A Little Late

          Here it is!

          Here’s my finished or almost finished faux stained-glass window!

          “Almost finished?” you query.

          Yep. I’m not happy with the hearts in the center. I may tweak, leave, or scrape them off and try again. I haven’t decided.

          Normally I make you wait to see the finished product. But today — today when I post the link, I want a pretty picture to be there and it’s always the first one in the blog. Hence, the reason.

          So here’s what I did. I printed a pattern from the internet. I got if from the website suzyssitcom.com. I signed up and have access to all kinds of crafts and free patterns.

          I have to show you the new pattern of the week. It’s called Gossiping Birds. She did it on a tote but it would be cute on a window too, don’t you think?

But I digress.

My window is about seventeen and a half inches across so a single sheet of paper kinda got lost. I cut it in four squares, stuck a square in the copier and enlarged it by 200%. Put my squares together and taped it to the back side of the window. 

Mix Elmer’s glue with black paint and trace your lines. Don’t get too nervous. You can use a razor blade to clean the edges or scrape it all off and try again. A lot of forgiveness in this project.

I’d already decided that I didn’t want the flowers so close to the birds. I printed a new pattern, cut the flowers and moved them farther away.

Let the glue dry.

Then — start painting! And have fun!

Dogwood is blooming.

In fact, tons of stuff is blooming. Let’s pick out a few.

Buttercups. There are lots of varieties. 

Wild Geranium. It’s also called Crane’s-bill because of the shape of the fruit before it releases seed.

Like most wildflowers, this one’s been used in herbal medicine. Wild geranium is considered an astringent, a substance that causes contraction of the tissues and stops bleeding. The Mesquakie Indians brewed a root tea for toothache and for painful nerves and mashed the roots for treating hemorrhoids.

Mike and I were touring the back forty on the golf cart, going around the pond, checking out the weeping willow when I spot a few scraggly blossoms.

“What are those!” I exclaim and jump off the cart for a closer look.

I think it’s a volunteer cherry but I could be wrong.

This next one is Bittercress. It can be eaten raw or cooked. Bittercress is a mustard, so its bitterness is more spicy-hot than bitter, though it’s not nearly as hot as some other members of the Brassicaceae family.

This plant is great for salads, salsa, pestos and anywhere you would use raw cress. It loses most of its almost arugula-like flavor when cooked. Flowers and leaves are edible but the flowers can be tough to chew. Leaves are tender and have lots of vitamin C, calcium, magnesium, beta-carotene, as well as antioxidants.

Bittercress boosts immunity while also being a carminative and digestive. I had to look carminative up. Relieving flatulence. Flatulence I know. It’s a polite word for fart.

Random pictures.

  

I’ve told you before that Mike watches FaceBook Marketplace for things like tractors. He sorta needs a smaller one. It doesn’t have to be new. We did a job this week that drove that point home to me.

“What’s going on, Peg?” you ask.

Mike wants to clean the bank off behind the lower barn. He doesn’t like the branches extending over the roof and dropping leaves into a gutter he’s responsible for cleaning so he wants the trees down.

Before we could do that, we had to get a big honeysuckle bush out of the way. That meant Mike had to get the tractor back there. There’s barely enough room to get the tractor around to the back of the barn. I watched as he backed around. The front tire was hanging over the edge. I had visions of the tractor tumbling tail over teacup and had to close my eyes. But he made it and we pulled the bush. You’d think driving out would be easier but this time the back tires started to slide. I couldn’t watch. I turned my back and closed my eyes! I know, right! I’m just a big chicken sometimes.

We had to be careful we didn’t drop the tree onto the power lines and take out the neighbor’s electric service.

“If I do,” Mike told me, “I have to pay to fix it!”

We don’t want that!

As an extra layer of protection, Mike used a ladder and tied a long rope, a shorter rope, and a chain, from the tree to the golf cart where I was sitting.

“Don’t worry,” Mike told the Kipps. “She was far enough away it could never hit her.”

