No Time for Living

           I think I spent too much time in front of my computer this week. When I do that, it doesn’t leave much time for living. As a result, I don’t have much in the line of stories or pictures to share with you. But I do have a few, so let’s get on with it, shall we?

          We went out for Thursday morning breakfast, Mike and I did. I’m driving Miss Rosie’s little blue car and there’s two cars behind me on Route 6. I glance in the rearview mirror in time to see a deer skidding to the far edge of the road.

          “I think that guy just hit a deer,” I told Mike.

          “Who? The guy behind you?”

          “No, I think it was the guy behind him. I saw the deer go down at the edge of the road but I don’t know if it was hit or just slipped.” Fear slunk up from the pit of my stomach and I pushed it back down. Mike hit a deer. I almost hit a deer. And our roadsides are litter with the bodies of dead deer. “I’m almost afraid to drive anymore,” I told Mike.         

          I’ve been helping Mike with some things he wanted to do around here. I won’t let him lift anything so, with his direction, I hauled rocks and put another layer on his wall around his Rhodies. We mixed top soil with mulch and put a layer of that on top. They’re looking really good, aka, they’re not dead yet.

          Mike wanted to jockey some of his equipment around in the barn. His tractor with the backhoe is hard for him to get on on a normal day, let alone when his belly’s all stapled up. So, it was me who got on the tractor and moved it.

          I felt sorry for our little Barn Swallows as all those noxious diesel fumes rose to the ceiling. When we were done, we opened all the doors.

I saw, in a web just under a window, a bee and a tiny little spider. The spider was running away from it. I thought he was attacking and retreating until he could get the bee injected with enough venom to incapacitate it. I ran to the house for my camera so I could catch this life and death struggle. Unfortunately, when I got back to the barn, the bee was gone.

          Since I was there, I decided to climb the ladder to see if I could see any babies in the Barn Swallow nest. I couldn’t. Before I got down, mama came flying in and landed on the edge of the nest. The babies started crying and that was the first I knew for sure that she had any. Her head dipped, feeding one of the youngins no doubt, and I managed to get a picture before she took off.

          I’m coming down off the ladder when I thought of my oldest and much-adored sister. Patti thought she was the whole way down a ladder when she stepped off and she wasn’t. She broke her leg pretty bad. I hadn’t thought of that on the way up.

          Geesh! I’m afraid to drive because I might hit a deer, and now I’m afraid of ladders because I might break a leg! I thought. I was up and had no choice but to come down. I bucked up, minded my steps, and landed back on the ground safe and sound.

          Mike’s Rhodies weren’t the only thing to get a little attention around here. We picked up some top soil and I went to work mixing it into the dirt already in my planter box.

          Tiger helped.

           Pretty soon he lost interest and found a shady spot to hang out. I only stepped on his tail once.

I got my peppers and marigolds planted.

I heard the mailman stop at the box so when I finished with the plants, Tiger and I walked down to get the mail. He’s so stinkin’ cute. He’d run ahead of me then flop down some place to wait. He’d let me get ahead of him before he’d come racing past, only to flop down and wait again.

I have to walk past my milkweed patch on the way to and from the mailbox. It makes me sad but there isn’t anything I can do about it.

I used to have such a pretty stand of milkweed here and this is where I got almost all my Monarch caterpillars last year. Look at it now. Hardly any.

We have milkweed scattered all around the property. Up near the six-by-six wall, several milkweed plants grow and they grow so tall! The tallest I’ve ever seen. But look what the deer did to them! I don’t think they’ll recover this year.

 I have a beautiful stand of milkweed down near the pond.

I only got a few caterpillars from here last year. (Two views of the same stand.) 

Two Cabbage Whites. 

Back to Tiger for a moment, if you’ll permit. I know some of you have already heard this story, but some of you haven’t and I know how you like your Tiger stories.

One morning, Tiger didn’t think I was quick enough getting out of bed. The alarm sounded and I turned it off to snooze for a few more minutes. Tiger wasn’t having any of that. He likes to go out first thing in the morning. He reached under the covers and pricked my belly with his claws. I quickly tucked the blanket in closer and was starting to doze off when he did it again.

“You stinker,” I muttered and tucked the blankets in tight again.

I’d no sooner started to doze off when he did it again.

When the Kipps stopped on their morning visit, Tiger sauntered up on the patio which reminded me to tell Miss Rosie about it.

