Sunday, July 2, 2017

Thankful

         Another week and another month have passed into the rearview of our lives. I hope you made many happy memories this past week because you'll never get a chance to do it over again.
         Me? What kind of a week did I have? Well! I am so glad you asked! I've so many things to tell you that I hardly know where to begin!
         Pictures? Did I take any pictures, you ask. Why yes. Yes I did. You guys are so spoiled, that's all I've got to say!
         First, let me start by telling you that I received an answer from the Pennsylvania DNR concerning the bush I was calling a honeysuckle. It's not. The forester agent says it looks like Autumn Olive (Elaeagnus umbellata) and included in the response was an informational sheet from Penn State Extension. It says Autumn Olive is invasive, was planted for wildlife food and cover, and one plant can produce up to eight pounds of fruit each season.



         I chuckled a little when I read the paragraph about controlling this plant.
         ...autumn olive also re-sprouts vigorously after mowing, cutting, or burning, often becoming more vigorous with each re-growth even when repeated for many years.
         It sounds to me like the harder you try to get rid of it the harder and tougher it becomes! We should all be that way, don't you think.
         When I Googled Autumn Olive it tells me that the fruit is edible. The red fruits are pulpy, juicy and sweet, with a thin skin covering the whole fruit. A little further in the article is this sentence: They are tart tasting, with chewable seeds. Their content of carotenoid and lycopene is some seven to seventeen times higher than that of tomatoes.
         Interesting. Most of us know lycopene has been attributed with lowering the risks of cardiovascular disease and prostate cancer.
         I clicked on another link and landed on a website titled Return To Nature. The host made a video on identifying Autumn Olive and said the best and easiest way is to look for the specks on the fruit. Even though this plant is in the same family as the bush honeysuckle, the honeysuckle berries are not speckled. Then the blog has this to say:
         Autumn olive, or elaegnus is a delicious and tart berry which, before the first winter frost is very astringent due to being full of tannic acid. The great thing about tannic acid is that it is water soluble, this means that it can either be leeched out, or it can be “bletted” out. Bletting is basically using your freezer to mock the frost period in nature. The reason this is important is because after the first frost the berries will be mostly eaten by wildlife. Therefore to render autumn olives less tannic you can freeze them for a few months.
         Another website, Dave's Garden, never talks about the tannic acid but does talk about how he uses the berry.
         The autumn olives can be left for nearly two weeks at room temperature without spoiling and any un-ripened berries will mature. They may be eaten raw, or cooked and used to top pancakes, breads, and cakes, or made into a pudding. The fruit can be used in place of other berries in recipes and my family liked the jam I made. The seeds are soft enough to be chewed (fibrous), and can be eaten along with the fruit without ill effects. The berries can be dried with the seeds for crunchy snacking, or made into fruit leathers which concentrates their flavor.
         One very important thing I learned from all of this research is this; there are no poisonous look-alikes, so just look for the specks and have at it!

         With Mike's help, I made five more concrete leaves. Every time we drove down our dirt road on the golf cart I saw the big beautiful leaves of the burdock plant. "We could make concrete leaves," I'd say to Mike.
         "Naw, you don't need them," he'd reply.
         This went on for several weeks and I knew that time was running short. The leaves would soon be full of holes from the bugs and wouldn't be near as pretty and if that happened it would be another year until I would have the chance to make them again. Then inspiration hit. "I want to make a concrete leaf for Rosie," I told Mike. "I gave Steph one the last time I made them and I'd like to make one for Rosie too."
         The next trip we made to Lowe's, we bought concrete. We collected more leaves than I thought I would need, just to be on the safe side, I mounded the sand and Mike — bless his heart! His back was hurting and he helped me anyway — and Mike mixed the concrete for me.


         "Now don't say anything to Rosie about it," I warned Mike. "I want to paint it and surprise her with it."
         The best laid plans, right!
         I decided to wait a couple of days for the concrete to dry. One would probably have been long enough but I didn't want to take any chances on breaking a leaf so I thought I'd let them sit for two days. Then I flipped them over and determined I'd have to let them sit for a few more days in order for the leaf to dry so I could peel it out. One day, during this whole process, I was in the bathroom and a thought pops into my head — I know, don't ask me why— but just like that, out of the blue, in my mind's eye, I hear:  Rosie likes to paint.
         Dah! Of course! Rosie likes to paint! She not only likes to paint, Rosie is a talented painter. I am the proud owner of a couple of her paintings. What in the world made me think I needed to paint anything for Rosie!
         "Rosie, I made something for you — if you want it," I told her on her next morning visit.
         "All right."
         I showed her the cement leaves and let her pick the one that was most pleasing to her.


