New Project

          This week, not so many pictures, not so many stories. That’s what I think. Sometimes I surprise myself though. Shall we start?

When Mike had jury duty, we were told that no pictures are allowed to be taken of the courtroom. EVER!

“Why?” I asked.

“I think it has something to do with terrorism.”

This week, this picture of the courtroom showed up on Facebook. Hmmm. So much for EVER.

           I had the pleasure of watching this doe with her two youngins down at the pond. 

          The fawns ran, jumped, and kicked, never getting too far away from mama. One fawn was more adventurous than the other ranging farther. I watched as he raced to the bridge and back several times.

Next thing I know, I lost sight of his mother. Did she go into the weeds?  This little guy races back to where his mother was and I think he’ll follow her on into the weeds and that’ll be the end of that.  Imagine my surprise when he comes around to the front of the pond at breakneck speed, reverses course, and goes a hundred miles an hour back the way he came.

Uh-oh, methinks. He can’t find her.

He looked frantic — or was that just me projecting?  

I know that does and fawns have a very good sense when it comes to finding each other and before I could work myself up into a panic, Mama comes out from behind a bush that had obscured my view. She’d been there the whole time. 

All winter long I looked for a snowbow and didn’t find any. Spring came and brought spring storms and I found my first rainbow of the year. They always appear over the house.

Our dirt road is in such bad shape, full of pot holes. The next county over graded their road, added a layer of dirt, rolled it, and improved it a lot. 

A day or two later our county showed up to work on our section of the road. Can you see where the county line is?

They cleaned the ditches and graded the road. But they haven’t rolled it and it’s such an awful dusty mess now whenever anyone goes past.

“I’m guessing they’ll be back next week to finish it,” Mike said.

I sure hope he’s right!

 Speaking of disasters, we nearly had one. The chute that funneled the wood chips out of the mill got old and tired and started leaning over. Mike got the tractor to push it back upright but from where he was at the end of the chute, it was too heavy. He was in danger of breaking the boards he was pushing against.

Mike repositioned the tractor more toward the center and got the old man on his feet, more or less. 

I handed him a new board for a brace.

He nailed it and the old one back in place.

“It’s only a band aid fix, Peg,” Mike told me.

“We could just take it down,” I suggested. “It’d be a whole lot less trouble — and expense!”

Mike thought about it for a moment.

“Naw. We’ll get some new 4x4s and replace the old rotted ones.”

I’m so glad he wants to save it. It’s character, know what I mean?

Notice Mike has a jacket on? It’s June and still cool in the mornings. It warmed up later and he was able to shed it.

          Mike built the rock wall so he could get the tractor behind the barn. It worked well but the weight of the tractor pushed some of the rocks out of place. Since Mike had the tractor out, he straightened out his rock wall, using the tines to push the rocks back in place. I wasn’t sure he'd be able to do it but the tractor barely grunted at all.

          Coming back from getting a gallon of milk, Mike says, “You wanna take the long way home?”

          “Sure!” I didn’t even have to think about it. “Which way are we going?”

          “Up over the hill and down around. I want to come out on the other side of the bridge where the guys are working.”

         And that’s what we did!

It looks like the piers are in and they’re forming them up.

On our dirt road, in Vernon’s field, we stopped to look at this doe and her fawn and they stopped to look at us!

We’ve been enjoying the nice weather and our patio. It’s just a nice place to sit and watch the deer or listen to the birds.

One afternoon I heard a ruckus down at the pond. The Red-winged Backbird was raising the alarm.

Maybe one of the cats is getting too close to the nest, I thought, picked up my camera, and headed to the pond. The first thing I scare up is an Oriole from the branches above the Blackbird nest. Will they kill the babies? I wondered.

          Then three males came flying out and landed not far away, arguing the whole time. Will they kill the babies? Then they took off.

Later in the day I went down to the pond again. I imagine if the babies are gone, there won’t be a nest to guard any more. As I got closer, I heard the familiar alarm call of the male. Then he flew up and landed on the line above my head. Whew! I breathed a sigh of relief; confident they were still guarding the youngins.

“Peg! It’s just the cycle of life! And sometimes nature can be cruel!” you say.

I know, right! Had they been gone, I’d’ve been sad for a moment but accepted it.

Another afternoon, a very active afternoon as it turns out, Mike says, “What’s that!?”

“What? Where?” I ask.

“Out by the dirt pile.”

I looked just in time to see something small and brown loping through the grass.

“I can’t tell. I’ll go get my camera.” My battery was low so I had it on the charger, that’s why I went out without it — just in case you were going to ask.

Two little baby whistlepigs where romping round. I couldn’t catch them both in the same shot. 