He notched one side and went around the back to complete the cut. “When I give you the signal, take off and go!” Mike told me.

Slight tension on the rope, foot on the gas pedal, heart in my throat, I waited for the signal — and took a picture for you. The signal came. I gunned it — and the rope came untied from the tree. 

I looked at Mike.

Mike looked at me.

Eyes wide, I shrugged, denying all culpability. It wasn’t my fault!

Mike signaled for me to change position. He knew it would give me a better angle for picture making. There he was, sawing away. I took this picture then thought I’d do a close-up. The only problem is, I’ve been having trouble with my camera lately. Maybe it’s a problem with the lens, I don’t know but it doesn’t always want to focus. It’ll just give a little grunt and stop. I turned my head, putting my ear to the camera to see if I could hear the beep of the focus indicator and when I looked back the tree was down! Easy-peasy-lemon-squeezy and no downed power lines! 

Getting the bush out and the tree down was all Mike’s back could handle so we left the clean-up for another day and went on to other things.

A smaller tractor would’ve pulled the bush and I wouldn’t’ve been on the verge of a heart attack!

Mike’s tractor is not so great for doing the brushhogging around the place. It’s heavy and leaves ruts in the yard.

However, it does work great for other things like moving my walk bridge. Mike needs to work on the ditch and it was in the way.

He didn’t move it far and it’s still convenient for me to get to my clothesline. 

We made a few trips to keep an eye on the bridge work this week. Both bridges are getting their final touches. The asphalt crew came in to pave the first twenty-five feet on both ends of the bridge.

“Why do they put asphalt on a dirt road?” you want to know.

I know, right! I wanted to know too. So I asked Greg.

“It keeps the plow trucks from hitting the end of the bridge,” he told me.

Makes perfect sense — now that I know.

Truck after truck came in with all kinds of guys and equipment. Mike pulled the golf cart off the road as we waited for them to pass. 

Caught in the line of traffic was this guy. Our neighbor Adam. We’ve never had an opportunity to chat with him before. We found him to be friendly and pleasant.

Trucks were unloaded, equipment was moved around.

Mike’s been around the block a time or two and enjoyed telling me what he knew of the asphalt spreading business.

“The sides open up,” he tells me. “And you see those rollers there on the bottom of the spreader?” he asked.

“Yeah?”

“The asphalt truck backs up to it and he puts his truck in neutral. He’ll keep dumping while the spreader pushes him down the highway. I doubt they’ll do that here though because it’s such a small job.”

Because they didn’t want to shut our bridge down, they did one lane, moved to the lower bridge, completed that one, then came back up and did the other lane on ours.

Once the spreader did his job the guys went to work with shovels and put asphalt where the spreader couldn’t go. 

I imagine it’s different putting it in with the guide rails up. Since the lower bridge isn’t open yet they won’t have to work around them down there.

They had a little Cat to pick up the extra asphalt and put it back in the spreader.

One of the guys had a pin he used to measure the depth. “Don’t wanna give ‘em more than they paid for, do they?” I asked.

“Nope. You can’t make any money giving it away.”

Next came the roller.

“Peg that doesn’t look even with the bridge deck,” you say.

Good eye! It’s not. This is the base coat. It gets four and a half inches of base then an inch and a half of top coat.

Watching the guys work wasn’t the only thing I watched that day. Maybe we were too close to a nest because this warbler was very active and very vocal.  

At one point I saw two birds getting into it. I snapped a few blurry pictures of the squabble and could tell a chickadee was chasing this guy. 

We didn’t follow the workers down to the other bridge, electing instead to go home and get a little mowing and weedeating done while the weather was nice.

Mike mows, I take care of the weedeating. His back can’t take that job and I don’t really mind doing it. At least I never minded before…

Until this time.

There’s just no gentle way to say it.

I killed a snake.

