Ivy

         

          This week, on Facebook Marketplace, windows came up for sale.

          “Peg, they were from a sunroom and I think they’ll work to close in the patio,” Mike said.

          “Get ‘em then,” I told him. We’ve been wanting to close the patio in for a couple of years now. The winter winds just scream in around our front door. We won’t blame the door installer since it was my mountain man who did it and he never professed to being a door man. I even thought about putting up insulation and closing it off for the winter to help our heating bills. “We don’t use it that much,” I told Mike. “Most of the time we go in and out through the garage door anyway.”

          “It would make it too dark in here,” Mike contended.

          We made arrangements to go see the windows before we committed to buying them.

          “Are we going to stop and get the money out of the bank?” I asked.

          “No. If they’re not going to work for us, I don’t want to have to put the money back in,” was his reason and I confess, I don’t understand what the big deal would’ve been if he did have to put it back in. But I have a policy. If it’s not my thing, I let whoever’s doing it do it the way they wanna do it.

          So, how about a few road pictures?

          They just got this section of road fixed and opened after being closed for more than a year. You can see where they drove the pylons down in to keep the road from slipping and now it’s slipping on this side of them.

          Broken poles and trees across wires were still in evidence from the last storm that rolled through.

          Once we got to Tunkhannock, we got on a road we’ve never been on before so here are some brand-spankin new pictures for you.

Neither one of us paid particular attention to the dimensions listed in the ad and when I saw them propped against the edge of the deck, I was a little disappointed. I thought they were more like a patio door and we’d have to get Big Red out to haul them. Nonetheless, these are still really big windows, measuring thirty-four by fifty-eight inches.

          “And there’s extra screens for them in the basement,” beautiful Montana told us.

          “I wished we’d’ve brought the money now,” Mike says. “They’ll fit in the Explorer.”

We offered to give Montana a deposit to hold them for us.

“No, that’s alright. If you say you’ll be back tomorrow, I trust you.”

“If you’d take a check we wouldn’t have to come back,” I suggested.

“We’d prefer cash,” Montana said and I don’t blame her. That’s really the only way I’d do it, too, but I thought it was worth a shot. Trust only goes so far, don’cha know.

Mike is always curious about new people we meet and as is his way, he asked a million questions. “Where do you work?”

“I’m a nanny, which is really great because I can take her with me,” Montana answered nodding towards little Ivy in her arms.

“Where does your husband work?”

I don’t remember the name of the company Montana said but he’s a large equipment mechanic.

Like my cute little redheaded brother used to be, I thought but didn’t say.

There were more questions but I’m waiting for my turn to ask a question. When there’s a lull in their conversation, I jumped right in. “You have chickens?”

A beautiful smile lit her face. “Not yet, but we’re gonna have chickens. They’re coming next week. There’s no wire up yet.”

If my eyes had been better, I might’ve noticed that little detail about the chicken coop that sat at the edge of the yard.

“Ivy has a lectin allergy,” Montana explained, “and an egg lectin allergy and that’s why we’re going to have our own chickens. Most chicken feed has lectin in it which means she can’t eat the eggs. With our own chickens we won’t feed ‘em things she can’t have and she can have eggs!”

“I never heard of that kind of allergy before,” I said.

“I didn’t either until one of my friends had it and now Ivy.” Montana gave me a quick overview. “For Ivy, she just has to avoid foods with high lectin levels which are found in all nightshade vegetables, potatoes, eggplant, tomatoes, peppers, any pepper spices such as paprika, chili powder, etc. We always buy a cow that is 100% grass fed and finished each year and we raise meat chickens, too. We buy pasture raised/finished pork as well. We have always eaten a very fresh unprocessed diet, mostly fresh fruits and veggies so for us it hasn’t been a big deal at all!”

“What happens if she eats lectin?” I wanted to know and I know you do, too.

“She gets a rash all over her belly.”

A lectin allergy, like many allergies, can cause even more severe reactions such as bloating, gas, abdominal cramps, painful and swollen joints, fatigue and tiredness, nausea, and neurological symptoms.

That evening, I’m walking through my kitchen, heading to the loo, the water closet — okay, okay! — the bathroom, when, for no reason at all, a thought and a picture pops into my head.

I should give it to her.

“Give what to who?” you ask.

A baby girl suncatcher to Montana. 