        "I have the perfect place for it," Rosie said. "Under the downspout. Then Gene (an outside cat) can get a drink of water whenever he wants it."
         "Gene?" you ask. "That's a weird name for a cat!"
         I know, right!
         "It's because when he was a kitten he had wild and scraggly hair going all over the place and it reminded us of Gene Wilder so we named him Gene," Rosie explained.
         Those Kipps! They always seem to come up with the perfect name for the cats, only now there won't be any more kittens for them to name because we got all of our cats fixed!
         "I might not paint it," Rosie said. "I kinda like it just the way it is."
         "It's yours," I told her, "you can do whatever you want with it. Paint it, don't paint it, I don't care."
         Rosie did paint her leaf but I haven't seen it yet. I wrote and certain I was done with the story, added the period with a flourish.
         "Well go take a picture of it!"  said Me to Myself.
         Yeah! Why not! I picked up my phone and dialed the Kipps. Lamar answered. "Can I talk to Rosie?" I asked.
         "Sure, if you talk loud enough," he replies. He can be a real wisenheimer sometimes! I smiled despite myself.
         When Rosie came on the line, I opened my mouth and out came this. "Rosie, I was just writing the story of your concrete leaf and I wrote Rosie did paint her leaf but I haven't seen it yet, and then I thought maybe I'd come down and take a picture of it for my story."
         "Well sure. Come on down."
         I got on the golf cart and went down to see Rosie's painted leaf.

  
       "It's beautiful!"
         "And this afternoon's rain filled it up for me," Rosie said.


         "Gee Peg," you say. "Wouldn't it have just been a whole lot easier to say, 'Rosie, can I come down and take a picture of your leaf?'"
         I know, right! That's what I was thinking too! I've lived with Mike so long that I've picked up some of his habits and taking the long way around is one of them! My old boss used to get so frustrated with me. "Get to the point, Peg!" she'd often say ruining a perfectly good story!
        
         Hey! What's this plate say? I'm probably gonna feel stupid when you tell me.


         You know how some people put the toilet in the yard and plant flowers in it? Well, here's the rest of the bathroom.


         Another barn quilt. If you've been reading me for years you may remember this one. It's at the winery right here in Wyalusing.


         Look at this guy! He's just a red milkweed beetle and after I took this picture he ducked down, so I know he saw me.


         This is a mayfly. He landed on my thumb and hung around for a few pictures.


         Mayflies are fascinating creatures. They belong to the same order as dragonflies and damselflies. Their immature stages are aquatic fresh water forms called naiads or nymphs, whose presence indicates a clean, unpolluted environment.
         They are unique among insect orders in that they molt one more time after having their wings.
           The lifespan of an adult mayfly is very short, usually only about 24 hours but varying with the species. The primary function of the adult is reproduction; adults do not feed and have only vestigial (unusable) mouthparts, while their digestive systems are filled with air. Dolania americana has the shortest lifespan of any mayfly: the adult females of the species live for less than five minutes.
        
         I found this wing on my patio one morning this past week. Some of you know that this is a wing from the Luna Moth.


        We don't see adult Luna Moths very often for two reasons. First, they are more active at night and second, they don't live very long either. As with the Mayfly, the adult Luna does not eat and in fact have no mouth parts at all. Their sole function at this stage of their life is to mate. Lunas live longer than Mayflies though, usually about a week.

         Last Sunday, a week ago now, I got out of the Jeep at church and see the mullein is blooming. As I had my camera with me, and I was early enough, I took a few pictures.


         "What are you taking pictures of?" Elizabeth, one of the pastor's pretty daughters asked.
         "The mullein right now," I told her, "but what I'd really like to get is a picture of a spider on one of these daisies." I described the little pale green crab spiders that sometimes inhabit these flowers. "They wait for a bug to come along and then they get them!"
         I thought she would be grossed out by spiders as most little girls are but it didn't seem to faze her. "I'll help you look," she volunteered. "Here's a bee."





        I snapped a picture. Then I found an inch worm. This guy will eventually be a Clover Looper.


         "Wanna see my baby bird?" Elizabeth asked.
         "You have a baby bird?"
         "Yeah. It's up by the edge of the woods."
         At first I declined her offer thinking it was getting close to the time for church to start but when we went inside I saw we still had plenty of time. "Okay, let's go see that baby bird."
         I followed her and when we got close to the spot we could hear the mother bird chirping. "It's right here," she said, picked up a stick and pushed back the foliage from a ground nest. The baby, thinking mom was bringing food, was ready and waiting.


