Peggy's Jibber-Jabber: Luau Logan

August?

Gone! Just gone! We're moving into fall. The evidence is starting to appear all around me. The mornings are crisp and I need long pants and long sleeves at least for a little while in the mornings.

This week — oh my gosh! — this week I've got a hundred pictures to show you. A few of those are from last week and that's where I want to start this week — is with last week.

Last week I was late getting my letter-blog out. Y'all know I like to have it done by Sunday because come Monday, Mike likes to have my full attention again. After having had a couple of days without my help, he's usually ready to tackle some job or another. But Mike is a good husband and knows blogging is something I like to do, so despite his grumblings, he gave me Monday to finish last week's blog. I wish I'd have taken more time because I still had things to tell you!

Last week, as I was writing, all kinds of titles for my letter-blog came to me and that's so unusual. Normally I struggle to find a fitting title. First, I thought to call it Better Luck because I had better luck identifying flowers and critters for you. Then I thought to call it Clouds. Then New Meaning, which is the one I went with. But there was one more I thought of.

When I write the bunny story I can end it with 'It's a cruel world,' I thought. And name it Cruel World.

"What bunny story Peg?" you ask. "You didn't write a bunny story last week."

I know, right! By the time I got to where I would've written about it, it was already Monday afternoon so I skipped it.

Part of my weekend (a week ago), was spent making Pumpkin Roll and Dream Bars and Chocolate Chip Cookies for Taco Fiesta at my church. We met at the parsonage fire pit and I had such a great time with my church family. I took over 900 hundred pictures!

"Wow!" you say.

I know, right!

And everyone (or almost everyone) was such a good sport about it. I think they're getting used to seeing me with my camera now and mostly ignore me. Sometimes I get fixated on a certain thing and take lots of pictures of whatever that might be. Last time it was the roasted marshmallows, this time it was 'bite' pictures. Here's my beautiful friend Jody and the first bite picture of the evening. I guess you could say it was all her fault.

That night, that Saturday night, when we got home, the first thing I did was let the girls out.

Sigh.

Spitfire was out there. He had a baby bunny. I know better than to take it away from him. For one thing, rabbits are delicate and it won't live anyway, even if it's not hurt too bad. For another, he'll just go back and get another one out of the nest (although I think this guy was already on his own). Besides, it won't go to waste. He eats it all right down to ears and teeth, toenails and fuzzy bunny tail.

Smudge was outside and Spitfire was growling and guarding his catch. When I took the girls back in I took Smudge in too. Let him eat his supper in peace, I thought. The only problem was Itsy knew something was going on out there and kept pestering me to let her out. When I finally gave in I knew I'd have to stand guard lest she gets into something she shouldn't, something like bunny guts or cat claws.

Spitfire hadn't yet started his meal. He was still tormenting the poor creature by tossing it into the air and catching it again. The baby cried and I got mad.

"JUST KILL THE POOR THING ALREADY!" I strongly admonished Spitfire. Okay, I yelled at him. He totally ignored me and tossed it again.

Itsy didn't really have to do anything, she just wanted to be nosy. The next time she pestered me so bad I had to take her out, I leashed her and took her out front.

Before we went to bed, Spitfire wanted in. Silly me let him in — and paid the price. Lights off, husband softly snoring, Spitfire peacefully sleeping by my feet, when retching noises started coming from the foot of the bed. I knew it was Spitfire and I knew where he was. I started pushing him with my feet to get him off the bed but he was stubborn and evaded my efforts. I jumped up and pushed him from the bed. He almost made it to the floor before losing hair and guts in a pile on the doggie steps.

"Did he get any on the bed?" now awake and slightly agitated husband asks.

I turned on the light and looked. "I don't think so."

"I told you not to let him in."

Not helpful. "Whatever," I dismissed and went for paper towels, tossing Spitfire out the door as I went.

The next morning when I went to make the bed, I saw there was a little something-something on the bed. It must've gotten covered over in my attempts to get him off the bed.

"I think I'll put a different blanket on the bed," I told Mike.

"Why?" he asked and I fessed up. "Was it on my side?"

"No," I told him, "it was on mine but it didn't go through the blanket."

And so ends another saga of country life with critters. And yes, it can seem like a cruel world to me.

We got a recall on our Jeep. Mike made the appointment and Monday we took the Jeep over to Wysox.

