Sometimes

 

Sometimes I get the photo I want —

          —sometimes I don’t.

          Let’s start at the beginning, shall we?

          We went out a couple of times this week. One of our trips took us to Dushore to pay the spring taxes.

          I made breakfast burritos this week. I start with the best farm fresh eggs. I get them from one of our church peeps. Leo and Felicia get more eggs than they can sell so they’re kind and generous enough to bring the extras to church and share with us.

I said I start with the eggs, but that’s not quite true. I start with making my own tortillas.

“They’re not as good with store-bought tortillas,” my best, old, West Virginia friend told me. I’d made them for Trish when she was here for a visit last year.

When I make breakfast burritos, I scramble the egg and fry it in a sheet, like an omelet, otherwise the scrambles fall out the bottom when I’m eating it. Then I roll them individually in foil and freeze them.

          Ben, the widower of my friend Joanie, lives on the way to Dushore so I dropped a half dozen off to him. I’m sure she would like knowing we’re remembering him even though she’s gone.     

          I took pictures.

                We passed a farm where Amish men were taking down a silo. I wasn’t quick enough to make a picture.

          “I’ll get it when we come back this way,” I told Mike.

          “I was going to go home the other way,” he said.

          I resigned myself to having missed the shot.

          Suddenly, Mike slowed, pulled off the road, and turned around for me — for you! This isn’t something I see every day so I took pictures from both directions.

Mike filled up the gas cans while we were in Dushore.

          “We’ll have to cut down on the grass we mow,” I said.

          I know we don’t have the worst gas prices in the country, but it sure does put a hurt on your pocketbook.

          Across from the gas station is the ball field. While signs like this one saying, “Not responsible for injuries due to use of facilities,” may discourage frivolous lawsuits, it truly doesn’t release them from liability due to their negligence in maintenance of the playground.

          Too bad the hawk was facing the other way.

          My oldest and much-adored sister called.

          “We’re on the back roads,” I told her, “So if I lose you, you’ll know why.”

          “I just have a quick question,” she said.

          Mike found a nice spot off the road to pull over while I chatted with Patti.

          Across the way was a farm and I snapped photos of the cows.

          When we were on our way again, Mike slowed for me. Raini, in the backseat, saw the cows and started barking. The cows stopped grazing to look.

          In the next pasture were goats. Big goats and little goats.

          It wasn’t until I had the pictures on my computer that I saw the cat sitting there in the pasture with the goats.

          We’re almost back out to our road, just crossing a little bridge over a creek, when a young eagle flies in front of us.

           There’s a shot I would not have gotten if my sister hadn’t called and Mike hadn’t pulled over. Timing is everything!

 

          When we left our house, there was a woodpecker looking for bugs in the grass. I was surprised that he was still there when we got home. This is a male Northern Flicker woodpecker. They often forage on the ground for ants and beetles rather than hammering trees.

          This past Friday is the day I look forward to for a year!

          “What’s so special about it?” you wanna know.

          This Friday is the first day of the church sale in Wyalusing. I love this church sale. Everything is reasonably priced, cheap even. And they usually have some pretty good stuff. I usually go the first day and get the things I really want. Then I go back the second day for their half-off sale and get more stuff, usually stuff I don’t really need. Sometimes, though, it’s things I didn’t see on the first day.

          With the bridge being out, I decided I probably wouldn’t go the second day this year. Probably.

          Mike and I went to Wyalusing by way of Wysox.

I took pictures.

          On one stretch of road, just before Wysox, someone has three or four signs in the yard that say, “NO D C.”

          “What’s D C?” I asked Mike but he didn’t know. I’ve since found out it means Data Center. I didn’t even know they were considering one in the area.

          I found a lot of goodies at the church sale. When I got home I spread them out on the table, Tiger helped, and took a picture.

          I got a pack of Arches watercolor paper for a dollar. There was only one sheet gone and if it was new, this would be forty-five dollars. I also got a brand spankin’ new, still sealed in plastic, light box. I do have one, but it’s the kind that you plug into your computer via USB cable. I’m hoping this style of light box will be brighter.

