This Week

 

          This week…

          This week I think will be mostly pictures with a little bit of jibber-jabber in between. At least, that’s the way I feel about it right now, at the beginning. Sometimes things take on a life of their own.

          Like this.

          “Isn’t that one of your tin can flowers?” you ask.

          It is.

          “What’s wrong with it?” I know you’re curious.

          Actually, nothing. In fact, I kinda like it, despite the fact that those points are sharp like evil. But this guy came out of nowhere. It’s not the shape I’d intended to make when I made my first cut and it’s not a shape I ever made before. Things sometimes take on a life of their own.

          This week I made a tableful of little flowers.

          I had it in my head from the beginning that I’d make a bunch and paint them all at the same time.

          That was the plan.

          That’s not the way it worked out.

          I let my Miss Rosie pick out the designs and colors she liked.

“I want this one red, and this one blue,” she said. “And this one yellow…” and on she went. I knew I’d never remember it all. On an inspiration, I marked the backside of each one with the color she wanted. I was proud of myself for coming up with that solution.

          Painting time came. I got out my plastic sheet, put rocks on the corners to keep it from blowing up, then started separating the pieces into color piles.

          I’m standing there painting away and a thought occurs to me. OH NO! Now I don’t know which pieces went together! I was lucky in that I’d only painted the front, so the color codes on the back would tell me which pieces Miss Rosie wanted. As far as putting them together…

          I called Miss Rosie. “You’re not going to believe what I did!” Then I told her.

          Miss Rosie laughed. “It’s all right. Whichever way you put them together again is just fine.”

          I was out in the kitchen, putting the center hole in the flowers, when I hear Mike talking to our Missouri friend, Margaret. “We’re gonna go down to the Kipps and put flowers up,” he told her. Margaret must’ve asked about the flowers because Mike says, “Peggy’s been making these flowers outta tin cans and they’re really kinda pretty.”

          I chuckled.

          Not once has Mike ever told me my flowers were ‘kinda’ pretty.

          We took ‘em down and put ‘em on the carport where Miss Rosie wanted them. Three on each side. “That way I can see them every time we come home,” she said.

          And FYI, these are not spinners.

          A lot of these flowers are made from cat food cans. If you’re not familiar with the construction of a cat food can, let me tell you about them.

          The tops have a ring you pull to open the can which leave a lip inside. 

         What I do is cut the can in four, and with pliers pry that lip up. That allows me to cut the top ring off, giving me the most height.

          Sometimes, I find a little residue where cat food stuck up under the lip. Now, picture this, I’m sitting on my kitchen patio working on these little flowers when I come to a can just like that. With a little schmear of food on it. Do you think I’d get up, go in the house, and wash it off? NO! I check my pocket for a tissue and didn’t have one. I went ahead and divided the petals again and now had eight. The schmear of leftover food was bothering me so I decide I’ll just rub it off with my thumb. But I’m not dumb! First, I check to make sure there are none of those evil little barbs hiding anywhere. Convinced I’d gotten them all, I tentatively wipe the first petal, then the second, then the third. Then I start to get a little cocky, a little bit in a hurry and swipe faster.

          OWWWW! Dagnabbit! I looked at my thumb and it was sliced — but not bleeding. I looked at the petal I’d just wiped and realized one corner was bent down just a teeny-tiny little bit. I looked at my thumb again and the blood was coming. I hadn’t wanted to go in to wash the can, now I had to go in and doctor my thumb!

          “Dip it in turpentine,” Momma says in my head. “It’ll keep it from getting sore.”

          I used an old cap and poured my pure gum pine spirits into it and soaked my thumb for a few minutes. Not that I don’t believe my mother, but to be prudent, I added a dab of triple antibiotic gel to the band aid before applying.

Cleaning up my mess, I see blood and turpentine do not mix. The blood formed bubbles. I swirled it; the bubbles broke apart then came back together again.

 It was quite fascinating and reminded me of the ocean in a bottle we made when we were kids. Remember that? Use a clear bottle, fill it half with kerosene and the half with blue-dyed water. The two will never mix. Turn the bottle on its side and gently tip it from side to side and it emulates ocean waves.

If you Google it you’ll find all kinds of ways to make it and most use cooking oil. But a hundred years ago, when we made one, our mother didn’t use cooking oil, she used lard, so we used what we had.

          My thumb didn’t get sore and I learned a lesson. Don’t be lazy! Get up and go wash that can!

I was sitting there working on my flowers when Tiger came in carrying another frog. I’ve not seen him with a mouse in a couple of weeks now, so I don’t know what’s going on with that.

