Did
you miss me?
Seriously.
Did you miss me?
“I
bet no one missed you at all!” my handsome mountain man says.
I
don’t know if you missed me or not. My morning peeps knew there would be no
weekly jibber-jabber because I told them. I did get one email. Just one, asking
if all was well, and that was from my new friend Julia. Regardless if you
missed me or not, I missed you!
Over
the past month I’ve taken thousands of photos and had many adventures. Many
means more than two, right? ‘Cause I didn’t actually count my adventures but I’m
sure there have been more than two, so technically I can say many, right?
I
missed writing because we had family come for a visit and it would’ve been rude
for me to spend two days a week in front of my computer — not that I had time for that
anyway. Since I had no plans to write, we often went someplace on a Saturday or
Sunday.
Unfortunately,
I’ve forgotten some of the stories I might’ve told you, but c'est la
vie. That’s French and pronounced “say la vee.” It means “that’s life,” or “such
is life.”
The week leading up
to the visit from Cork, a childhood nickname for Charles, and his friend Dee,
was busy making preparations. But I wasn’t too busy to take a few pictures.
I was on the way
home from exercise class, just crossing the bridge over our pretty little
creek, when this guy swooped in front of my car and landed on a barren branch.
I love the Kingfishers.
Something else I love are the Great Golden Digger Wasps. Despite their intimidating size, ranging between one to two inches, these wasps are not aggressive to humans and are in fact very beneficial to the ecosystem.
They contribute to pollination as well as helping control pest populations. These Ichney (Sphex Ichneumoneus) wasps dig multiple chambers, paralyze an insect like a grasshopper or cricket, and entombs it with one of their eggs. They’re interesting to watch as they dig tunnels and kick the dirt out with their back legs, or sometimes you can catch them bringing a paralyzed insect back. I saw one drop her prey once and she used a grid pattern to hunt for it until she found it again.
This is a tiny butterfly, three-quarters
to an inch-and-a-quarter in size, and his name is Eastern Tailed Blue.
Something else that’s small are the pretty lavender flowers of this lobelia. There are over 400 kinds of lobelias and come in blue, white, pink, purple, and red. Some species have been used in folk medicine but all parts of the lobelia are toxic if ingested.
A bee on yarrow. His little saddlebags are full of pollen!
The Jewelweed, also known as touch-me-nots, are setting their seeds. It won’t be long until you can go out there, touch the pods and watch the seeds fly.
Not
the best picture but hopefully you’ll recognize it if you see it in the wild.
This is Evening Primrose. This plant is a biennial, meaning it completes its
lifecycle in two years. In the first year, it forms a rosette of leaves, and in
the second year, it sends up a tall flowering stalk. The entire plant is edible,
roots, leaves, flowers, and seeds can be eaten. They may not taste the best but
they won’t kill you.
Primrose
has a rich history in folk medicine. A poultice was made to treat bruises and
wounds. The stem and leaf juices were applied to the skin to reduce
inflammation. The leaves taken orally alleviate gastrointestinal complaints and
sore throats. In ancient times, fresh and dried roots, leaves, and flowers were
used for pain relief. It’s also believed to have a calming effect on the nerves
and could help to induce sleep.
Primrose
oil, extracted from the seeds, has two uses. First, it’s still used today for
its potential benefits in balancing hormones and alleviating symptoms of PMS
and menopause. And second, the oil can be applied topically to treat skin
conditions like eczema and acne.
I was leaving the driveway when I saw a bird on the inside of the barn. Mike tries to keep the birds out but they come in through the eaves and nest in there anyway. I stopped the car, opened the garage door and he found his way out.
And check out this dove at my feeder. I couldn’t figure out what was hanging from his underside so I got my camera out and used the zoom lens. They’re feathers, but why he looks like this, I don’t know. So I asked my AI buddy. “The clump of feathers hanging from the dove's underside could be due to several reasons, molting, injury, parasites, or preening issues,” Copilot said.
This butterfly is a rescue. He was stuck on the patio so I rescued him. He’s a Red-spotted Purple and he looks like two different butterflies depending on if you look at him from the top or bottom.
Speaking of rescues...
