Bits and Pieces

           “Peg, how was your week this week?” you ask.

          I’m so glad you asked! My week this week was full of bits and pieces. A bit of this, a piece of that. No ground-breaking or earth-shaking news.

          “Really Peg?”

          Okay! Okay! I knew just as soon as I wrote it that it was a lie — albeit an unintentional one.

          “What’s going on?” you wanna know.

          I love the Kipps, you know that because I’ve told you that before. They’re such great friends and good neighbors with kind and generous hearts, and most importantly, they’re good Christian people. That’s just a bonus since I love others who are great friends, have kind and generous hearts, but may not be Christian.

          The Kipps stopped for visit on Saturday when they were heading home from their morning walk and dropped a bombshell on us.

          “We had a Leadership Counsil meeting,” handsome Lamar said. “We discussed church business and at the end I was asked to resign my position on the counsil as well as deacon.”

          I’m sure my jaw hit the floor.

          “Why‽” Mike and I were both shocked!

          “They said I lied. Then they said if I didn’t resign that they would leave the church.”

          “What did you lie about?” I asked.

          Lamar shrugged.

          “Lamar asked them that too and they couldn’t name one,” feisty, redheaded Miss Rosie chimes in.

          “I’ve never known Lamar to lie about anything,” I said.

          “Neither have I,” and that’s coming from the woman he’s been married to for fifty years.

          “Did you resign?” I asked Lamar.

          “No.”

          “Then what happened?” I wanted to know.

          “They handed me an envelope with all their keys for the church and parsonage in it,” he answered.

          “They had it ready. It’s like it was all planned out,” Rosie said.

          From there the conversation went flying with questions and suppositions.

          This whole thing has left me dumbfounded, flabbergasted, and incredibly sad. I can’t help but feel there’s more at work here than what they’re saying. All the people involved in this debacle were here when our church dealt with the sin of a member before. The Bible very clearly outlines how it’s to be handled and this wasn’t it.

          Sigh.

          On to bits and pieces.

I’m making — was making — have made a book box for my best gal Joanie. She crochets so I made molds of several different sizes of my crochet hooks.

          The only idea I started with was to put some yarn on one of the crochet hooks and maybe twine it around. I started making the hooks and putting ‘em on when I thought a sunburst pattern would be kinda cute — and totally forgot about the yarn idea. When I did remember, I looked at what I’d already created and couldn’t see a way to do it, so I deep-sixed it.

          I was going to put “DREAM” on the front but couldn’t see a place for that either. I decided to put it on the spine.

          On the back I wanted to try my hand at making a rock wall and adding flowers and butterflies. One element at a time, one idea at a time, and this is what I ended up with.

          I was so loving it.

I was also so fearful that I’d mess it up with my paint job. I put it off for days and days and days!

          Finally, I put my brave on and took the first step.

          I didn’t want to make this book box so dark. I wanted something bright and cheerful for my friend so she’d smile every time she saw it. I wouldn’t be starting with a black base. I chose gray instead.

          “Are you going to make the hooks different colors?” Miss Rosie asked.

          “Yeah. I think so. Aren’t they kind of color coded?”

          “I don’t know about that, but I do know they’re all different colors.”

          I got my box out, the one that holds a few skeins of yarn and my crochet hooks, and set it on the counter. I dug around and found the hooks and took ‘em to the table to see exactly which hooks I’d used to make the molds. That would tell me what color to paint them.

          They were all shimmery shiny metallics. Pink, green, blue, yellow, purple … no shimmery shiny metallics in my paint box. I decided it didn’t really matter. I’d just paint them whatever.

          I packed the hooks back up and when I went to put ‘em away, I saw I’d dropped a ball of yarn on the floor and Bondi was helping me by shaking it lose.

          Yarn all over the floor!

          I picked it up, didn’t scold Bondi because it wasn’t her fault, she was just being a dog, and dumped it in a pile on the table. I got my camera and took a picture to show you what a good job she’d done, then set to work trying to untangle the mess.

          “You’re never going to get that,” Mike said.

          “Yeah, I will.” I knew it would take some time but I’d do it.

          I got about half of it straightened out and rolled into a ball when my phone alarm goes off. It was time for my morning love calls.

