Peggy's Jibber-Jabber: Sister Love

I love my sisters.

All of them.

I love my brothers too, but there's a special bond between sisters, you know what I mean?

Thursday, a week ago now, I got an email from Phyllis, one of my younger sisters. "I'm going to be having a specialty nurse come in tonight to put in a port for IV steroids. I'm having an MS episode — it feels like I'm getting a low voltage electrical shock on my right side but only when I move. It starts on the right side of my back — a little on the side — and goes from shoulder to hip. I called my neurologist and got a prescription for oral steroids but it didn't help. The area affected spread to now include my front from boob to hip so pretty much the whole right half of my body. It's not really painful just really annoying."

The next day I got this picture from Phyllis.

Then on Sunday (which would have been Easter Sunday) I get another message from her.

"Peg, do you and your sister talk every day?" you ask.

Why, yes. Yes we do. It's kind of our thing every since 'our' daughter died. (I say 'our' because Kat was as much —or more— Phyllis' daughter as she was mine.) Daily love notes are our way of supporting each other.

"How was your Easter?" I asked her. "Did you go to Jim's mom's for dinner?"

"No, but we did stop and give her a hydrangea plant — it was pretty. We had pizza..." she wrote me back.

I smiled as I read that. It seems Easter pizza is a thing because when I asked Rosie Kipp what her plans for Easter were, she said, "Easter pizza."

Easter pizza was exactly what Mike and I were planning on having for Easter too but mostly because it was Sunday. Sundays are either warmed up leftovers or pizza because that's all the cookin' I do on Sundays.

Then on Saturday, for about the fifth time, Mike said, "Are you sure you don't want to go have Easter dinner someplace?"

He wore me down. "You want to go the Wyalusing Hotel?"

"It's probably too late to get reservations."

"If it is we'll just have our Easter pizza." I called the Hotel and they could seat us at 1:30.

We went to church on Easter morning and had enough time to go home, change, and have a quick cup of coffee before we needed to leave to keep our reservation. When we got there the power was out. Doggone it! A transformer had blown and that whole half of town had no power.

"You can still have the buffet," the hostess told us.

"We were going to order from the menu," I told her.

"I think they can still cook. Let me go check," and she left to find out.

"Mike, I don't think I want to eat in the dark," I whispered.

"I don't either," he said.

When she came back five or six minutes later she said, "No. It's buffet only."

"Okay. Well, sorry, I guess we'll go someplace else."

Out in the Jeep we called another place but they couldn't seat us until 3:30, so it was home and Easter pizza after all!

Phyllis' note went on. "I managed to knock out/rip out my IV port — didn't notice so it didn't hurt. I just looked down and there it was — hanging out. It's a good thing the nurse was coming yesterday to replace it. I'm still getting zaps, mostly in my gut and hip, so not as wide of an area as before."

The end of her note gave me another smile.

"I'm really glad I don't have to deal with dead possums!"

Yeah. I'm sure she is and I bet she's not the only one who had that thought as they read my letter blog.

A couple of three days ago I asked Phyllis for an update. "The IV steroids were for 5 days — all done now. They only leave the port in for 3 days then they replace it — so I had 2 of them. It's not resolved yet — in some ways its kinda better, kinda worse. Better because a smaller area is involved. Worse because now I'm getting zinged without even moving."

And there you have it my dear friends and family. There you have the very latest news on what is happening with Phyllis' multiple sclerosis. What do you say we all say a prayer for her? I'll lead.

Gracious and heavenly Father, we know that You do not desire any of Your children to suffer and that many times hardships are placed in our path that we may turn to You and grow in faith. We ask that You wrap Your arms of comfort and healing around Phyllis and give her peace and strength in this time of need. In Jesus' name we pray. Amen.

On a lighter note, how about some pictures I've taken this week?

This funny looking spikey thing is cedar apple rust. It occurs everywhere cedars and apples coexist and if there are no apple trees close by, hawthorn will work too. No cedars? No problem! Any juniper will work.

Spring beauties! They're tiny.

Finches! Aren't they the prettiest bird ever!

Coming home from our latest shopping trip to Vestal, New York, I spotted an eagle in a tree just in time to get two blurry shots of him. Even a bad shot of such a majestic bird is a good one.

The pussy willows get little flowers on the end of their spikes, and I mean little! Tiny even!