There I said it. And you know what? It makes me sad. I never saw him until he was flying around in circles and flung from the end of the weedeater. I cut him in two. Not two equal parts but two nonetheless. And he didn’t die right away. That’s the worst part. Oh my gosh. I hate reliving this! Who else gets sappy over killing a snake?

“Did you stomp on his head?” Lamar asked when it was still so fresh, I had to tell someone.

“No. I didn’t know what to do — and Mike wasn’t there to help me!” I cried.

“If it’s not a poisonous snake you can pick it up and smack it against a tree.”

I could totally do that because, “That would’ve been kinder.”

“Yes, it would,” Lamar agreed.

Now I know but I sincerely hope I never have to use this bit of information.

“Peg, I’m surprised you didn’t take a picture,” you say.

Actually, I did. But Mike doesn’t like snakes and even though I could show just the front half and not the grisly back half, Mike doesn’t want to see a snake. He says it gives him nightmares. Which is kinda funny. You know why? When Mike was a kid, he’d torment his dad with snakes because his dad hated snakes too!

And the wheel goes round, don’cha think?

“What kind of snake was it?” you wanna know.

Just a garden snake. A couple of days later I saw Smudge playing with something in the yard. I went to look and he had a little garden snake. I made him leave it alone. It was bad enough I’d already killed one this week.

But speaking of Smudge…

We came back in the driveway and there was Smudge exploring the fallen tree. “He knows there’s something different, doesn’t he?” I asked Mike.

This seems like it might be a good place to show a couple of critter pictures. Nothing too exciting but I did come across a couple of spiders. These are both wolf spiders, just two different kinds of wolf spiders.

This is a butterfly, a Duskywing. I can’t tell if it’s Horace’s or a Juvenal's Duskywing because they are very similar. So we’ll just say Duskywing!

Turkey vultures.

A killdeer.

How about some killdeer facts?

• Killdeers are easily attracted to graveled rooftops for building their nests. This is dangerous for the chicks when they are lured by their parents to jump down, which often lead to death.
• Killdeers are proficient swimmers. Both the young and the adult can swim well in fast-flowing waters.
• A group of killdeers are collectively known as a ‘season of killdeers’.

We made a shopping trip to Sayre this week. “I’m gonna try to get a shot of the eagle’s nest on the fly,” I told Mike.

We had a car behind us but Mike slowed a little for me. “Did you get it?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” I muttered as I hit the playback button. “Nope. He was up on the edge of the nest but the trees are in the way.”

“Want me to stop on the way home?”

“Yeah. We’re here so I’d kinda like to get a decent shot of ‘em.”

As it turns out there is no such thing as a decent shot of ‘em. A storm took down the nesting tree last year or was it the year before? The location of the new nest, just a little ways past the old one, is behind trees. No clear shot. 

It’s just like kids, I thought. One’s itching to fly and the other, you can’t get it  out of the nest!

I did some ducking and weaving and between two trees managed to get a shot of the edge-sitter.

Only two more critters in this week’s file. An owl pellet, which you probably don’t wanna see. Owls can’t digest fur and bones so they come back up. Momma used to love finding owl pellets and pulling them apart. I bet’cha didn’t know that.

The other is gross enough too. Mr. Mister has, what I assume to be, a cat bite. What tends to happen with cat bites is the top heals but it festers underneath and bursts open again. This is the third time I’ve seen this fester and pop.

Mr. Mister, with a head the size of a dinner plate, is a pretty good cat but I’ve never handled him beyond scratching his ears and pulling a few ticks. Would he tolerate me smearing some antibiotic on his open wound? Tune in next week and see if I still have all my fingers cause I’m gonna give it a try.

Now, just because I’m out of critter pictures doesn’t mean I’m out of pictures. Oh, no. Not by a long shot.

We didn’t follow the guys down to the other bridge but we went back down to our bridge and watched some more.

“See that guy standing on the back?” I asked Mike who sat beside me on the golf cart. We were parked in the Kipps front yard so we had a good view.

