Sunday, August 24, 2025

Quiet

            Quiet.

It was a quiet week here at my mountain home. And that’s the way I like it! Quiet days sitting on the patio, drinking water, and watching the birds come to the feeders.

“Peg! I thought you drank coffee all the time,” you say.

And I do love my coffee, but my doctor says I need to drink more just plain water and I’m trying to do that. And you can trust that I have my water with a side of coffee.

 

I had four male Baltimore Orioles come to jelly feeder. I don’t think I’ve ever seen that many males at the feeder all at once like that.


We had such a beautiful day here this past week. Not too hot, not too cool, a slight breeze rustling the trees. We took the girls on a golf cart ride out to the end of Paradise Road.

Crossing our creek, I get another not-so-great shot of the Kingfisher sitting on his branch. If I had one of those fancy-schmancy six thousand dollar lenses for my camera, I could probably get a better picture of him.


These fragrant, starry white flowers are Virgin’s Bower. It’s dioecious meaning male and female flowers grow on separate plants.

Dioecious is pronounced dye-EE-shus.

This wildflower has many other names. Among them are Old Man’s Beard, Devil’s Darning Needle, Traveler’s Joy, Ladies’ Bower, White Vine, Wild Hops, and Wind-with.

Virgin’s Bower is a climber and uses nearby supports to wrap its leaf stalks (petioles) around. In this instance, it chose an Elderberry bush. You can see the naked stems behind it. Elderberry doesn’t last long around here and the birds get them as soon as they ripen.


A bee pollinating goldenrod. Did you know that goldenrod is insect-pollinated and not wind-pollinated like ragweed? That’s why it often gets unfairly blamed for seasonal allergies when it’s actually ragweed’s fault.

In folk medicine goldenrod was used to treat sinus congestion and seasonal allergies. It’s an anti-inflammatory and antimicrobial that can help fight off bacteria and fungi. It can be used in poultices and salves to treat minor cuts and skin irritations. And it can be combined with yarrow or elderflower in teas and tinctures to ease the symptoms of a colds or the flu.

Goldenrod flowers make a beautiful yellow dye.

Lastly, it’s a late-season nectar source for bees, butterflies, and beneficial insects.



Teasel. I have mostly the white kind here but I do occasionally see the lavender by the roadside.

The dried heads were once used to raise the nap on woolen cloth, like a natural brush. That’s actually where the term “teasel” comes from: to tease the fibers.

Goldfinches love the seeds, and the bristly heads provide shelter for insects and small critters.

The roots and flower heads can yield earthy tones, though it’s less common than goldenrod or pokeweed.

In folk medicine it wasn’t as widely used as goldenrod. Even so, teasel root has popped up in folk remedies.

Some herbalists use teasel tincture as part of protocols for chronic Lyme disease, though scientific evidence is limited.

Traditionally it was used in poultices or decoctions for aches and stiffness.

It’s also a favorite in dried arrangements. Those spiny heads add drama and texture.

 

Toadflax or more commonly called butter-and-eggs. The name alone feels like it belongs in a children’s storybook, doesn’t it?

This wildflower is a cousin to the snapdragon and part of the same family.

In folk medicine it was used as a mild laxative, diuretic, and liver tonic. Herbalists sometimes applied it to skin conditions like eczema or sores.

          The plant’s tannins made it useful in poultices for wounds and inflammation.

          The flowers can yield a soft yellow dye, less vivid than goldenrod, but still pretty.


We passed a whole field full of teasel in the background, in the middle is swamp milkweed, and right in front of that you can see some purple loosestrife.

Some people just don’t worry about their stuff getting stolen.



We have a whistle pig undermining the stones Mike put in to support the bank. Now the rocks are all catawampus. 

I set the live trap because I don’t have a dog like Tux Kipp who’ll run ‘em down and finish the job without blinking. The mighty hunter has seven or eight notches on his collar, last I heard. And Mike doesn’t want to shoot them, which I respect.

I believe in leaving critters be when I can, but we can’t have them tearing up the barn’s foundation. It sits on the same bank where the stones are already starting to give way.


I sandwiched peanut butter between Ritz crackers and tossed four of them in the trap. I used another two to make a trail into the trap. I set the trap, camouflaged it with a few weeds that I’d pulled, and walked away.

Since I was out with my camera, I walked around and took a couple of more pictures.

 

The blue berries of the silky dogwood. This plant’s been used for erosion control because it has a dense root system. It helps to purify runoff and improve water quality in riparian zones. A riparian zone is the strip of land next to a river or creek, often lush with willows, dogwoods, sedges, and other moisture-loving plants.

