Face Masks

My Miss Rosie is a fashion plate. She coordinates colors from her earrings down to her shoes.

I got to thinking about face masks. Miss Rosie is thankful for the pretty masks I’ve made her and hasn’t asked me to make her very many. I’m sure it’s not that she wouldn’t love one to match each of her outfits, it just wouldn’t be polite.

Someone who isn’t shy about asking her big sister for something is my beautiful sister Phyllis. “Those face masks you’re making are soooo cute!” she gushed. “I’d love to have one.”

See what I mean? Politeness dictates that you not be greedy.

“How abut Jim and Rachel,” I asked after her partner and daughter. “Would they like one?” Then inspiration hit. “My masks are reversible — I could make one side all the same so you guys could go ‘twining’!”

Some people like that stuff, some don’t.

Phyllis was agreeable. “Sure, if you want to.”

We got onto a discussion about favorite colors and secretly, I was pleased. Who doesn’t like knowing something they’ve created is wanted by someone else?

With the holidays coming, I got to thinking, I could make holiday themed masks!

A shopping trip was on our agenda this week. Mike needed a bag or two of concrete and a few two by fours for his patio project.

“Can I pop into Walmart and get some holiday material?” I asked.

“I was just going to run down to Laceyville Lumber and get the stuff.”

I was disappointed — but only for a second. Bribery. That’s what I’d try. And not just any form of bribery either, food bribery. “If we go up to Lowe’s in Sayre we can stop and get Whoppers.” Burger King has Whoppers at two for six bucks. It’s a cheap lunch in terms of money but not so cheap in terms of the waistline. Those things, though yummy, are about a million calories each.  

“Okay,” he agreed. “Let’s go.”

“Wait a second!” Now I was backpedaling. “I didn’t mean right now. I meant this afternoon and we’d have Whoppers for supper.”

A Whopper, cut in half, was too tempting for Mike and he didn’t want to wait till supper.

“Why not now?” he wanted to know.

“I have an appointment to meet with Pastor Rick at three.”

Mike looked at the clock. It was ten thirty. “If we get around and leave now, we can be back in time.”

“We could. The only problem is I’d planned on making cinnamon bread to take to him along with the face masks for the church. I thought we’d go after that.”

As long as Mike was willing to take me shopping, I thought I’d better take him up on it before he reconsidered. Besides, I could reschedule my appointment with Pastor.

We went shopping.

The house that was damaged in the flood a couple of years ago is finally getting torn down.

“I wonder why they’re doing it that way,” I mused. Mike had been past it a couple of days earlier and told me they were tearing it down. Somehow, I’d envisioned them using a bulldozer or maybe a backhoe. “Do you think they’re going to try to repurpose some of it?”

 Questions like that are simply rhetorical. I don’t expect him to have the answer.

 We came to signs declaring ONE LANE ROAD AHEAD. The last time we were up this way we passed similar signs in the very same area, then an accident.

“Do you think it’s another accident?” I asked.

“Nah,” Mike said. “Remember the last time we were up here they were setting up to do some road work?”

I thought he was probably right. After all, what are the chances?

We were creeping along then stopped in a place where Mike could see farther ahead then I could. “I can see flashing lights up ahead.” He paused, then, “There’s an ambulance coming this way.”

I gasped. “It is another accident!”

A second or two later the ambulance passed us. No lights flashing, not speeding.

I couldn’t see anything except the fat old butt of the Ontario truck ahead of us.

I shoved my camera at Mike. “Here! Take a picture so I can see.”

“Okay but you really can’t see very much.” He snapped it and handed the camera back to me.

I zoomed in, but he was right. I couldn’t see much. 

Then our lane started moving. Other than being in the ditch and the hood being up, I didn’t see any damage. The air bags weren’t deployed either. I wonder if the lady standing there holding the baby was the driver.

We got the things Mike needed from Lowe’s then he dropped me at the door of Walmart. I headed for the sewing section and couldn’t find any holiday material. I wandered the aisles for a little while then gave it up. I was heading out of the section when an employee asked if she could help me.

“I was looking for some holiday material. Have you gotten any in yet?” I was pretty thorough in my search and totally expected her to say no.

“Yeah,” she said setting her price gun down on the counter. “What we have left is right here.” She guided me to an endcap I’d walked past at least twice. “It’s going pretty fast, even Christmas!”

          I didn’t have a lot of choice in patterns and that was way okay with me. I didn’t miss what I didn’t know was there. What was left was one pattern Halloween, one Thanksgiving, and two Christmas. I didn’t have a hard time choosing between the two because one was black and white and the other color. Guess which one I picked.

          Back out in the Jeep Mike says, “Look at that guy’s mask.”