         "Thank you for showing me your baby bird," I told Elizabeth as we walked back to the church.
         "Did you show her the baby bird?" Hanna, another of the pastor's daughters asked. She was carrying her music folder and sometimes plays piano for us.


         "Yes," Elizabeth answered.  
      A minute or two later the last two daughters came down from the house. Abigail and Lydia. Aren't they all beautiful girls. (Not really a question.)


        Pastor Mike has a son as his firstborn, but I don't see Caleb as often. He comes in later, after I've already taken my seat, and many times helps in the sound booth.

         Look at this guy. I can't decide if he's pretty or ugly. I had my doubts that I would be able to identify him just because of the sheer number of bugs out there but boy was I surprised when his picture popped up on the bug page I was looking at. This guy is called Tarnished Plant Bug.


       You know something? I can't really find any good things to say about this bug. The TPB has become a serious pest on small fruits and vegetables in North America. He has a huge appetite and feeds on over half of all commercially grown crop plants, but favors cotton, alfalfa, beans, stone fruits, and conifer seedling. And he doesn't 'eat' them either. Much like a fly or mosquito, he injects saliva into the plant and sucks up the partially digested plant matter.
         EWWW! Now I know he's an ugly bug!
         I thought these dock seeds, turning red, were pretty. So many of our wild things can be eaten and because of all the seeds on dock, you can make it into a palatable flour, and you can eat the leaves too.


         Some late blooming stick-tight flowers.

       
         This is a Silver-spotted Skipper.


  
         This guy is a leaf hopper. They suck plant sap and come in many different colors.
         He saw me and scooted around to the underside of the leaf so I used my finger to scare him back to the topside. Boy! The things I do for you guys!
 

         I was walking Itsy and Ginger around the upper barn and back field, just poking along and taking pictures. As usual the cats were following us. We come to a honeysuckle bush and I'm trying to get a picture of a moth, which I didn't get. The cats flopped themselves down on the grass, waiting for me to move on, when all of a sudden a female robin starts raising a ruckus. The cats were immediately on alert. I figured we were too close to her young so I moved on, calling the cats to come with me.


         Smudge listened and followed, Rascal did not. I went back for him and found him in the bush. 


Just over his head was the nest.


         I snapped a picture, set Rascal on the ground, and called him to follow. He didn't but I didn't go back again. The female robin was joined by a male and I know they have tricks to fool a cat and draw them away. Things like flopping on the ground, acting like they have a broken wing, flying off at the last moment. I left it to nature.

         Another daisy picture. This one has a weevil on it. You can tell because of his snout. 



         A damselfly. Remember, damselflies fold their wings back along their body and dragonflies sit with their wings out to the side.


         These ...berries ...cherries are growing on the tree I thought might be a choke cherry tree. We need a little more time to tell.


         The next picture in my file shows you a project we did this past week. We got my kitchen door in and the outside light fixture put up.


         "We need a couple of flat stones to put outside the door," Mike said.
         "We can get them from Jon Robinson," I said.
         The Robinsons have a small quarry on their property. The man who opened it ended up closing it about a year later because the quality of stone wasn't what they were hoping for. When he pulled out his equipment he left behind some cut stones and the Robinsons already told us we could have some if we wanted it.
         The very first rock I picked up, I put down pretty quick. "There's a snake!" I was surprised, but I don't know why. Snakes and rocks just seem to go together.
         "I don't want to see him," Mike called from a few feet away.
         I picked the rock back up and took his picture before he slithered away. This, my dears, is just a milk snake. They are not aggressive and will only bite if they're trapped, cornered, or can't get away from you, you know what I mean.


         Why do they call them milk snakes? I know you want to know.
         An early myth about milk snakes is that they suck cow udders to get the milk. The myth is entirely false, and is discredited by the fact that the milk snake does not have the physical capabilities to suck milk out of a cow. Milk snakes are, however, frequently found in and around barns, making use of their cool and dark environments and for the easily accessed populations of rodents to feed on. This proximity to barns, and therefore cows, probably gave rise to the myth.
         Mike walked over to where there were three or four rocks standing upright. The very first one he pulled apart revealed it was the sleeping place of a bat.


         "Eeek!" you scream.
         Stop it. Bats are cool! And this is a Little Brown Bat, the most common of bats. They like to eat lots of things that we don't like, like misquotes, gnats, wasps, beetles and a few things we may like, like moths and mayflies.

         On the way down from the quarry I spotted vervain.