If the stems touch the ground, they can root and spread.

In native American lore it was seen as a symbol of protection, healing, and resilience. Some tribes considered it a “medicine tree” and a spiritual guide.

In folk medicine the root bark was made into a decoction and used as mild stimulant and tonic.

During times when quinine was scarce, silky dogwood bark was used to help manage fevers, especially in low-grade or typhoid-like cases.

Bark and leaves were applied externally to treat ulcers, blisters, and skin inflammation. The leaves were considered mildly anesthetic and analgesic. It can also be added to bathwater to ease sore joints and muscles.

The berries, though bitter, were sometimes used as a digestive tonic, especially in cases of alcohol-related stomach issues.


My Chinese lanterns are turning red. This plant has a reputation as a garden escape artist. Its underground rhizomes spread aggressively, and even small root fragments can regenerate. I just mow them over when they go past where I want them.

The bright orange, papery husks (technically called calyces) are undeniably striking. They add late-season color and texture to gardens, especially in fall when most blooms are fading. The dried husks are beautiful in floral arrangements and wreaths.

          Chinese lantern does have a place in folk medicine but needs to be handled with special care because it’s potentially toxic. So leave it alone unless you know what you’re doing.


          Pulling in with the golf cart, I see a crane fly on my garage door. These guys look like giant mosquito. But they’re not. And they’re not mosquito eaters either. They don’t even have any mouth parts at this stage in their life. Their only goal is to reproduce then they die or become bird food. There’s no need to be afraid of them.


The humidity dropped low enough that I painted more flowers and got them hung on the fence.

I also trellised my roses with a piece of lattice that was bound for the dump. I could may have centered it a little better.

Phyllis, my beautiful little sister sent me some rhubarb a couple of years ago. It’s getting big enough that I might have rhubarb next year. I planted it in a raised box but I don’t know if that was the right thing to do. Won’t it deplete the nutrients in the soil? Do I need to fertilize it? Would it be better if I planted it in the ground? I’m so dumb when it comes to gardens.

Most of our land was used commercially, first as a sawmill, then as a truck repair place. That means it was all graveled for log storage, driveway, or parking lot. Needless to say, we do not have good soil. It was many years until we even had grass growing on it. And that’s why I put the rhubarb in a raised bed.


I told you it was a quiet week this week.

Let’s call this one done.

Remember, you're all in my heart.

Done!

Sunday, August 17, 2025

Depressed

 

I’m depressed.

Actually, I was depressed — and sad.

I know! I know! I seem pretty happy to you and I am pretty happy most of the time.

“What’s going on?” you ask.

Yesterday, Saturday, is usually the day I sit down to start writing my letter blog. But yesterday wasn’t usual. It was Joanie’s funeral. My best girl. She left us on July 27th to begin her walk into eternity with our Lord and Redeemer, Jesus Christ.

And make no mistake — Joan was a strong Christian! Her faith wasn’t just something she talked about, it was something she lived. Even as cancer took its toll on her body, her belief never wavered. If anything, it grew stronger. She faced death the same way she faced life, with grace, courage, and an unwavering trust in God.


Debbie, Joan’s sister-in-law, gave the most beautiful eulogy. She rose from her seat and walked slowly to the microphone, each step measured, as if carrying the weight of every tear in the room. She stood before a packed house, where grief hung heavy in the air—faces streaked with tears, the sound of open sobbing rising like a tide of deep, aching love. Her fingers trembled as she reached for the microphone, but her voice, when it came, carried the strength of someone who loved deeply and dared to speak through sorrow.

 I’ve known Joan for over 40 years. She has been one of my closest friends and my sister. So when she started talking about her passing soon and her funeral, I didn’t want to hear it. I would say, “God is still in control. He still has the power to heal you if it’s His will!”

She would just keep talking and saying, “I don’t want any crying! I want rejoicing and uplifting songs! I want it to be a celebration! I’m going home! I’m gonnna be with Jesus!”

So, after she repeated this a few times I told her, “I’M GOING TO CRY! You can’t tell me not to cry!” Then I cried and promised her I would rejoice through my tears. Because I am happy Joan is HOME with JESUS! But I am absolutely heartbroken my Joan Louise is gone from my life — and I miss her!

Joan held my hand and said, “I know it’s gonna be hard for all of you, but rejoice for me!”

I am going to try to honor Joan Louise today by doing my best to tell you what she asked and to give God the glory. I could tell you lots of stories and memories and shenanigans about her but that’s not what she asked me to do. Joan wants me to tell you about her God! So I’m going to do my best to tell you about Him.

