I left you last time with the saga of the semi clogging up our bridge for eight hours last week.
"Eight hours!" you exclaim.
That's right. Someone sent a picture of it into our local newspaper and they said it happened around 3 pm. Three to eleven is eight hours. And it certainly left a mess in front of the Kipps' house — on both sides of the road.
Last weekend was busy. Then again, most all of my weekends are full-up; consumed with all the rigmarole of getting a weekly letter blog out. Last weekend was even more so because saying goodbye to my cousin, Justin, was thrown into the mix. I didn't want to take the time to cook so I promised Mike we could go to his favorite ice cream stand for an Italian sausage sandwich. He was happy.
Smile Awhile is very eclectic. Besides ice cream, they have sandwiches and a collection of antiquey/rustic items. It's fun to browse.
This mailbox turned birdhouse gave me a smile.
We took a different way to go home, a longer but more scenic route. I took some pictures for you.
"What do you think he's doing with that ladder?" I asked Mike pointing to where it was leaning against a tree.
"Cutting a branch maybe," Mike speculates. "I wouldn't want to do it."
Our recent heavy rains washed out both sides of this road.
Justin.
I know I should rejoice (and maybe feel a bit jealous) that Justin is home; in heaven — paradise, basking in the glory of our Lord, but it just makes me a bit sad that I'll no more get to commune with this kind and gentle man on this side of death.
"Would it be too depressing to talk about Justin's visitation and memorial Mass?" I asked my beautiful sister in my morning email.
"I would not find it depressing per say," Phyllis answered me. "Sad, definitely. But I feel we should always remember those who have left us; Kathy, Dad, Mike, Ed, Aunt Marie, Aunt Brenda, Jessica, Lee, Cindra, and so many more. A lot of sadness — and good memories too. Some shoulda, woulda regrets, but that's life. If only foresight was as 20/20 as hindsight!"
I don't know how I got lucky enough to have such beautiful and smart sisters!
But me, being who I am, felt the need to be your eyes and ears since you couldn't be there. Especially for mother.
This is a side/parking lot view of McCarty Thomas Funeral Home.
Once Mike and I went inside I asked for permission to take pictures and Justin's widow, Kathleen granted it.
In the picture is Justin's family. Right to left, Kathleen, their son Trevor and his fiancé Aubree, their daughter Brianna and her boyfriend Benjamin.
After giving hugs and condolences to the family, Mike and I sat down and watched the family receive the long line of friends and family that had started to form.
I don't intend to minimize anyone's pain or grief with this next statement that I'm going to make. There were so many tears shed for Justin that day as well as a few smiles too with remembered memories. But my heart just broke as I watched Trevor cry a bucket load of tears for his dad. Every time someone stepped up to Trevor, the tears would slip out of his eyes and slide down his face. He'd regain his composure and then the next person would step up, express their sorrow, and the tears would flow all over again.
Justin was a member of the American Legion and so is his brother Joe. All of the members gathered and did a pass-by and salute to Justin.
It was so quiet during this procession that you could've heard a pin drop as we all sat in silence and watched them pay a final respect to Justin.
The next day was a memorial Mass in this pretty little church. St. Francis Of Assisi Church is in the small town of Mildred, just a few miles outside of Dushore.
Mike and I were there kinda early, as is Mike's way. Upon entering we were told the first few rows were reserved for family but we were welcome to sit anywhere. We sat on the right side of the aisle. The church started to fill up and more and more people were sitting on the left side of the aisle. When it was all said and done, when the Mass started, there were maybe 10 people on the side Mike and I were on and as you can see, the other side was full up.
"What's going on with that?" Mike asked but I didn't know — still don't.
Justin's sisters Rosemary and Lorraine carried the Eucharist and wine to the front for the communion.
At the end of the service, Trevor carried his dad, his heartbreak evident. I could cry just remembering how my heart broke for this young man all over again.
They dismissed us row by row, handing each of us a sprig of dried wheat.
"What's with the wheat?" you ask.
I know, right. I'd never seen it before either. But here's what I found out.
Wheat is the very foundation of life. Within a funeral, we must consider that wheat within the divine harvest would eventually be reaped, denoting the life cut and the renewal or resurrection of the soul.
Another answer:
The sheaf of wheat is a symbol of the Christian faith. The seeds of faith are sown in the human soul and grow into the mature faith of the Christian. The sown seed must lose its life in order that it may develop and multiply. Symbolically, a sheaf of wheat is used by the Christians to mark the passing of a fellow Christian. We believe death is not the end but the beginning of life eternal. The mature grain in this sheaf is the direct symbol of the resurrection — the life beyond the grave, the fulfillment of the Promises of Jesus Christ.