The last time I made these, I made an extra one. It’s sitting on the shelf, up behind the plates where I can’t knock it over and break it like I did with the little boy one. He’s not really broken; he just has a crack in his little leggy.

Why? I questioned myself. She’s not my friend (no offence Montana). If I give it away, I won’t have one. I don’t keep many unbroken pieces for myself.

So, I decided I wouldn’t give it away.

All that night and even the next morning my thoughts seesawed between keeping it and giving it to Montana. I almost walked out the door without it, determined to keep my girl and broken boy set together. Almost. At the last second, I grabbed it. I’ve learned to listen to that little niggle and knew if I left it home, I might regret it. I still didn’t have to give it to her if I didn’t want to.

We withdrew the money from the bank and headed back over to pick up the windows.

This trip I took a picture of train graffiti. 

And a wrecked semi. Mike, old truck driver that he is, always has a special interest in trucks.

“I bet his boss is pissed,” Mike said.

 On Sunday, this video was posted to FB as public. It looks like the same truck to me! Now we know how he ended up looking this way!

https://www.facebook.com/reel/1354130628427284

And a house with a round porch. I bet that’s a nice place to sit on a summer’s eve.

We paid Montana, loaded the nine windows, and went home.

Every little bump in the road serenaded us with squeaks and rattles as the windows shifted slightly.

Bondi was not a happy camper. She saw the mountain of windows behind her and heard every little noise they made and she didn’t want to stay in her car seat. Maybe she was afraid they’d fall on her, I don’t know. I held her for a little while, then Mike held her for a little while, but she gets heavy. I put her back in her seat and put my arm around her. That seemed to calm her and she stayed put.

“Yeah, but Peg! Did you give her the baby girl or not!” you wanna know.

I did. And if you noticed, she’s holding it in the picture. If you didn’t notice, you’ll have to go back and look — or not. 

>>>*<<< 

Did you ever try to spot a black cat in a black tree?

          Okay, okay! The tree isn’t really black, but my camera will see it that way especially with a light sky behind it.

          Blackie is exploring more and more of the world outside and I was surprised to see him so high up in the tree.

          “Do you have to help him get down?” Miss Rosie asked. I was on our morning love call at the time.

          “Nope. He got up there, he can get down.”

          And he did.

          That handsome Lamar Kipp stopped by on his morning walk with Tux. As we were sitting on the patio visiting, Tiger came over the fence with a mouse.

He paraded it around the patio, growling at Bondi whenever she got too close.

          To avoid any fights, I chased Tiger back over the fence where he sat and tortured the mouse for a while before finally killing and eating it.

          Blackie followed Tiger, Bondi and I went back to the patio table and resumed our visit. She loves Tux.

          Things are starting to bloom around here! This is a really small and pretty flower called Speedwell. It’s also called Veronica Chamaedrys, the Germander Speedwell, Bird's-eye Speedwell, or Cat's Eyes. It’s in the plantain family and considered a good luck charm for travelers. The bright blue flowers are meant to 'speed' you on your way. This reputation may well have come about because it grows in large clumps along the roadside as well as in grasslands and open woodlands. The flowers appear from April to June. It’s an excellent nectar source for bees. Speedwell has been used in traditional Austrian herbal medicine internally (as tea) for disorders of the nervous system, respiratory tract, cardiovascular system, and metabolism. This plant had the reputation of being a cure for gout as well as being popular for making tea and was nearly eradicated from London during the 18th century.

          Violets are blooming. I had to get my knee wet to get this shot.

          You can eat the leaves and flowers of the violet either raw or cooked.

          In folk medicine, wild violet leaves and flowers have been used for a number of ailments from headaches to asthma, to sore throats, even whooping cough, just to name a few. It has also been used as a breath freshener. The plant is valued for its anti-fungal, anti-inflammatory, and antiseptic properties. Wild Violets and Pansies also contain salicylic acid, which is a pain reliever.

          Our Bradford pears are blooming and the trees are all abuzz. I could hear the bees but most of them were in the upper reaches, plus, I didn’t hang around too long.

          We have the worst luck with Rhododendron bushes! One lady told us they were so common she didn’t carry them in her nursery. We see them all over the place but here, at our mountain home, the soil is mostly a rocky fill and not very good for sustaining life.

