Going Nuclear

           You may have noticed that I’m late this week.

          Many of you already know the reason, but for those who don’t, let me tell you.

          Our church had Vacation Bible School this past week.

          My job, if you can’t guess, was to take pictures, and pictures I took! More than five hundred the first night, more than seven hundred each of the next two nights. Almost two thousand pictures had to be sorted. Some I set aside for the gal to put together a slide show. Pictures of the kids I printed for their keepsakes. One of their crafts was making a picture frame. We mounted the picture and attached a magnet on the back. We made frames for the staff, too. I say ‘we’ but all I did was take and print pictures. These came as kits and turned out so cute!

Each of the three nights had different crafts, games, and snacks, all centered around the Bible verse for the night.

At the end, those who could recite all three Bible verses got to throw a whipped cream pie in the face of either Pastor Jay, or the emcee, Michael. 

Annette, the lady who spearheaded the event, did such a fabulous job and it’s a job I wouldn’t’ve taken on for all the tea in China.

Sunday, Pastor Jay set aside time for the slide show and for the kids to perform the songs they learned.

           This little guy is so precious.

          He made up his own move for this part of the song and I think it’s perfect.

          He didn’t know all the words of the song but when it came to the chorus, “I’m following Jesus! Hey! Hey! Hey!” he knew that part and put a lot of joy and enthusiasm into shouting and fist bumping the heys.

          He cracks me up. 

          The whole thing culminated in a picnic. 

          And that’s why I didn’t get a regular letter blog, full of pictures and jibber-jabber, written on time.

         I’ve been holding some pictures over from two weeks ago because I wanted to share them with you.

          The Kipps and I went to the Wyalusing community yard sales. I don’t need a thing but managed to leave some money behind anyway. I mostly bought metal pieces to hang on my miles of dog run fence or craft stuff.

          We came across a lady, sitting in a lawn chair, using pastels to make a picture of the house across the street. She allowed me to take a picture.

          Another place we stopped was at a house of a lady named Mary.

          “Love the gargoyles!” I said, snapping a picture. Actually, it’s not me. I was thinking of my sister Phyllis who’s crazy for them.

          Mary told me where she got them. I glanced up as she was speaking and saw her backyard.

          “Would you mind if I went back and took pictures?” I asked.

          “I don’t mind at all,” she said.

          Mary not only didn’t mind, she was thrilled to show off her backyard.

          “Look at that birdbath!” I was astounded.

          “I came home from a trip and my son, who works in a quarry, surprised me with it,” she said.

          “It’s fabulous!” I told her. “Do the birds use it?” I wondered.

          “Oh yeah. There’ll be all kinds of birds out here splashing around in it.”

“I have to get Rosie. She’d love to see it, too.”

          As they conversated, they discovered they had a connection.

          Mary’s grandson was spending the day with her. “That little guy running around right there’s a Kipp,” she said.

          “How’s he related to Miss Rosie and Lamar?” you wanna know.

          I’ve forgotten, so I called Miss Rosie. “He’s....” and Rosie gave me the lineage.

          “Basically, he’s a nephew,” I said.

          “With a whole lotta greats thrown in,” Miss Rosie said.

          Lamar said something in the background as I was talking to Rosie on the phone. She laughed. “Lamar said you can’t forget about the greats where he’s concerned because he’s great — and modest, too!”

          I laughed. “I think you threw that last part in.”

          As we were getting ready to leave, I see a date written in the concrete. Nov 1946.

          “When we first moved here there was a chicken coop that covered this whole area. We knocked it down and now it’s a garden where I sit with my girlfriends and chat and laugh and drink wine.”

          It was a beautiful garden.

          One of the last places we stopped had a big area rug. Mike’s been wanting one to cover the old carpet in the apartment bedroom but the price of new carpet is out of reach right now.

          The largest one, an eight by ten was cheaper than the smaller five by seven. I’ll bet it’s stained, I thought. But for ten bucks, we could take a chance and see if our shampooer would clean it up.

          Mike wasn’t with us so I took a picture, meaning to ask him, and totally forgot.