"How's long's it gonna take?" I asked.

"They said about an hour," Mike told me.

When we got there and got checked in I took Ginger for a walk around the perimeter of the dealership. There was Japanese Knotweed and it gave me a chance to look at it up close. As you can see, the flowers and leaves of the Knotweed are very different from the Bur Cucumber.

We consider Japanese Knotweed invasive and I can see why, it's everywhere! But did you know it's a traditional Japanese and Chinese Medicine? No real surprise there, is it, since most things in nature are good for something. Knotweed's been used for circulation and heart health. It's a very good source of resveratrol. It's been studied for its ability to treat inflammation and relieve stress, promote cardiovascular health, treat rheumatoid arthritis, heal wounds, and prevent and treat allergic reactions. It also shows promise as a potential chemopreventive agent.

"Chemo... whatsit?" you ask.

Preventive. It just means an agent to prevent or slow the development of cancer.

So many times I'll photograph the wildflowers and never think to smell them. Well this time I smelled it and it has a nice fragrance. There were bees everywhere! I guess they like it too.

Then I saw this guy.

"Ewww! A spider!" you say.

Nope. Not a spider. The Harvestman or Daddy Longlegs are in the Opiliones family, an order in the class Arachnida that does include spiders, scorpions, and mites. He cannot spin a web and has no venom, so let's bust that myth right here. They are not the most poisonous spider in the world. But they're not totally defenseless either. If you bother him too much he'll give off a weird odor.

There was lots of Jewelweed or Touch-me-nots too. This bee is buried up to his neck! I had to smile when I saw him crawl right up in the flower. His little saddlebags are packed!

I saw a ripe pod hanging there. I thought I'd pluck it and take a picture for you but he was so full he burst as soon as I touched him and I ended up with just a few seeds in my hand.

I tried again and was able to hold on to the pod before it exploded.

I was really surprised to see a couple of discarded engines hiding amongst the Sumac.

Speaking of Sumac, did you know you can pick the fruit and make it into a lemonade-flavored drink?

My brother Mike made it once that I know of and he said it did taste like lemonade.

The bark of the Sumac is an astringent and antiseptic.

I also found a pretty Evening Primrose. I've seen and even photographed this one for you a couple of weeks ago but the one I saw before had holes eaten in the petals and wasn't very pretty. I'm glad I found another one to show you.

Evening Primrose oil helps to treat eczema, asthma, migraine headaches, heart disease, high cholesterol, PMS, arthritis, and even alcoholism. The American Indians used a tea made from it for obesity and bowel pains, a poultice for piles and bruises.

And I saw two little Pearl Crescents sipping the minerals from the mud.

My walkabout while waiting for the Jeep netted me some nice pictures. I headed back to the waiting room and didn't wait long before they came to get us.

"We'll order the part and give you a call when it comes in," the lady receptionist told us.

I looked at Mike and wondered what he'd say but he just said, "Okay."

What did they think we were here for? Crossed my mind but I didn't say it.

"It looks like yours is one of the ones that has to be replaced," she said.

Once we were in the Jeep I asked Mike, "I thought you said they all had to be replaced."

"That's what the guy told me when I made the appointment."

So now we'll have to make another trip to Wysox when the part comes in.

Mike is friends with the hunters at the bottom of our road and helps them sometimes. They gave him permission to go up to the well site. He took me up there one day. We didn't go out to the well itself but thanks to a zoom lens, I didn't have to.

Once the wells are drilled, this is what's left.

Oh, my gosh! I got a couple of awesome shots of the flies that were all over my mint plants. Too bad they're just flies, right.

Jody and I were leaving exercise class one evening and I asked, "Do you wanna see the caterpillars on the Milkweed?"

"Sure," she said.

We walked down to the edge of the playground and spotted one nice big fat Monarch caterpillar. "Where's the other one?" I asked. "There were two here earlier." After a bit of looking Jody found him at the base of the plant and I knew what was happening. "I think I'm going to take 'em home and put 'em in my butterfly house," I told her.

"We need some Monarchs here," she said.

"I know." I couldn't disagree with her. "But I can keep them safe. Besides, there isn't anywhere here for them to go. They leave the Milkweed and go to a nearby weed or tree to make their chrysalis." And it was true. They'd have to go quite a long ways before they found anything else to climb up on.

