Pop of Color

 

Colors are really starting to pop around here!

 We’ve also had frost. This wasn’t our first frost, it was like the second one, but it was the first one I went out and took pictures for you.

Our big adventure this week was re-roofing a section of our roof.

We took Big Red to Laceyville Lumber and brought home sixteen-foot two by fours.

I only took one picture on that trip that I’m going to show you. How about this fancy-schmancy porch railing? People certainly put a lot more character in houses of old. Today a porch railing would be simple four by four posts and two by two balusters.

Mike backed Big Red up close to where we needed the purlins and we stood them against the mill.

Right there, right in the middle of the white circle I put on the picture for you, is where our honey bees live. They didn’t bother us once as we stacked the lumber.

And they bothered us — bother me— only once while we were putting the purlins down. This lone kamikaze was buzzing my head and landing in my hair.

“Get him off!” I frantically screamed waving my arms and running to Mike. “There’s a bee! Get him off me!” I’m a little shy about being stung after being stung twice in the same week a few weeks ago.

Mike swatted at him a few times but missed. I went even further away and he gave up the chase. Despite the bee’s best efforts, I didn’t get stung. It was near the end of the job so we finished and got off the roof.

We went to C.C. Allis for the metal roofing. They’ll cut it to length and we needed thirty-foot lengths. And they delivered.

Matt backed into the driveway.

             I was fascinated how he unloaded the forklift. He used its own hydraulics to set it on the ground.

Our order was on the top and the forklift made it an easy job to unload.

Mike showed him where to put it and Matt slid the metal off onto the ground.

“I have to take the pallet back,” he said. “They cost about four hundred dollars to build and I don’t want to have to charge you for it.”

Mike was excited to get going on the project so we unbundled it and carried a couple of pieces around to the other side of the house where Mike had the ladders set up.

We used the extension ladder to feed the long sheet of metal up to the roof so we wouldn’t bend it.

“It’s very important to have the first piece straight,” Mike lectured me for the umpteenth time. “If it’s off by even a little bit, it’ll be off a lot when we get to the other end.”

We put the sheet down and Mike was lining it up when a bee started dive-bombing my head and getting into my hair.

“Get him off!” I frantically screamed waving my arms and running to Mike. “There’s a bee! Get him off me!”

Yeah, déjà vu.

Mike swatted at him and the bee turned on him, leaving me alone.

“Ow!” Mike yelled and slapped his head. A bee fell to the rooftop.

“Did he get’cha?” I asked. I know, right! Silly question.

“Yeah!”

We went back to work and another bee attacked. “Get him off! Get him off!” I don’t know why they were going for our heads. I got over to where Mike was so he could kill the bee for me and once again the bee transferred to him.

“Now he’s on me, Peg!”

“Where?”

“I don’t know. On my shirt some place.”

Mike turned around and I didn’t see any bee.

“He’s inside my shirt.”

“Get it off before he stings you.” I reached for the bottom buttons of Mike’s shirts as he undid the top ones.

“Too late,” he said.

“Did you get stung?”

“Yep.”

Mike didn’t even yell ouch that time but he’d had enough.

“Let’s just get this one put down and get off the roof,” he said.

We went back to lining it up and more bees started coming out. One of the little buggers zeroed in on me. He landed in my hair and I started swatting and flailing my arms. “Mike! Get him off me!” I screamed and went running to Mike.

“Get away from me!” he said.

I wasn’t having any of that. “No! Get him!”

Well, you guessed it. Mike got stung again!

We moved out of the danger zone and gave the bees a chance to settle down. Then as quickly as we could we put just enough screws into the sheet to keep it from blowing off. The bees were calm for a moment so we sat on the furthest edge away from the bees and rested until our heart rates came down.

I felt something in my hair. As I ran my hand through I felt something. Bee came instantly to mind. I started picking and dropping as quickly as I could, trying to untangle him from my hair but got stung on my finger anyway. He fell to the roof but it felt like he was still stinging me. I looked at my finger and saw the venom sac was still pumping venom into my finger. I brushed it off and then crunched the bee. He’d die anyway.  

          “Man! That hurts!” I cried like a little girl.

