily sucked the milk from the dropper. She was hungry! When she wouldn’t take any more milk I tucked her into my bra, hoping the warmth and softness of my skin would soothe her and she would settle down. That would leave my hands free to help Momma get her things around for our lunch date.

Momma got oxygen tanks switched over, hooked up and turned on, her water bottle, sunglasses and a sweater just in case the air conditioning was too cool for her. “Ready,” she finally says.

We open her door and who is just passing by in the hallway? Marilyn, Momma’s caregiver, that’s who! Along with Marilyn was her daughter and a grandson. My mind starts to work. Marilyn has a farm, maybe she needs a kitten. “Marilyn!” I exclaimed. “I have something for you!”

I’m sure she was surprised because we had no plans to meet up, but Marilyn is nothing if not always polite. “You do?”

I reached down the front of my shirt, felt around for the tiny little bit of fluff and pulled her out. She meowed.

“Aww,” Marilyn’s daughter says.

“Do you want her?” I asked shoving the kitten at her.

“Tyler just lost a kitten he had been trying to save. His girlfriend is still really broken up about it. I don’t know if she could take that again.”

“Take the kitten,” Marilyn says. “Jenny can take care of it until we’re sure it’s going to live then he can have it back.” Jenny is another of Marilyn’s daughters and I believe she is a vet-tech.
Inside me I was jumping up and down and screaming YES!

“I think she’s about a month old. Here’s the dropper and some milk,” I said handing the calico and her supplies over to 20 year old Tyler. He took her, gently stroked her head and snuggled her in close.

“It was meant to be,” Momma said as we continued on our way.

Amen to that Momma, Amen to that!

Momma checked out the new RV then we jumped in the Jeep and headed to Lewisburg. I use the word jumped here very loosely. Momma doesn’t really move all that fast.

This handsome young man is Tim, the spitting imagine of his father, my oldest brother Ed. The beautiful young lady is Melissa, soon to be mother of Tim’s daughter, due around Christmas time.

“Her room is going to be these colors,” Melissa said and held up a pink and black stripped elephant.

We spent a couple of hours visiting before it was time to get Momma back to Dushore in time for Mass. Once she was delivered safe and sound, hugs and kisses exchanged, goodbyes were said, we hitched our Jeep to our brand spankin’ new Hurricane (by Thor) and headed for the state line.

We drove for a few hours and spent the night in a truck stop. The next morning was Sunday, my letter writing day, and that my loves, explains why you didn’t get a letter last week!

Mike put a hellacious day of driving in on Sunday. We were up and driving by 6:45a.m. and we didn’t pull in for the night until 9:30! That’s almost 15 hours behind the wheel. We did make lots of stops though. Most of them were for gas. But we did stop for a twenty minute power nap in the afternoon. The closer we got to St. Louis, the more determined Mike became to get

through it. The last thing he wanted to do was drive in rush hour traffic on Monday morning. So we drove.

It wouldn’t have been so bad if we had known the roads but because we were meeting Cork and Pam in Springfield, Missouri, we were taking a different route through St. Louis than we normally take and we got lost.

I’ll tell you what. I’ve kept you long enough this time and I am coming to the bottom of my page, so let’s call this one done, and I’ll pick up where I left off next time!



You are all in my heart.