Tiger dropped his frog and it didn’t move. I thought it was dead. No matter, I’d just go toss him in the water-filled ditch at that edge of the yard.

I picked him up and watched to see if I could see him breath. I couldn’t. I turned him over to see if I could detect a heartbeat. He flopped like a wet noodle and I couldn’t see any movement at all.

I get to the edge of the yard and there’s no water in the ditch. It’s down to the pond I go. Even though he gave no indication that he’s alive, I thought there might be a chance he was. Once before I tossed a seemingly dead frog into the pond and he took off.

I get to the pond and lower him into the water. Just as soon as he realized he was in the water, he took off.

Who knew frogs played possum?

Making the same tin can flower over and over doesn’t take much of my attention so my mind wandered. Can I make flowers from old yogurt cups? I wonder. I’d saved a bunch to make a rain chain with but haven’t gotten around to that project yet. I got up, grabbed a cup and cut it open. It wouldn’t lay flat — not that I expected it to. I’ve seen on some plastic projects they use an iron to smooth and round edges. Would it work to flatten my plastic flower?

One thing about not having any guidance in a new project is you gotta start somewhere. Not having any idea how hot to set my iron, I set it as hot as it would go.

“Peg, won’t the plastic melt to your iron?” you ask.

I’d already thought of that and used a piece of parchment paper to protect the iron. I put the parchment paper on top of the cup and pressed with the iron for a few seconds. When I let go the cup sprang back into shape. So, the second time I left it on longer — and melted it.

Maybe my iron was too hot?

I went back to tin can flowers.

But speaking of flowers!

Last week at church, beautiful Jody had a long top on and after service she twirled in the parking lot for me. This does look like the same shape as the flower I’d made for her!

Buttercups with a little bee.

Yellow Lilacs! That’s what they’re supposed to be, but they look white to me!

My Lilies of the Valley are blooming.

Cleavers, or sticktights, have tiny flowers!

As does the Mouse-eared Chickweed.

Pink Honeysuckle.

Yellow and white on the same bush.

Autumn Olive.

Dame’s Rocket. It has four petals, phlox has five.

          The seeds are well developed on the spent dandelion.

           Not a flower, but the fruit of my Box Elder. They look like Maple tree helicopters.

          I found this spider with his prey while I was looking for flowers.

           And these flies. I thought they were dead. There were four of them hanging there.

          Then one of them climbed up on top of the leaf. He still doesn’t look good.

           Two fat watermelon-like leaves came up in my flowerbed. I didn’t pull them because I didn’t know what they were. Now, weeks later, I think it’s Burr Cucumber.

          A little butterfly called Pearl Crescent.

         Duskywing.

         A Yellow Finch posed for me.

         A ladybug. I think he’s covered in pollen.

         A little flower spider got on my arm.

          We took the golf cart for a ride down our little dirt road. We stopped and I looked over the bank. I was pleasantly surprised to see there’s still lots of False Hellebore coming up.

          We only did one job around here this week, besides mowing and weedeating. We put the next section of roof up. We only worked for a few hours in the morning until it got too hot for Mike so it gave me plenty of free time to pursue my interests.

          I was a little worried if we were going to be able to manage forty-foot sections of metal roof — but we did! And it was way easier than I thought it was going to be! Mike extended the extension ladder as far out as it would go and we slid the sheets up on the roof. Easy-peasy!  

          I’m not much of a fashion plate these days. I don’t have to have new; I’m okay with thrift store finds. And as long as my clothes are reasonably clean and not tight, I’m good with whatever they are. And that’s why this photo is remarkable. I’ve got new shorts and new socks and new shoes — paired with my thrift store top. I’d been saving them for special.

          “Peg! That’s silly!” you say.

          I know, right! People die everyday with things they love, with things they were saving for a special occasion, still new and unused, stuck in a drawer or closet somewhere.

          Mike and I went up to Vestal, New York and I thought I’d put some of my special occasion stuff on. And that’s how we’ll segue into road pictures!

    

       A new pipeline going in.

         A field of spent dandelions!

          She’s sitting in the hammock reading the kids a story and the kids are listening. I hate that the sun was causing my orange shorts and the water bottle to reflect on the window, but I love this scene. I wonder what story she’s reading them. Charlette’s Web maybe? My fourth-grade teacher, Mr. Bailey, read that to us a chapter at a time and I loved it.

Our mother would read to us sometimes, too. The one I remember most is her reading funny animal stories and how she laughed.

A ladybug made from an old tire.

We got caught up in a traffic jam because of an overturned salvage truck. The lady behind him when he wrecked said it looked like he was having a hard time controlling the truck. How do I know that? It was posted on Facebook, of course.

           Let’s call this one done!