Miss Me?

          Did you miss me yesterday? I only ask because I missed you. I really, really missed visiting with you yesterday and felt so guilty for not keeping our date.

          "You don't have to write every weekend," my cute little red-haired brother said when we talked Sunday night.

          And thoughts of two very dear and very special women came to mind. Two very beautiful women. "When your letter comes in the mail," my beloved Aunt Marie told me once (and I'll never forget), "nothing gets done in this house until I've read it." That sounds to me like someone who looked forward to my letters every week. And of course, Aunt Marie is gone now. Home, resting in the bosom of our Lord.

          The other being Momma. It goes without saying that she enjoyed my jibber-jabber too.

          "Oh, huh!" I said to Richard. "Tell that to our mother!" But, of course, he can't do that. Momma's gone now too.

          "Yeah," Richard said with a little laugh.

          And others of you came to my mind, others I know who look forward to my letter blogs too. But I suspect that Richard may fall into that other category of my readers.

          "What other category?" you ask.

          The category of busy. Busy working. Busy with family. Busy with household duties. Busy, busy, busy. Too busy to read my long, sometimes rambling, sometimes boring, stories. Oh, he may open it up and look at the pictures once in a while, read a snatch here, a snippet there. And you know what? That's okay. I'll be here, waiting for his return.

          Waiting.

          My thoughts, like a frog, leap from there to our Lord God who also waits. He waits for the return of His children. When all of His children are gathered to Him, as a mother hen gathers her chicks under her wing, He will send fire to consume the earth. Not what I say, what the Bible says.

          Normally, I don't try to preach to you, other than passing mentions of God, but we just came through Good Friday and Easter Sunday. That's all about the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ.

          I almost didn't write any of that, such is the power of the delete button. But a little niggle speaks up in the back of my mind. "Why? Are you ashamed of Me?"

          And I am not ashamed to be a follower of Jesus Christ. All of the words I wrote and deleted, I wrote again. The more I learn in my walk with God, the more I want to share with you.

          I have lots of pictures to show you. Pictures of my week. Shall we get started?

          This is Ginger. I was at the sink, washing dishes and Ginger started freaking out and trying to climb my legs.

          "What?" I asked her. "What's going on baby girl?"

          Her response was to jump higher, her claws scratching at my legs, trying for purchase to climb into my arms. When that didn't work she cowered at my feet, hiding between me and the cabinet. She'd sit quietly for a moment and I'd turn back to the sink full of hot water and bubbles. I love lots of bubbles in my dishwater, even if it is a little wasteful. After a few minutes she'd start all over again.

          "What is going on?!" I asked, exclaimed, to Ginger.

          Then I saw it. There was a fly buzzing the floor. He was landing on the edge of the dog dish, eating the bits of leftover dog food, and taking off when he was spooked. Ginger was afraid of the fly. Granted, it was a big fat fly but it was still just a fly. I laughed at her; picked her up before she scratched a hole in my leg, grabbed the flyswatter and dispatched the fly.

          It's been raining. The pussy willows don't look as pretty when they're soaked.

          Our pond leaks. I've walked the bank and don't see any holes. It just seems to be seeping through the soil. Maybe the years of freeze and thaw have loosened the soil. Our options for a fix are limited. A rubber liner, which is hard to install and if it gets a hole, you're screwed. Bentonite, or live with it. We measured the pond to figure out how much bentonite we might need.

          Mike's sister Toni sent Mike a huge box of old family photos. We spent two hours looking through them, Mike telling me the people he knew, and the memories they brought back. One of the most interesting things Toni sent was the medical journal in which Mike's case was written up in.

          "Wow! A medical journal!" you say.

          I know, right! Mike had his elbow crushed when he was a kid and the traction techniques they used were groundbreaking.

          Rain clouds gathering for another drenching.

          I showed you a blurry picture of a piebald deer.

          "I've seen that deer!" Joanie, my ray o' sunshine said. "I've seen him up by the church several times."

          Miss Rosie and I were leaving exercise class on Monday night and there he was!

          We made a shopping trip to Sayre this past week. "What's going on up there?" Mike asked.

          "I don't know," I answered and raised my camera. "He's picking up dead deer." I didn't think they did that anymore.

          We stopped at the eagle's nest on the way up. All of us eagle watchers walk on the outside of the guide rails away from the traffic. There's one section that doesn't have much of a path and someone has installed a chain this year.

          It was early and there wasn't much traffic but a truck did pass me and I smelled it as he went past. It was the dead deer truck. He pulled in beside Mike. Maybe he's going to dump a dead deer over the hillside for the Eagles, I think. Do eagles eat dead deer? But he didn't. He just turned around and went back the way he came — and I got to smell him all over again.

          I walked the whole way out there only to be confronted with an empty nest. Other eagles in our area already have eaglets to feed.

          "Most folks that I've spoken with believe that it's too late for eggs this year," Pam, the lady with the big camera emailed me. "I wonder if the extreme cold that we had in February might have ruined an attempt at a brood. The male eagle is quite young, so maybe he's a new mate. I read about a pair of eagles in Colorado where the original mated male died during extreme cold and the female now is seen with a young male who's helping with the roosting. There were viable eggs already in her nest though."