           Raini is so funny these days. When we get to the pond she doesn’t just walk in anymore, she dives in with a big splash!

          I was standing there looking for things to photograph and notice all the little green stuff in the pond twitching about, like something was brushing past it.

          I bet it’s tadpoles, I thought and soon enough I see them darting to the surface. Tadpoles don’t breathe air. When they’re very young they can’t break the surface tension of the water. They breathe through gills. As they get bigger their legs develop and so do their lungs. These guys are getting big enough now that they can break through the water and breathe air.

         A damselfly sat for a picture.

         Rough-fruited Cinquefoil is blooming.

         The Knapweed is just starting. Seen here with a Cabbage White Butterfly.

         Spicebush Swallowtail.

         Common Whitetail Dragonfly. Common is part of his name.

          This guy smacked into the front of the golf cart as we were going down the road and landed at my feet. This Eastern Eyed Click Beetle either knocked himself out or killed himself because he wasn’t moving.

          The fawns are big enough now to follow their mothers.

          Heading to town, Mike says something about going to Ollie’s for an area rug.

          That reminded me. “I saw one at a yard sale and meant to tell you about it, but I forgot. It was an eight by ten for ten bucks.”

          “That’s pretty cheap. What’s wrong with it?”

          “I’m guessing it’s dirty or maybe stained. If you wanna stop at the house, I’ll ask if they still have it.”

          Crossing the Susquehanna.

          I remembered where the house was. There was a car in the driveway, so I knocked. Two big Bulldogs came to the door woofing at me but no human.

          Across the road, a neighbor sits on the porch.

          “Do you know if anyone’s home?” I called.

“The car's there so he should be, but he works nights so he may be sleeping,” she called back.

“Okay. Thanks. I’ll come back later.”

Mike and I went on to Tunkhannock to pick up dog food, milk, and a few other necessities.

          The last stop we made before leaving town was McDonald's. They offer me one Quarter Pounder free when I buy one using the app. I use the app.

          We’re sitting there eating and I’m thinking about stopping back to see if the guy’s out of bed yet. “Too bad we don’t have something in the car to leave a note on the door with,” I said. “I could leave our phone number and he can call when he gets up.”

          “Peg, you can always latch a piece of paper in the screen door,” you say.

          Yeah. I thought of that. But when I was standing there the first time, I tried the screen door. I wanted to knock on the inner door, but it was locked. So that won’t work.

          I looked down at the tray the McDonald’s employee brought to our table. Stuck to the side of the tray was a receipt with our order on it. I peeled it off and see it has a light tacky glue on the other side.

          “I could use a piece of this,” I say and try to find a clear area big enough to write on. I got a piece I think’ll work when suddenly the employee is going past our table delivering another order. On her way back, I stop her.

          “Excuse me. Would it be possible for me to get a small piece of your sticky paper?”

          She put her finger up indicating she needed a minute, grabbed some ketchup packs, and delivered them to the table she’d just come from. Watching, I see her go to a machine below the registers and feeds out a strip of paper for me.

          “Thank you so much! You’re awesome!” I told her, accepting the paper. I didn’t need quite that much but I wasn’t going to be ungrateful.

          I wrote out the note asking if he still had the rug, telling him I’d be interested if he did, and my phone number. When we got back to the house, no one, but the dogs, answered my knock. I stuck the paper on the screen door window and went back to the car.

          “There’s someone,” Mike said as I was reaching for the door handle.

          I went back up the walk and the guy peering between the curtains indicated I should wait. I guess they don’t use that door much because a few minutes later he came around the side of the house.

          The house is owned by several young men and the one that owned the rugs was at work. After a couple of phone calls, we are now the proud owners of a stinky (but cheap) area rug. Here’s to hoping it shampoos out.

While out with Raini one day, I see the top of a huge metal thingy sticking up above the weeds. I’ve always known it was there but now I’ve been reminded.

          “We should bring it down,” I mentioned to Mike.

          “What for? Yard art?”

          “I don’t care. I’m just thinking about rescuing it.”

          “Let’s go get it,” Mike said.