          After a few minutes it started to calm down. As soon as we were off the roof, I treated my sting. Momma always treated us kids with baking soda or told us to use mud, but I didn’t have much luck with baking soda last time. One of my faithful readers was surprised I hadn’t used vinegar. It’s what his family always used and he swore it really works. So, this time I broke out the vinegar and a cotton ball and dabbed the area. It really helped and my sting didn’t continue to hurt all day like the other two had.

          Mike isn’t thrilled about the bees taking up residence between the siding and the house but I won’t let him kill them. Chances are they’ll be gone next year and if they’re not I’ll find someone to come and relocate them.

          “We’ll go up early and work until the bees wake up,” I told Mike. “If we can’t finish it tomorrow morning, I’ll go up with you on Saturday and Sunday morning until we get this done.”

          He knew I was serious then. It has to be pretty important for me to give up my blog days because you guys are so important to me.

          Bees, and other insects as well, are not active in cooler temps. With our overnight temps falling into the forties it takes a few hours for it to warm up enough for them to be any threat to us at all. Even then, that part of the house is shaded. We might have sun for an hour before it moves over far enough to warm the bee corner.

          Since the kitchen patio was finished, and we were finished on the roof for the day, I wanted to start decorating it.

          “Mike, would you help me bring that old dresser down from the upper barn?” I asked.

          We took the golf cart up, cleaned some junk from the top, and loaded it.

          “These legs are rotten and uneven,” Mike pointed out. “I’ll cut them off straight for you.”       

            Once it was in place, I brought out my Rosie window and hung it above. I call it my Rosie window because it was Lamar and Rosie who gave it to me.

          “Peg, shouldn’t it be the Lamar and Rosie window then? Or the Kipp window in the very least?” you ask.

          I know, right! You’d think so wouldn’t you.

From there it wasn’t long until I started shoving things onto the shelves. Mostly I did that to get it off my patio table.

          Then we just sat and chatted and enjoyed the space for a while.

          “Look at Smudge,” I said and grabbed my camera.

          Smudge loves to climb ladders. And he was headed to the roof. He didn’t waste any time getting up it either. By the time I got around to the front he was already at the top. I think he climbed this ladder every day it was here.

          Mike went on to do other things and I started rearranging the patio. I’d taken all my chimes down so they were out of the way while Mike worked on the stones and now I put them all back in place. I decide it was a good time to hang a few more things. I got a step ladder, the screw gun, and a few screws. I climbed up two steps and nearly stuck my head in the web of this beauty. She was busy wrapping up a meal for later and didn’t take any notice of me at all. She has two egg sacks securely anchored to a corner. I was surprised at the size of them. I guess I’ve never seen the egg sacks of a Black and Yellow Garden Spider before. They were easily as big around as a quarter.

          I left her in peace.

          A trip to the mailbox yielded junk mail. I’ll stand at the kitchen counter, open it, pull it apart, crunch it up, and toss it in the burn bins.

          Crunch?

          Did someone say crunch?

          More importantly, did someone hear the irresistible sound of paper crunching?

          Tiger.

          He came running! He loves paper balls. I tossed him one and he jumped to catch it. I tossed him another. He swatted it as soon as it hit the floor and sent it flying. I tossed him a few more until I was out of junk mail. He enjoyed every single one for at least a minute. Then he was over it and I had to pick up the floor. The things we do for the love of critters.

          The next morning, I woke to an itchy bee-stung finger. I looked and saw a pus blister. I wondered if the stinger was still in there, got a needle, and popped it. I didn’t see anything except pus, then blood, then it started itching like crazy! Worse than before! I tried the vinegar but it didn’t seem to help with the itch so I broke out my tube of hydrocortisone. That worked well enough.

          After we were fed and the critters were fed, we headed for the roof. This was my view after shoving the first sheet of metal up the ladder.

We were able to get the nine remaining sheets of metal on and fastened down temporarily and off the roof before the bees woke up. That was all we’d planned on getting done that morning and by then Mike had had enough anyway. Even though we brought a chair up for him to rest in, and I encouraged him to take as many breaks as he needed, it was still hard on his back.

Oh. And yes, our sheets ran off.

“I would’ve liked to take more time to make sure that first piece was straight,” Mike said.

But we couldn’t because of the bees. Did you know that when bees sting, they release a pheromone that encourages the other bees to join in the fracas?