          I found two cartridges and a pack of blades for my Cricut machine, several plates for my Sizzix press, a paper punch that punches out large, scalloped circles (original price of twenty-six dollars), envelopes, and a bag of seventeen little wooden plaques. Everything for ten buckaroos. What a deal!

          I couldn’t open one of the Cricut cartridge cases. Mike looked it over and found a very thin but tough plastic wrap on it.

          Tiger helped.

          I didn’t even know what I was getting and I was pleasantly surprised when we finally got it open. It’s got all kinds of Christmas designs. Now I’m excited to make Christmas cards this year!

          Something else I picked up were a couple of books. One of them was the book Jesus Freaks. I bought books one and two many, many years ago and enjoyed reading all the short stories of people who’ve been martyred for Jesus Christ. I gave mine away. Since then I’ve found the books again and I buy them for my church peeps.

          The other book I found was this sweet little handmade book of poems.

          It is signed, but there’s no date. The paper appears to be linen. The writing is small and hand printed with a dip pen. The poems are by published authors. The illustrations were done in watercolor.

          I spent quite a long time trying to find out more information about this book.

          Copilot analyzed the photos and guesses this is a book made for someone special or a school project before ball point pens became common. The style is typical of 1930s–40s women’s art education when young people were encouraged to practice penmanship. It was made with great care, skill, and patience.

          Diving into the E. Wallace name, Copilot searched local records and came up three possibilities, noting that Eleanor Wallace is the most likely creator of this book.

          I spoke with another lady at the sale. She was probably a few years older than me.

          “This is what’s going to happen to all our stuff when we die,” I told her.

          “I know. My husband died and I offered the kids and grandkids to come and get what they wanted — they didn’t want anything.”

          Someone close by said, “If we’re lucky it’ll end up at a sale and not a landfill.”

          Boy, was she right!

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

          I don’t know for sure. What do you think I should do with it? Who would want it?

 

          I left the church sale before I got through everything because I was tired of carrying my stuff around.

          We took a different way home and I took more pictures. 

          The first thing I took a picture of before we left town was the bridge from the side that was damaged. It was blocked off and I didn’t get out of the car. The damage isn’t readily apparent, not like I thought it would be when they said how badly it was damaged.

          Laundry on the line.

          A sure sign of spring.

          It looks like there’s a bunch of dead leaves inside the window!

          I had my camera at the ready so I didn’t miss any shots and these guys happen to look up as we passed by. I took their picture.

“There’s a caboose back there,” I told Mike and snapped a picture.

       

Zooming in, I don’t think that anymore. I think it’s just someone’s cabin.

          Why did the turkey cross the road?

          I thought the horse was outside the fence, and then I saw the single strand of electrified wire.

          We’re almost home when I see an eagle soaring on the air currents above the field next to our house.

          I snapped pictures as Mike drove along.

          “There’s two of them!” I exclaim as we’re pulling in the driveway.                   

But it wasn’t. It was an eagle and a vulture sharing the air currents.

           Tree's leafing out and Coltsfoot popping up aren’t the only thing spring brings.

           It wakes up the bears, too.

          “A bear knocked over my birdfeeder pole.” Neighbor Sally flagged us down as we were going past on the golf cart. “If you could cut the post off for me, I might be able to dig up the metal piece.”

          “I’d be happy to,” Mike said. “In fact, why don’t I bring the tractor over, hook a chain on it and just pull it out of the ground for you?” He’s a good neighbor.

          “That would be alright,” Sally said.

          The tractor made short work of something that would’ve taken Sally a lot of time and sweat to accomplish.

          This tractor story leads to another tractor story, but you’re going to have to wait until next week to hear that one.

          Another story you’ll have to wait for is my second trip back to the church sale. Even though it took place this week and should be in this edition of Peggy’s Jibber-Jabber, I’m running late and want to get this one sent.

         

          Let’s call this one done.