She laughed. “Did it work for ya, Tiger?”

“After the third time it did,” I answered for him.

I hope this doesn’t become a habit for him.

“I do some of my best sleeping after the alarm goes off,” my dad used to say and I have to agree with him.

Whenever I had a little free time in the last couple of weeks, I’d sit on the patio and cut a few more flowers. Friday, I took a little time and spray painted six or seven new ones.

Just underneath is my lavender. I planted it last year and was delighted when it bloomed again this year.

I picked one for my windowsill vase. 

Next to my lavender is a weed with a pretty yellow flower on it. If you’d see the leaves by themselves, you might think it’s clover, but it’s not. It’s Wood Sorrel also called Sourgrass.

          Each heart-shaped leaf is creased along its midvein, folds up at night, and opens during the day. The leaves are most commonly green but can also be purple or burgundy. The flowers are normally white or yellow but could be pink or violet.

All parts of wood sorrel are edible including leaves, flowers, seed pods, and roots. It’s rich in Vitamin C and if you pluck a leaf and eat it. It’ll remind you of lemon.

In holistic medicine it’s used to treat scurvy, fevers, urinary infections, mouth sores, nausea, and sore throats.

          I thought it interesting that the seed pods will explode when ripe, sending their seed several feet into the air. I’ll have to try it and see. 

Speaking of exploding…

I walked into the backyard and this cream-colored spot catches my eye.

          What is that? I wonder and I’m prepared to see something icky when I go to investigate. It’s fungus that looks like it exploded.

          Exploding mushrooms in the backyard and a carpet of yellow in the front.

          “Dandelions?” you guess.

          Nope. Birdsfoot Trefoil. At one time all this land belonged to the Robinsons. I believe it was Sally, across the road from me, that told me Birdsfoot Trefoil had been planted for grazing for the sheep. This place then became a saw mill, then some kind of a heavy truck place. Isn’t it interesting that after all these years it remained dormant until the conditions were right for it to come up again?

          I saw this guy on my front patio.

          “What is it?” you wanna know.

          This is a Banded Tiger Moth. Isn’t he pretty?

           On the other end of the pretty scale, I found this guy in my house this week. Since he looked like something that could sting or bite, I picked him up with a paper towel and took him outside. Out in the sunlight, I got a picture of his wings folded over his back, then he took off.

See his long snout? I’m pretty sure that’s a piercing tool indicative of assassin bugs.

I Googled him. This guy is the Masked Hunter and he is in the assassin bug family. But the only thing he assassinates is other insects.

          These guys are true bugs and go through several instars before becoming an adult on the sixth one. Instar is the period between molts. The nymphs look like the adults except they’re smaller, not sexually mature, and lack wings.

          If you see one of these guys before they’re fully mature, you might not recognize him. The nymphs have glands that produce sticky stuff and they cover themselves in lint, sawdust, and anything else they can find. Experts think they do this to protect themselves from other bugs that might eat them, or maybe it helps them look innocent to the bugs they’re getting ready to pounce on. (Picture from the internet.)

          Assassin bugs can produce sound by rubbing one body part against another, a phenomenon known as ‘stridulation’. In The Masked Hunter, he tips his head back and uses his snout to rub across ridges on his chest. It makes an audible squeaking sound.

          These guys are common but only a few will occupy any given home or other building at a time. They are well known for preying on bed bugs, booklice, and silverfish. I’ve had silverfish in the past, don’t know if I still do or not. I’ve not seen any in more than a year, but maybe my recently evicted Masked Hunter was taking care of them. 

>>>*<<<

           “Peg! How’s Mike doing?” I know you’re waiting for an update.

          I read my story The Big C to Mike while we waited for his release from the hospital. I wrote about things that he didn’t know. It tickled me to hear him recount the story to a couple of people on the phone.

          Even though Mike is home and eating foods he likes, he’s continuing to lose weight. He’s at 206 now and he’s never been that low since I’ve known him. That worries me.

          It’s funny, you know? When Mike could do anything for himself that he wanted to, he’d get me to help him. Now that he’s not able (or at least not supposed to) do things, he wants to do everything by himself. Something that’s been especially hard for him is putting on his socks and tying his shoes.

          Mike had another iron infusion Thursday. I helped with his socks that morning but he wasn’t ready to put his shoes on. When he was, he slipped his feet in himself.