Mike
found this Yellow Finch on the patio and called me. This poor little guy couldn’t
fly, he was just flopping around. I thought he was an injured fledgling and I
took him in, gave him a safe place to rest and recover, but he only lasted two
days and one night before he died.
Mike and I had gone someplace, and because it’s been a month ago now, I don’t remember where (and it’s not germane to the story), but in a bunch of places along a couple of different roads, poles were propping wires up.
“I
bet there’s going to be an oversized load coming through,” Mike guessed.
I reached out to my beautiful cousin Stacey. She works for the electric company and she confirmed Mike’s guess. “Oversized loads for the gas company when they move rigs in and out,” she told me.
Speaking of the gas company, we
crested a hill and saw a far-off rig. I snapped a picture then cropped it for
you in case you wanted a closer look-see.
Coming home, turning in on our road, we see a tree had come down blocking our path. Mike turned around and we took the longer, more scenic route to our house.
“Should I call someone?” I asked.
“I
think I can move it with my tractor,” Mike said.
“I
don’t know. It looks pretty big to me.”
I
called the Kipps and let them know they wouldn’t be going anyplace any time
soon.
The
longer, more scenic route, is a road we don’t take often because Mike doesn’t
like driving on dirt roads. However, having said that, we did take Cork and Dee
up the same roads less than a week later. This is a compilation of both trips.
When we first came to this part of the beautiful US of A, this was a goat farm called His Kids Goat Farm.
I’ve shown you pictures of this house over the years. Nature reclaims.
A racoon family ran down the road ahead of our car. Mama found the spot she was looking for and they all went into the woods.
Mike got his little tractor and I got the golf cart and followed. I stopped at the Kipp house and picked up Lamar. You take the entertainment where you can get it when you live way out in the middle of Nowheresville. Just in case you don’t know what that means, Nowheresville is defined as a place of no significance, promise, or interest.
A truck was stopped beside the road. We stopped and asked if they needed any help.
“Nope.
Thank you. I got it,” he said.
The tree was an old, dead, dried-up
pine and Mike didn’t have any trouble moving it.
I
dropped Lamar off at his house and went home. Mike pulled in a few minutes
later.
“I
gotta get the floor jack and take it down to the guy with the flat tire,” Mike
said.
“Why?
What happened? Lamar and I stopped and asked if he needed any help and he said
he didn’t.”
“He couldn’t get his jack to work,”
Mike said.
You
take entertainment where you can find it. I followed and stood nearby in case I
was needed.
Mike’s never met a stranger. “Where do you live?” or “Are you local?” are typically the first thing he wants to know. That’s often followed up by, “What do you do?” He looks for commonalities and the conversation flows from there. Mike asked this couple if they go to church and invited them to come to our church. That’s when he found out they used to come to our church. I told Lamar, who’s been going to Moxie for, like, a hundred years!, but he didn’t recognize them.
Speaking of needing help...
Mike
called me. “Can you come and get me?”
He’d
been out mowing, so of course, my first inclination was, “Are you stuck?”
“No. The mower just quit.”
“Quit
running?” I asked.
“No.
Quit moving.”
I
got the golf cart and tried to tow the Gravely home but it didn’t have enough
guts. Mike had to go get the tractor and this time he brought a chain.
“This time?” you query.
Yeah.
The last time, when the mower broke a belt, Mike lifted the Gravely with the
bucket of the tractor and pushed it home. Come to find out that, in doing so,
we messed up the clutch and it had to be replaced. This time we attached chains.
The only problem was Mike couldn’t steer it. I got in front with the golf cart,
attached the tow rope, and pulled while he lifted. It was a complicated dance,
as we had to move at the same speed. When we first started, I thought we were
going to put it in the little pond, and I panicked a little, hit the gas, and pulled! Disaster
averted. Eventually, I got the feel for what we needed to do and we got the mower
home.
Mike
called Jona to pick up the mower and repair it. Once again, it was only a belt.
Something else that happened during my
hiatus was I turned Medicare 65. My cute little red-haired sister sent me a
birthday card she’d filled with confetti. Lucky for me, I was sitting at the
table and it was easy enough to sweep it up, with only a few pieces getting
away from me. Yeah, I thanked her for it. At least it wasn’t glitter!