          We tried again last year and planted two new Rhodies. When we took off their winter blanket the leaves were brown and crackly. I think they’re both dead.

          “Should I dig ‘em up?” Mike asked.

          “Let’s leave them for a while and see if there’s any life left in the roots,” I suggested.

          Of all the Rhodies we planted, we only have one that lived and it’s blooming!

          When we were renovating this place, we framed in for a doggie door going from the closet to the outside of the house. We never put it in because Ginger and Itsy would never use a doggie door. Now, with Bondi, we’ve decided to fence in the side of the house and put the doggie door in.

          Mike used his post driver for a few of the posts but quickly wore himself out. The next day he switched to a ladder and sledgehammer and it was so much easier on him. We won’t mention here that someone in this house tried to get him to use the sledgehammer before. I guess I just have to plant the seeds and wait for them to be his idea.

          We were going to use wire to attach the fence to the posts but we had a couple of fence clamps left over from a previous job and they worked really well. “I wonder if Sally has any left?”

When our neighbor raised German Shepherds, she had a lot of fenced kennels for her dogs. After the last dog died, she sold the fencing and we bought some. I only took what fence clamps we needed and there were a lot left. “Let’s go ask her.”

We found Sally in the yard with a few worker guys helping with yard cleanup. She didn’t have any fence clamps left. The guy who bought the last of the fence took everything else, too.

“I’ve got a mudpuppy,” said one of the guys cleaning the waterfall pool.

“What’s a mudpuppy?” I wanted to know, grabbing my camera off the seat of the golf cart.

He held it for me. I’d’ve called it a salamander. It’s the same thing.

We got all of the fence put up but haven’t put the door in yet. We’re waiting for a nicer and dryer day to do that.

“I have to get down on the ground to cut the hole,” Mike said.

I can’t wait for it to be done. This little girl runs me ragged opening the door for her seventeen times a day.

“Peg, didn’t you just put a doggie door in for her?” you ask.

We did, but it’s in the screen and it’s been too cool for me to leave the door open so it isn’t much good right now.

          We had enough panels to give Bondi a nice big run. The lone surviving Rhodie is inside her run along with some Chinese Lanterns.

          “Are Chinese Lanterns poisonous to dogs?” I asked Mike but didn’t really expect him to know. I Googled it. It says it’s bitter but on occasion a dog may eat enough to kill him. I’ll have to watch and see if she bothers it.

          Spitfire’s cat bite is infected and full of pus. Thanks to my oldest and much-adored sister Patti, I know how to take care of it. I’m using a syringe and squirting peroxide on it several times a day then smearing it with triple antibiotic ointment when he lets me.

          The last time I treated him I saw something black in his wound. I’m thinking he’s got a little pebble embedded but I’m afraid to pick at it in case that’s not what it is.

          “Peg!” you admonish. “Not knowing isn’t helping! If it’s a pebble, it probably needs to come out of there!”

          I know, right! I’m still afraid to pick at it.

          Okay. I put my brave on and checked. Whatever it is, it moves with his fur so it’s not embedded. It’s either a piece of scab or matted fur. That’s the best I can do because he doesn’t even want me to look at it!

          “Why don’t you put the peroxide in a squirt bottle and squirt it on?” Mike suggested.

          I took the defensive. “What’s wrong with the way I’m doing it?”

          “Nothing. I just thought it might work better if you sprayed it on.”

          I guess I’m not the only one who has to plant seeds. I decided to give Mike’s suggestion a try and the next day filled a squirt bottle and gave it a try.

          Spitfire liked that even less. He didn’t like being sprayed and I didn’t get as much peroxide on the wound, so it’s back to the syringe for me.        

>>>*<<<

          We made a shopping trip to Sam’s Club this week. Just outside of Tunkhannock is a new train car siding where they unload sand for the fracking of the gas wells. I snapped this picture and when I’m looking at it on the computer, I’m wondering what’s wrong with it. It takes me a second or two to realize that I somehow inadvertently had my camera dial set to effects and this is what you get when you do that. Looks weird, right!

          The only other picture I took was of this storefront. I noticed two guys going inside.

          “What’s idIQ?” I asked Mike but he didn’t know. I Googled it later and still don’t know what it is. All kinds of stuff about identity protection comes up in my search. Scrolling through the list I see it also means indefinite delivery/indefinite quantity in government contracting.