I reached out to my beautiful cousin Stacey. "It comes from John 12:24. Truly I say to you, unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains alone, but if it dies, it bears much fruit."
Basically, in three words, it represents life, death, resurrection.
By the time Mike and I made our way out of the church, they'd already placed Justin in the back of the hearse, then we were all invited to the hall for a meal.
I was hungry, to be sure, and we made our way across the street. I got coffee for me, water for Mike, then settled in for visiting until the food was ready. As soon as the announcement was made, I wondered how long I had to wait to be considered polite. I waited and no one moved. I started to wonder if they even heard, then Lorraine's husband Mark got up and was first in line. No one else was moving so Mike and I got in line behind him.
"I'm glad you went first because I didn't want to be first," I told Mark.
He laughed. "When it comes to food, I'm not shy."
Soup, potato and tortellini, and all the makings for an antipasto salad were laid out before us. I skipped the lettuce and made my way back to my seat. I sat my plate in front of me and reached for my camera.
I heard a laugh from the other side of the table and looked up.
"You're taking a picture of your food?" Mark asked.
"Sure! It's for Momma. I want her to have the full experience."
We had this handsome couple sitting across the table from us.
"Are you Dorothy?" the lady asked.
I was surprised to hear my mother's name. "No, but I'm her daughter!" I proudly declared.
"You look just like I remember her."
"Are you related to Justin?" I asked.
"Oh, I'm sorry. I'm Janet and this is my husband Bill." She pointed to the end of our table where my cousin Rosemary was sitting. "Rosemary's father and my father were brothers," she said.
Mike carried the conversation and I drifted to the conversation happening on the other side of me. So this picture shows Mark and Lorraine, Sue (was married to Justin's brother Vince at one time), Rosemary and her husband Carmen who is almost out of the shot.
Sue was telling a story and I found myself totally engrossed in it. Next thing I know Mike is nudging me. "Peg, get me a piece of cake, would ya?"
I glanced over and saw a big chocolate cake on the table. I headed over and stood while Mary Beth cut and served the cake. Behind me in line? Mark. "Yeah, you may be first in line when its food, but when it comes to dessert, I'm first!"
He laughed. "Yeah, you beat me."
The cake was actually vanilla with chocolate frosting, I saw as it was served. There were cookies and brownie bites too.
Bill leaned over to his wife. With his fork, he pointed to a pile of frosting left on her plate. "You going to eat that?"
Janet pushed the plate toward him. "No. I knew you'd want it."
I've seen this before, this phenomenon of scraping half the frosting off the cake and pushing it aside, usually performed by women, and frankly, I don't get it. Seldom have I ever had frosting that was 'too sweet'.
"Hey," I said getting Bills attention. I nodded my head, raised my eyebrows, gave him a knowing look, pointed my finger between him and me, and said, "The best part, right!"
He laughed and worked hard at scraping the plate clean. "If I was at home I'd lick the plate."
"Oh, I want to see that," I said but he didn't.
"She'd probably reach over and knock you out of your chair if you tried that here," Mike observed.
There were quite a few people who stayed to have a bite to eat and share stories of Justin.
Before we left, they brought the flowers over from the church.
Kathleen was gracious enough to allow me to have a rose for Momma and Kat.
Coming into our road, I see one of the bridge signs is all but obscured by vines. You can't tell there's a single lane bridge ahead. Who's in charge of this!
And I see the cleaners have arrived.
There were two of them but one took off before I got my camera up. The other one stayed for a long time before he finally left.
And yes, Turkey Vultures are all boys cause they're so ugly. Pretty things, like butterflies, are girls and ugly things are boys. That's just the way it is!
The morning before, a possum had gotten hit on our road. I was on my way to church, dressed in my Sunday best, heels on, and I went around the possum.
What if it has babies? I wondered and took my foot off the gas.
So? What are you gonna do? Raise them? My practical side asked.
Why not! Don't 'cha love conversations with yourself. They'll eat cat food and will use a litter box. I could keep them until they're old enough to take care of themselves. I could try anyway.
I stopped the Jeep, put it in reverse until I was close to the possum, got out and looked. Whew! Saved from having to try that! As far as I could see, he was a boy.
Speaking of butterflies...
I watched two Great Spangled Fritillaries on some mint in the neighbor's yard. I love these butterflies.
They are about the same size as the Monarch's, just so you have an idea if you've never seen one. And they let me get quite close as they were feeding.
Mike and I made our monthly (sometimes bi-monthly) shopping trip to the big city. I didn't take many road pictures and not much worth showing, but I see this guy protects his bees with electric fencing. Is this against bears or people or what?