Mike took me and the girls for a golf cart ride Friday evening. There is a place along our dirt road where someone is dumping a bunch of tires, which makes me sad. You should take care of your own garbage and not make it someone else's problem.

I spotted this deer skeleton near them and had Mike turn around just so I could take a picture of it.

"Why?" you ask.

Don't ask me why, I don't know why. But boy was I surprised when I see it on my computer and there's a woodpecker sitting on it! Had I known he was there I might have tried a little harder to get a better picture of him. Do you think he was eating bugs?

Our pond after we had a bunch of rain is muddy and really full. The peepers are peeping like crazy! You go outside at night and it's so loud! A real cacophony!

Earlier in the week, I was walking down around the pond and managed to take a couple of pictures of the wood frogs before Ginger scared them into the water.

Pulling out the weeds and brush has dislodged some garbage. I picked up an old green plastic container that used to contain snuff and another green plastic piece that used to contain a party popper, as well as other, less distinctive, pieces of plastic. Boy oh boy, plastic lives forever, doesn't it.

Then I spotted a floating plastic bag. More garbage, I thought and since I had my boots on, I waded in the pond a few steps and reached down for it. Only it wasn't a plastic bag. It was a gelatinous mass with black speckles in it. I'd never before seen one but I suspect this is a frog's nest. Then, as I continued my walk around the pond and as I had my eye trained for them, I spotted several more of these floating throughout the pond, some on the surface of the water and some under. I'm excited to go back every day and watch the tadpoles develop. And needless to say, I will be very disappointed, and slightly embarrassed, if that's not what it turns out to be.

Mike straightened up my clothesline poles. Over the years they were leaning in further and further. "Peg, the poles are rotting," Mike told me, "especially the cross arms."

Eventually we will have to replace them but for now they still work.

My pretty little Ginger was happy to sit on the golf cart, in the sunshine and watch.

It was as we were working on the clothesline poles that I hear voices and look up. There's a guy in a reflective work vest and a hard hat walking across our yard.

"Mike..."

"What?" he asks never breaking stride in his shoveling.

"Someone's here."

Mike stopped and dropped the shovel on the ground as he went to meet him.

"We're here to do the mowing for the electric company," he says by way of introduction. About this time, his partner comes across the yard after him.

Mike walked around with Tim and Jamie, talking about what needed to be done, and they assured him they would be as respectful to our property as they could be.

"Are they cutting the trees too?" I asked Mike when he came back.

"No, the tree cutters come through later."

A man had come by a couple of weeks ago and talked with Mike about removing some of our trees that were a danger to the power lines. Included in that number were the trees in the courtyard off my new kitchen.

"That right there is an ash borer," he told Mike. "The woodpeckers tear at the bark trying to get them but when the borers go in, they circle around, almost like a D pattern and the woodpeckers can't get them. In five years 90% of the ash trees will be dead because of the ash borer."

And the trees in my courtyard were infected.

"We're not allowed to climb ash trees at all because even though you don't see them, the inside of the tree could be hollow and break off while you're in the tree," he said.

My guess is that actually happened and that's why the ban on climbing any and all ash trees.

The mower came through the next day and what a beast that mower is! Our brush pile was directly under the power line and the beast reduced the pile to practically nothing!

At the end of the day, before they left, Mike spent quite a long time talking with the guys. I wandered out with the puppy dogs.

"Did you talk him into leaving you the keys for that thing?" I asked.

Mike laughed. "I tired but he won't let me have them!"

After they had left for the day Mike hauled me out there. "Peg! Come out here with me. I want to show you something."

There was so much excitement in his voice I couldn't say no. I grabbed my camera and trailed out after Mike.

"Look at the teeth on that thing," he said pointing. I snapped a picture. "They're carbide and cost $185 each! I can't imagine how many teeth are on there... a hundred maybe?"

I listened as Mike rattled on but I must not have been listening too closely because now I can't remember what else he told me.

A few days later the cutters came through and took down the ash trees in the courtyard.

On my evening walkabout with the girls, and my ever present entourage, we checked out the fallen trees.

Macchiato took the opportunity to sharpen his claws.

And this is what my entourage does all day long.

"Sleep?" you guess.

Yes, sleep. They are night prowlers and will spend all night outside. I can go out ten o'clock at night and three cats will come out of the weeds at me or come up from the pond.

I know some of you know what this is but for those of you who do not, let me tell you that the puff balls sat all winter waiting for conditions to be just right, then they burst open, releasing their spores.