Pensive

          We have been staying in (mostly) as I know many of you have. There are two cases of Coronavirus in our county and they're up in the Sayre/Athens area, more than 40 miles from us. So we decided to venture out Saturday morning to replenish our milk and get some fresh produce. For the most part, our little local grocery store is well stocked. There was bread, eggs, and even toilet paper. What I couldn't find was yeast. I don't really need yeast, not yet anyway, but I made homemade bread and used up almost all of what I had. Now I'm toying with making my own yeast. You can make potato yeast or you can make it with just flour and water and make a sourdough yeast. I asked on FaceBook if anyone's ever made or used potato yeast but so far no one has. But my question is this. Won't that increase the amount of liquid in my recipe?

          "It seems like it would," Miss Rosie said when I asked her.

          Most times, when someone gives you sourdough starter, they give you a recipe too and that already takes into consideration the extra liquid.

          Maybe I'll fool with that next week.

          I did make a batch of homemade tortillas. We had leftover chicken and I wanted to make quesadillas. It's a little more work to make them from scratch than it is to buy them but they're so good I don't mind. I freeze leftover tortillas then pull them out to make tuna wraps or homemade personal pizzas.  

          Mike and I have several games we like to play. We play Rummikub, Double Solitaire (the way my mother played it, not his), Dominos, and Skip-Bo. At some point one of us thought it was a good idea to track wins, and by default, losses. It added another element to our game-playing, upped the competition, know what I mean? We'd play a couple of games of this, a game of that.

          We played 42 games of Rummikub, I won 26 to his 16.

          Solitaire, 35 with Mike taking 18, one more win than me.

          And we play Dominos least of all, only 13 games with me the victor at 8 over his 5.

          Then we settled into just playing Skip-Bo and nothing else. To date, since we've been keeping score, we've played 1,710 games with Mike taking the lion's share of wins. He wins twice as often as I do.

          Monday, as Mike was once again mopping up the floor with me, I thought it time to play something else. And we played a couple of rounds of Rummikub. Gotta play what I can win, don'cha know. I looked up and noticed it was snowing!

          Is it the onion snow, I wondered.

          Miss Rosie and I had a conversation about the onion snow a week or so before this.

          "I'm ready for the onion snow," she told me. "My dad always called the last snow of the season onion snow."

          So when it snowed, I called Miss Rosie. "Is that our onion snow?"

          "I don't know. How do you know if it's the last snow or not?"

          "Isn't it onion snow because of the way it looks?" I asked.

          "Actually my dad would call it onion snow because it would snow on his onions after he planted them," she told me. "He was always in such a hurry to get his garden planted and feed the whole neighborhood — and he did too. He was always so good at it. That gene seems to have skipped me."

          "Me too! Well that makes more sense than what I thought," I told her.

          "What did you think?"

          "I thought it was the onion snow because of the big fat flakes that look like peels of onions! What did I know? I was a kid when I heard the expression and I made up my own explanation."

          Miss Rosie thought mine was more fun.

           I've been futzing around making more little flowers. These are colored with printer ink. It gives them a kind of glassy look, don'cha think? 

      

          I played around making wire and bead suncatchers. I was having trouble making a dragonfly, I think I told you that a couple of weeks ago. I thought I could form the wings and attach them to the body with a dab of solder. Well, I liked how bright and shiny it looked so I tinned the whole dragonfly. But not only was he too big for my piece, I don't like the silver and copper together. He got stabbed into a flower pot and looks perfectly at home there.

          Then I made this one and liked it much better. I couldn't decide if I wanted to add beads to the dragonfly or not so I left him plain. I can always add beads later if I decide to.

          I have a whole cupful of these little flowers that I've been making. I'm going to make one with nothing but flowers, I think.

          Straightening wire, stripping it, twisting, forming, bending, making something pretty from nothing is my jam. And I started out intending this to be all flowers, but what are flowers without a butterfly? So I made a butterfly. I thought to make the inside of his wings yellow and the outer edge black, like a Monarch, but I'm not liking it very well. I'm trying not to go overboard with beads but maybe with these little ones I do need more. I don't know. I have a feeling I'm going to cut the butterfly free. In the meantime, he can just hang there.

          Speaking of butterflies — I saw my first butterfly of the year! Actually, we saw a bunch of them while we were out on our walk but they were pretty skitterish and wouldn't let me get close. This guy, I believe, is an Eastern Comma.