          “I vote we wait until winter when all the vegetation is gone,” I said, bending over a porch sign I was painting.

          “Why?” Mike wanted to know.

          “So we can see where to go.”

          The road that was there when we moved here seven years ago is overgrown.

          “How did you see it?” Mike wanted to know.

          We got on the golf cart and I showed him the spot from where I could see it. There’s a deer path up the bank and I’d climbed it to get pictures of the Wood Rose I showed you last week.

          “I can get up there with my tractor,” Mike said.

          “I don’t think so,” I said.

          “Sure I can. I got up the one down at the barn.”

          I didn’t know he’d done that. I relented. “Okay but wear your seatbelt!” It isn’t tipping the tractor over that kills these men, it’s falling out and being crushed by it.

          Mike tried, but the tractor couldn’t get up the bank.

          “Where’s the road?” he asked.

          I showed him where I remember it used be.

          Mike spent twenty minutes bulldozing his way over and around all the overgrowth in the way but I finally see he made it.

          I tried to follow the path he’d made with his tractor but the weeds and small trees and bushes had sprung back and twisted themselves into knots I couldn’t get through. I went up the deer path and walked over. “Now what are you going to do?”

          “I’m gonna knock it over, put a chain on it, and drag it out.”  

Knocking it over was the easy part. But his tractor couldn’t drag it.

          “Get out of the way, Peg,” Mike called. “I’ll roll it out.”

          Because the base is wider than the top, it wouldn’t roll straight. Mike would have to grab the end and pull it back before pushing it again.

While this dance was going on, somebody is distracted by a little Wood Satyr Butterfly.

          And a Leafhopper climbing a tree seems more interesting at the moment. But that was all about to change.

          Whatever this thing is, Mike is getting it closer and closer to the bank he couldn’t climb with the tractor.

          “BE CAREFUL!” I yell my warning. “DON’T GET CLOSE TO THE EDGE OR YOU’LL GO DOWN WITH IT!”

          I don’t think he heard me or if he did, he ignored me.

          Once again, he had to straighten the pipe out and once again, I got distracted.

          Look how the fungus comes down the tree in a long thin line. It’s almost like it’s following a vein or something. 

          The sound changed. I looked back just in time to see Mike going down over the hill after the pipe.

          If I hadn’t’ve just been using my camera, I might not’ve taken pictures of my husband dying. But since I could do little else, I started snapping away.

          I watched, through the viewfinder, as Mike’s ass left the seat. I guess that answers the seatbelt question. I thought he was going to pitch right out over top of the tractor and that would be the end of him. 

          Luckily, and much to my relief, he came back down in his seat, and was safe and sound at the bottom of the hill.

          Mike rolled the stack, we’re gonna call it a stack since we don’t know what it is, he rolled the stack out from behind the barn.

          Then the dance started all over again. Roll it, straighten it, roll it again.

           “Let’s try to chain it,” Mike said. He thought it would be easier to lift and drag it. We chained it but the tractor couldn’t lift it.

          “Why do you have to lift it?” you ask.

          If we don’t get it off the ground at least a little way, it’ll just dig itself in.

          We repositioned it so the bottom was sitting in the bucket and Mike was able to lift it that way. The only problem was he couldn’t steer and the stack pushed him into the weeds.

          We ended up rolling it down the hill. Mike was worried it would keep going right out into the road but its funnel shape kept it from going very far before it was in the weeds again.

          Mike got the stack to the concrete pad at the back of our mountain home.

          And stood it up.

          “What are you going to do with that?” you ask.

          Don’t know. But if I ever need money, I could sell it for scrap.

          Do you remember Anna and her secret recipe for Dirt Cake?

          Anna graduated high school and has joined the Army. Just before she left for basic training, she gifted me with her secret recipe.

          “Use a big bowl!” she told me. “It makes A LOT!”

          I didn’t want A LOT so I halved the recipe as best as I could. And that may be why mine wasn’t nearly as good as Anna’s was.

          “Tell her she’s got no competition in me!” I told Felecia, her mother.

