Let's Do It!

           Let’s do it!

          “Do what?” I know you wanna know.

          Let’s not worry so much about time, which I worry about all the time, and let’s spend as much time together as we need to catch up on old news and share the new.

          Last time we were together, I stopped short of one more story and thirty photos. This time there are more than sixty photos, but I probably won’t use them all. Sometimes I add two or more photos of close to the same thing to the file and make up my mind about which one to use when I put them in the story. And stories? I never know how many of those there are until I finish because as I write, my letter blogs take on a life of their own.

          The rising waters and swift current of the Susquehanna knocked down the cairn that sat in the middle and it was gone for a while. Now it’s back.

          “Someone is certainly dedicated to keeping it there,” Mike observed.

          Another gas well on the horizon. In a few weeks it’ll be gone.

        A handpump is all that remains of an old homestead.

          The fawns are following their mothers now. On a recent shopping trip, I spotted at least three dead fawns alongside the road. There were quite a few dead deer, too.

           A storm moving in.

          Crossing the creek.

          Our golf cart didn’t bother this one. It just looked at us until Raini barked, then it took off.

          Road pictures.

          Both girls hanging out the car window. This just never happens.

          Hayin’ season doesn’t bode well for fawns that won’t move. These Black Face Vultures are feeding on something in the field.

          Mike’s been having trouble with Big Red for a while now. His big F-550 truck doesn’t seem to want to start unless he gives it a boost. We put new batteries in. That didn’t seem to help. Then he discovered the alternator was out. We put a new one of those in.

          “You should get a high-torque starter,” one of the guys at church told Mike.

          Mike ordered a high-torque starter. While he waited for that one to be delivered, he watched a YouTube video on how to take the old one out.

          “Peg, I can’t get my hand up in there to get the third one out. Will you help me?”

          Raini and I went down to the garage and crawled under Big Red. I was able to get the socket on, but there just wasn’t enough room to get a tool in there that would break it loose.

          Raini stayed with us, moving from one side to the other, trying to find a comfortable spot, eventually settling in Mike’s garage recliner.

          Eventually we gave up on getting the third bolt out. Mike went back to the computer and asked me to watch the video with him.

          “Look!” I said. “The bolt he’s taking out is on the same side as the other two. The one we were trying to take out was on the other side.”

          We went back down to the barn — garage, whatever you want to call that big building where Mike keeps his truck and tractors — and with fresh eyes, found the right bolt. This one didn’t put up much of a fight at all and Mike got the old starter out.

          Now, before you go thinking we’re alone in making the mistake of trying to take the wrong bolt out, we weren’t. On one of the videos we watched, someone else made the same mistake.

          The new high-torque starter came and it only had two bolts instead of three.

          “Did I get the wrong one or did they re-design it?” Mike wondered.

          We contacted the seller and they said we’d have to send it back and get the right starter. We’d have to pay the return shipping and a restocking fee.

          “I don’t feel like I should have to pay the return shipping or restocking fee,” I told them. “I purchased the one you said would fit my truck model and year.” I, as in me, didn’t actually make the purchase, Mike did. But I was typing for him.

          “Parts may vary even within make and model, please advise your OEM part number from your original unit to source the correct part for your needs,” he said.

          OEM, in case you don’t know, stands for Original Equipment Manufacturer.

          We went down to the garage/barn, crawled under Big Red, got the number, and sent it off. He wrote back that it wasn’t the right one.

“Unfortunately, as the OEM provided does not match the listing purchased, this unit is incorrect for your application. Please use the previously provided return instructions and label to return the unit.”

Sigh.

What could we do. Something back is better than nothing. We’d have to send it back. At least they were kind enough to give us a discount on the return shipping.

          “Would you like for us to forward your information to our parts team for assistance sourcing the correct unit?” he asked.

          “Yes, please,” I answered. Then we get a message from the parts team.

          “There are several different manufactures of starters. Mitsubishi, Delco, Leece Neville, Bosch, Iskra, Mahle. Only the Mitsubishi and Delco use 3 bolts, and of course Denso like you've ordered for your Powerstroke is a perfect upgrade for your truck.”

          “That’s just what I thought,” Mike said. “It’s a redesign.”

          Another problem arose during this whole ordeal. “One guy said he had to cut the crossmember to make it fit. I don’t want to cut it.”

          “Send it back and get an OEM,” I suggested.

          “That’s like triple the money!”

          “You get what you pay for,” I threw back at him. He’s often said this very same thing to me when I try to cheapen up.

          Mike spent a good amount of time in front of his computer researching this and eventually came across another video where the guy said you do NOT have to cut the crossmember. It’s tight, but it will fit.

          He was right. It was tight but it fit.

          I hung around after we installed it while Mike hooked up the batteries and gave it a go. It turned over perfectly and Mike is thrilled with it. He tells all the guys at church, “You should hear this thing!”

          I’m glad he’s happy.

          Even though I didn’t use all thirty of the photos, that catches you up.

          This week I took lots of wildflower photos. It seems like all at once tons of flowers are blooming.

          Black-eyed Susans.

          Crown Vetch. 

          Yarrow. I love Yarrow.