My Miss Rosie got me a birthday gift, too: a framed copy of What Really Matters, which I love and found a place for right here in my kitchen, where I spend most of my time, and a set of ceramic thimbles with birds on them. Miss Rosie gives the best gifts!
Speaking of Miss Rose, she got to sit and give loves to Bondi, something she doesn’t get to do very often since her knee has been acting up and she doesn’t walk with Lamar and Tux anymore. I see in the photo that Bondi is giving Miss Rosie the old stink eye. I’m guessing Rosie was doing more talking than scratching. She probably got the nose-poke next. Bondi does that to me all the time when I stop scratcher her.
The Kipps left on a week-long beach vacation with their daughters. Lamar usually gets the mail for the old guy who lives by himself, thereby making sure he’s okay and doesn’t need help with anything. While Lamar and Rosie were gone, Mike and I got Charlie’s mail for him.
This
photo is from one of Charlie’s trees that shade his walkway.
I gave Charlie his mail and got back on the golf cart. Mike pressed the gas to start the electric motor and —
Nothing.
Zip. Zilch. Nada. Not even a hiccup!
Mike
lifted the seat and fooled with the battery cables but to no avail. We left the
cart and walked home for the tractor and some tools.
When we got back to Charlie’s house, I
was surprised to see him standing at the cart. I didn’t know he could see — or
maybe he could hear — what was going on outside. He knew we’d left the golf
cart and came out to investigate.
Mike went to work on the battery cables, taking them off and cleaning them.
Charlie started
telling me a story about his Guardian Angel. “You can’t talk to them,” he told
me, inches from my face, in that personal-space-invading way that he has. I
backed up a step. “But they can talk to you!” he stabbed his index
finger at me to emphasize the “you.” “Do you know what my Guardian Angel told
me?” he asked.
“What?”
“That I have until
December!”
He waited for my
reaction, and I didn’t know what to say.
“Huh,” I grunted.
“Then in December
my Guardian Angel’s going to tell me if I have longer.”
During Charlie’s
story, Mike had put the cables back on and we had power again. He’d gotten back
on the tractor, drove away, and waited for me at the end of the driveway.
“I have to go,” I
told Charlie. “We’ll see you tomorrow!” Only, we didn’t see him the next day
because he didn’t have any mail, so we didn’t go down to the house.
Then
the day of Mike’s brother’s much-anticipated visit arrived. Cork and Dee pulled
in with their beautiful RV around ten a.m., unhooked the Jeep, and got set up.
After
a couple of days, it was decided we’d get the electric turned on at the RV pad
and they could have all their utilities without having to pack up and move.
That was a better place for them to be
as far as my nesting Blue Bird was concerned. She’d sit on the wire and wait
until it was safe to feed her babies.
Cork and Dee went to church with on us on Sunday. Afterward, we went to Mark’s for lunch.
On the way home, we took a side trip to the Moravian settlement memorial. Whoever used to keep it groomed no longer does, and the weeds were growing rampant.
There’s some kind of campground at the end of the path, where this bus is all but swallowed up in the weeds. Nature does indeed reclaim.
Monday, when I
came back from exercise class, I see Mike and Cork working on the electric
panel.
“What
are you doing?” I asked.
“We have to put a new board up,” Mike told me. “The other one was rotten and it wouldn’t pass inspection.”
The inspector came
out and the electric panel passed inspection. He notified the electric company
and they turned the power back on.
Cork and Dee were much more comfortable down at the RV pad and enjoyed watching the wildlife with their morning coffee.
How about a couple of random road pictures?
We ate out way, way, waaaay too much while our company was here, but it’s kinda what you do, isn’t it? Take them to unique and interesting places they can only see and eat at while they’re here? One such place is the 50s-style diner in Dushore. There are several roads we could take to get to Dushore, so we decided on a circuitous route, showing off our part of beautiful northeast Pennsylvania.
On the way down, we made a side trip to see the metal yard sculptures.
Our waitress was a story, let me tell you!
The
diner was bustling, and we all understood that it would take the waitstaff
longer to attend to us. It didn’t bother us, though, and we passed the time
chatting. My first clue that the waitress and I were going to butt heads came when
she returned to our table to take our order.
“I’ll
have the cheesesteak with everything on it,” I said.
