Yesterday

Yesterday.

Yesterday was a fine day.

Our new tenant Kathryn was here last week and saw the purple butterfly that I made for cousin Stacey.

“You made that?” she said.

Of course I glowed. “Yes.”

“You cut the glass and everything?”

“Yep.”

“I didn’t know people could do that,” she said. Then she started to back-peddle a little. “Of course I knew that people did that, but I didn’t know that just anybody could do it.”

I smiled. I knew exactly what she meant and I didn’t think she was stupid for saying it either. “At least you are finding out now when you are young. I didn’t know people could do it either until about ten years ago,” I told her. And I remember the first time I saw someone cut glass and make beautiful things and that someone was Cork, Mike’s brother. He handled the glass so casually it seemed almost reckless to me and I was freaking out. But I am going to blame that on my Momma. All the time we are growing up our mothers warn us about glass, and I found those warnings coming out of my mouth as Cork demonstrated glass cutting for me. “Oh my gosh! You’re going to get cut!” I’d say. Or, “Be careful!” I can look back now and laugh at myself.

“Would you like to come and make something?” I asked Kathryn.

Her face brightened, “Can we?”

“Sure!”

“I’d love to make an owl,” says the girl with an owl tattoo on her forearm.

“Ok. An owl it is!”

We made a date for the following Wednesday and that Wednesday was yesterday Wednesday.

After doing my morning chores I spent the rest of the morning looking through projects and photos for a simple owl pattern. And what catches my eye? A very elaborate and gorgeous owl that I’d love to make for one of the beautiful ladies in my life. (I can’t say who, it would ruin the surprise, besides, I may never make it.)

Oh, I’d love to make that one, I think to myself when I see a simple white owl.

It wouldn’t be too hard to make. Then I found an even simpler owl, sitting on a branch with a big full orange moon behind it. He had a brother piece that was a bat flying in front of the same full orange moon. Boy wouldn’t Kandyce (lover of all things Halloween) like those, I think.

But for this day, for teaching Kathryn, I couldn’t make up my mind which one to choose. Maybe I’ll pick out a couple and let her choose. So I picked out a couple of owls and made the patterns to save us time and as I sat here cutting the pieces I’m thinking about the amount of time it will take a beginner to cut, grind, foil and solder five to twelve pieces. Time. Hmmm. It will take a lot of time. Then I’m cutting out one of the owls and it has just two pieces, a body and a beak. They use glass gobs for eyes which the pattern called for them to be foiled and soldered on top, and I’m looking at it and I’m thinking, It would be a lot easier to just glue those pieces on. They make a glue called E6000 that will glue glass onto glass and it’s really strong. I’m not going to give her a choice, we are going to make this one.

Once I made up my mind and had the pattern cut, I set about the business of getting the equipment out, set up and ready to go. The only place I have to work right now is my kitchen counter and even though it takes me a little bit of time, I don’t really mind doing it.

I had everything ready to go and it was still an hour until Kathryn was supposed to be here.

I think I’ll make one so she can see what it’ll look like.

I cut and ground the glass, chose scalloped foil, bent my wire for wings, picked the eyeball color and put it all together. It didn’t take me long and it turned out really cute!

Then Kathryn came and we worked through all the steps of making these cute little guys.

She broke her first one and had to start over. She was apologetic.

“Don’t worry about it,” I told her. “I’ve broken lots of pieces. It just takes practice.”

Then my twelve o’clock alarm went off.

“Kathryn, that’s my alarm to call my mother. So, if it’s okay, I’ll go call her while you cut that one out, okay?”

“Sure,” she said.

I figured standing over her shoulder wasn’t helping any. I’d already given her the principals and now I would give her a little space. I walked away and made my daily call to Momma.

“How ya’ doin’?” I asked Kathryn when I came back.

“All right. I broke his ear a little right here but I kinda like it. It gives him character,” she said.

All in all Kathryn did well, only cut herself a little, and her owl was every bit as cute as the one I made and she loves it.

“I think I’ll give it to my grandmother,” she said.

“Want to try another one sometime?” I asked.

“Sure,” she said and we made a date.

“I can even pay you for it,” she said.

I truly enjoy making and giving and sharing and as long as it’s just a few little pieces, I don’t mind, and I told her so.