"I've never seen a chrysalis in the wild. Have you?" Jody asked.

"Nope. I never did."

Well! Let me tell you! That changed this past week. On a trip past my Milkweed patch, I saw this big guy. I left him.

At the other end of the patch I saw a caterpillar hanging under a Goldenrod leaf.

The next day he was a chrysalis! My first wild one!

This whole thing with Jody got me to thinking. If birds don't eat the Monarchs because Milkweed makes them bitter, then surely the caterpillars are bitter too. Is my argument about keeping them safe even valid?

As it turns out there's quite a list of Monarch caterpillar predators. There are bees and ants, praying mantis and spiders that all eat the caterpillars. Less than 5% of the caterpillars reach adulthood.

The day after I brought them home they climbed to the top of my butterfly house. I've come to recognize that when they hang in a j it won't be long until I'll have a chrysalis.

Guess what I found near the Milkweeds?

Yep. A Praying Mantis. I took his picture and put him back down.

It's a cruel world.

Two of our wild girls. Callie in the foreground, Sugar behind her. They stay together almost all the time.

They spend a lot more time outside these days because we blocked off the garage to them. I hated to do it because I like them to have more than one way to escape predators, but the toms Mr. Mister and Jerry, neither of which is ours, mark everything in the garage and I've just finally had enough.

Wednesday was the first day of the Wyoming County Fair. On the way into town, I see they've finished with one side of our Rainbow Bridge and have moved all the equipment to the other side. I'll be glad when they finally finish with the sandblasting and painting.

Our first stop, once we were inside, was Italian sausage for Mike, pierogies for me. Mike really liked his sandwich...

...and had seconds, my pierogies weren't as good. There wasn't any butter on them like there usually is.
"It's better for you belly that way," Mike reminded me.
These pierogies swimming in butter are normally worth a bellyache to me.

Mike waited for me, resting his back, while I went in search of the used book vendor.

He wasn't there, set up in his usual spot. I talked to one of the other vendors.

"We knew he wasn't coming back this year," he told me. "There are a lot of vendors who didn't come back this year."

And the building that was normally packed with vendors looked pretty sparse to me.

"Let's take a turn around the grounds," I suggested. "Then I'm getting one of those walnut bowls from Loch's."

See what you can do with five old doors!

I found Loch's stand and wasn't able to get the waffle bowl. They'd had a power surge that wiped out most of their equipment. So I got this instead.
"What is it?" you ask.

Vanilla ice cream with Loch's signature maple walnut topping. The difference between this and what I would have gotten is a dollar and a waffle bowl, whipped cream, and a cherry on top.

"I want a chocolate milkshake," Mike said.

We wandered around and found an ice cream stand that sold chocolate malts. Across the way were bleachers. "The show's gonna start soon," Mike said checking the time. "You wanna see it?"

"Sure."

Mike found us a seat while I waited for his malt. We didn't have to wait long. The music started and Luau Logan came out to greet us. "I'm Luau Logan and this is my best friend and sidekick, DJ Pua!"

We clapped and DJ Pua says, "Whoa! Whoa-whoa-whoa-whoa! Pump the breaks, man!"

"What?"

"Sidekick? I'm the pig in Tro-PIG-al Revue! Duh!" DJ Pua said.

"And I'm the Luau Logan. It is Luau Logan's Tropigal Revue."

Next up was a singer Fuzzy Belafonte. Pua introduced him then they exchanged a few jokes like:

"Say, Pua!"

"What?" Pua answered.

"What do you call a monkey in a minefield?" Without waiting for Pua to reply he gave us the answer. "A ba-boom!"

We all laughed.

"You know my son is thinking of becoming a lounge singer," Fuzzy says. "I guess you could say he's a chimp off the old block!"

DJ Pua is ready to pull his hair out (if he had any). "Aaaaarguh! Would you just sing the song already!"

"I'd love to but where are the dancers?" Fuzzy asked.

Pua manages to round up the dancers, which turns out to be a banana.

"I can't work with a banana!" Fuzzy says. "Read my contract."

The banana goes away and Fuzzy starts to sing the Harry Belafonte song Day-O (The Banana Boat Song). When Fuzzy wasn't looking a bunch of banana dancers came on stage. Fuzzy was surprised to see them but kept on singing. When the song was over Fuzzy disappeared with the banans.