          “I’ve got some news to share with you,” I told Miss Rosie, “but let me get to my computer first.” I moved from the table to my computer, woke it up, found the news posted to Facebook that I wanted to share, and chatted for a while. After I hung up, I saw that little Miss Helpful had helped herself to the yarn ball on the table and shook it out again!

          Aye-yi-yi!

          I didn’t have it in me to start all over again. I stuck the whole mess into my yarn box, put the lid on, and shoved it back in the cupboard never to think about it again — until the next time I open the box, that is.

          Once I started painting Joanie’s Dream box, the ideas started rolling in and the apprehension faded away. I tried a couple of new techniques and just hoped I wasn’t screwing up. Faded out paint and a splattering of stars. Y’all’ll have to tell me what you think, but ultimately Joanie is the only one who has to like it.

          “If you don’t like it, please don’t take it,” I implored. Not everything I make will appeal to everyone and I’d rather have a polite refusal than have you stuck with something you don’t really like, especially when someone else may love it.

          “I’ve loved everything you’ve made so far,” Joanie said.

          And this is what I made for my beloved friend.

          I love to hide a little something-something on the inside. Gives you a little surprise when you open it, don’cha know.

          In other crafting news, I’ve been making more tin can flowers. My fence is starting to fill in.  

I made some green ones…

… a yellow one with orange tips (the first time I did a two-tone) and a coral. 

I rather like the two-tone color theme. I think I’ll make more of them.

I’m also thinking it’s time to make a ladybug or two to dance among all the flowers.

Speaking of flowers…

More wildflowers are blooming.

This is Dame’s Rocket. It can be white, pink, or purple. It’s also called Mother-of-the-evening and it’s most fragrant in the evening.

          Like other members of the mustard family, Dame’s Rocket is considered an invasive and has restrictions in five states. In other places they consider it naturalized.

Also like other members of the mustard family, you can eat Dame’s Rocket. Add the flowers to your salad to give it a pop of color, or eat the young leaves. The sprouted seeds can be eaten, used for stings, or freckle control.

Don’t confuse Dame’s Rocket with Wild Phlox, but fear not, they’re easy to tell apart. Dame’s Rocket has four petals, Phlox has five. Dame’s Rocket blooms in late spring, Phlox blooms in the late summer or early fall.

Something else blooming is wild cherry. I had to do a little research to find out if this was Black Cherry or Chokecherry.

The easiest way to tell is to look at the leaves. Black Cherry leaves have blunt points and Chokecherry have sharper points. I’d say I’m looking at Chokecherry here.

Check out these!

“What are they?” you ask.

I wanna know, too!

Years and years ago, I’d sent away for a wildflower mix that Cheerios was offering. 

This week I set up a new flower box in an old water trough and finally planted those seeds.

I know that our cats would find the soft soil too tempting to resist doing their business in, so I cut a piece of chicken wire to cover the top.

Then I got a few Marigolds and wanted to plant one in each corner. I unhooked three sides of the chicken wire, folded it back, and hooked it on the screw that holds my snow-shovel-turned-pooper-scooper.

Bondi, my forever good helper, found a spider and chased it up the wall behind the wire. This, my loves, is a Nursery Web Spider. They’re often confused with Wolf Spiders because of their size and like the Wolf, these spiders are roaming hunters that don't use webs for catching prey.

Another difference is in how they carry their egg sacs. The female Nursery Web Spiders carry their egg sacs with their jaws and pedipalps instead of attaching them to their spinnerets as Wolf Spiders do. When the eggs are about to hatch, a female spider builds a nursery "tent", places her egg sac inside, and stands guard outside, hence the family's common name.

I like spiders, and I like snakes, and I know that makes me weird.

One thing I’m not all that crazy about is mice and then mostly because of their destructive behaviors. Chewing wires and making holes in walls.

I told you some time ago about making a mouse trap with a five-gallon bucket, a piece of wire, and a tube to act as a roller. I found a bucket that wasn’t quite a five-gallon size, it was slightly shorter and I made one. The mice kept getting out of it. I could tell because the food in the bottom was gone and they left their calling card, aka, mouse poop!

“Maybe it has to be a full five-gallon bucket,” I told Mike.

“It’s not much taller,” he said when we put them side-by-side for a comparison.