I have already prayed and asked others to pray for God to open hearts and ears to this but also to make sense of what I say. Because, honestly, I am not good at standing up here in front of people, talking.

Joan said, “I need you to do this! Just speak from your heart and God will do the rest!”

Joan didn’t hide her light under a bushel basket. If you knew her, you knew she loved God. She said, “I want everyone to know IT’S A PERSONAL RELATIONSHIP WITH JESUS CHRIST OUR SAVIOR! To have that personal relationship you need to be in His Word daily. I want my Bibles there, at my funeral. I have seven and I want everyone to see them. Tell them I had them in different places and rooms so I had it available always. Tell them to know God you have to be in His Word so He can speak to you — to your heart! Tell them through His Word He guides us. He gives us peace as only God can. Tell them it’s not just going to church every Sunday and it’s not just saying a prayer for forgiveness to get to heaven. It shouldn’t stop there! It needs to be a daily relationship with God, in His Word to grow and witness to others along the way.”

In the hospital, Joan’s Bible was always in plain sight. We read it to her because she couldn’t. When anyone came into her room and asked if she needed anything, she would ask them if they knew Jesus Christ as their Savior because she wanted to see them again in heaven. People knew she loved God.

People came and prayed with her, read her verse from the Bible and sang hymns to her.

Joan knew her time was very near and she had a peace that only God can give. She knew she would soon enter his gates with thanksgiving and into His courts with praise because she was a child of God!

That was Joan’s favorite hymn.

♫I will enter His gates with thanksgiving in my heart; I will enter His courts with praise. I will say, “This is the day that the Lord has made!” I will rejoice for He has made me glad. He has made me glad, He has made me glad. I will rejoice for He has made me glad.♪♫

So her message to each of you today is ask Jesus for forgiveness for your sins and accept Jesus Christ as your Savior and grow a personal relationship with Him. 

Joanie wasn’t just a lady I saw once a week at church; we spoke every day through my morning love notes. She was dearly loved and is deeply missed. 

Besides Joanie’s funeral, I had another reason to be sad.

“Why’s that?” you wanna know.

We had a possum get hit on the road in front of our house. I saw it in the early afternoon when we went to get the mail. A few hours later, a thought surfaced from the recesses of my mind. I’d read somewhere that if you ever come across a dead possum, you should check its pouch because possums can carry babies year-round.

I walked down and found babies scattered all around. Some were beside the road and some had gone in the other direction into the leaf litter. I picked up seven cold, crying, babies that still had their eyes closed. Joeys. I found a passel of joeys. I knew I had to get them warm and hydrated so I made a pouch with my shirt front and carried them home.

“I’ve got seven babies!” I told Miss Rosie.

“Considering how little they are, I won’t be surprised if they die,” she said.

The first mistake I made was warming a little milk and using a dropper to get them to drink. I wasn’t having any luck and decided maybe it would be a good idea to Google it.

“Don’t give them cow’s milk, it could be fatal.”

Okay then. What do I give them?

“Mix one-fourth teaspoon salt and one-teaspoon sugar into one cup warm water.”

So that’s what I did.

But from the get-go, one of the joeys was too far gone and never came around. In the next hour, two more died. But the last four looked like they were getting stronger and squirmier.

“To keep them warm, use a heating pad on low heat.”

I did that, but in the night, two more joeys died.

I went to the feed store and bought some kitten milk replacement.


The lady at the feed store said, “Don’t say it too loud, you’re not supposed to do that.” Meaning, I’m not supposed to try and save the lives of orphaned baby possums.

“What are you supposed to do? Leave them to die?” you ask.

I guess that is one option and that’s the thing most people do. They see possums as pests but not me. I actually have a kind of love for these poor misunderstood creatures. They’re nature’s cleanup crew, eating dead things, even the bones! Every night they can eat up to 2,000 ticks along with other bugs that carry diseases. They control snakes, even venomous ones. They can survive dozens of rattlesnake or coral snake bites and even eat the snakes. And they do NOT carry the rabies virus.

I wasn't going to make them pets, just get them big enough to fend for themselves.

What you’re supposed to do is contact the Pocono Wildlife Center or another rehab center. I decided that I needed to obey the laws and I would call them. Unfortunately, even doing everything right, the last two died the next day.

And I was sad and depressed and blame myself. If I’d’ve gotten them to the experts sooner, maybe they would’ve lived. Consequently, I didn’t feel much like writing yesterday.