Luau Logan came back out. "What happened to the music? Where're the dancers? Wait a minute, where's Fuzzy! He was supposed to sing like three songs."

"He's neck-deep in bananas," Pua said, then we heard the whir of a blender. "Ah, make that banana smoothies."

Since Logan couldn't get Fuzzy back on he went to his next act.

"Oh no!" Pua cried. "Not my sister!"

"But don't worry Pua," Logan comforted. "You're still the pig in Tro-PIG-al Revue." Then he led Pua's sister out.

"Awwwwww," we all said in unison.

"This is Rosie," Logan says. "She's a one-year-old miniature potbelly pig and she is so smart. Rosie, can you say hello?"

She gets up on her stand and waves hello to us.

"Awwwwww," we say again.

Then Logan put Rosie through her tricks. She unrolled carpet, weaved in and out of Logan's legs...

...and jumped hurdles for us.

She rolled a barrel with her front legs...

...and went through a tunnel. She was just the cutest little thing. It makes me want one!

The parts I thought the cutest were the parts you can't rehearse for. When Rosie would get off track and Logan would use humor and a gentle touch to get her back on track.

"Ignore the salad bar! I know, it's delicious. Come on!"

Next up was another puppet show, the psychic Juanita Carlos. Luau Logan did a skit with her and it was funny.

"Well guys, the show is not quite over yet. We have one more act. I'll go see if he's ready." As Logan came back through the flap he was leading a little goat. "This is Hula," he introduced.

"Awwwwww," we chorused.

"He's only five months old and brand new to the show. You might be asking yourselves, 'What's a goat doing in the Tro–PIG-al Revue?' He's a pygmy goat! Get it? PIG-me."

We groaned — and laughed too!

Logan put Hula through his paces and for a newbie, Hula did pretty well.

Luau Logan treated his animals with kindness and respect. They seemed happy, clean, and healthy. He lavished them with compliments, praises, and a few treats. All of those are things I liked most of all.

At the end, Luau Logan thanked us for coming out and invited us to have our picture taken with DJ Pua. Then he serenaded us with a closing song.

I think I was the only one at this show who hung around to have their picture taken. It's not so much that I wanted or needed a picture, it's that I like to help out when I can. Since the show was free, I'm sure they depend on the money the pictures bring in. It was only five dollars and it didn't hurt me at all!

If you go to the fair, stop and see Luau Logan. I didn't give away his whole show so you'll enjoy it. And don't forget to get your picture taken with DJ Pua!

Tomorrow, Monday, is the last day of the fair. Seniors get in free, and I pre-bought my ticket, so we're going even if we have to dodge raindrops.

"That's a pretty top," My Miss Rosie said when she saw the blouse I had on.

I looked down and smoothed out the front. "Thank you. It was Momma's. I thought I'd take her to the fair with me." And before you go critiquing my theology, I already know that she's way too busy worshiping God and enjoying the glories of heaven to worry about such earthly matters. But I know she would have enjoyed Luau Logan's Tropigal Revue.

That day was so busy because after the fair we were invited to a steak cookout by Mike's friend Vernon. "But no camera!" Vernon admonished. "No one likes you taking pictures all the time! Last time they kept asking me who's that lady with the camera."

I believe, I truly believe, that it's Vernon who doesn't like me to take his picture all the time but just in case I respected his wishes and didn't take any people pictures. Instead, I took pictures of the steak.

Then, when they were having their meeting I wandered around and took pictures.

A few of the people who are members of the Lion's Club knew Momma. "I'm sorry if my taking pictures the last time upset anyone," I told Marie.

"Pffft. It didn't bother anyone."

I smiled. "I'm glad. By the way, I got a really awesome shot of Willie. Can I send it to your email?"

"We're old school," Marie said. "We don't have email. We don't even have a computer."

"Oh. Well, I'll print it and get it to you then."

On the way home the sun was setting and I got a pretty decent shot.

Out early one morning, on my way to the mailbox, I found dew-covered webs in the links of my chain link fence. I took over 250 pictures and picked out several to show you but I think I'll narrow it down to just two and put the rest in the Just Pictures file to post someday.