          I walked along the bank on the other side of the road to see if there was any way to make a path down to the creek and see a can. It still has a label on it declaring it to be Tannergas.

          "What the heck is that!" you say.

          I know, right! That's what I wondered too. Tannergas includes a corrosive preventer, a rust inhibitor, and a lubricant that helps prevent O-rings and other rubber parts from drying out. That sounds great for parts but not really all that great for the environment.

          "Who would throw that out there like that?" you wonder.

          I'm going to hope it was unintentional 'cause I'm an optimist like that. This place, once the mill shut down, worked on trucks. I'm guessing it was something they used.

          Bug trails on a tree stump. Looks a little artsy, don'cha think?

          The only way I have to get to the creek right now is via the neighbors who are kind enough to give me access. I saw the duck but before I could get my camera up and focused, he took off.

          Speaking of neighbors...

          Mike's buddy Vernon told him something was getting the fish from his pond. We went to look. Holy cow! Look at the size of that head!

          "I bet it was at least  three feet long," Mike said speaking of the overall size.

          What would it take to pull one of these out of the water?

          I have been rather pensive this week. I guess isolation will do that to a person.

          "What have you been thinking about?" you ask.

          I've been thinking about dying. There are so many ways to lose your life. I'm afraid of dying, as I imagine most of you are but don't get me wrong, I'm not afraid of being dead. That'll be easy. Life will go on for those of you left behind. You might be sad for a moment but soon forget. It reminds me of a scene from The Dark Crystal. We took the kids to see it at the drive-in when it came out.

          The Mystics and the Skeksis were two halves of the same creature. Split in two when the crystal split. Their lives were not their own. When one half was hurt, the other half was hurt. When one half died, the other half died too. The Mystics were on their way to the Skeksis city when a Skeksis fell to his death. All of sudden there was a flash of light and a Mystic was gone. POOF! Just like that. The other Mystics in the procession stop, for just a moment, look at the spot where their companion was, then go on. And so, when my spot on this earth is empty, I expect you will stop for a moment then go on — just as it should be.

          I'd like to see it again, I think and go on a hunt for the movie. All of our old movies, the movies bought for the kids when they were growing up, have gotten moldy. Damp plus no ventilation equals mold. And that's how this place sat for years. You might be able to play one moldy movie in your VCR but that's it. The head will be so gummed up you can't play a second one. Don't ask me how I know that.

          One of the projects I undertook last year was taking old VHS tapes, transferring them to my computer, and burning them onto discs for Andrew, our grandson. I found a way to clean the old moldy tapes but at fifty cents, it was easier to buy them from the thrift store. But Thursday afternoon I searched high and low for a re-bought copy of The Dark Crystal and didn't find one. I'm guessing by the time I saw it at the thrift store I'd already given up the project. Andrew wasn't interested in the old movies. And now with Disney Plus, there isn't any need. So I've stopped buying movies for that project. If I wanted to see it, I'd have to dig out the old moldy copy and clean it.

          I really want to see it, I think and, I can do that. It's not hard and I've done it before. So I dig out the movie and all the stuff. You need an old VCR, take the top off, and a cleaning tool made from Q-tips, lens cloths, and a rubber band. Alcohol, a screwdriver, some paper towels, a mask. It's best to work in a well-ventilated area or outside. I went outside. It was really nice out Thursday afternoon and I could work in the sunshine in my shirt sleeves. But there isn't any power out there so that required me to run an extension cord through the kitchen window without breaking anything on the windowsill. I moved stuff out of the way, opened the window, dropped the cord out, and didn't break anything.

          The VCR I used for this project was the one we unknowingly ran a moldy tape through. Since then I pay better attention to the movies before I pop them in. And I cleaned it so now it works like new again. But this tape player does not like sunlight. It took me a long time and a lot of Googling (to no avail) before I figured it out. No place on the internet does it say anything about not doing it in the sunlight. The tape goes in and automatically ejects. After about 30 times, and fooling with the top (thinking there was a switch that needed to be depressed — like for the agitation cycle on the washing machine) I figured it out. I don't give up easily, don'cha know. I cleaned the tape in one direction, took the case apart to clean the spool, and couldn't get the case to go back together right. Do you have any idea how long it took me to figure out what was wrong! At first, I thought one of the posts wasn't seated right. And one wasn't. When I put the cover back on it closed better but still not right. I had it on and off four or five times and couldn't see anything wrong. If I pinch it and put the screws in tight it's almost right, I think and give it a try. Inside the player, it starts to play then freezes. It wouldn't even eject. I had to unplug it then when I plugged it in again it ejected. After doing that twice I see one of the reels isn't turning. Maybe I put the tape on the spool backwards, I think. I unplug the power, get the tape out and open it up again. But it wasn't wrong. You can't really even do it wrong. I tried to roll the spool by hand and it was locked. Then I saw the brake lever wasn't seated right! Amazing how easy it goes back together when everything's in right. I cleaned the tape in the other direction and it looks good. I plugged it into my good VCR and watched it while I recorded it onto my computer. That pretty much took up all of my Thursday afternoon.