“I
didn’t memorize the menu,” she snipped.
I
was taken aback. Unless it’s her first week, she should’ve known, shouldn’t
she? I opened the menu and read to her. “Onions, peppers, marinara sauce, and
mushrooms.”
She
took the orders of everyone else at the table and left to get our drinks. Maybe
it was her first week because despite having written it down, she got it wrong.
Not mine, but Cork and Dee’s. She brought an iced tea instead of a second
milkshake. Cork and Dee were forgiving and shared their milkshake instead of
having her correct it.
The napkins in the dispenser were thin and my cheesesteak was somewhat messy. I pulled the last napkin and realized no one else would have an extra napkin if they needed it. Our waitress was clearing a table two tables away from us. Rather than yell across the space, I opted to wait until she turned to head back to the kitchen.
“We’re
out of napkins,” I said, showing her the empty holder.
“Just a minute, sweetie, my hands are full,” she said snootily and brusquely hurried past us.
I
set the dispenser down on the wide ledge behind our booth seat. It only took me
two seconds to think about it and get madder than a wet hen. A little bit louder
than necessary, so maybe she’d hear me, I lifted my head and said to her back, “I’m
not an idiot! I could see her hands were full!”
“Peg!” Mike
admonished. “Be nice!”
“What! She’s the
one being snotty!” I defended. “I just thought she’d swap it out for another
one or at the very least come back and get it.”
She
did come back, a few minutes later, leaned across, and threw several napkins on
the back of the table where the dispenser had been.
“They fill them
at the end of the day,” she said patronizingly.
It would have
been a whole lot easier to say, “I’ll get you more napkins,” and a whole
lot less offensive. I’ve worked in restaurants. I’d say someone didn’t do their
job the night before because we only had three napkins in our dispenser.
The closer it got
to tip time, the nicer she got.
“She’s trying to
make up to me,” I told Mike.
In the end, I
left her a better tip than what I was going to.
Mike had great
fun for the next few days, teasing me about being angry with the waitress, even
though I wasn’t mean directly to her.
We drove around
Dushore after we left the diner. One of the things Mike likes is how the Agway
store built its building right overtop of the old railroad tracks. If you drive
down to the lower yard, you can see it.
I glanced up at the window and see a face staring down at us.
Okay! Okay! It’s
really a red plastic gas can — but I thought it was a mask!
We saw these giant birds on the way home. These are Sandhill Cranes. Even though Sandhill Cranes are mostly gray, these appear reddish-brown. I searched the internet and found out that depending on their environment and recent activities, their feathers can sometimes appear rusty-brown.
Cranes can stand four to five feet tall! That’s almost
as tall as me! Their wingspan is six to six-and-a-half feet wide! That is
bigger than me!
Sandhill cranes have a remarkable lifespan, living twenty
to thirty years. These majestic birds mate for life and are known for their intricate
courtship dances. Their diet is diverse, consisting of plant material, small
vertebrates, insects, and even crustaceans.
In the same field were a doe and her twin fawns, but I only got one of the fawns in this photo.
Some evenings, we enjoyed playing a few rounds of cards.
One of our favorites was Rack-O, a fun and fast-paced game that’s incredibly
easy to learn. The Kipps introduced us to this delightful game, which we only
play when we have four players.
Cork and Dee taught us how to play Phase 10, one of
their favorite card games. Mike got frustrated after a few hands and never finished
the round, deciding not to play it with us anymore. I, on the other hand,
really like the game and found myself wishing I’d shown my mother how to play
it. She would’ve really liked it, too.
Dee had an incredible knack for both of these card
games. Whether it’s luck or skill, she won most of the time!
Mike needed to get the oil changed in our car. We all went and afterward had lunch at a place Mike and I had never been to before but wanted to try. I can’t remember what I had but I don’t remember there being anything wrong with it. Will we go back? Sure, but we only if we’re in the area. I don’t think we’d make a special trip to go there.
We drove through Towanda and looked at all the big Victorians, then took River Road home. I took pictures for you. If you’ve been reading me for a while, you may remember these places from when I used them in a previous letter blog. However, I can’t help myself. I have to take pictures. HAVE TO! It’s like an obsession with me.