“Yeah?”

“Why’s he keep turning that handle?”

“When the spreader goes up and down, he can adjust for it so it’s all the same depth.”

Something Mike didn’t know, and something I saw, was this machine has two seats and one steering wheel. I watched as the operator slid the steering console from one side to the other. How cool is that! 

“Here comes the pounder-downer,” Mike says.

He always makes me laugh. “Is that the technical name for it?”

“Well, yeah!”

They used the pounder-downer where they couldn’t use the roller. 

Speaking of pounder-downers, we heard them pounding the posts for the guide rails at the lower bridge. Sound really carries in these mountains. We went down to watch for a few minutes.

Guide rails in, approaches paved, the last thing they had to do was put grass seed in the places where they’d torn it up. Mike and I went and checked it out. As we drove past, I spotted something red laying in the fresh blown straw.

“Stop!” I yelled.

Mike stopped and I jumped off. It was a knife. “Who ever lost it must’ve lost it on the last bale he cut open or he’d’ve missed it,” I speculated.

“You’ve got a new knife.”

“I’d just as soon get it back to whoever lost it. Can you call Duane?”

Mike called Duane and it wasn’t one of his guys who lost it. They subcontract the grass seeding out and the guy who did lose it, Chris, lives in Scranton and isn’t coming back for it. I’ve got a new knife.

On the way home Adam was outside so we stopped and chatted for a minute. Sabrina and Harper, their three month old, came out and we met her for the first time.

It’s terrible to say, but this young couple has lived here for quite a while now and we’re just now making their acquaintance. Methinks it’s time to host a friends and neighbors BBQ.

Have I mentioned that Mike has tractors on the brain? It is his mission in life right now to constantly cruise FaceBook Marketplace for tractors. Two, three, four times a day he’ll nudge me out of my seat and take control of my new computer — which I love my new computer. It’s been a bit of challenge to learn how the programs work. Especially pictures and my 2019 Word program because they’re much different than the old versions I was using. But now that I’m getting used to them I see they are actually much better. I did find one drawback to using a desktop that I didn’t have with a laptop.

“What’s that?” you ask.

There’s no battery. The power went out and my computer shut off. I’ve actually been working on a letter blog before and had the power go out. Even just a flicker is gonna shut me down and I’ll lose all my work.

“I need a battery backup,” I told Mike.

He’s a good husband. A battery backup arrived by UPS before the week was out.

But yet again, I digress.

Mike found a Case tractor he wanted to go look at and it wasn’t far from us. Just over the way into a little town called New Albany. Mike contacted the guy about coming to look at it and found out it was at the old school.

Cool!

I’ve seen the school from the road but it’s privately owned so glancing at it through the trees was all the closer we’ve ever gotten to it — until this day! 

We pulled in and met Skip. We spent an enjoyable hour and a half gabbing with this guy and sharing stories, Mike’s favorite thing to do. 

The tractor was a nice-looking Case but it had a hand crank. “I can’t start it anymore since I hurt my shoulder,” Skip told us. 

Mike doesn’t want a crank start tractor either. Skip was nice enough to give us a mini tour of the school. “What made you buy a school?” I asked.

“Well, I was gonna build a barn for storage that would’ve cost me $48,000. I won the bid on the school and 16 acres for just over $52,000. I was the only bidder.”

Skip allowed me to take a few pictures of his projects. 

“Is the old iron bridge on your property too?” I asked. I’d seen the bridge from the other side but didn’t have any decent pictures of it.

“Yeah.”

“Can I go and take pictures of it?”

“Sure.”

I left the old men to tell their war stories and checked out the bridge.

Kids used this bridge to cross the creek and attend school. 

The Kipp family farm isn’t far from here.

“I’ve crossed that bridge many-a-time,” my handsome neighbor Lamar Kipp told me. “Just on the other side used to be a feed store and a lumber company. We’d go buy stuff and carry it home. But the most fun we had, my brothers and me and a couple of neighbors, was when the water was raging. We’d throw stuff off one side and try to hit it with a rock as it came out the other side.”