          Then I started the long walk back to the parking area. Can you see it? Can you see the tiny white speck waaaaaay down there? It would have been worth the walk if I'd have seen an eagle.

          "Maybe we can go see Justin's eagles this week," I suggested. My cousin, one of Aunt Marie's sons, has a cabin along the Susquehanna and an eagle's nest in his back yard.

          "You don't have permission," Mike pointed out.

          "Justin said I could come down any time I wanted."

          "Justin's gone now," Mike pointed out the obvious and I knew he was right.

          "I'll ask Kathleen." She's Justin's widow.

          This is a trip we've made many times and it's hard to find anything new or interesting to take pictures of. I did take a couple though.

          "Hey! There's a goose! Turn around!"

          "What? You've never seen a goose before?" Mike asked.

          "Not under a tree beside the pond like this one." But he didn't turn around. He didn't even slow down!

          At home, I've got tadpoles with legs! I didn't even know the frogs had laid their eggs!

          The weather is getting nicer and Mike is chomping on the bit to get some outside work done. "Let's finish the bridge," he suggested. So we measured and made a trip to the lumberyard in Laceyville, a small town about ten miles from us. "Can we stop at Justin's?" I asked. "Kathleen gave me permission." I'd messaged her on FaceBook.

          I took pictures along the way. A kitty cat enjoying the nice spring day.

          "Look at all the John Deere's he has," Mike said. And I think I detected a note of jealousy.

          A defunct dairy barn right on the road.

          The roof is coming down around this horse.

          "What's that?" Mike asked when we were still a ways off and slowed.

          "I don't know." And raised my camera for a closer look.

          "It's got a leash on."

          I looked around thinking the owner was close by if it had a leash on. But there wasn't anyone around. Then the kitty cat got up and moved out of the road.

          "It wasn't a leash, it was his tail," Mike said.

          A quarry over top an old barn.

          "Is that the eagle's nest?" I asked as Mike pulled in and parked at Justin's.

          "Where?" he asked before he looked.

          "Right there!" and I pointed.

          "I guess so."

          I got out and walked down. I didn't see any eagles but the wildflowers are blooming. The Spring Beauties and Violets.

          The Purple Deadnettle and Dandelions. All are important early food for the bees so don't spray poison on them!

          More road pictures. 

          Highland cows! There are two of them in this pasture. I haven't seen this breed of cow in many years. They're an ancient breed from Scotland and are a slower growing cow so most farmers don't mess with them.

          All along the roadside, on the old road into Laceyville, are tons of Daffies. I love, love, love, the Daffies! It's my favorite flower.

          "Peg, you say that about all the wildflowers," you remind me.

          I know, right! And I reminded Mike. "I love the Daffies!" I snapped away as we drove past. "I'm thinking about asking my FaceBook friends and family if anyone has any Daffie's they'd like to share with me."

          "Oh, Peg," Mike says with a little disgust in his voice. "Just buy some."

          "I looked when we were at Wal Mart but they didn't have any."

          Chickens. They're beside the road and not penned. Other times that we've been on this road we've had them cross in front of us.

          We met Skip at the lumberyard. He was an interesting character and we chatted while Mike loaded our lumber order.

          "This is the only job I've ever had," he told me. "I started right out of high school and retired when I was 65. Then I lost everything in a flood and came back to work here five years ago. But they're going to lose me for good in December."

          "Are you retiring again?" I asked.

          "Yep!" was his answer.

          On the way back up out of Laceyville, on the old road with our lumber load sticking out the back, we see these gals picking Daffies.

          Mike slowed, pushed the button to lower his window, and called. "Hey! You can't pick those flowers!" and he laughed a little to let her know he was teasing.

          The lady stopped, stood up, and said, "Sure I can. They're my flowers," and she smiled.

          "I just love the Daffies," I told her.

          "Would you like some?" she asked.

          "Oh, my gosh, yes! I'd love to have one or two."

          Her glasses started to slide and she pushed them back up. She took the bouquet of Daffies from her granddaughter and came up to Mike's window. "Pick out what you'd like to have." She reached past Mike and handed them to me.

          I chose a small bouquet, six of them, handed the rest back, smelled the wonderful aroma, and thanked her.

          "I just love the Daffies," I said again.

          "Would you like to come and dig some?"

          I was shocked and amazed that this woman would offer me, a complete stranger, flowers. "Yes. I would," I honestly answered. I don't know that I ever will but at least now I know where I can get some.

          Once we were home, I put the Daffies in some water on my kitchen windowsill. 

           Then I went to help Mike with the bridge. We laid out the 4X6 extensions and cut the two 2X6s that he bought for decking. Then he measured for how many boards we'd need to finish the job.

          "We need 20," Mike told me after he figured it. "We get two from each board so we'll need 10 boards altogether. We'll go tomorrow and get them."

          Right after we had breakfast and fed the critters we made a run to the lumberyard and it wasn't cheap either. "It takes a long time for a tree to grow," I reminded Mike.

          We cut the boards in half at the house, loaded them on the back of the golf cart, and took them down to the bridge.