          Sometimes I get mad. Angry mad, not foaming at the mouth mad. But definitely mad to the verge of tears mad. More specifically, it was just this week that I got mad.

          Up here, on my mountain, self-isolating because of the Coronavirus, I wonder, What's the point! Why did You make me only to die! I railed. I'd rather have not been born at all!    

          And I think of all the ways there are to die. Momma got to die the way she wanted to, and I'm thankful for that. She wanted to slip away quietly in her sleep and so she did. There are other more violent ways to die, corn pickers, car crashes, choking, and one of those might be required of me and that's what scares me.

          I had a conversation with one of my besties this week. She was having a bad week.         Her husband is like most of our old-school husbands in that he brings home the bacon, she does the housework. Never mind that she's bringing in a slab of her own. It isn't fair and I know it isn't fair. Sometimes we just need someone to listen to us grumble and commiserate. I was able to that for her.

          "No matter how much I nag him he still doesn't help!" Bestie told me.

          No. Nagging won't change them. It only makes 'em dig their heels in deeper.

          At least my Mike is good about picking up after himself but sometimes when I have to do something for him that I don't think I should have to do or I don't want to do — like pick up his empty toothpaste box from the sink — I have a little trick I use. Maybe it would help you too.

          "What's that?" you ask.

          I ask myself this question. Would I do it for Jesus? And my answer is always YES! — and happily so!

          "But Mike isn't Jesus," you point out.

          Yes. I know. But we are to emulate Jesus. He came to serve and so must we. Whatsoever we do to the least of our brothers we do for Jesus. Husbands can be brothers too.

          "But I feel like a slave!"

          Lots of thoughts come to mind here:

·         If you can't change something, don't dwell.

·         If you have to be a servant, be the best servant you can be just as Joseph was in the house of Potiphar. He was a slave and yet came to be second in command over all of Egypt.

·         I like to correlate it to being a dog. You sit, shake hands, high five, and roll over on command and your master takes good care of you. But the best part? Laying in your master's lap and having a nap. Wouldn't you like to just sit in the lap of Jesus and rest your head against his bosom?

          "Peg! That's a girl part!" you say.

          It could be but it means somebody's chest. It can be man or woman.

          "But I don't want to be a slave!" you cry.

          Too late, my friend. You already are. As a believer you're a slave to Jesus as Paul was when he declared himself "a bond-servant of Christ Jesus" or as a non-believer, you're a slave to sin.

          I was getting in the shower and went to toss my underduds into the laundry basket in the bottom of the closet. I slid the door open and there beside the basket was a pair of Mike's underduds. He missed. I'm sure he didn't see it or he'd have picked 'em up and put 'em in the basket.

          "Did you pick them up?" you wanna know.

          Was a time I wouldn't have. But now, having asked myself that 'special' question so many times before I don't even have to think-ask it anymore. It's just there, know what I mean? I did, I picked 'em up — and never mentioned it to Mike.

          There's a jewel for my crown, I think as I gingerly picked 'em up and put 'em in the basket. I should tell Bestie, she'll relate. Then I remember that when we do something good and get accolades from others, we lose our heavenly reward because we've already received our award for that particular good deed here on earth.

          Later, I went to dump a pan of food scraps into the weeds, potato and carrot peels, eggshells. Stepping over the dog fence, I hear, in my head, Tell everyone. So I'm telling you.

          There isn't anything we do, not in secret or in light, that isn't known to our Lord.

          I think we all touch other people's lives and never know the impact we have on them and maybe that's as it should be too.

          I know that not all y'all want to hear my God stories but maybe that's part of why God has given me this gift — maybe that's part of why I'm here.

          This seems like a good place to end it so —

          Yep! You know what I'm going to say!