They left and two runny babbits came along.

They hopped off and Smudge came skulking around the corner. 

“HEY SMUDGE!” Mike called.

Smudge started our way and stopped, looking off into the weeds.

“He hears something,” I said.

“Isn’t that where the fox almost got him?” Mike asked.

“Yep.”

“SMUDGE!” Mike called again and this time he came bounding across the yard and jumped onto Mike’s lap. 

We were sitting there, chatting, and Smudge’s head comes up, his ears on alert.

 I looked towards the weeds and didn’t see anything at first. Then Callie, one of our outside cats, came creeping from the weeds. 

On yet another afternoon, I was out with Ginger, Mike had already gone inside. Ginger, laying on the patio, slowly comes to her feet, her ears standing straight up, and she starts to creep toward the grass. Whatever she sees is on the other side of the gravel pile and I can’t see it. I get up to look and I see him. Ole Mr. Snapping Turtle was on a mission. 

Peg, if one of them gets ahold of one of our little dogs, he won’t let go.

Words, spoken by Mike a year or so ago, bounced around in my head and I was afraid.

“Ginger. Come here.” I commanded evenly and firmly. I was afraid if she heard fear in my voice she’d take off after it. I had a vision of her and Itsy tormenting little box turtles. Something I’d let them do from time to time because they couldn’t hurt a box turtle. They’d just pull their heads in, close up house, and wait it out. These guys can’t get all tucked in like that and will bite to defend themselves.

Ginger circle around behind him and I followed. He turned to watch us. “GINGER. WAIT.” I ordered. She stopped. I caught up to her. scooped her up, and backed away from Mr. Snapper. I heard they can lunge and move fast. 

Where he came from, where he was going, I do not know. But I knew where Ginger and I were going. Back in the house!

The next evening, during Bible study on the phone with my beautiful gimpy friend Jody… Yes, gimpy. She hurt her knee.

“How did she hurt her knee?” my beautiful feisty redheaded neighbor asked. Miss Rosie noticed Jody’s brace in a picture in last week’s letter blog. “If you don’t mind my asking.”

          “Jody, my readers want to know what happened to your knee. Do you want to share?”

          “Sure. After our sheep were attacked, we started bringing them back inside every night,” she explained. “In the spring, a stream runs through the one pasture field. I have to cross the stream to close the one gate. I was looking for a spot to cross that wasn't as deep. Unfortunately, it was thicker, deeper mud. I got stuck and when I was trying to free myself, I wrenched my knee.”

So now she has to wear a brace and she’s my gimpy friend.

I was sitting at the kitchen table, my Bible study materials spread out around me. Jody and I catching up on the week before we started. Gazing out the door, I spot something low and slow moving across the dog run. I blurted out, “What’s that!” I stood up and went to the door. “It’s a snapping turtle in my dog run! How did he get in there?” I went out to look and he wasn’t in the dog run, he was on the other side of the fence. “I don’t know where he’s going,” I told Jody, “but he’s heading into a corner.” I went back in and he turned around and headed out. Mr. Snapper from the day before or a different one, I don’t know.

We went to visit the Robinsons one evening...

 ...and I have to tell you that I’m absolutely smitten with the giant hales of bay that line the field. 

Yes, you read that right. Hales of bay. Sometimes my brain gets its signals crossed and switches letters on me. A long time ago I tried to say bales of hay and my brain did its funky thing and hales of bay came out. It’s one of those things that’s stuck with us all these years later and say on purpose now. Mike is so used to this happening that he understands me perfectly and sometimes doesn’t even notice.

I wanted to take Steph a loaf of homemade bread.

“Want to see my chickens?” she asked.

“I do!”

They bought eight guaranteed females, and four take-yo-chances.

“We only ended up with one rooster,” Steph grinned.

In a few more weeks they should start getting eggs. 

“On the way out I’d like to get a shot right down the line of hay bales,” I told Mike. I’ll say it right for you.

             I thought the truck ruined my shot.

When we got down to the end, Mike stopped the cart and I took a few shots back up the other way. I’m not sure this is quite what I’d envisioned but I kinda like it anyway. Maybe I’ll try again sometime.

Mouse-ear Chickweed. This tiny little flower has five deeply-lobed petals. It you get the leaves before the flowers come on and boil them for a minute or two, they taste like asparagus.

The Hawkweed is blooming. This wildflower has many common names. Meadow Hawkweed, Yellow Hawkweed, Field Hawkweed, King Devil, Yellow Paintbrush, Devil's Paintbrush, Yellow Devil, Yellow Fox-and-cubs, and Yellow King-devil.

