“Here what is?” you ask.
Here it is the end of another week and time for me to sit and write to you again. All week long I collect pictures and stories so we can have things to talk about and I just wanted to let you know that I think of you all the time, all week long, and not just on Sundays!
At this point I am only running about twelve days behind in news and stories and have hopes that between this letter and the next that I will get you caught up.
We left Missouri on the morning of June 28th. Mike drove the Bago, pulling a trailer full of our treasures. I followed behind in the Jeep.
And we had a problem.
“What’s that Peg?” you ask.
Well, my picture shows you the final result, but when we left Lake Ozark we did not have the right drop on our hitch and the back axle was taking the brunt of the weight.
“Let’s go get the right one,” I said to Mike.
“Naw,” he said. He was anxious to be on the road and start our new adventure.
“Mike. How many times, driving down the road, have you looked at someone pulling a trailer like that,” and here I pointed at our trailer, “and said, ‘What a dumb-ass. That’s so hard on the axles and tires,’?”
He thought about it for a second. “It’ll be all right. If it’s not, we’ll stop and buy another hitch.”
“Okay,” I say and let it go.
We made stops often; for gas, to stretch our legs, walk the dogs, check the tires and the temperature of the axles on the trailer. Mike has a nifty little hand-held device that he points at the axles and it gives him the temperature.
They were getting hot.
“I’m worried about burning up the bearings,” Mike confessed. “Let’s find a different hitch.”
We stopped at a Wal*Mart somewhere in Ohio for the night. Across the way was an Auto Zone store. “Peg, I’m really tired. Would you go over and see if they have a hitch with a seven or a seven and a half inch drop?”
“Sure,” I agreed and I went.
Well the man in there was so nice. He didn’t have what we needed but he called around to two other places for me and found the drop hitch that we needed.
“Do you have a business card or something?” I asked. “I’d like to write your company and tell them what kind and helpful employees they have.”
This man, and I believe his name was Stewart, laughed a little and wrote the store number on a slip of paper and handed it to me. I tucked it in my pocket and went back to the RV where I picked up Mike and we went downtown to get the hitch. On the way back I saw this knight in shining armor, bowing to the fire-breathing dragon.
And now I can’t find that paper.
Sigh.
With the proper drop on the hitch, Mike continued to thump the tires and monitor the heat of the axles at every stop.
Someplace along the way we lost a dust cover from the rear axle. That allows the grease to fly out and make a mess all over everything. We made several stops to try to find a replacement, and even bought a couple, but they weren’t the right ones and didn’t fit.
“There’s a big trailer place near the Pennsylvania border, we’ll stop there,” Mike said.
The trailer place not only had the right dust covers for the axles, they even put them on for us.
June 30th, just about supper time, found us in Dushore, Pennsylvania. Mike checked the tires and the temperature on the axles.
“There pretty hot,” he told me. “Do you want to get something to eat, maybe let them cool down a little?” Mike asked.
“Sure,” I’m always up for a meal I don’t have to cook or clean up after.
“Where do you want to eat?” was his next question.
“How about Momma’s favorite place, Ally Bell’s?”
“Can we get in there with the RV?”
“I’m sure we can.”
Momma’s favorite restaurant, Ally Bell’s is no more. It is now Big Wheels Meat House. I think I told Momma it was Big Woods, but that was just me misreading the sign.
As Mike and I sat and waited for our dinner, Mike was worrying.
“Peg, I’m worried about those axles. They’re hot already and we have a couple of really big hills to go down. I’d hate to have them catch fire,” he told me. “Do you think we could spend the night here and finish the trip in the morning?”
“I think that’s a good idea,” I concurred. “It would be a shame to get this close and chance a fire because we were anxious to be home.”
When our waitress came over, Mike asked. “We have an RV, do you think we could stay in your parking lot tonight?”
“I’m sure it would be okay,” she answered.
As we were paying the ticket a man came up to us. “Are you the folks with the RV?”
“Yeah.”
“If you want to, you can pull it around back. It would be a little more private for you,” he offered.
“And quiet too,” I said. “This is a busy road!” Mike and I have spent a few nights sitting beside this road, down in Dushore, across from the Terrace where Momma used to live. Trucks ran up and down the road all night long!
Mike thanked him for his hospitality and chatted a while, telling him we were close to our destination, but the trailer was heavy, our axles were too hot and we wanted to let them cool off overnight before continuing.
“One of us can give you a ride if you need to go someplace,” the owner of Big Wheels offered.
“Oh, no. Thank you,” Mike said. “We don’t need to go anyplace.”
But how kind was that!
“That is one thing about Sullivan county that I always liked,” Momma said when I told her about this. “They have the nicest people in the world.”
We moved the RV back behind the restaurant and once settled, Mike stretched out for a nap. I leashed up the girls and took them for a walk-about.
I found the red ants tending to their flock of aphids.