          So —

          Let's call this one done! And remember. You are all in my heart.

Brokens

          I was feeling blue.

          "Why?" you may wonder.

          I was feeling blue because I didn't have any stories to tell you this week. It seems that's a reoccurring theme in my life these days.

          "I don't have anything to say," I told my cute little red-haired sister in a recent conversation.

          "You always have something to say!" she exclaimed.

          And I had to smile. Certainly having nothing to say has ever stopped me from visiting with you. Fortunately, or maybe I should say unfortunately, two family members and one of my church sisters have come to my rescue this week with stories to share.

          Sweet beautiful Ashley is my youngest brother John's oldest daughter. 

         Monday she fell out of bed and landed on her leg wrong. She broke both the fibula and tibia as well as damaging the tendons.

          "I didn't know how easy it was to break bones in your leg from a fall," she tells me.

          Ashley had surgery and they used a plate and pins to put the fibula back together then pinned the fibula to the tibia to stabilize it. She's looking at a five to six-month recovery period assuming nothing goes wrong. Ashley posted a picture of her leg on FaceBook. They put in a nerve block to lower the need for narcotics post-op.    

          Ashley broke her leg first, but I found out about it second.

          Thursday I got a call from my beautiful and much-adored oldest sister Patti. "Well, I guess it's just as well that we need to stay home because now I really am stuck.  I broke my ankle last night."

          "Oh no! How did that happen?" I asked.

        "We had a thunderstorm roll through last night and they freak Dakota out." Dakota is her Australian Cattle Dog or some people call them Blue Heelers. "I went out and brought her in to the laundry room. Once the storm passed I took her back out, misjudged where the railroad tie was and tripped over it. I took Motrin to help with the swelling and put ice on it right away but decided it was more than a sprain and went to the ER. It's broken."

          "I hope she doesn't have to have surgery," Ashley said when I told her.

          "I have to make an appointment to see an orthopedic doctor," Patti told me. "At the hospital they put this boot on... 'That's not going to work for me,'" she told them. "'I can't drive with that thing on and I have to drive myself home.'" I think they must've frowned at her. "Okay, but put it on when you get home," they told her.

          I'll tell you what! My family is tough! Patti drove herself to the hospital and back with a broken ankle and our dad cut through his hand with a circular saw, wrapped it in a towel, and drove himself to the hospital.

          The first night Patti spent in her boot was just torture for her. "I had to take it off for about five minutes three times during the night because I just couldn't stand it anymore. Thank goodness it isn't a cast or I'd really be miserable — and poor Dakota doesn't understand why we can't do our evening walks!"

          Saturday morning I get a message from my beautiful sister-in-Christ, Joanie.

          "Friday's and me just are not getting along!" she tells me.

          "Oh, no! Why?"

          "If they review the security footage they'll observe me falling on my face last Friday. I skinned my knee and the palm of my hand and this Friday I had a fight with the weather!"          

          That piques my curiosity. "Tell me about it."

          "Last Friday I was coming out of work, talking with Sara, a girlfriend, adjusting my shoulder bag, and the edge of the sidewalk snuck up on me faster than expected. I missed a whole step and went tumbling down. I couldn't believe it happened because it happened so fast and then I started laughing uncontrollably. Sara is trying to see if I'm okay as she's laughing and some young man jumps out of his truck to come check on me and help me up. All I could get out between fits of laughter was, 'Boy, that last step's a doozy!'"

          I can sure see that. I've been there! "I'm sure glad you didn't break anything. I probably would've cried."

          "I think I was just shocked that it happened. It hurt my pride more than anything and I was sore for the next two days. Sara called and checked on me a couple of times over the weekend."

          "She's a good friend," I told her. "What happened this Friday?"

          "By the time I left work it had started to downpour before I got to my car. Wellllll.... here's a picture of my umbrella after a gust of wind came through! I wanna know where the weather people buy their umbrellas that don't seem to break and flip every which way."

          Awww. Poor brelly!

          This is not a good time to be getting hurt and needing to go to the ER. That Coronavirus has everything all messed up.

            We stocked in groceries and I had to put a harness on Mike to keep him from going overboard. This panic is as contagious as the virus. As of Monday there weren't any cases close to us so we made yet another trip to the grocery store. One thing that we can't keep fresh and would run out of in a week is milk. That won't do if we're ordered to stay home for two weeks.

          "I've got canned milk," I told Mike. "Or you can freeze milk you know."