          “Peg! Will you tie my shoes?” I ran in the other room. I didn’t really run, but I went as soon as he called.  “I’m sorry. I just can’t do it.”

          “It’s okay,” I assured him.

          “Here, I’ll put my foot up so it’s easier for you.” Mike put his foot up on the weight bench.

          I looked at his shoe and it looked funny to me. I glanced up at Mike but he was bent over a little and his shirt tented over the top of his legs. I think my mind fixed the problem for me. I shrugged it off.

          We get to the hospital and Jim gets Mike all hooked up to his infusion, gets him a lap blanket and spreads it over him, then leaves. For some reason, getting an infusion makes Mike cold. He watched TV while I read and sipped my coffee. I’m reading a really good book now. I started to read something else but hated it. Life is too short to read books that aren’t good. So, I quit after the first few chapters. Now I’m reading The Moonlight School by Suzanne Woods Fisher which is based on a true story about bringing literacy to the hills of Kentucky. I knew after just a few pages that I was going to like the story. I just hope it has a happy ending. I don’t care what anybody says, I like happy endings!

          My coffee was working its way through me, so I got up to go to the restroom. Mike’s feet are up in the reclining chair and I notice his shoes again. “Are your legs crossed?” I asked.

          “No?”

          I grinned. “Your shoes are on the wrong feet!” And I laughed.

          “It’s not that funny,” Mike quips. “Will you fix ‘em for me?”

          I laughed the whole time I was switching his shoes.

          “STOP!”  he rebuked.

          “Couldn’t you feel it?” Steph, our beautiful neighbor lady asked when Mike told her.

          “NO! These shoes are bigger than I normally wear.”

          We got the shoes online and they didn’t have his size so we sized them up.

          I hope that gives you a little chuckle.

          Mike did a little mowing Saturday (the doctor said he could) and gave me the opportunity to get his first stuck picture of the year.

          We’ll end this week with a moon picture I took the night before it was full.

Remember, you’re all in my heart. 

Until next time, let’s call this one done!

 

Summer Snow

 

We had snow!

Okay, okay! Maybe it wasn’t really snow — but looking out and seeing all of this white fluffy stuff lazily falling from the sky sure reminds me of snow!

It piles up under the tree like snow.

It puffed up around my feet when I kicked my way through. I picked up a handful.

“What is it?” you wanna know.

I think it’s a Cottonwood Tree and I Googled it to be sure.

Cottonwood leaves are large, shaped like a triangle, have toothed edges, and grow alternately on branches.

Well, I’ve never paid much attention to the leaves and Mike’s cut off all the lower branches because they hang over the driveway. How am I going to see the leaves? A lightbulb goes off in my head. I’ve got a zoom lens!

It’s raining here today. But I’m not a-scared. Besides a zoom lens, I have a brelly and rain boots. I geared up and dug the umbrella from the collection of stakes and garden implements piled in a corner of the patio. It was the whole way in the back. I guess I haven’t used it in a while. I opened it and stepped out from under the awning. I was immediately serenaded with the magical sound of raindrops pitter-pattering on my umbrella. Halfway down to the tree, I see a little spider hanging from a strand of silk at the edge of my brelly. I stopped at a patch of daisies and dipped low enough for my hitchhiker to get off.

Juggling the umbrella and my camera, I zoomed in on some leaves and snapped a picture.

The leaves are toothed, triangle shaped, and grow alternately on the branch. I bet it is a Cottonwood. I’m not going to narrow it down any farther than that, even though there are several varieties.

I get back up to the house and see I had two other residents of Umbrella Land. 

I took their pictures, gently folded the brelly back up (hoping I didn’t smush anyone), and set it back in the stack.

My umbrella wasn’t the only place I found a spider this week either. I was doing computer work and our back driveway beeper went off and kept going off, one series of four beeps after another. I went out to see if maybe the deer were standing in the beam grazing or what was going on.

I get out there, walk around the fence, and no deer. I look inside and what do I see? A spider running around in the eye.

“What do you think you’re doing in there?” I asked him.

Believe it or not, he answered me! “I’m making my home here.”

“Oh, no, you’re not!” I looked around, found a dried weed, and broke it off. Then I went fishing! After running him back and forth a few times he gave up and jumped out. In a matter of seconds he’d burrowed his way down into the grass and out of sight.