One of our first stops was at the Sam's Club. Mike was pumping gas; it's always at least a nickel cheaper here, and I was waiting in the Jeep when Mike says through the open window, "Peg, grab your camera and come here."
I got out, looking all around, and couldn't see a thing. "What?" I asked.
"Right there," and Mike points to the top of the Jeep.
And there sat a huge Chinese Mantis. I bet this guy was a good four inches long.
I got quite a few pictures of him before I picked him up and headed for the lush, green vegetation at the side of the road. He had other plans though and took flight before I got there and landed in an island planted with flowers. "Okay, you're on your own then," I told him and left.
We did our shopping and headed for home. On the way is a brand-spankin' new Dairy Queen. Just opened!
We'd seen they were building it and I've been looking forward to having my first Peanut Butter Cup Blizzard in three or four years! I know, right! That's too long between Blizzards!
There was not one single parking space to be had. In fact, they were parking in areas not marked for parking.
When the gal handed our Blizzard through the window Mike asked her how long they've been open.
"This is our second day," she said.
Common Toadflax is blooming. Not just, but just my first pictures of them this year. This plant is more commonly known as Butter-and-Eggs. These flowers are very similar to Snapdragons except they have an orange lower lip. But, like Snapdragons, you can make them 'talk' by squeezing them at the base of the corolla (the flower). I have never been able to make them 'talk'.
Like many wildflowers, this one has been used in folk medicine. A tea made from the leaves is used as a laxative and strong diuretic. An ointment can be made from the flowers to treat skin diseases and piles.
"Piles?" you ask.
Yep. That's the old-timey name for hemorrhoids.
I saw a Flycatcher this week. She didn't sit long enough for me to get a really good picture but the two distinctive white bars on her wings are a giveaway.
I'm glad to see that my Bittersweet is back again this year. Sometimes 'weeds' can choke each other out and may not come back until the other weeds are gone. So far he looks strong though.
My Elderberries are gone but the neighbor has a few still hanging on.
Tiny bees on a Bull Thistle. I knew the bees were there; they're big enough for me to see with these tired old eyes of mine.
Coming back from visiting with Vernon, our neighbor, I let Ginger and Itsy stretch their legs while Mike rode ahead on the golf cart.
I stopped to take pictures of Buttercups. They have been blooming all summer and I've taken pictures of them before, but I like to take pictures. So I stopped. One of the Buttercups was curled up, then I spotted a leg. There was a little Flower Spider living here. It took me a while to coax him to come on top where I could take his picture but with a little prodding from my finger, he was persuaded.
The girls didn't wait for me. They went on ahead to where Mike was waiting for us.
Coming back into our driveway is a huge Pokeweed. The deer grazing on it in the spring hasn't set it back a bit! Soon the berries will be plump and purple, just right for splatting against the side of a barn, if you're a kid that is. Not that I've ever done that! Well, maybe a time or two but it didn't tickle me like it did my brothers.
I'd hung laundry on the line and took my shadow — aka Ginger, to the pond for a little picture making.
The dragonflies were fighting, and I stood for a long time before I got a picture of one of them. This guy is called a Widow Skimmer and it looks like his wings have taken quite a beating during their mid-air skirmishes.
I actually spotted a frog without the cover of rain. Ginger must have missed this one. She runs back and forth at the water's edge chasing all the frogs that'll jump.
While I was standing in ankle-deep water, I heard Mike come out of the house and get on his tractor. The dirt pile has dried enough that he's moving some of it to the pond to build it up a little where the water spilled over during our recent heavy rains.
Ginger had gone around to that side of the pond and Mike wouldn't know she was there. I was afraid he'd run her over. I stood there yelling and waving my arms to get his attention but he never heard or saw me. He dumped his load, back-bladed it, then reversed out for another load. Then he saw Ginger, sitting quietly on the pond's edge, and looked up and saw me.
A little trick I learned from the Kipps was to have your dog go to the side of the road and wait for a car or truck to pass. So I've been doing this with Ginger for years now. I don't know if Ginger sat and waited because she heard me yelling, or if her training kicked in and she sat and waited when she heard the tractor. I won't ever know which but I'm eternally grateful she sat out of the tractor's way!
Saturday night I found a fat green frog in the dog run. I could tell by the way Itsy was acting that something was there. And Spitfire was there too so I'm guessing he brought the frog in. I touched it; it didn't move. I picked him up by his little foot, stepped over the fence, and made for the weeds to toss him. That's when I saw his little croaker was going in and out with his breathing; he wasn't dead. I changed course and headed for the pond. Then I felt guilty because I was carrying the poor injured critter by his foot. Gently I laid him in the palm of my hand hoping he wouldn't get 'froggy' and jump. He had torn skin; two places from cat teeth I assume. And his little ear was red with blood. He didn't seem inclined to move beyond the slight motion of his breathing. I got him to the water and set him at the edge. He didn't move. I splashed a little water onto his dry skin and like magic — he took off, swimming for the weeds at a hundred miles an hour.