After Kathryn left I decided I had enough time to take Itsy and Ginger out. The weather was mild and we’d head down to the campground and look for eagles. Gosh those birds are so beautiful. So majestic. “And I’d really like to find an eagle feather,” I told Momma on the phone.

“It might not even be legal to possess one,” Momma said.

I don’t know.

I start down the hill and Ginger takes off on a deer path. Normally I’d rein her in and bring her back to the road but on this day, on this fine Wednesday, I decided to follow the path a little ways just to see what I could see.


Hey! There’s Angie’s Bucket.

“What’s Angie’s Bucket?” you ask.

Years ago I took a picture of an old rusted bucket, on this very hillside, nestled in the leaves of fall and Angie loved the photo!

“Can I print and frame it?” she asked me. Being as she is the mother to my very handsome grandson Cody, I gave her permission. Every since then I think of the photo of this bucket as Angie’s Bucket.

Maybe Angie would like to see where her bucket is now, I think and snap a few photos of it.

A little ways down the path I see another bucket!

Well now I don’t know which one is Angie’s Bucket! And I take a picture of that one too!

This time of year there really isn’t very much to photograph but if I look hard enough I can usually find something. Today, however, I had an agenda and that agenda was taking eagle photographs at the campground below the dam. I was a little bit under the constraints of time. I needed to be home in time to start dinner and if I find something interesting, I can spend a long time taking photos. I know this about me so I decided to not even look. If there were eagles to photograph at the dam, I wanted to spend as much time there as I could so I didn’t dawdle overmuch, got back on Valley Road and set our course for the dam.

We get to the curve right before the campground and I think of Baby Blue. This is where I went a little ways into the woods and made her a bed and laid her to rest. I wonder how she’s doing? I know. I’m weird. I’ve seen dead animals before. Lots of them as a matter of fact and I’ve seen them in all stages of death. No matter what she looks like I’ve probably seen it before.

“Ginger!” I call to the little dog who normally leads me on the end of a sixteen foot leash. She stops, turns and looks at me. “Let’s go this way.” Ginger didn’t hesitate as she came running back to me and her little nose picks up the scent of the deer path I’m standing in front of and I keep her leash short as we head into the woods. I keep scanning the area ahead of me, looking for glimpses of white fur amongst the dead brown colors of winter, prepared to turn and go back if I find the sight too disturbing, but I didn’t see anything. We get closer and closer and still there were no signs of Baby Blue. Then I am there. Standing right over the spot I left her. She’s gone.

Sigh.

Ginger, always ready to push on, has to be told if there is a direction reversal. “Ginger! This way!” I give a little tug indicating I wanted her to come back and she complies.

Back on the road, around the corner and we are there, at the pond, at the head of the campground. There is still a skim of ice on part of it despite the fifty degree temps.

A fresh bloom of bright green algae at the edge of the ice in the shallows catches my attention.

I only take a few pictures as I again turn my sights to the dam and much hoped for eagle pictures.

“And your eagle feather, Peg. Don’t forget about that.”

I didn’t forget about my eagle feather. In fact, I offered up a little prayer.


Lord I’d really like to have an eagle feather.

What are you going to do with an eagle feather?

I don’t know but I’d really like to have one.

It’s the wrong time of year. They don’t drop their feathers in the winter.

You could arrange it for me. You could have him reach back and pluck a feather and drop it to the ground for me to find. Surely he won’t miss one feather?
The Bible says we are to ask for what we want. It may not be in God’s will to give it to us, none-the-less we are to ask.

I asked.

The road into the campground below the dam takes us past the remnants of a small deer. Not much left but bits of hide, hoof and bone. (Yeah, I have pictures but I will spare you.)

After this I become aware of a great rushing sound.

Are the gates open? I wonder. They weren’t the last time I was there. We get past the trees and I see that indeed they were. Some, if not all of the flood gates of the dam were open. Not as far as when we had the flooding but they were open.

We get closer and I see all of the gates are open and I see a rainbow! A dam rainbow! A dambow! All thoughts of eagles go out my head as I start taking photos of the refraction and dispersion of the sun’s light on the misty waters falling from the dam. I zoom in and see the birds swooping in and out of the turbulent waters, fishing I assume.