He didn’t come back to the driveway beeper but he might’ve moved to the mailbox. I opened the door and a look-alike came charging out.

I really wanted to get a good closeup picture of him because I know you love spiders as much as I do, so when he let himself down the side of the mailbox, I used the mail to pick him up again.

Isn’t he a beauty!

“Peg! Aren’t you scared of spiders?” you ask.

How can you be afraid of something that’s even more afraid of you?

It was really a spidery kinda week because I found another on a daisy. This is a flower or crab spider. I really like when I spot one of these guys. Besides being little, they often blend in with whatever flower they’re sitting on.

“Peg, what do you know about flower spiders?” you ask.

I’m so glad you asked! These guys don’t make webs. They have great vision and prefer to hide out and wait for their prey to come to them. When a bee, fly, or some other yummy treat lands on their flower, the crab spider attacks, injects venom into its prey, then holds it while drinking its juices. Mmmm.

And this guy appears to already have his lunch.

Flower or crab spiders only live one summer. The egg cases overwinter and hatch in the spring.

I was given a little rose bush two summers ago and I didn’t get any roses last year. This year I got my first rose and a bud to boot! I was so excited!

Later in the day, my watch cat, Tiger, was on my desk, sees something outside the kitchen door, jumps down and runs to the door. Out in the yard, fairly close to the house, was a doe.

The next time I went out, I went to admire my rose and it was gone! That stinker! She wasn’t content to eat only the rose, she took the bud too! Now I’m wondering if I had a rose last year and the deer got to it before I saw it.

I’ve got more flower pictures to share with you but this seems like a good place to tell more Tiger stories.

“I’ve been waiting for an update on Tiger,” my beautiful cousin Stacey told me. If you remember, she’s the one who gave him to me.

Tiger had that ulcer on his tongue three weeks ago. The vet prescribed ‘magic mouth wash’ to numb the pain so he could eat, as well as an oral pain reliever. Tiger was an absolute bear to try and get medicine into. The first day he was more trusting and I could squirt the medicine in. He hated it and would rocket out of my hold and shoot off to a hiding place. He’d come out after a few minutes. The second day it was harder to get him to open up. By the third day he was starting to recognize when I was getting the medicine out and coming for him. He’d hide, then when I did nab him, he’d stubbornly keep his mouth closed. He ended up with more on the outside then in. The next day was a lost cause. No way, no how could I get him to open his mouth. I poked, and I prodded, but he flat-out refused to open.

“Fine!” I told him. “You can just suffer then!”

Wednesday he has a follow-up but he’s eating well and doesn’t do that lip-smacking thing anymore, so I guess he’s healed.

Tiger still hasn’t forgiven me for making him turn his bird loose. He brought a mouse in this week and growled at me if I got too close. I don’t think he’ll ever forgive me.

I call Tiger my watch cat for a reason. The first night that Mike was in the hospital and I saw him in recovery, I told you he was pretty groggy and out of it. I didn’t stay long. I was walking away when Mike said something and I went back to his bedside.

“What, babe?” I asked.

“Drive careful,” he mumbled.

“I will,” I said, gave him a last kiss, whispered, “I love you,” and head for the door.

Mike mumbles something again, but since the nurse was waiting to show me the way out, I decided he must’ve said that he loved me too and I didn’t go back.

I went to bed that night, silencing my phone, and sliding it under my pillow. When notifications come in on my phone in the middle of the night, they ding and wake Mike up. He hates that! So silencing it allows me to still take advantage of the alarm function and not bother Mike with notifications. It’s just my habit at this point.

I was laying there reading, Tiger laying half on me and half on the bed. I hear a soft thump but think it’s one of the cats. All of a sudden Tiger jumps up, goes to the edge of the bed, and alerts on the window. I look and see a soft light from outside. I didn’t hear anything and I didn’t think much about it. When the moon is full, I often see just that kind of glow. Then I heard another soft thunk and light cascades across the wall as a car backs up and drives out of the driveway.

I freaked! I was so scared I grabbed my little 25 from the headboard, jump up, grab some clothes, and wait. No other sounds come and no glass breaks. Who’d be coming to the house at 10:00 at night and why didn’t they knock?

 After my heart stopped racing, I realized if I heard them drive out and they didn’t knock, maybe they left something? I investigated and didn’t find a note or package on the patio.