And a nice close-up of a bee.
As Itsy, Ginger and I walked around the perimeter, I spied a bunch of knapweed.
The first I’d seen this year. I took a couple of photos but I was having a little trouble getting my camera to focus on what I wanted it to focus on. I decide to pick a flower and hold it up to see if I could get my camera to focus on the delicate petals.
I was standing there, turning it to see which was the best side and boy! was I surprised!
Boy-oh-boy! Was that spider ever surprised too!
He had just gotten his dinner and he was not going to let it loose. Mr. Spider kept backing around the flower trying to get away from me but I kept turning the flower and taking pictures of him. Then I carefully helped him find a new flower, one still attached to it’s stalk, and he took his dinner and left.
We were parked beside a small building that didn’t look like it was being used.
As I got around to the other side, I see a kitty laying on a shale pile, soaking up the sunshine. He didn’t let me get very close.
I thought I’d see what the backside of this building looked like and there was a door!
It was open!
“Hello!” It said to me. “Come on in!” It said.
“Well, maybe for just a peek,” I said.
I wondered if it was open to give the cat a place to get out of the elements. I walked up to it and tried to see inside without opening the door any farther than it was, but it was dark and I couldn’t see anything.
It’s just a stick, I told myself. It’s not a lock. As I noted where both ends of the stick were, I thought that maybe the stick was just sagging under the weight of the door and that was why it was open a few inches.
I moved the stick and the door swung open. I looked around as I stepped inside and in the semi-darkness I could see there was a hay rake in there. And some dried leaves. Nothing else.
I turned to go and see an old gas station sign against the back wall. It’s in pretty rough shape.
I went out, replacing the stick in the same spot I had found it. The indentation in the ground told me where that was.
The girls and I continued our walk.
Deptford pink.
Butter and eggs. In Virginia and a couple of western states it is considered a noxious weed.
“Peg, what’s the difference between noxious and invasive?” you ask.
I’m so glad you asked! I thought they were interchangeable terms but they are not! Who knew!
Legally, a noxious weed is any plant designated by a Federal, State or county government as injurious to public health, agriculture, recreation, wildlife or property. (Sheley, Petroff, and Borman, 1999) A noxious weed is also commonly defined as a plant that grows out of place and is “competitive, persistent, and pernicious.” (James, et al, 1991)
Although many noxious weeds are invasive, invasive plants include other plants that are native to this country or the area where they are growing. The BLM considers plants invasive if they have been introduced into an environment where they did not evolve, and have no natural enemies that limit their reproduction. (Westbrooks, 1998) Some invasive plants can cause change to vegetation, composition, structure, or function of the ecosystem. (Cronk and Fuller, 1995)
And there you have it, straight from the internet.
St. John’s wort, another noxious weed. It can cause photodermatitis in animals that graze on it. Photodermatitis is abnormal skin reaction to the sun.
This is blue vervain. In ancient times some of these plants were thought to be cure-alls among medicinal plants. The genus name is Latin for “sacred plant”.
This one is heal-all. It was commonly used as an herbal remedy throat aliments.
Although I had kittens on the brain, and I was anxious to be at our Mountain Home, I knew that for safety’s sake, we needed to spend the night in Dushore, eleven miles from home.
So close and yet so far away.
I really enjoyed walking around and taking pictures of all the beautiful wildflowers. Most of the information about the flowers came from the National Audubon Society’s Field Guide To Wildflowers (expect for the part on noxious vs. invasive — that came from the internet). The edition I have once belonged to my beloved Aunt B. Thank you for the book beautiful cousin Shannon. I think of Aunt B every time I use it.
Kittens.
Had they escaped from the thirty-gallon trash can mama bore them in? Or would I find them dead? I was anxious about them but one more night would make little difference.
The next morning we were up early and on our way. Half an hour later we pulled into our driveway and parked. We have arrived. First things first and first Mike needed to mow down our hay field of a lawn so we had a place to park. I helped him to get the battery back into the zero-turn Gravely mower, then I could stand it no more. I was off to find out the fate of the kittens.
They were still there! In the bottom of the can. They looked to be in decent shape but their nest was really nasty and I saw no evidence of food. No bones, no rabbits feet, no feathers.
“Hi babies,” I cooed.
They warily looked at me. I wondered if I could pick one up and as soon as I started to reach in it was all spit and hisses, claws and fur as they ran in circles and climbed the side trying to escape the confines of the trash can. They were just inches from attaining the top!
The mower stopped. I knew Mike would want to get the RV parked and set up so I left the kittens and went to help.
I thought about the kittens the whole time I was setting up house and I know there is no better way to tame a wild animal than to feed it. I got a can of cat food from the shelf, opened it and took it to the kittens.
Again, all spit and hiss as I reached as far in the can as I dared before dropping the can of food to the bottom. Thankfully it landed right side up. Then, having things to do, I went away for a while.