A hundred pictures later I again think of the eagles. The trees where they normally perch are a little further into the campground.

“Ginger!” I call. “This way!” And I head her away from the dam.

There’s one!

My heart always soars when I see these huge birds of prey.

I zoom in as tight as I can go and I see he’s looking at me and I feel a hint of fear.

“Peg, you’re silly. With all the food around they’re not going to bother you!”

I know, right! That’s what I think too. However you would be stupid if you didn’t respect the strong talons and sharp beak of this mighty predator.

Then I see another eagle. This one still has the mottled feathers of a juvenile. I see him land on a tree not far from me. I snap a couple of more pictures of the adult and as I head to the other tree, the young’n takes flight.

I snap pictures as he turns and glides on currents of air, mesmerized by his grace and command of the elements.

Then he lands back in the tree he took off from.

Yeah, he sees me too. They have eagle eyes, you know.

These birds can reach as much as fourteen pounds. Do you think they worry about the branch breaking under them?

No.

They don’t trust the branch, they trust their wings.

I scan the ground under the trees where they perch and I see their droppings, but no feathers.

Oh, well.

Time to head for home.

We are heading out of the campground and I see an armadillo before either Ginger or Itsy do.

I snap a few photos and that catches the girls attention. Itsy and Ginger perk up their ears and look in the direction my camera is pointed but they didn’t see him until he moved. Then they bark and the only pictures I get after that are armadillo butt and who wants to see armadillo butt!

On we go and we are walking past the pond when a floating spot catches my attention. I bet that’s a turtle nose, I think and zoom my camera in as far as it will go and snap a few pictures.

I can’t tell, with these old eyes of mine, if it really is a turtle or not. Many times I’ve photographed things I thought were critters only to find out after seeing them on the computer that it was a stick or twig or leaf or bit of garbage or whatever.

On we go and a few feet further on I turn and look. The floating spot was gone and I smiled. It was a turtle!

I have dawdled much too long so I decided to take the shortcut, across the grass and up the hill to the Strip.

Ginger starts pulling.

She smells something, straining at the leash to get to it.

“No!” I tell her and pull her back. Judging from past experience the only thing she finds in the grass is something from the south end of a north bound animal! I glance at where she was headed and saw a gray blob. Sometimes poo from some critters is gray or maybe it’s just old, I don’t know. It might be a puff ball, I think and I decide to investigate. If you step on puff balls little clouds of smoke puff out. Does it help them disperse their spores? I don’t know but I try to do my part.

I kicked it with my foot first, just in case it wasn’t a puff ball and I could tell it wasn’t.

What is that!

And I bent down, looked at it a little closer and picked it up. I’ll be darned! I was so excited that I just had to tell someone! I dug my phone out of my pocket and who do I call? My mother.

Momma picked it up on the second ring. “Hello,” she says.

“Momma guess what I just found!” I exclaimed.

“I can’t imagine what you may have found.”

And I knew she wouldn’t guess what it was but sometimes she’s a good sport and makes wild guesses.

“I found an owl pellet!”

“You did!”

“Yep! It’s the first one I’ve ever found in the wild.”

“Where did you get those that you gave me before?” she asked.

“Oh, that was when we were in Arizona and the owls were roosting in an abandoned building. I knew there would be pellets there.” The man who was showing us around the property thought it was owl poop and I explained to him that it wasn’t, it was an owl pellet.

“I don’t know how it came to be out here in the middle of the field though,” I told her.

“I can’t either. I thought they expelled the pellet when they roosted.”

“Peg! What’s an owl pellet?” you ask.

Owls can’t digest the fur and bones and claws of the rodents they eat so it comes back up - in pellet form.

“How in the world did you know what an owl pellet was?” you wonder.

Often times I’ve heard the owls hooting in these woods and I’ve mentioned it to Momma a time or two while talking with her on the phone. She told me when she was a little girl she used to go looking for owl pellets and that’s when I found out what an owl pellet was.

“Technically Ginger found it,” you say.

Man! You guys are tough! Ginger didn’t know what it was either so I get to claim it.

What a day! I didn’t get my eagle feather but I did get an owl pellet. Oh that reminds me…


Thank you Lord. I couldn’t be happier if it had been gold!
I know.

I’m silly.