         Vervain’s reputation as a sacred plant dates back at least to ancient Egypt where it was thought to have sprung from the tears of the goddess Isis as she mourned the death of the god Osiris. It was also sacred to the Persians, Druids, and worshipers of Thor in Scandinavia. The Greeks called it hierobotane, “holy plant”; the Roman version of the name was herba sacra. Both used the branches to brush the ­altars of the temples; the generic name Verbena, “leafy branch,” ­alludes to this practice. Legend has it that vervain was also used to stanch the bleeding of Christ’s wounds on the cross; the herb is sometimes known as herb-on-the-cross.
         And what a good segue into my final story of the week. And what do you say we take the long way around.
         Mike and I unpacked our trailer, I told you that. Besides the bedroom furniture, I took out a bunch of my glass stuff that was stored in there that I couldn't get to before. And books. I had a few boxes of books. Among the books were two of note.
         One was a book on trees simply called TREES, The visual guide to more than 500 species of trees from around the world. I inherited the book when my brother Michael died and in it I found one of the trees I showed you a picture of last week.  This tree is Carpinus Cordata otherwise known as Heartleaf Hornbeam.


        I know, I know. A lot of times I capitalize names of things that aren't technically capitalized, but I do it so you know it's the name and not a generalization.
         This tree has an attractive shape, is a slow-growing, low-maintenance tree that came from Japan.
         The other book that I had in the same box was a Catholic Edition of the Bible. The Kipps were here one morning shortly after I found it and I showed it to them. "Lamar, what's a Catholic Bible?" I asked but it was sort of a trick question because I already knew the answer. And the only reason I knew was because of Mr. B, the old man I took care of in Missouri. He was Catholic and he told me the Catholic Bible had extra books in it.
         If you Google it, it will tell you this: The Catholic Bible is a Christian Bible translation or revision that comprises the 73 books recognized as canonical by the Catholic Church, including the seven deuterocanonical books of the Old Testament that are not part of the Hebrew Bible.
         Deuterocanonical? What the heck is that? So I Googled that too. It's from the Greek meaning "belonging to the second canon." So what are the extra books? Copied and pasted straight from the internet they are:

         "A Bible like this can be very useful when studying the Bible," Lamar told me. "You can cross reference the passages and see how they are translated in a different Bible." He picked a passage he knew by heart and checked how it was translated in the Catholic Bible and it gave him something to think about. Since Lamar seemed so interested in this translation, it was my pleasure to give him the Bible.
         Then, on a shopping trip to Walmart, we stopped at this junk shop in the little town of Milan. We've stopped here several times and have gotten to known Keith, the proprietor.


         "Not junk," he told Mike. "What's that sign say!" But Keith didn't wait for an answer. "Treasures!"
         Mike did an express tour inside the shop and stood chatting with Keith while I browsed.
         I found a Bible. It was inside a slipcover that declared GIANT PRINT REFERENCE EDITION. I pulled it out and looked it over. It was in great shape and had no highlights or underlines in it. If someone ever used it, it didn't show.
         "How much for the Bible," I called over to Keith, interrupting his conversation with Mike. I anticipated a number higher than I really wanted to pay, so I slid it back in its cover and put it back on the shelf.
         "Oh, give me a dollar," Keith answered.
         Heck yeah! I took it back down and tucked it under my arm. In another section I found a Rummy-O game. I couldn't check to see if all the tiles were there because the box was taped shut. "How much for the game?" I asked, interrupting again.
         "They've been here a while —" I knew that because of the dust — "give me a dollar."
         I would! Now I've got one I can give to the kids. "We'll get them hooked on the game too," I told Mike later.


         I hadn't been paying any attention at all to the conversation between Mike and Keith until Keith said the magic word. "...we just had a baby donkey born a few weeks ago."
         Baby? "Those donkeys across the road are yours?" I asked.
         "Yep."
         "Can we go see them?"
         "Sure can."
         I settled my bill and we went across the road.
         "This is Cinders, and her mom Caroline. We named her Cinders because she was as black as cinders when she was born."


         "How old is she now?" I asked.
         "About six weeks now. This is the third year in a row that Caroline's had a baby. We usually like to only breed them every other year but Jethro there jumped the fence."
         Right on cue, Jethro began to bray.
         "He wants attention too," I guessed.
         "Nope, you're close to his baby," Keith replied.
         I didn't take a picture of Jethro until later but here he is looking through the fence at Caroline and Cinders.