I shrugged. “Maybe it’s enough.”

The next day, the food was gone and no mouse. Now I’m scratching my head. The only difference between what I made and what the internet said was I didn’t put water in the bucket. I was thinking I’d just let the cats or Bondi dispatch them.

Then a picture comes unbidden to my mind’s eye. A bucket I use to catch drips on the breezeway almost always had a mouse floating in it and it wasn’t any taller than my bucket. It has to be the water that makes the difference. I’m guessing they can’t get the leverage they need to make the leap out if there’s water in the bucket.

I put water in the bucket.

The next day there was a mouse floating. I dumped him in the weeds and set it up again. The second morning nabbed me two meeses!

This is pretty cool. I may have to make a few more of these traps, one for the barn, and one for the wayback.

I may have another form of mouse control back there. Mike told me a story. He said, “I was out mowing the side of the building, and I was watching behind me to get as close as I could. When I looked up, I was face to face with a big black snake that was climbing the wall.”

I laughed. “What’d’ya do?”

“I jerked the mower to the right (away from the building) and he dropped down into the weeds.”

“You didn’t hit him, did you?”

“No. I think he went in your craft room.”

 “Good. Maybe he’ll get mice.” 

It seems like every day one or the other of the cats is bringing a mouse in to show me. I laughed when I saw Spitfire had a mouthful of weeds, too.

This stinker thought he was going to take his mouse in the house. I put a kibosh on that. In fact, since I could hear the poor little critter squeaking, I sent Bondi out. Spitfire growled and when he was tired of playing keep-away with Bondi, he took his mouse back over the fence.

The only problem with having an open-door policy is once in a while, someone sneaks past you. It was bound to happen.

I was on the computer and out of the corner of my eye, caught Blackie coming in. I didn’t think anything of it until I heard him growl. He only growls when he’s defending his mouse. I jumped up and chased Blackie down. When I finally cornered him in the exercise studio, he dropped his mouse. I opened the door. “Take your mouse and go outside,” I told him. Did he listen? NO! I had to pick the mouse up and toss it out. Good thing it was dead.

In the time it took me to get back to the computer, Blackie was coming back in the door with his mouse firmly clamped in his jaws! I had to chase him down all over again. This time when he dropped it, I tossed it over the fence. That slowed him down.

My Spiderwort is blooming. My beautiful friend Jody had given me a couple of small ones and they’re getting so big!

Jody also gave me some Chinese Lanterns. “I don’t think they came back this year?” I told her.

“That’s strange. I’ve never known them not to come back,” she said.

Now that they’re taller than the weeds I can see that they have come back, and multiplied to boot!

My little mini-daffie didn’t come back this year, and my lavender didn’t either. Something I didn’t expect to come back and did was my Glads. I didn’t dig the bulbs last fall on purpose and was told they’d never survive the winter. They did and they’re up. I mowed them once already because I wasn’t looking for them.

“What’s Mike been doing?” you wanna know.

Oh, gosh. What’s Mike doing? Mike is still working on digging out the pond as far as his backhoe will reach.

And he’s framing in for the windows on the front patio.

And he’s been mowing, too, but he hasn’t gotten stuck this week. 

I got an email from my beautiful cousin Rosemary. “We’ll be in Dushore on Memorial weekend to put flowers on the graves. Do you want to get together?”

“Sure!” we agreed.

Friday, it was overcast and a little sprinkly but Rosemary didn’t cancel so we headed to Dushore.

We pulled into the graveyard just as Rosemary and her handsome husband Carmen were getting there.

“Perfect timing,” Rosemary said.

We gave hugs all around and chatted for a few minutes.

They do a good job of keeping the graves nice and I don’t have any complaints.

Because Momma’s stone is slanted, it tends to grow moss. We bought a cleaner and sprayed it on but because we’d scrubbed it not long ago, there wasn’t much on it.

Then we went down to Rosemary’s family grave site, and she noted the flag placed there for our veterans.

"It must be for Steven because Dad was never in the service."

Steven, her brother, was interred with their parents.

“Those are beautiful,” I said.

“I had the holder from Michael’s grave. It had Christmas stuff in it. I just took it out and got some flowers and put this together.”