I put my letters in the mailbox, put the flag up, and walked Ginger down the road a little ways. Look at this huge web in the well of an old tire. I thought about going to look for the spider but Ginger didn't want to come with me. She put her brakes on so rather than fight with her I just gave it up. Besides, I probably wouldn't be able to find him anyway.

I found a new wildflower weed. I haven't spent any time trying to identify it so if you know what it is, let me know and I'll pass it along.

When I got back to the house Vernon called Mike. "Are they closing the road? I just drove past and see something's going on."

"I don't know. I'll check it out and let you know," Mike told him.

We jumped on the golf cart to see what's going on. Going past Vernon's field we see a whole herd of turkeys! I know, I know. It's called a flock. You'll have to forgive me my little idiosyncrasies.

We passed a truck carrying a bunch of signs. We went out to the end of our road and saw the closure signs were there, just blacked out.

We turned around and headed back. The truck was stopped and one of the guys was walking down the road.
"Maybe he's pacing it off," I guessed.

As we drew abreast of him, he stopped to talk to us. "I saw the equipment sitting up here and thought I'd check it out while my buddy's doing his job," he told us.

I've been married to Mike long enough that I knew a conversation would ensue so before he got started getting this man's life story, I said, "While you guys are talking I'm going to the bridge and taking spider web pictures."

"I saw the prettiest purple spider the other day on a job," he said and we talked for a bit.

You can say I was a little bit jealous. A purple spider! I want to see one of those! But anyway, these guys are in charge of just putting the signs out and didn't know when the bridge would be closed.

Later in the day we were on a road I'd never been on before. Road pictures anyone?

We had Lamar Kipp with us and had gone to find Harney's Garage. Mike and I waited in the Jeep.

"There's a chicken," Mike said.

"Where?" I asked like I ain't never seen a chicken before.

"Coming out from under the truck."

Before I could scoot across the seat to look out the window, Mike says, "There's another one."

Mike clucked at them and a third chicken stuck his head out.

"It's like they're answering you," I said as I listened to soft answering clucks of the chickens.

Then another one appeared!

This place was out in the middle of nowhere and the chickens were free-ranging. "They're not afraid of anything getting their chickens," I observed.

They were all pretty but I thought this one was the most handsome one of the bunch. Someday. I'm telling you someday I'll have me a few chickens of my own.

Another road picture from that trip.

"Peg you wanna go for a golf cart ride?" Mike asked later that day.

"Sure." I grabbed the dog and the camera and off we went to see if anything else was happening to our bridge. It wasn't so we rode down the other direction on our little dirt road. The hunters were at their place so Mike stopped to talk. The barn door was open. You know me and open doors!

As soon as it was polite to do so I interrupted their conversation. "Mind if I look in the barn?"

"No. Go right ahead," Dave said.

"She likes stuff like that," Mike justified.

"Peg, why don't you ever show us your barn?" you ask.

I guess I never thought of it. It's just normal barn stuff.

Michael trimmed up the huge Autumn Olive that lives in the middle of the yard. He doesn't like to see all the weeds — like my Bergamot could ever be considered a weed! — he doesn't like to see the weeds growing up under it. Taking off the lower branches allows him to get closer with his zero-turn.

"Come and see what else I did."

Mike gave me a golf cart tour around the back forty and he did an awesome job. Coming back past the upper barn I spy a snakeskin hanging from the (unused) door.

On a walk-about with my little Ginger one day, I took pictures of snail trails on the leaves.

It's almost art, don't you think?

Burdock.

My Bittersweet is getting crowded out. I'm going to ask Mike to take some of the Silky Dogwood out of here.

The Virgin's Bower is starting to set its seeds. It goes from flower to this feathery looking thing.

Joe Pye Weed. It has a nice smell to it too. Native Americans, and later, early settlers, got a lot of use from the Joe Pye Weed, and there are several species of this wildflower. They made teas from the roots and tops as a diuretic, as well as for rheumatism, gout, fevers, diarrhea, respiratory disorders, and believe it or not, even impotence.

Coming around the end of the upper barn, Ginger starts barking and takes off. She came to a sudden stop at the end of her leash, let me tell you. And there stood this guy. He's losing his spots. He looked at us for a moment or two then followed his mama into the weeds.

Then I found this one! I've seen it here before but missed it the last year or so. This is White Baneberry also called Doll's Eyes and is, as the word 'bane' implies, poisonous.