And we didn’t think about checking it the next morning. Once all the sheets were down, they weren’t coming back up either. Mike’ll just have to trim the metal off.

It was still early when we came off the roof.

“I think I’ll hang my hub caps up,” I told Mike. “I can always take them down and paint them when I have time.” I hope they look like flowers when I’m done with them.

Mike helped. “Show me where you want the screws,” he said.

I could easily have done it myself but he seems to enjoy helping me do this kind of stuff. From there the creative juices started to flow. “We could get those doors the Kipps gave us and put them up on that wall too,” I said.

We brought the doors down from the upper barn where they’d been stored, gave ‘em a quick bath and put ‘em up. I’d gotten myself a cup of coffee and Mike and I were sitting at the patio table talking and I heard someone calling me.

“Meow! Meow!” Tiger cries and stands up against the door looking out the window at me. Now that it was quiet on the patio he wanted to come out where we were.  

Tiger noticed immediately that something was different and he approached cautiously, sniffing the air as he went.

“Do you think there’s enough room for that other door?” I asked.

Mike looked it over. “Yeah. I think so. And let’s put a couple of windows up too.”

We spent the day adding elements. The doors that came from the Kipps. Window’s from my best girl Joanie. A church board rescued from a garbage heap. A panel for a garage door upcycled into a shelf. And shelves Miss Rosie’s father had made.

 I brought a water can turned planter with me from Missouri. It was left by one of our tenants when they moved. I knew right where it was and went to the lower barn to get it.

It would be prettier if it had flowers in it. I was thinking of the picture I’d be taking for you. Then I remembered there was a bag of silk flowers Momma’d given me years ago — and I knew right where they were too! I retrieved the bag, shook the cob webs off, pulled the old dead flowers from the dirt, and with no rhyme or reason, started shoving the flowers in the old hard dirt.

I love having things that remind me of people I love.

“Peg, are those apples on that door?” you ask.

Yes. Yes, they are. Miss Rosie was a teacher and had a lot of apples decorating her house. Aren’t they fabulous!

Once again, a fresh cup of coffee in front of me, Mike and I sat at the patio table and admired our handiwork.

“Won’t Miss Rosie be surprised we used her doors,” my eyes scanned the wall, “— and her shelves?” I smiled in anticipation.

I wasn’t crazy about how high our third door was off the ground. “I need steps there,” I mused. “Hey! We could use stones and I can set more flower pots there!”

I guess the thought of moving stones was more than Mike wanted to do. “Let’s just move the door down.”

We did that and it’s better than it was but it still needs a stone stoop. “I’ll probably like it so much I’ll want one in front of every door.” I could see it in my mind’s eye.

Our third morning on the roof got the job done.  

“I really like it that you made this idiot proof for me,” I complemented Mike.

“You know I always try to make things easy for you.”

He’s a good husband.

Mike used a chalk line so I didn’t have to guess where the purlins were, gave me a screw gun with a magnetic tip to hold the screws, and he set the torque so I wouldn’t over tighten them.

 I did put most of the screws in, especially the ones near the edges, because it’s hard on Mike’s back and he’s afraid of heights. He doesn’t even like to get on ladders these days.

“Be careful on the roof,” many of you replied to my morning love note when I laid out our plans for the day.

“We will,” I assured. “Old people break when they fall.”

Now the job is done. We are safe and sound. It’s time to sit back, wait for rain, and see if our patch job works. If it does, I see more roofing in my future.

I had two Monarch’s born this week. Both females.

I have two caterpillars left. I was excited to catch this guy mid transformation until I realized he was dead.

And I’m sad.

I think I may have killed him.

“Why do you say that, Peg?” you wanna know.

The butterfly house was on the patio table. As Mike and I were sitting there, I glanced over and saw a fly sitting on him. He hadn’t yet started shedding his skin and I was worried the fly may have laid an egg on him. So, I got the magnifying glass and looked him over. I saw a spot I thought could’ve been an egg so as gently as I could I ‘raked’ it away with my fingernail. Now I’m worried that by touching him I caused the skin to stick to his chrysalis and he couldn’t shed it.

But done is done and can’t be undone.

I’m hoping my last 'pillar will hurry up and turn into a chrysalis. It’s getting really hard to find any milkweed leaves that are still green.

Tiger.

Tiger, Tiger, Tiger.