Hawkweed is a genus of sunflower and comes in orange too. I don’t have any orange but the neighbors do. I’m gonna see if they’ll let me dig up one or two.

Hawkweed has been used in herbal medicine as a diuretic, for diseases of the lungs, asthma, and incipient consumption.

Clover is blooming. This is mostly White Clover in my picture with a pink one or two tossed in. Clover’s in the pea family, and its blossom is actually a bunch of little pea-like blossoms, called “wings and keels.” You can eat all parts from blossom to root, with the blossom being the most pleasant tasting part of the plant. Don’t select brown ones. You want young and fresh whether white or pink or red though white clover is the better tasting of them all.  Besides a tea you can pan roast the blossoms until nice and crispy. The leaves are another matter. Young ones are digestible raw in small amounts, half a cup or so. Older leaves should be cooked, but I think you’d have to be hungry  to eat them. It is a survival or famine food. Clover can be good for you. It’s high in protein, has beta carotene, vitamin C, most of the B vitamins, biotin, choline, inositol, and bioflavonoids.

Look what I saw again this week! Yep a Calligraphy Beetle. 

He crawled around on my hand and when he got to the tips of my finger the wings started to come out. I knew he was going to take off and I so wanted a picture for you.

The elytra parted. That’s what the outer hard shell is called. And he took off. 

This is a grass or lawn moth.

And this is a Gypsy moth caterpillar.

Turkeys! A whole herd!

You ever go walking through tall grass and come away with wet pant legs? If it’s not the morning dew or raindrops then it’s mostly likely from the spit of a Spittlebug.

Spittlebugs are the nymph stage of Froghoppers. The foam serves a number of purposes. It hides the nymph from the view of predators and it insulates against heat and cold, thus providing thermal control and also moisture control; without the foam, the insect would quickly dry up. The nymphs pierce plants and suck sap causing very little damage, much of the filtered fluids go into the production of the foam, which has an acrid taste, deterring predators.

All of the hoppers, whether it be frog, leaf, or tree, suck sap.

My first sighting of a humbee this year! This is a Clearwing Hummingbird Moth and this one was really little. I know you can’t tell that from my picture.

I Googled this dragonfly trying to find his name for you and what I found is that he most resembles a damselfly. The only problem is damselflies rest with their wings straight down their bodies whereas dragonflies hold them out to the side like this guy is doing. I asked for an ID on the Facebook bug page but I’ve not gotten any response yet.

Mike and I took the cart back to Vernon’s cabin for a visit. Here’s a couple of pictures from that visit.

I saw my first daisy! I love the simple, unassuming daises. I know there’s a bug in the picture but I don’t know what he is.

Speaking of not knowing!

Oh my gosh!

In all my years, and in all the hardboiled eggs I’ve shelled, I’ve never — no not EVER seen one like this one!

“Mike there’s something wrong with this egg.” He was sitting at the table, mouth all set for some freshly boiled and still hot eggs. “It’s got a funny color.”

“Well then I don’t think I want that one,” he says.

The egg on the left is for comparisons sake.

I took it out with the scraps and broke it open. What is that?! 

I’m going to hazard a few guesses. One, it’s not a chick. Chicks form in the yolk not the albumen. Two, I don’t think egg farmers put roosters in with the chickens.

It’s kinda put me off eating hard-boiled eggs, if you know what I mean. Nonetheless, I made myself get back up on the horse that threw me. I went back in the house and made an egg sandwich. Maybe not an egg sandwich the way you might make one. I use a rice cake, schmear of mayo, slice the hard-boiled egg in three and arrange on top. Sprinkle of salt and eat it. I don’t know what else to call it.

And now (I know some of you have been patiently waiting for me to talk about this) and now for a new craft project I did this week.

I tried my hand at decoupage. I had an old jar sitting on my craft counter that holds my rulers and a paint stir stick. Just a junk jar I figured wouldn’t matter if I messed up.

I made homemade chalk paint, printed a couple of pictures, and used Mod Podge to stick them to the jar. I put another coat of Podge on top but it made the ink smear a little.

“Wait, Peg, wait!” you say. “Homemade chalk paint?”

Yep. Use any color matte paint (can’t be glossy) and mix 1/3 cup water and 1/3 cup Plaster of Paris into one cup of paint.

You can buy all kinds of napkins for this project but I printed on tissue-paper-attached-to-copy-paper and printed my own.

I chose the owl because it was Kat’s favorite. I shake my head as I realize how much of my life is influenced by the loss of someone I love.

I could fancy the jar up with more pictures and string or ribbon around the top but this is good for now.

And you know what else is good for now?

This!

Let’s call this one done!