          This is Honeysuckle Trumpet Vine that I planted against my dog fence. I’m tickled to see it bloom. The regular Trumpet Vine hasn’t produced any flowers yet. 

          My yellow roses are blooming.

          The Elephant Ear bulbs I planted are coming up. Hey! Maybe I’m getting the hang of growing things! 

          Deptford Pink. 

          Day Lilies.

          White Avens.

          This dime-size flower is the Nipplewort plant. It’s got other names as well including Nippleweed, Dock Cress, Poor Man’s Friend, Swine’s Cress, and Holgan Weed. You can eat the leaves but it’s best to do so before the flowers come on. They taste like radish and can be added to soups, salads, or sauteed dishes.

In folk medicine it was used to soothe the irritation caused by breastfeeding.

          It's interesting to note that one nipplewort plant can produce between 400 to 800 seeds, and these seeds can remain viable for up to six years, ensuring the plant's proliferation.

          The nodding heads of the Fringed Loosestrife.

          The more upright heads of Dotted Loosestrife.

          Looking at the picture on my computer, I can see something I didn’t see when I took the picture. There are bugs on this plant. I had a really hard time IDing them for you. Copilot couldn’t tell what they were. I tried the bug app on my phone and it couldn’t take a good enough photo from the image on my computer screen to identify it — and I tried a bunch of times from different angles and distances. I finally remembered to use the picture taking mode on the Google search bar on my phone, called Google Lens, and found it. These guys, and there were a bunch of them, are called Stilt Bugs. They’re also called Thread Bugs because of their elongated appearance. Most stilt bugs are plant sap feeders, but a few species are predaceous, feeding on mites and small insects. They’re slow-moving and probe all surfaces, which can sometimes result in a painful prick if they come into contact with your skin. They can reproduce quickly and may become problematic if they infest crops in large numbers. Stilt bugs play a dual role in the ecosystem, acting as both pests and beneficial insects. While they can cause damage to crops like corn, peach, and tomato, they also serve as natural predators, feeding on harmful pests such as caterpillar eggs, aphids, and other soft-bodied insects.

          This is St. John’s Wort. This plant's widespread use and recognition across many different cultures and regions has resulted in it having many other names. Among them are Goatweed, Amber touch-and-heal, Demon Chaser, Hardhay, Rosin Rose, and Tipton Weed. It’s been used in traditional, or folk medicine since at least the first century AD, often as a cure-all or panacea. In modern times, studies have shown that it can be effective for treating mild to moderate depression, comparable to some prescription antidepressants. It’s also used to reduce hot flashes in us old women. Topically it may assist with wound healing. St. John’s Wort can interact with other meds so you need to talk with your doctor before you start taking it as it can have serious side effects.

          A Tiger Swallowtail on my milkweed.

         Have you ever really looked at the beautiful flowers of the milkweed? Give it a look the next time you go in for a sniff of their wonderful aroma. 

          This guy is called a Common Spring Moth.

          “Peg!” Mike called. “There’s a butterfly on the front porch.” He must’ve come in when Mike had the big door open, taking the golf cart out. Yes, it lives on the front patio.

          I went out to look but didn’t see a butterfly. Later, we were going someplace and I see it fluttering against the window. “There it is! I’m going to let him loose.” 

          Did I tell you we were going someplace? Mike huffed. He does not like waiting for me when we’re in the middle of doing something, like going away.

“If I don’t, he’ll die! I won’t be a minute.”

Mike went down to the truck ahead of me, I took a picture of the butterfly, caught him, and set him free before Mike even got to the barn. I didn’t hold him up one bit! Now, in all fairness to Mike, he waits for me lots of times — of his own volition. Like when I go into the thrift store and he waits for me. “Take your time,” he’ll say.

Identifying this butterfly was tougher than I thought it would be. At first, I thought it might be a Painted Lady, but there aren’t any spots on the hindwings that a Painted Lady would have. Copilot couldn’t ID it. I looked through all the reference photos it gave me. Finally, I turned to Google Lens and found it there. This is an Anglewing Butterfly. It’s a genus of brush-footed butterflies.

          “What does ‘brush-footed’ mean?” I know you’re as curious about that as I was.

          Brush-footed, or four-footed butterflies have a reduced pair of forelegs and are known to stand on only four legs while the other two are curled up; in some species, these forelegs have a brush-like set of hairs, which gives this family its other common name.

          I’m always excited when I find something new to me.

          A Green Heron at the pond.

          I was working on my kitchen patio and see the Baltimore Orioles bring the baby in to my jelly feeder. I wasn’t able to get a picture while they were at the feeder, they spook really easy, but I had the long lens on my camera and got him sitting in a nearby tree feeding the baby the jelly he just got from my feeder.

          Then another one joins them and I don’t know if it’s another baby or the female since they look very similar.

          A few minutes later Mama comes in with a bug but the baby wasn’t anywhere in sight. She looked one way.... 

          Then she looked the other way and still couldn’t find them.

         I smiled as I imagined the conversation between the mama and dad.

          “Here I am working my fingers to the bone, trying to put healthy, nutritious food on the table and you’re feeding them junk food!” 