"What if he dies anyway?" you ask.
Well, there are lots of other things at the pond that will eat him. Things like this big guy right here.
I know you don't have anything to judge size by but he was a good size snapper. Mike and I were checking out the dirt work he'd completed and we saw Rascal standing guard over him. Mike kept the girls on the cart while I got off to take pictures. Old Mister Snapper was getting aggravated at me and raised his hind end up to make himself appear larger.
Worked for me. I stepped back to a more respectful distance. After a bit, he'd had enough and alligator walked into the pond, head up. No shame in his game!
Mike has been trying to catch up on the mowing since it's been dry most of the week. There are still areas that are too wet to mow. Mike's torn between not wanting to get the mower stuck and wanting to get the mowing done. He only had to call me once but there were a couple of close calls too.
Saturday was our anniversary and Mike and I went out for breakfast at Mark's Valley view. I saw the mist hanging over the valley a little too late to get a picture.
"Mike, would you back up please?"
He put his foot on the brake, put the Jeep in reverse, and backed up this little side road that we were on.
"Boy! This married life!" he complained with a smile on his handsome face.
Our next stop was at the grocery in town. I've been having these really, really, no — I mean REALLY bad leg cramps at night. "Pinch your upper lip right below the nose," is an old wrestler's technique to relieve cramps. I pinched and pinched and pinched so hard I left marks and it didn't work. I had to get out of bed and walk around until they finally eased off. The next day my legs just ached. I didn't tell Mike. Instead, I stuck a bar of unwrapped soap under the sheet, another old folk remedy, and I didn't have any cramps during the night but my legs still ached so bad it made sleep near impossible.
"Eat bananas!" I hear you say. And I knew that one too, I just wasn't going to make a special trip to town — or so I thought. A third night of misery just didn't appeal to me so I fessed up to Mike. "I think we need to go to town," I told him near suppertime one night.
"Why?" he asked.
"I've been having leg cramps. I'm guessing it's related to my diet and I don't have any vitamins left."
We did run into town, to the pharmacy and sought the advice of the pharmacist. "It could be lack of calcium, or potassium, or magnesium." Then she handed me a bottle. "A lot of people use this and really like it. It's homeopathic."
The tablets contain quinine and that's what my friend Judy suggested I try. So I bought the tablets as well as some multivitamins.
"For magnesium soak your feet in Epsom salts. That's the fastest way to get magnesium into your system," the pharmacist said.
After leaving the pharmacy I thought about going next door to get bananas, only there's one problem. You can't run your card for purchases under five dollars. We'd just finished our shopping and we didn't need anything else. Mike was willing to do whatever I wanted. "Let's just try this first," I said.
I did everything, the soap is still under my sheet and the foot soaks in Epsom salts, and took everything, the quinine tablets, and multivitamins, and it's easing up. But since we were in town on the morning of our anniversary I decided to stop and get bananas, and a watermelon, and some veggies.
The mist was still hanging over the valley.
We took a small detour and checked out how the cutting up of the train cars was coming along. There's only one left.
We drove out to the tracks and saw this machine there. There was a pile of gravel blocking the view so I walked back and took a picture from the front, only now you can't really tell what it is so I had to take a shot with the gravel pile too.
On a side track was another car. "Do you think it's waiting to get cut up?"
Mike didn't know and couldn't guess.
We took the dirt roads home. Here are some road pictures for you.
"Cows!" I say like I don't see them all the time.
Mike stopped, rolled down his window, and talked to the cows. "Moooooo!" he says.
The big cow totally ignored him but the little ones looked.
Crossing the lower bridge you can see the size trees the torrent of water knocked down. The creek is going back to his bed but the landscape is forever changed.
I went out early one morning, while the dew was still on, and took some pictures. This is Birdsfoot Trefoil.
Wild Basil.
Right in the middle of the frame, you'll see a little flower spider on the Virgin's Bower. I didn't know he was there when I took the picture.
Again, a few shots later, another flower spider I didn't know was there. He looks like he's caught breakfast.
This is a Hickory Tussock Caterpillar.
He'll look like this when he's all growd up. (Not my picture.)
The wild grapes are getting ripe. I didn't see the stink bug nymph when I took the picture.
A weevil on White Sweet Clover.
I think this one is a nettle, wood... stinging... I don't know — yet.
An old Pepsi can worked his way up out of the ground by the mill.
Clover just outside the dog run.
Let's call this one done!