A couple of hours later, checking on the kittens, I see they had devoured that can of food.
What am I going to do with them? I wondered. If I let them loose they will run and hide and I’d never see them again. Then I thought of Macchiato’s kennel. Because he gets sick for the first day or two on the road, we keep him kenneled. At least then I knew where the mess was. I went and got his kennel, cleaned it out and put newspapers in the bottom, then I transferred my spitting, hissing balls of fur to the kennel by tipping them in. I was afraid I’d lose a kitten in the transfer but Mike was busy, I had to do it myself. No one was more surprised than me when it worked.
I kept the kittens kenneled for about two weeks as I feed them, and kept the kennel clean, which was a challenge. But with the help of a leather glove, and a cat carrier borrowed from the neighbor, we managed to keep them clean.
At first, I just handled them enough to move them around so I could clean their kennel, but after a few days I started to hold them and pet them and they started to calm down and really enjoy the attention.
Ginger loves the kittens. She just wanted to sit outside their kennel all day and watch them. She even jumped up on the picnic table by herself so she could be close to them.
Once I started letting them spend time outside the kennel, on the patio, Ginger tried to get them to play with her, but she couldn’t figure out how to do that. With Itsy, she’ll nip at her and Itsy will chase her. With the kittens, when she nips at them, they run back in their kennel and hide.
As I said, I kept them kenneled for about two weeks, but I could tell the kittens were ready to be out of the kennel. I took them around the side of the mill to the cat room and let them sit in the kennel in the cat room for a few hours, then I opened the kennel door and let them come and go as they pleased. The next day, when I checked on them, I expected they would be in the kennel, their home, but they weren’t. They had a new home under the shelf in the cat room. After a couple of days, I took the kennel out.
The kittens got their names. Rascal is the biggest of the litter. He’s yellow and he’s a boy. He’s playing with Spitfire who’s hiding in the grass and is a white faced tabby. He’s the middle size and a boy too. The runt is a little female who’s had to fight for every bite of food she’s ever had and she’s Feisty.
The kittens stay inside mostly, until they hear me call them, then they come outside. I have a ball on a string attached to a stick and I play with them or they’ll rough and tumble with each other. I go out two or three times a day to spend time with them and there just isn’t anything better than watching the kittens the play.
I’m sure you’ll be hearing more stories about the kittens, but for now, let’s move on. I have so much news to catch you up on (and more pictures too).
Look at these tiny little white flowers! Yeah, I don’t know what they are. If you do, let me know.
This is a scape moth.
On our patio one day I see these birds. It looks to me like it’s two adults and two juvies and they are teaching them how to find food as they make their way across the yard.
Googling them, I believe they are brown-headed cowbirds which is a blackbird. The information on the web page said they lay their eggs in the nest of other birds. If they do that, then this can’t be what I thought it was. When one bird lays it’s eggs in another birds nest, they don’t come back for them, do they? Maybe this is two different kinds of birds and they just decided to have dinner together, I don’t know.
And speaking of having dinner together, we were invited up to the Robinson’s for dinner one night shortly after we arrived here. After a wonderful meal of homemade lasagna on the deck, I taught Steph and Mike to play Quiddler. Steph likes the game and is really good at making words, Mike not so much. He’s good at spelling but he didn’t really enjoy playing the game with us.
And that Jon Robinson wouldn’t play at all! He sat in his favorite chair and surveyed his kingdom as we played.
Once the mosquitoes became too much, Mike and I headed for home.
A bee on cinquefoil.
Milkweed. It’s such a pretty and fragrant flower — and food of the monarch butterflies!
Nightshade. Beautiful but poisonous.
Mullein. Good for nothing as far as I know.
“Really, Peg?” you say.
Okay, okay. I’ll check Aunt B’s book.
Hmmmm.
It says the Roman soldiers purportedly (that means claims without any evidence), they supposedly dipped the flower spikes in grease for use as torches, and the leaves are still sometimes used as wicks.
And if that wasn’t good enough for the common mullein, it goes on to say that the Indians, the Native Americans, lined their moccasins with the leaves to keep out the cold. A tea was even made from the leaves to treat colds and the flowers and roots were used to treat things from earache to croup. The leaves were sometimes applied to the skin to soothe sunburn and other inflammations.
How about that!
After the rain.
Hello.
The girls and I scared a young deer from his resting place in my dried up pond. He still has spots.
A trip to Wal*Mart, crossing the Susquehanna and seeing the courthouse in Towanda is having a little work done.
We have CNG gas stations here.
“What’s CNG?” you wonder.
Compressed natural gas.
Hello.
Jerry, the neighbors cat. Well, Jerry has claimed them, they don’t claim him.
This is my current desktop photo, too.
A click beetle. After he figured out he couldn’t get away from me, he decided to play dead.
Well guys, I have more photos and more stories to share with you but this one is long enough.
Let’s call it done.