Michael was their son. He, Jess, and Kat, all cousins, all of the same generation, all in their early thirties, all lost their lives in car accidents.

I didn’t know Rosemary arranged it herself and now I’m even more in admiration of her talents.

“Can I take a picture of you both at the headstone?” I asked.

Rosemary’s first response was, “No!” But I talked her into it. Aren’t they the most handsome couple ever!

“In a little over a month we’ll be married for sixty years,” Carmen said.

And there’s one more thing to admire them for!

“I’m hungry,” Rosemary said.

We discussed our options and I sorta picked the one I wanted to go to. Everyone else kept saying they didn’t care. Now I’m sorry. This place normally has very good food but what we had that day wasn’t that good and in fact, Mike’s food was cold.

“I have something for you,” Rosemary said when we took our seats.

I’m sure I grinned real big. I gasped and said, “I love presents!” And Rosemary gives the best presents!

She handed me a jar of her homemade jam. “I think it’s blueberry,” she said and laughed a little. I imagine she put it up last fall.

“I’m gonna love it no matter what it is!” I can’t wait to crack it open. Hot homemade bread slathered with butter and homemade jam… mmm mm. Nothing better!

Then she handed me what I thought at first was a place mat. The clear vinyl and zipper was a dead giveaway that it wasn’t. “I love it!” I gushed and clasped it to my chest. “What is it?’

“It’s a Vinyl Project Bag. You put your kitzpa in it.”

“Kitzpa?” you query.

I think that’s what she called it. I’m not so sure of my spelling since I can’t find it on the internet, but I got the gist of the meaning. Baubles, doodads, thingamabobs. That kinda stuff.

I’m amazed, yet again, at the talents of this beautiful lady. Who knew you could sew vinyl‽ It won’t take me long to fill this baby up.

“I have a gift for you, too,” I said and gave her Sewing Dreams.

“Wow,” she said. “It’s even prettier than the picture.” She looked the box over. “I wouldn’t have the patience to do something like this.”

I had to laugh. “This coming from the woman who makes beautiful and intricate quilts!”

Since food wasn’t our main focus for getting together, it didn’t really ruin anything, it was just a hinky in an otherwise nice visit.

“Can we take a little detour on the way home?” I asked Mike.

“Where?”

“There’s a guy out on Kane Road that does yard art. Can we drive past?”

“Where’s Kane Road?”

“Just off Schaffer’s Notch.”

It wasn’t much out of our way and I was all agog at all the sculptures.

My camera didn’t stop clicking. Every place you looked there were things to see. 

“I’d love to interview him,” I told Mike. One of the questions I’d ask is, “Do you need an apprentice?” I’d love to do this, only mine would move with the wind. 

I have a sunset picture to show you then we shall call this one —

“WAIT!” you say. “Peg, you didn’t say how Joanie liked her box!”

Oh, right. I’m so glad you remind me of stuff I forget.

I gave beautiful Joanie the book box after church service. “If you don’t like it, Miss Rosie said she’d take it,” I said when I gave it to her. Then I turned and gave Miss Rosie a wink. She didn’t really say that but she’s a good sport and played along.

“Only you’d have to change the crochet hooks to knitting needles because I don’t crochet,” Miss Rosie said.

“No, I love it. It’s beautiful. She can’t have it,” Joanie said. “And I bet I have enough crochet hooks to fill it up with, too.”

Speaking of church, when I took my seat, Miss Rosie held a clothespin up. “Need a clothespin?” she asked.

“No?” and I’m sure she heard my unspoken question and saw the confusion on my face.

She laughed. “I use clothespins to hold some of my stuff on hangers and this one was still hanging on the back of my blouse. Thanks to Jamie for pointing it out to me. I’d rather someone told me than to walk around with it on there all day and be embarrassed.”

Jamie was sitting behind her.

And this is the man who’s agreed to be our interim pastor until ours gets here at the end of August.

This is Brendon, two of his three sons, his mother is in the middle and his wife is on the end. Brendon and his family used to be members of our church until he moved an hour away for his work. Brendon is currently in school to be a pastor and I can’t help but feel the experience of leading us would be helpful for him. He’s going to teach from the book of James and I’m really enjoying his messages.

And now, for real, let’s call this one done.