Kids today will never know joy like that. 

I came back around the other side of the school and saw Skip had pulled up a chair for Mike. They sat there, forearms on knees, hands clasped. talking and laughing. One mirrored the other as they looked at each other, then down at their hands again. Seeing me, Mike got up and we headed for the Jeep. Looking back, seeing the now vacant chairs where the two old man had sat flapping their gums, struck me and I took a picture. I do have a picture of them sitting in the chairs but I like this shot better. It leaves something to the imagination.

I have more road picture with no accompanying jibber-jabber and some flower pictures with a little jibber-jabber, then we’ll close it out for this week. So, in no particular order, here we go.

“Did you see them?” Mike asked as we went past on the golf cart.

“I did. The buttercups.”

“No. The poles sticking up.”

“Nope. Didn’t see them.”

Mike backed up and I saw the poles and he saw the buttercups.

Perspective, baby. Perspective.

Ragwort has many other names. Common ragwort, mare’s fart, tansy ragwort, ragweed, stinking willie, stinking nanny, dog standard, staggerwort, stammerwort, cankerwort, cushag. It’s mostly unwanted by landowners because it’s poisonous but it provides a great deal of nectar for pollinators. The toxin is cumulative which means you have to eat a bunch of it to die. I don’t recommend eating it all — no one does — but livestock will sometimes eat it. A little won’t kill them.

Medicinally it was used externally. They mixed it with pig fat and used it for relieving pain in the arms, hips, and legs. A poultice was made and laid on the throat to treat inflammation. It was applied to boils to get them to open up. It was also thought to ease the sting of a bee.

I even found a poem about ragwort written by the Manx poet Josephine Kermode (1852–1937).

Now, the Cushag, we know,

Must never grow,

Where the farmer's work is done.

But along the rills,

In the heart of the hills,

The Cushag may shine like the sun.

Where the golden flowers,

Have fairy powers,

To gladden our hearts with their grace.

And in Vannin Veg Veen,

In the valleys green,

The Cushags have still a place.

So. I like the poem. But I had to do a little research. Manx is the language spoken on the Isle of Man and Vannin Veg Veen is Manx for dear little Isle of Man.

This is Dame’s Rocket also called Queen’s Gilliflower, Vesper Flower, Mother-of-the-evening, and Damask Violet. It’s in the mustard family and is considered invasive, It smells really nice, kind of a cross between a clove and a violet. It grows all over our hillsides and is often confused with wild phlox. Dame’s rocket has four petals, phlox has five.

You can eat the leaves in your salad if you want to.

          Medicinally it was used to induce sweating, promote urination, and loosen cough. The seeds were said be effective for stings and bites of serpents. Sometimes they were mixed with vinegar to cure freckles. That made me laugh. Cure freckles, like it’s a disease. 

          American Mandrake, or May Apple, is being tested as a possible treatment for cancer as it contains podophyllin, which has an antimiotic effect (it interferes with cell division and can thus prevent the growth of cells). How about that.

          If I get pictures of the flowers, I’ll talk more about it later.

I thought this was Chokecherry but now I’m not so sure. I’m leaning toward Black Cherry at this time.

This widespread species is the largest and most important native cherry. The wood is valuable for furniture, paneling, instruments, handles, and toys.

Wild cherry syrup, a cough medicine, is obtained from the bark, and jelly and wine are made from the fruit. The rest of the plant contains amygdalin and can be toxic if consumed. 

Let’s end with a few more random road pictures.

Let’s call this …

“Peg! Wait! Waitwait!” you say.

What?

“Why’s your letter blog late this week?” I know you wanna know.

Someone, who shall remain nameless, bought a new grill Saturday. Despite my stern admonishments to put it together himself and leave me to visit with you, he needed help. I helped.

Let’s call this one done!