         So we bought four gallons of milk at our local grocery then went to Tunkhannock Walmart for dog food and birdseed.

          "No toilet paper?" Patti asks.

         Honestly, Mike would probably have bought some — but the shelves were empty!

          No eggs either.

          And the dairy case was looking pretty naked too!

          I was able to get the few things I needed.

          Have you seen that some of the stores are issuing No Return notices on some of this stuff that people bought a ton of?

          We stopped at McDonald's for lunch and watched some old man bring his dog inside. He tied her to a table and toddled off to the restroom. The pooch laid down to wait. What a beauty!

          We took a side road on the way home and I took a bunch of pictures for you.

           I saw this place from a road over. "What's that!"

          "A writer's loft?" Mike posed.

          I like to make a big meal and freeze portions for easy meals later on. This week I pulled a piece of lasagna out of the freezer for Mike's supper.

          "I really like this lasagna," he said after tucking into a hot steaming plate. "Where'd we get this one?"

          "That's the one we got from Aldi's in Williamsport."

          "Let's go get another one," he suggested.

          Michael dreams of a good piece of lasagna. But Aldi's considers it a seasonal item and only carries it for a few months in the winter. "We don't need it," I pointed out. "We have two other lasagnas in the freezer."

          "Like this one?" he asked.

          "No. One's Stouffer's and the other is Walmart's."

          "Let's go get another one like this one," he pleaded.

          He wore me down. "Okay, but only if we can take a different road this time." I figured I'd get some new road pictures for you.

          "How about we take 220 down but we'll come back up through Forksville?"

          And that's what we did. The toilet that I showed you last time that was broken? The one that the people change out the throne-sitter? They fixed it but I missed getting a picture.

          Aldi's didn't have the lasagna but we bought a few things anyway.

          I've taken pictures of this barn in years past but it didn't look like this. I'm wondering if they've made it into a wedding venue.

                 More road pictures.

           There was an airplane in the same yard with this train but I missed it.

           St. Basil's in Dushore has its new steeple up and it's looking mighty fine!

           Mike was heading out of Dushore, up the hill on 220 when he says, "I meant to take the Marsh road."

          "You still can. There's that little dirt road that cuts down to it."

          On that little dirt road that I don't remember the name of, someone, or a bunch of someones, has lined the branches on both sides of the road with bottles and cans and cups.

          "Why!" Mike wants to know.

          And I don't know why.

          Then we were home!

          Have you all done your 2020 census yet? I'm sure I've participated every time I was asked but I don't remember there being stuff like this in it. I guess it's just a sign of the times.

          And how about question six that says Hispanic origins are not races? What's up with that?

          I'm not sure what the rest of my family marked for origins but I know my mother's family is from Ireland so that's what I put down.

          Our new lower bridge...

          Mike wanted to see them bring the beams in. He's interested in how the rear steering works. He asked Duane, the crew boss to let us know when they were coming.

          "We're gonna set the beams Thursday," Duane told us early in the week.

          Wednesday morning Mike got a text. "Peg! We gotta go!"

          He scared me. "Why? What happened?"

          "They're bringing the beams in today. Sometime between 9:30 and 10:30. While we're out we might just as well fill the tank on the Jeep."

          Mike didn't want to miss anything so we were down at the job site by a quarter to nine. The crane company was still setting up the big crane they needed to set the beams. My window was down as we drove past.

          "Hey! I heard a woman! I didn't know they had a woman!" She was helping set the counterweights.

          We watched for a while then decided we had plenty of time to run to town for gas. "Maybe we'll see them bringing the beams in. Or maybe they'll already be staged at the gas station," Mike mused.

          They weren't and we didn't see them. I did see them setting this thing though. I'm not sure I ever knew what was in this building. Its been empty for a long time until recently when they started to remodel it — and I still don't know what it's going to be.

          I wonder if Miss Rosie knows? I think. It might've been in the newspaper.

          I called and asked.

          "It used to be the bowling alley," she said.

       "That's right!" I'd forgotten. "Steph used to bowl there. How long's it been closed?"

          "I don't know for sure. After the owners died the kids took it over and ran it for a while. I don't know if it was still open when it flooded in 2011 but I know it wasn't open after that."

          I called my other neighbor Steph. "Oh, gosh! I don't remember how long it's been closed. It was something for the gas company after that and now it's going to be a concrete place for the new LNG plant."