“Do you want me to come over?” my beautiful Jody asked? I’d been talking to her on Facebook when all this went down.

“No. I’m okay now. But thanks for asking,” I told her. I’ve stayed by myself a few other times in our 26 years together and never been scared, but then, no one had ever come in the driveway in the middle of the night either.

“Peg! Ten o’clock isn’t exactly the middle of the night,” you say.

It might just as well be. It was dark.

The next day I find out it was that handsome neighbor of ours, Lamar. It seems, when I was leaving the hospital, Mike must’ve said something to the effect that I should let him know that I’m home safe and sound. When I didn’t answer my phone, he worried and called the Kipps. Lamar drove up here to see if the car was in the garage. It was and Miss Rosie called Mike back so he wouldn’t worry.

I never thought about not silencing my phone because I never dreamed Mike would be in any condition to call me. I worried him with my thoughtlessness and I’m truly sorry for that.

And here’s that beautiful lady! Jody brought me some marigolds and sweet peppers. I love both those things but I love Jody more! She’s such a good friend and a blessing to me.

Let’s go through a few bug and flower photos, shall we?

I don’t know what he is.

This is False Hellebore (with a spider). A great example of a green flower.

 It has many other names including Indian Poke, Bear Corn, Corn Lily, Poor Annie, and Itchweed. It’s extremely toxic if ingested.

My first Deptford Pink of the year.

A Lacewing.

Milkweed.

The only food of the Monarch caterpillar. A beautiful flower with a lovely fragrance. The deer have devastated one of my patches.

Silky Dogwood flowers.

Rough-fruited Cinquefoil.

A Skipper. Their wings make them distinctive.

Lanterns on my Chinese Lanterns!

Woodpecker.

Swamp grass. 

Eastern Comma.

 Cabbage White.

Indian or Mock Strawberry. You can eat them.

Heal-all.

Horsefly.

Close-up of Golden Alexanders. 

Our state flower; Mountain Laurel.

A Turkey Vulture taking flight.

I broke my sink-top dish soap dispenser. I went to get a squirt of soap, the bottle fell down into the sink and kissed the measuring cup. The measuring cup was tougher.

I’m so sad! I’ve had this bottle for ten years and thought it was indestructible — as many times as I dropped it into the sink.

I didn’t want the gallon jug of soap sitting on top of the counter and I didn’t want to have to get it out from underneath the sink every time I needed a squirt. I went looking for a bottle to replace this one with and found an old juice bottle.  

I doesn’t look too bad, right? Well, thanks to this girl’s clever photography tricks, you can’t tell the top is screwed on crooked. The threads don’t match. I kept changing the angle until I got one where you can’t tell. The pump is on there pretty good and won’t come off if you pick it up by the top, but I wasn’t happy with it.

The day I did a little ‘retail therapy’, I found this two-dollar, hard-plastic dispenser. It should last me for the rest of my life, then the kids can throw it away.

Oh! And speaking of retail therapy… I stopped at my second-hand store on the way home from the hospital one day. I parked in front of this building and saw this. I’m not sure what compelled me to take a picture, but there you have it.

And this building, right on the main street in Towanda, I’ve always thought it a handsome building with all the fancy brick work on the façade.

At the thrift store, I found a loom! It’s in great shape and as far as I can tell, it’s all there. The only problem is there are no accessories, like a boat shuttle or instruction book.

The price was right so I brought it home and started researching online. It’s made by a company called Leclerc and it’s model is a Dorothy. I smiled when I saw it bore the same name as my mother.

I’m excited to learn how to do this. I don’t know if it can be done, but I’m thinking I’d like to try to weave some unorthodox materials like plastic bags or tee shirts cut into strips. I need to find a book and accessories and until I do, it’s pretty much just garden decoration.

I was working on my computer, writing Mike’s story, and kept getting a whiff of something stinky. I look around, even under my desk, and don’t see anything but Callie sitting near my desk.

That cat needs to do better keeping herself clean, I thought.

Later in the afternoon, I go out to the patio and I’m working on stuff. I made a new tray for the bottom of my butterfly house. 

Then I tore off all the old tape and tulle. The tape held well enough for one season but wasn’t holding anymore. Then I went to the upper barn and found an old screen to replace it with. I haven’t gotten it back together yet but it is on my list of stuff to do.