“Peg. It’s OK to feel sad,” my beautiful little sister told me. “As I tell Rachel (her daughter) it’s OK to mourn, but for no more than three days when I die! Then it’s time to buck up and move on. This doesn’t go over any better than a room full of balloons and a porcupine.

Every day is a new day.

A new chance.

We will leave the mistakes and sadness of yesterday there and move on.

So today I will visit with you and show you the pictures from my week. 

A squirrel!

There’s nothing remarkable about a squirrel expect that, for living in the country, and having bird feeders out, I seldom see squirrels and never in my backyard. That is, until this week.

I’d gotten up and gone to the sink to draw water for my second cup of morning joe when I glanced out the window and there he was! Sitting on the kitchen patio calmly munching on the seeds the birds had scattered.


As soon as Raini hears me heading for the kitchen door, she comes charging out, nearly knocking me over in her rush to get outside. I had to be quick and quiet to get the pet door locked before she realized what I was up to. She missed it by a few seconds.

She stood at the glass, ears perked, eyes locked on the squirrel outside. Still and alert, she watched, completely focused, like the world had narrowed to that one little visitor. She whined, wanting to get out and chase it, but I ignored her.

I don’t know how long the squirrel stayed but the next time I looked, he was gone.

Speaking of Raini...

I woke up around 2:30 in the morning to the sound of crunching. I thought Raini had found a forgotten dog biscuit and was having a midnight snack.

Crunch, crunch, crunch, followed by lip-smack and I thought that was it.

It wasn’t.

Crunch, crunch, crunch, and I thought she was done for sure.

She wasn’t.

Crunch, crunch, crunch.

And I thought, that dog biscuit wasn’t that big!

I reached overhead and fumbled around on the headboard shelf until I found the little flashlight I kept there. I turned it on and there Raini sat. In the middle of the bedroom floor with half a furry critter lying at her feet. For one heart-stopping second, I thought she had one of the joeys. The cat must’ve gotten it out of its box because Raini couldn’t get on the counter. But no. It wasn’t a joey. It was a fat little, plump little, back half of a field mouse. Sitting on a nearby chair was Spitfire, grinning like the Cheshire Cat. He brought it in and gave it to Raini or she took it from him.

It probably wouldn’t hurt her if I’d’ve let her finish it, but the last thing I needed to hear when I’m going to sleep is the crunching of bones. I got out of bed, took it by its tail, and wearing nothing but my sleep shorts, carried it out and tossed it over the fence. The partial nudity of one fat old lady likely wouldn’t thrill anybody, but since we live out in the middle of nowhere, no one saw me.

I planted a climbing vine against my fence two years ago. This year I got my first flower. I thought I’d planted Mandevilla but this is a Clematis flower. 

I’ve added some new things to the canvas of the mill wall. A big window, a carriage light (that isn’t powered, but could be), and two wall sconces. It makes it more of  a challenge to bounce the ball off the side of the house for Raini.


I’ve been making tin can flowers again. Here are four that I’ve finished and hung on the fence in the front of the house so you see them when you drive in.

This week I sat on the patio and made a bunch more. I only have space to hang about eight pieces when I spray paint them but the humidity was too high this week for me to paint any more. So I’ve been making and stacking them on the patio table.

So many flowers!





A butterfly fluttered in and circled around as if to say, “Here I am! Take my picture!”

He posed quite nicely for me.

This is a Red-spotted Purple butterfly.


          We went out this week. We went to Dushore to pay our taxes. While there we had lunch at the Westside Deli. Mike likes the bacon cheeseburger and I like the Westside Cheesesteak. I took road pictures for you.

          Crossing our bridge, I spot a buck standing in the weeds.


          They were clearing ditches and we were stopped in front of a house that burned several years ago.


          Nature reclaims.





          This house and garage were damaged in the big flood several years ago.




          After lunch we drove up to the graveyard. I noticed a tree growing from the chimney of the old school.










Our little town is getting a Tractor Supply!

Mike’s buddy Lou and his partner are working really hard on Charlie’s old house. They completely gutted the inside, put new floor joists in, new floors, new walls, new half-bath. Tore the old tin roof off and shingled it.


Lou is tearing out old bushes that have been allowed to overgrow for years. He took down dead trees and trimmed the ones he’s going to keep. He tore out an old fence and was going to trash it, until I asked for it.

“You’re welcome to have it!” Lou said. “It saves me from having to trash it.”

I don’t know yet what I’m going to do with it, but I’ll do something with it.


Let’s call this one done!