          Speaking of birds...

          I thought these were birds sitting on the wire. Obviously, my eyes were wrong. 

          Speaking of eyes...

          I walk around barefooted a lot in the summertime. I noticed that the ball of my foot felt swollen when I stepped on a hard surface. I couldn’t feel it on the carpet or when I wore my shoes. It didn’t hurt and I thought I’d bruised it and it’d go away. After a week or so, it didn’t go away. It still didn’t hurt. I pulled my foot up and looked at it. There was a spot. It didn’t hurt when I pressed on it. Could it be a wart? I wondered. At my next ladies exercise class I asked the ladies to look at my foot.

          “It’s not a wart,” my Miss Rosie said.

          “There might be something in there,” Mary said.

          I texted that beautiful neighbor lady of mine, Steph, and asked her if she’d bring her young eyes down and pick it for me. This is a service she’s provided for me several times over the years. It was another week until our schedules allowed us to get together.

          Steph picked the skin, it didn’t hurt, she squoze it, it still didn’t hurt, she picked and squoze some more, a little pus came out then out pops the culprit.

          Staying on the subject of eyes, I have to tell you what Mike did. It’s so clever. Mike has a pair of sunglasses that he just loves. Over the years the coating has worn away from the earpiece on both sides and the wires were exposed. He went to the hardware store and bought little tubes that you fit over wires and when you heat them up, they shrink and provide a waterproof seal for your wires. Mike slipped a couple on the ends of the earpieces, shrunk ‘em up, and now he can wear them again! Clever, right‽

          I haven’t been able to spend much time on my crafts this week. I went out to the patio and decided I’d clean the dried paint off my glass palette. The acrylic paint came off easily. The glass paint I’d used to make stained glass windows in the fairy house...

          I shook my head and admonished myself! “Peggy! What were you thinking putting glass paint on a glass palette‽”

          Some of it scraped off. The rest I took off with acetone.

          Speaking of acetone...

          I did it! I made glass paint! See how shiny this piece is? It’s not wet, it’s the homemade glass paint. This is a piece I experimented on. First, I put down some glass paint, or liquid glass, and let it dry. Then I wanted to see if I could paint overtop of that. I don’t know why, I just wanted to see if I could. And I could. Then I coated it with another layer of glass paint and here it is. Strong and durable. I could poke my fingernail in and make marks but under normal use, it should be extremely weatherproof.

          The only other thing I did in the line of crafts was I made a batch of concrete clay. I made a top for the stone fairy house, I worked on my balloon fairy house, and I started another one, this one made from the container my little cherry tomatoes came in.

          I didn’t have enough clay left to make leaves to drape down over the balloon house, I couldn’t work on the tomato house until the top dried, the stone house is done, so I started making shapes. A circle, a moon, a few hearts, and I got to thinking that I could string them together. So I made a top to hang them from. The next time I make clay, I’ll make a few more pieces to fill it out.

>>>*<<<

          Mike went to get his mower and saw he had two flat tires on the same side. He took the tires off and we took them out to Jonah, our fixit guy. 

         Although we’ve been out to Jonah’s lots of times and I always take pictures for you, here are some more.

        A safety briefing before they go kayaking, or just waiting for everyone to arrive?   

          Guess what! I know you can’t, the possibilities are endless! So, I’ll tell you.

          They put tar and chip on our road! Yay! Wait a minute... I mean, YAY! No more dust.

          “Now they’ll be going down the road a hundred miles an hour,” Mike said. That’s hyperbole, but I bet you knew that.

          “Our cats won’t stand a chance,” I said. I know they all cross the road so it’s just a matter of time until their luck runs out.

          Speaking of out, we were out when the work started. There was a flagger at the end of our road and he motioned us to go on. He wasn’t letting us in.

          “We can drive around the back way, park by the road, and walk in,” Mike said. We live close to the township line so it wouldn’t be far to carry the few groceries we bought.

          Surprise! I took pictures. (I know you’re not surprised.)

          We parked in the neighbor’s driveway, got the bag of groceries out, and started walking toward home.

          “We just live right there,” Mike said.

          “You can drive in,” the guy said. “They’re working down at the other end.”

          “Is it okay to drive on?” Mike wanted to know.

          “Yeah, once the stones are on, you can drive on it. Just don’t turn the tires too hard.”

          We went back to the car and drove home.

          Once the milk was put away, we got on the golf cart and went down to the road to watch them pass. They put three coats down.

          Raini came with us but I didn’t take the time to find her leash. Then I realized what a mistake that was. You can’t trust her not to jump off the cart if she saw something interesting. I’d have to hold onto her collar. Well, that got old quick, let me tell you! I ride with my foot up most all of the time. It’s Raini’s seat belt, so to speak. Even when I have her on the leash, I’m afraid she might tumble out and get run over. I untied my shoe, threaded one through her collar, and retied it. She could move a little but mostly she had to stay like this for the time we watched them tar and chip the road, which wasn’t very long so don’t feel sad for her.

          Let’s end this time with a picture of both my cutie-patooties. Bondi had her nose in the grass and Raini ran out to see if it was something she might want.     

              Done!