         "What do you do with all the donkeys?" I wondered.
         "Sell them. We can't breed them fast enough. People love them."
         "What do they do with them? Use them to feed something else?" I don't know why I thought that, but what else do you do with donkeys?
         "Nope. If they're going to use them for food we won't sell them. They're great watchdogs. They'll chase coyotes and foxes away. The only thing is, they're herd animals. You can't have just one or you'll never keep'em in a fence. Even if you got them a goat, they just don't want to be alone."
          Then out waddled a very pregnant donkey. "This is Izzy," Keith said.
         Izzy came up to the fence and I scratched her nose.


         "Jethro's the daddy for this one too. He's the daddy of all our babies this year."
         Lucky Jethro.
         Keith climbed the ladder and went through a gate into another pasture. "Peaches!" he called and he kept calling. Peaches, a little horse, never did come but Casey —K.C.?— and Freckles did.


         "We named her Freckles because when she was little she had freckles all over face," Keith told me. Then he reached down, wrapped his arm around Freckles' neck and gave her a great big old kiss.
         It surprised me and I wasn't ready for it. "Oh, you have to let me get a picture of that!"
         And Keith kissed her again. "She usually curls her lip up when I kiss her."
         You gotta love a man who's not afraid to show his affection for the critters! That's why I love Mike.


         "How did you get into donkeys?" I asked.
         "Me and my partner went to an auction and they brought out this one donkey that was a little older than the rest and the bidding started at four hundred. When it got down to twenty-five dollars it broke my heart. I just looked at my partner and she could see it in my eyes. I didn't even have to say anything. 'Go ahead,' she said, and I started the bidding. I was prepared to pay four hundred for him but I got him for sixty-five. We didn't have a trailer or nothin'. We backed the truck up and he got right in the back of it. My partner is a country girl and she made a harness out of a rope and we cross-tied him and he rode home in the back of the truck. He even leaned into the curves! 'He's done this before,' I said to my partner. 'You can tell.' We named him Eeyore but we found out later that his name was Sparky and he was a basketball donkey. You know, one they would take all around to the games."
         "Can we see the goats?" Most times when we pass by here there are goats in the field as well as the donkeys.
         "They should be out," Keith said and looked down to another pasture. "Oh, you know what? We didn't open the door after we fed them this morning. I'll go let them out."
         I followed Keith down to the goat house and while I waited I saw all the little Pale Sulphurs on the poop. (Purely a gratuitous poop picture for you, Steph.)


         Keith came back. "It's open. They're just staying inside." Then he had a thought. "I know what will get them out here," and he turned on his heel and went back in.      
         When he came out he had a bucket of treats. He started calling and out they came. I laughed to see all of the goats and I thought of my daughter Kat, who had goats when she was growing up and would have loved this place.



         People eat goats.
         "Have you ever eaten goat?" I asked Keith.
         "Oh yeah. There isn't much I haven't eaten."
         "What's it taste like?"
         "A lot like lamb."
         Then this big old girl waddles over. "Wow! How many babies is she gonna have?"


         "She's not pregnant. It's gas. She's an old girl." Keith came up beside her, reached down, and affectionately rubbed her side. "Her name's Patty."
          Another donkey wandered over to get a treat. "This here's Teddy. He's a rescue. When we first got him he hid behind the barn for two days — and he didn't even know how to eat grain, he'd never seen it before."
        "He's got beautiful markings on his legs." Which you can't see but trust me, they're beautiful.



         I would have loved nothing better than to spend more time there taking pictures of the animals and hearing all of Keith's stories, but Mike was waiting — very patiently too I might add! He knows how much I love this kind of thing. But we had a vet appointment for the girls Itsy and Ginger so I couldn't hang out with Keith all day.


         I was tickled with my newly acquired treasures and the next time I saw the Kipps I showed off my new Bible. "Lamar? Do you think God is trying to tell me something by putting all these Bibles in my path?"
         He scratched his head for a moment. "Yes, read the Bible."
         "'Read My Word!'"
         "Yes," Lamar agreed.
         I don't spend enough time in God's Word but it is something I aspire to do.          In the meantime, I am not taking any day for granted. I am here only by the grace of God. I am writing to you today, only by the grace of God and for that, I give Him thanks and praise. And you should too!
         Do you like my stories?
         Do they make you laugh?
         Cry sometimes?
         Do you learn things?
         Do they give you things to think about?
         My pictures?
         Many of you have told me how beautiful my pictures are and how much you love them.
         Take a moment and thank our Lord, would you?
         Let's end this week with another fabulous sunset picture.
  


        That's one nice thing about clouds — without them you wouldn't have a fabulous sunset!


         The boys Smudge and Rascal were more interested in roughhousing than watching the sun go down.
  
 
         And with that, let's call this one done.

         Until next time, remember — you are all in my heart.


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