Then I settle into a patio chair to work on tin can flowers for a little while. I’m cutting, I’m trimming, I’m bending, I’m twisting, I’m rolling, and I’m smelling. I’m smelling that same stinky smell that I smelled when I was at my computer. And this time, there’s no Callie around. What in the wor… then I see and recognize it for what it was. Stinky shoe odor. I have to tell you, I’ve worn the heck out of these little shoes that my Miss Rosie gave me. When the sole started to come off, and my little toe came out the side, I hot glued them back together. I wear them everyday, even out into the grass when it’s wet — oh, that might be why they’re stinky.

“They’re washable,” Miss Rosie told me when she gave them to me. I guess it was time to wash them.

Look at this!

“What is it?” you ask.

I think it’s cat fur. I just got done telling you that I’ve not seen Whiskers up at my house since I took his picture months ago, then he shows up here, looking for food.

The next morning I find this and think Mr. Mister gave him a trouncing.

I drove up to the hospital to see Mike three times.

“Does it feel funny to take a road trip and not take pictures?” my beautiful West Virginia friend asked. “I can imagine you pulling over every 4-5 miles to take one.”

Luckily, it’s a road I’ve been on many times so I don’t think I missed anything.

Mike was released on Sunday. I skipped church to go stay with him until discharge. On the way I see two dead deer laying together.

Did one car hit them both or was it two cars? 

And the first fireworks tent of the season.

“Peg!” you admonish. “You shouldn’t take pictures while you’re driving!”

Actually, I took them on the way home from the hospital when Mike was in the car with me. I knew I wanted to snap these two so I had the camera ready. No fumbling for it. And I didn’t look through the viewfinder. I used the Andrew Method of taking pictures. I held the camera up, pointed it in the general direction, and hoped I got it.

Discharge was to be noon. “But it won’t be noon, I’ll tell you that,” Mike’s nurse Lisa told him. “It could be a couple of hours later.”

Mike dressed and gave me a tour of his wing of the hospital. While walking the halls, we pass a coloring board.

“Look at that,” I said to Mike. “What a great idea!” He probably walked past it dozen times and I don’t know the he ever paid much attention to it.

Noon came and so did Mike’s lunch. “My last meal in here,” he said.

“What is it?” he asked the gal that brought it.

“Manicotti,” she answered. “And it’s pretty good, too.”

Mike’s not had much solid food in almost a week and could only eat about half of it.

It was about one o’clock when they let him go. Now he’s home, and I’m taking care of him. The biggest issue we’re having, the thing that pains him the most, is they let him develop bed sores.

Look at this dear sweet man. Lamar brought his mower up and spent two days mowing our yard while Mike was in the hospital. He did half one day and half the next.

We were sitting on the patio visiting with the Kipps and Mike asked, “Thank you for mowing the yard, Lamar. Did Peg put gas in your mower for you?”

“Nah. There was already gas in it,” Lamar replied.

Both the Kipps, Lamar and Rosie, have big hearts. Lamar was just doing a nice thing for us without expecting payment. “When you pay someone for a kindness they do for you, you take away the gift,” I explained to Mike. But he’ll never get used to people doing nice things for him just because they want to and not because they’re being paid to do it. On the other hand, Mike likes to do nice things for people and doesn’t expect payment.

But I can do a kindness in return. “I’m gonna make Lamar a batch of Dream Bars,” I told Miss Rosie. “I know he likes them.”

Miss Rosie grumbled. “Yeah, so do I and I can’t have them.”

I got to thinking about it later. I could make them gluten and dairy free. Miss Rosie can have one then.

I used coconut flour and butter flavor Crisco. The first thing I noticed was the crust browned a lot sooner than it normally would. So I cut down on the baking time after I put the top on and put it back in the oven. When it was done I did what I always do. Loosen the edges and dump it out on my freezer paper-covered cutting board.

The second thing I notice is it didn’t stay together well. Crumbs went flying.

It was still a little warm when I cut it and it fell apart even more.

Maybe it’d be better to wait until it’s completely cool, I thought. And it did help.

“How did it taste?” you wonder.

I don’t like them. But I packed ‘em up for the Kipps anyway.

“If you hadn’t told me they were Dream Bars I wouldn’t have known,” Miss Rosie said. “I don’t really care for them but Lamar ate them. His taste isn’t as discerning as ours.”

And I’ve jabbered on long enough.

Let’s end this one with a sunset picture from the front patio of my mountain home.