          "How interesting!"

          "Not to me, but Jon thinks it is."

          So! There you have it.

          Back to my story...

          On the way back down to the worksite we passed this handsome couple and their dog Tux. Yep. It's the Kipps out for their morning walk.

          Mike parked us out of the way and we waited for the beams to arrive.

          "Maybe we should park someplace else," I suggested.

          "Where?" Mike asked. "I wanna see how that rear steer works."

          "We could go up to the bridge and park in the Kipps driveway. They won't care. And we can watch them bring it across the bridge!"

          Mike liked that idea but when get there we see we can park off the road on the other side of the bridge and watch them come down the road too.

          While we waited I did what I always do. I looked around for pictures to take for you and I found a couple.

          I'm not sure what the writing on the board is all about.

          And then we saw them coming!

          I waved as the drivers passed and they were kind enough to wave back at the old woman with a camera. When the back part passed I could hear an engine running.

          "It runs the hydraulic pump that turns the wheels," Mike tells me. "In the old days it used to be hard-wired to a box with a joystick and a guy would walk behind and steer it that way."

          Only two of the beams came through while we were there.

          We drove down to the opposite side of the creek and watched them set a beam in place.

          The neoprene pads came first. They must be pretty heavy if each guy can only carry one.

          They'd better not get their toes under that when they set it down, I thought. The crane driver moved really slow and watched for signals from everyone.

           I turned around and saw Mike had walked over to talk with Liz, Duane's wife and the kids. I didn't even hear them drive in.

          "Since they're off school I decided to bring them out and watch Daddy set the beams," Liz told us.

          Their dog had nine pups! I knew she was pregnant and I had wanted to go see them when they were born but now, with the virus, it's not a good idea.

          We didn't stay overlong because I saw the process when they set the beams on the other bridge.

          We went back on the other side and see the third beam had arrived. The driver was on the back getting his load ready. Mike pulled over to the side and parked.

          "Are you going to talk to him?" I asked but I already knew the answer.

          "Yep."

          This guy is third generation hauling these beams around and he was happy to share with Mike the mechanics of how the joe dogs work. I wasn't there for that part of the conversation but Mike gave me the low down.

          "He watches in his mirrors and controls it from the cab. Sometimes though they need to give it to the driver behind them because they can see it better but he doesn't like to do that. He likes to control it."

          Thursday we had to go out to pick up our taxes. Right smack in the middle of Towanda was a whole herd of those Black Vultures sharing a possum fritter. I say sharing but they're really not very good at that and chase each other around.

          Coming home we see a man and his dog. Yep. Lamar and Tux. Miss Rosie won't chance a slip and fall if the roads are muddy.

          We went on down and checked out the bridge.

         All of the beams were set and the safety cables were in place. I got out and walked part way across. The crazy designs on top of the guide wire posts were the most interesting thing I saw.

          You know, I've noticed this thing before, several times before as a matter of fact.

          "What is it?" you ask.

          I know, right! That's what I asked too. "Mike you see that over there?" and I pointed to it. "Is it a tree or a foundation?"

          "I think it's a foundation."

          He pulled over and I went to explore.

          Steps.

          The basement.

          I saw more rocks stacked up nearby. At first I thought it might be another building but as I studied it I concluded it was likely an addition to the house with no basement underneath. I think the barn was farther back past the house but there's not enough left to tell.

          The property is State Game Lands now and they put birdhouses up on some of the trees.

          On up the road, on the other side, are more ruins of an old foundation. "Do you think that was the barn?" I asked like Mike would know.

          "It's pretty far from the house. Maybe it was the neighbors."

          There's a little creek just past the game land building and I see a pond has formed. I thought the culvert was clogged. "It looks like a beaver dam!" I told Mike. "Are the beavers smart enough to do that?"

          "I guess so," was Mike's answer.

          What do you guys think?

          We went out to the Y before we turned around to go home. That's where this old house sits. I'd already explored one ruins today, I was in the mood to explore this one too!

          "Don't go inside," Mike warned.

          "I won't!" I called back over my shoulder.

           One day, this old girl is gonna give up the ghost and just finish falling down.

          Hey! The peepers are peeping! I heard them a couple of nights ago. Spring is really on its way! At the pond I spotted this guy before he could jump back in.

          One day we hit 71! This moth came out then it turned so cold he couldn't move. I picked him from my screen and put him in the sun. I don't know what he is.

          Let's call this one done!