           Since one side of the bridge is curved, we did that side first. We laid out all the boards and only had enough for half the job, plus two. "What did you measure?" I asked.

          "I don't know," was his answer. "Maybe you should have measured."

          "If I'd have done it, I'd have done it right." Maybe I would have, maybe not. I took the tape measure and measured the other side. Divided it by the width of a board and discovered we needed ten more boards. Mike, just to be safe, measured for himself, and confirmed I was right.

          "Let's just go and get them."

          The skies had been dark and gloomy all day. "Are you going to pick up your tools in case it rains while we're gone?" I asked. It was just a screw gun and box of screws.

          "No. According to Kurt Aaron it's not supposed to rain until this evening."

          I didn't argue. And back to the lumberyard we went.

          It's amazing how the trees seem to pop out overnight and the streets of Laceyville are filled with blooms.

          This time the yardman helped Mike load the order. "Skip didn't help Mike load it," I told the guy. I've forgotten his name.

          "That's Skip for ya."

          On the way home, it rained. "Mike, what's that on the windshield?" I asked innocently.

          "It's not rain!"

          I laughed. Mike shook his head. "That Kurt Aaron," he mumbled.

          It was just a brief shower and we drove out of it. Up at the house, the ground was barely wet.

          We cut the boards in half and Mike finished the decking on his own. "It was a little more money than I planned on putting into it," Mike bemoaned.

          Out at my birdfeeder, I look over to last year's flowerbed and see yellow poking up through the dried weeds.

          "Daffies!" I exclaimed so totally surprised. These are mini Daffies that I bought through the cancer fundraising committee last year and forgotten about. I cleaned some of the dried stuff off and tossed it in the yard for Mike to chop up with the mower. Smudge helped.

          Our Bradford Pear trees are budding out. Maybe this year we'll get flowers. In years past there's been a freeze and we didn't get any flowers, just the leaves came on.

          The Box Elder with its hanging bunches of seeds that look like tiny bananas.

          "An Emerald Ash Borer," I told Mike as I took this guy's picture. Only he isn't. He's a Six-spotted Tiger Beetle.

          This alien looking thing is Cedar Apple Rust. This picture is kinda cool cause you can see what the spikes look like when not swelled up with rain, and what they look like after a rain. This fungus (or some websites call it a disease) is unique in that in order to perpetuate itself it must alternate between an apple or crabapple tree and a cedar or juniper tree. The wind blows it back and forth year after year. You can get stuff to kill it if you want.

          And that, my loves, only leaves me with one more thing to talk about. And that's why my letter blog almost didn't happen this week. So Friday, we worked on our bridge and I got a good start on sorting pictures. I didn't get any editing done on them though.

          Friday evening was Good Friday service at church.

          Saturday was the Kipp's and my day to clean the church. Lamar ran the vacuum, Miss Rosie dusted, and I cleaned bathrooms. 

            When we were done we were talking about the little piebald deer.

          "I wished I'd had your camera yesterday," Lamar said. "Or one like it."

          "Why's that?" I asked.

          "We saw someone's pet pig in the yard with a cat lying right by it."

          "How cool! I bet that would have been a good picture."

          "Want me to show you were?"

          "Sure!" As long as he was offering, I was up for a little ride-about. And I took a bunch of pictures for you.

          "I can't go for my runs out this way anymore," Lamar told me.

          "Why not?"

          "Because there's a dog out here that barks and comes up on the road and I don't want to get bit."

          "You could carry pepper spray like I do," I offered.

          "Naw. He's just doing his job. There was a little girl in the yard so I'm sure he was just protecting her."

          When we got out there, the dog chased Lamar's car and barked at us.

          And we didn't see the pig. The cat was on the porch, the Kipps saw him but I didn't.

          And I took more pictures.

  

          I didn't see the goose until I downloaded the pictures.

  

           Saturday afternoon I baked and frosted four Pumpkin Rolls to give as gifts. Three girls and one boy.

          "Huh?" you question.

          Sorry. Just a joke.

          "Nuts or no nuts?" I asked Pastor Rick before Good Friday's service. "You do like Pumpkin Roll, don't you?"

          "I don't but Miss Carolyn does. No nuts I guess." Carolyn is his wife.

          I sat beside my Miss Rosie. "Pastor Rick doesn't like Pumpkin Roll," I told her.

          "I just can't imagine anyone not liking Pumpkin Roll," she said.

          Then I asked her the same question I asked Pastor. "Do you want nuts or no nuts?"

          "I don't think I've ever had it with nuts in it," Miss Rosie answered. "I like nuts."

          "It's settled then. I'll make you a half-and-half."

          Sunday I put a ham in to bake before Mike and I went to Easter service. And since all the people I was giving Pumpkin Roll too were at church, I delivered all the Pumpkin Rolls, keeping just a half for us. After Mike and I got home from Easter service, we had dinner and vegged out in front of the TV and watched White Collar for the rest of the day.

          I really thought I wasn't going to write to you this week, but I couldn't do it. Between guilt and knowing I had all these pretty pictures to share, I just had to write.

          Did you miss me?

          And let's call this one done!