He loves to sit on my desk while I’m working on my letter blogs. He’ll sit and watch the cursor as I move it around the screen clicking on various links. I took a picture to show you what a challenge it can be to see around him.

Then, as I was sorting pictures for today’s letter blog, he jumps up on my desk again. The picture I took of him sitting in front of my screen came up and it was almost a mirror image.

Tiger likes to be with his people. I can’t say he prefers me over Mike or Mike over me. He likes to be with each of us in his own time. He’ll follow us around the house a lot. Into the bathroom, into the kitchen, back to the recliner, or in my case, back to my computer.

The other day we were going to get a few tomatoes from the roadside stand. I’d get them while Mike waited in the Jeep. We weren’t planning any other stops. “Let’s take Tiger with us,” I suggested. “He loves to be with us and he rides well.”

Mike wasn’t crazy about the idea but he didn’t veto it.

Tiger was riding so well I never gave him a thought when we stopped for tomatoes. I opened the door and he followed me out.

“Watch it!” Mike yelled.

I turned just as Tiger hit the ground. I nabbed him and tossed him back in. “Stay there,” I told him. I got the tomatoes and watched Tiger through the window as I opened the door. He didn’t try to get out again.

So! Are you ready for some road pictures?

The flags blowing on the Veteran’s bridge.

Our poor Susquehanna River is so dry!

In town, Mike pointed out these mailboxes to me.

We saw two dead foxes beside the road that day. I’ll spare you the picture I took to remind me to tell you. I seldom see foxes hit by cars.

Tiger did well on our ride-about. I don’t know if we’ll take him again. I’ve seen people who take a cat with them in the car but I think Mike would rather not bother.

One last thing about Tiger this week. Now that he’s getting on to being a teenager, he’s getting more and more daring and adventurous. The fence used to be all the farther he’d go, now he leaps over and explores more of the yard.

He followed Smudge over the fence one day as we sat watching. Smudge went into the weeds between us and the road and Tiger followed.

“He’s going to get hit on the road,” Mike worried.

“I hope not. But there’s nothing to be done for it. Our cats aren’t prisoners. The other cats learned,” I pointed out. "He'll learn too."

“Not Anon,” Mike reminded me.

“No. Not Anon. That’s the problem with living beside a road. Sooner or later their luck runs out. Besides, there are people who go out of their way to run over a cat because they hate ‘em so much.”

That reminded Mike of his old buddy.

“Stan ran into a ditch once to kill a groundhog because he hated them so much.” Mike laughed a little. “He wrecked his brand spankin new Thunderbird.”

I took a few pictures around the house this week. This is a Paper Wasp on the edge of a trash can I use to catch rain water. I’ll pick the bees out if I see them swimming around in there.

            A geometer moth. He’s a little guy. There are a lot of different moths in the geometer family and I don’t know which one specifically he is.

A feather with a little red tip.

I don’t know what kind of bird it came from, I just thought it was unusual and interesting. I brought it in and stuck it in the hat of the snail I made.

The mailboxes weren’t the only picture Mike called my attention to this week.

Coming back from the mailbox on the golf cart he stopped for this big wolf spider crossing the road.

Mike had gone to do a little mowing when he called me on the phone. “Com’ere,” he says like come and here is all one word.

I went. He was standing in the yard. “What’d you find? A big orange pumpkin spider?” This is about the time of year you’ll start to see them.

“No. There’s a caterpillar for your butterfly house.”

 “He’s not a Monarch. He’s a Woolly Bear! They turn into moths.”

“We don’t want any moths. They eat clothes.”

“That’s a different kind of moth. I don’t know anything about raising Woolly Bears but I’ll put him in my butterfly house anyway.”

Woolly Bears turn into Isabella Moths. And he won’t transform until spring. The adult moth doesn’t eat anything. They just reproduce and die.

Another day Mike calls me.

“Com’ere.”

“Where?”

“Out on the front patio. Hurry up.”

I grab my camera and go.

“What?” I asked when I get there and he’s just standing there.

“Look around the corner.”

“Oh, the possum,” I guess. I look around the corner and see this guy toddling away. I’ve seen him in the cat room cleaning up the leftover food before.

I love that Mike helps me find pictures for you.

And you know what else I love?

You!

Let’s call this one done!