We stopped at both overlooks. Aren’t they a handsome couple‽
Our little town festival happened while Cork and Dee were here. The event kicked off with a Hillbilly parade and since our church had a float, I wanted to go.
Instead of tossing candy or beads, we passed out Bible tracts and freezer pops.
After the parade, we walked to the fairgrounds, had a bite to eat, then went home.
I found out later that our float won for most humorous.
One of our favorite things to do with visitors is to drive down to Forksville. There’s a picturesque covered bridge and a place called Big Mike’s that’s famous for having the best cheesesteaks outside of Philly. Honestly, though, I think it’s a bit overpriced and the food doesn’t quite live up to the hype. Maybe I’ve just had bad luck with my orders. This last time, my cheesesteak was so drenched in garlic butter that I couldn’t taste anything else! Who wants a plate of garlic butter?
Here’s photos from that trip.
One
thing I did get a kick out of was the sign in the ladies' room. It had a whole
list of things they asked you not to flush. I’m sitting there letting my water
down, so to speak, and what else is there to do but read the sign. At the very
bottom it added this.
Don't
flush your hopes and dreams.
Mike said they had the same sign in the men’s room.
After lunch we drove around town before heading home.
Mike’s
friend Vernon has a beautiful piece of property next to ours. He’s got a huge
pond that’s almost a lake and it’s full of fish that he feeds, but seldom
fishes for. It’s fun to toss bread and watch the fish swim over the top of each
other in their frenzy to get to the food.
We get on the golf cart for a leisurely
ride to Vernon’s.
There on the pond was a big bird I’d never seen before! I’ve since found out this is a Cormorant. These birds can weigh as much as eleven pounds and have a wingspan up to thirty-nine inches. They’re fish-eaters and excellent divers. Would you believe they can dive as deep as 150 feet!
Cormorants are typically found near
oceans and it’s relatively uncommon to see one here.
It took a long time and a whole loaf of bread before we had any fish action at all. I’m sure they were staying as far away from this guy as they could get and he was right at the dock when we got there.
Before we left, this guy flew in and sat in a tree on the other side of the pond. This is a Green Heron.
There’s one more adventure I want to tell you about before you go.
Another
cool sight in this part of our world is the Tunkhannock Viaduct. That’s it’s
right name but most people call it the Nicholson Viaduct since it’s located in
the town of Nicholson.
Road pictures.
We saw evidence of the recent flooding. Creeks still up, water on the roads.
They’ve recently renovated the old depot and turned it into a museum all about the history of the viaduct. It’s a place Mike’s been wanting to visit for a while now.
They kept as much of the original structure
as they could.
Even the ticket widow is original to the building.
People donated all kinds of items. The town was once home to many flourishing businesses. One of them was a toy factory. Check out the photo. How many women do you see? I’m guessing the four in the photo were office workers? It was a different time back then.
This very knowledgeable gentleman was our tour guide. He and Mike spent quite a while in conversation as the rest of us wandered around.
“Normally,
we don’t open the upstairs to people, but if you want to see where the workers
stayed while they were working on the viaduct, you can go up to the bunkhouse,”
he said and unlocked the door for us.
I
was excited to climb the stairs and see, but once at the top, there wasn’t
anything to see! Just a big open room.
I found it interesting, though, that most of the men were Catholic and would take a train to Williamsport to attend Mass every week. The owner didn’t like his men leaving — I guess there’s always a risk they won’t get back on time for work — so he built a church for them. It’s since burned down.
“They still use the viaduct for freight trains,” our tour guided told us. While we were there, we were lucky enough to see a train cross it.
We
stopped on the way home at Perkin’s for lunch. Mike really likes their turkey
club sandwich.
Cork got to looking at the maker’s mark on the silverware, so we all had to look. From then on out, no matter where we ate, we checked out who made the silverware.
I was in the backseat for most of our trips with Cork and Dee, so I didn’t take as many road pictures as I might otherwise have done.
I
made the mistake of calling it a Laundry Mat once. Spell check quickly let me
know that it’s laundromat. A combination of “laundry” and “automat,” referring
to a self-serve facility.
More
than you wanted to know?
That’s
how I am!
More
stories and pictures to come.
Let’s
call this one done!