          On a walkabout with Raini, she found a frog. We were up at the barn and nowhere close to the pond. She gave it a sniff and left it be. Now my Yorkies! They would’ve tried to eat the darn thing.

          A flash of red in the grass catches my eye. Red-tipped feathers. At first I thought it was blood but upon further investigation, it wasn’t.

         Heal-all or Self-heal is blooming.

         I think these are Golden Alexanders.      

         A milkweed beetle.

         I hear a ruckus and look up in time to see several smaller birds chasing off a couple of crows.

          The yellow rose I planted a while ago is blooming!

          Raini likes to play ball the way she likes to play ball. Namely with me tossing it on the roof or bouncing it off the side of the building. Her favorite of most favorite games to play is the one right before bed where I toss it high, a few feet in front of where I’m sitting on the edge of the bed, and she gets to jump for it. That dog does love to jump!

          If I’m not able to play but she’s insistent, I’ll stand on the patio and toss it out into the yard. She tires of chasing the ball pretty quick. If I toss it high and she can jump for it, then she’ll play for a little longer. When she just stands and watches the ball land, I know she’s done.

          Sometimes Bondi brings the ball back. I thought for sure she’d drop it for Raini laying under my feet but she didn’t.

         She jumped up in a chair with it and eyed Raini, daring her to take it. Raini didn’t care.     

    

          Speaking of critters...

          I noticed the cats all have these tiny little black balls around their eyes. I picked one off and not knowing what it was, popped it between my thumbnails. It left a smear of blood so I knew it was some kind of parasite.

          I Googled it. As you may already have guessed, they’re teeny tiny little ticks. I have never seen these guys before and if they weren’t around their eyes and mouth, I wouldn’t’ve seen them now! The only thing is, if they’re ticks, why can’t I see legs?

          I took a picture and zoomed in. Yep, it has legs! Look at your finger. Can you see the lines and swirls in your fingertip? These guys are only as big as two or three lines and that’s after they’ve plumped up with blood.

          Unlike other ticks, these guys don’t have a tough shell so they’re easy to pop. Then I wash with soap and bleach 'cause they gross me out.   

      

          “Peg,” Mike says a few days after we brought the stack down. “There’s a truck frame up there, too. Let’s bring that down.”

          Now it was my turn to ask. “What for?

          “We can stand it against the other one.”

          Okay. I don’t care. He allows me to create whatever I want to create and always helps me when I need help. If he wants to put a sculpture together with old truck parts, I’m all for it.

          We chained the frame and Mike pulled. It came off the stack with little trouble.

          A little crab spider catches my attention.       

   

          He wasn’t as small as the ticks, but close to it. You can see the texture of my rubber work gloves. 

          I stopped playing with my spider and watched as the truck frame rose into the air.

          Nothing I can do about it. Even if I yelled for Mike to stop, he wouldn’t hear me. It stretched out and flopped down to the ground. 

          We get down to the concrete pad and I told Mike what I’d seen. He flipped the frame over and folded it back on itself.

          “What do you think that was for?” I asked.

          “I think it was the end of the truck where a gate would’ve been attached.”

          Mike stood it against the stack and wanted to pull the tailgate out in an L shape, making the whole thing sturdier.

          It broke and fell down.

          “That’s okay,” I said but don’t think Mike thought it was okay. “Now we have two pieces instead of one!”

          While he fussed with that, I had another tiny little visitor. I’ve seen these guys before but seldom notice them when they’re this little. I held my arm up to get a profile shot of him.

          “What is it?” you ask like you really wanna know.

          This is an assassin bug nymph.

          Raini and Bondi sat just inside the fence and didn’t seem to be bothered by all the loud noise we were making.

          Mike got it stood back up and I can see frames where we can hang all kinds of things!

          “What things?”

          Only time will tell.

          We went back for two more pieces from the junk pile but haven’t arranged them yet. With rain in the forecast, we just wanted to get them down to where we could work with them. 

          The next time our handsome neighbor came to visit and saw our new yard art, Lamar asked, “What are you going to do with a nuclear power plant?” 

          Let’s call this one done!