I guess if I don’t know what it is, I don’t need it.

          I’m picking up strays now! A couple of three boxes from the Sam’s Club bin and a box from Aldi’s called my name.

          “This is nice cardboard,” I told Mike. “Can I take it home?”

          Don’t laugh! I don’t know why I asked him. Wait. That’s a lie. I do know why I asked him. I expected him to say, “Peg, you’ve got enough boxes at home!” And that would be the truth. But Mike is a good husband and loves me. “I don’t care,” was all he said.

          “What’s on your craft table this week?” you ask.

          I’m so glad you asked! I’ve got the chest box and two book boxes I made last week that I’m still working on. After sanding the chest, the lid still doesn’t sit right. It’s not even, has gaps around all the sides. I’m thinking the next time I make this I’ll make a lid that fits over the bottom and use a knob or fancy handle instead of a hinge. That should take care of that issue.

          Well, I guess this one’s for me, I think. With that in mind I decided to experiment on it. I made my own molding clay. The recipe called for corn starch, glue, oil, glycerin, fabric softener, and a few other things. You cook it. I was afraid of cooking it too long and maybe I didn’t cook it long enough. It came out really sticky. I worked more corn starch into it until I could work with it and it stopped getting stuck in my molds. Since this box is destined for my shelf, there doesn’t have to be any rhyme or reason for the embellishments. I picked through my homemade molds and tried the ones I wanted to try.

          You better like the scent of the fabric softener you use in this recipe, that’s all I gotta say, because it smells for a really long time! Days and days later even.

I loved the porcelain look of the clay but once it dried, it cracked and shrank. Since I was going for steampunk, it doesn’t matter. With steampunk, the gnarlier the better. The pieces in the upper two corners were right next to each other before they dried. Now there’s a quarter-inch gap. I guess if you know it’s gonna shrink up and crack, you work with it.

Since I was just playing around, I decided to try another homemade clay recipe. This one doesn’t get cooked and has toilet paper, glue, pre-mixed joint compound, and a few other things in it, but no fabric softener. “Use your mixer for a really, really long time,” the lady in the video tutorial said. “Just be careful if it starts to climb the beaters.”

Mine did so I stopped mixing it and went on to the next steps.

I used this recipe to make “metal” plates for the corners of the box. I really liked this clay except it wouldn’t roll out when I tried to roll it into vines. There were clumps of paper in the mix so my vines were lumpy in some places and too skinny in others. I’m guessing I should’ve mixed it longer. I wanted to twine vines and leaves all around the box but gave up on that idea.

This clay wasn’t as sticky and didn’t shrink up as much. The three pieces lined up on the front left of the box are still pretty close to each other. The two on the right never were.

          I have to tell ya. After mixing two batches of homemade clay, sanding, and painting, it looks like Gumby exploded all over the front of my shirt.

          Is my age showing there?

          That’s okay. I’m happy to admit my age. Some people never get to be as old as I am.

 >>>*<<<

          I saw my first hummingbird of the year yesterday! This morning I was going to make hummingbird juice.

“How do you make that?” you ask.

Easy peasy lemon squeezy! Four cups of boiling water and one cup of sugar. You don’t need any dyes or food coloring. I even heard that those can be harmful to the hummers. Besides, they find it just fine without the color so why bother.

“I use it so I can see when it gets low,” my Miss Rosie says.

Something else that’s harmful to the hummers is old, moldy, or fermented nectar, which happens in the summer heat. I, for one, never want to be responsible for the loss of any life if I can help it. What I do is only put out about a half cup and change it every morning.

It goes without saying that you want to cool the sugar water before you feed it to the birds. I put mine in an old juice bottle and keep in the fridge. It’ll last a really long time. In fact, this morning when I opened the fridge, I noticed a half full bottle of sugar water leftover from last summer! I don’t know why I never got around to pitching it. I pulled it out of the fridge and examined it closely. There was no mold. I tasted it. It tastes sweet, no hint of fermentation. I used it in my feeder.

          It wasn’t long after I hung out the feeder that Bondi started barking up a storm. When I checked on her, she was sitting there barking at the hummingbird feeder. I had to laugh at her. I don’t know if she saw a hummingbird for the first time or if she just didn’t like something new being hung there. She barked for five long minutes! Silly dog!

      

          And with that, we shall call this one done.

          Done!