          “Who’s?” I asked looking around.

          “That guy delivering.”

          I looked. “What about it?”

          “It’s colorful,” Mike said.

          It was. It was buff style and reminded me of the Italian flag with it’s bold red, white, and green stripes.

 

          I okokokokokokokokokokokokokokokokok could hardly wait to get started on the face masks for Phyllis.

LOL!

Tiger. He’d been laying on my desk when he decided to leave, taking a shortcut across my keyboard. I’d been about to rework that sentence and had just dropped the curser between I and could when he decided to add his two cents worth.

“What were you going to say, Peg?” you ask.

I hadn’t worked it out yet but I was thinking about adding something in there to the effect that since I had new material to work with, I was excited to get started. But okokokokokokokokokokokokokokokokok Tiger, we’ll leave it like it is.

Phyllis only asked for one mask and I volunteered one for each of them. Won’t she be surprised when she opens her package and finds three masks for each of them?

I put the dog pattern on the back of Halloween and Thanksgiving reverses with Christmas. 

Then they’ll each have an everyday one. It’s like having six masks in three!

So! Besides being reversible, the masks all have a nose wire, double layer filter in the middle, and are washable, reusable.

Do you think she’ll like them?

 Mike has been working hard on the kitchen patio and has all of the stones laid. Sometimes he begs me to help him but I steadfastly refuse.

“Peg! Why’re you so mean to that man!” you wanna know. “You always tell us what a good husband he is!”

He is but it doesn’t have anything to do with meanness. Mike can do the work by himself but just doesn’t want to.

He moans and he groans and he says his back hurts.

“Take lots of breaks!” I tell him.

“But it’ll go faster if you help,” he continues.

“Exactly!” I say and disappear.

I don’t care if he works on it for twenty minutes or a few hours a day. I don’t care if it takes a week or a month or three to finish. Once it’s done it’s back to the recliner for Mike. He’s not interested in making bird houses or anything else for that matter. I’ve been after him for a long time to get a hobby, something he can do by himself.

I watched one day as he carefully funneled sand between the cracks in the stones. I thought about it and thought about it and finally couldn’t hold my tongue anymore. “Wouldn’t it be easier to just dump the sand out and work it between the stones with the broom?”

Why don’t you do it then? I heard him say in my head and quickly added, “But hey! If that’s the way you wanna do it, it’s way okay with me!”

Once the sand was down, Mike sprayed it with water...

...and worked it around with a broom. 

He didn’t pester me to help so I sat with him for a while.

When Mike sat down to rest his back, ole Mr. Smudge came to inspect his work. I guess I shouldn’t call Smudge old. At four he’s in the prime of his life.

  

It was while we were sitting there visiting that this wasp lands beside me on my caterpillar house.

This is a Potter Wasp and she’s got some kind of caterpillar that she’s gonna take back to her burrow and entomb with one of her eggs. Once the egg hatches, it’ll have its first meal sitting right there waiting for it.

Mike wanted to pour a concrete bumper on top of the stones and against the house. I did help him do that because it would’ve been much too hard for him to do on his own. You can see part of it on the lower left of the photo. We only poured two bags of concrete and have more to do.

“What’s it for?” you ask.

Mike thinks it will help keep mice and cold winter winds from working their way into the kitchen. I don’t argue when he wants to do things he thinks will improve the house.

I really really love the patio. Especially knowing how hard it was for Mike to do on his own and how much pain it caused him to build it.

“It’s something you can be proud of,” I told him.

“I hate it,” he says.

“Why!?”

“I’m not a stone man. It’s not level and some of the stones rock.”

“I don’t care. It’s beautiful! And way better than it was!”

I went out on the patio one morning and there Tiger was with a mouse!

Did he catch a mouse? I wondered. Or did Spitfire bring it in?

I looked all around for Spitfire and he wasn’t anywhere in sight. I concluded that Tiger had gotten it and was so proud of him! But now I’m not so sure. I supposed it’s possible that Spitfire brought it in and left it. A fact that was confirmed Saturday night when I went out and found a mouse on my stoop and no cat in sight.

Spitfire.

He’s such a good hunter. There are lots of time I won’t see him but I’ll see evidence of his kills on the patio. Blood spots, poop sacs. It seems like whatever he catches in the night he’ll bring and devour on the patio. Picking up poop sacs and tossing them over the fence so Itsy doesn’t get them are such a lovely way to start the day, don’cha think?

Speaking of Tiger…

He loves to play. Of course he does. He’s very much still a kitten even though he’s getting bigger every day. Smudge is the only one that’ll play with him. I’ve never seen him try to play with Macchiato but he does interact with him. I’ve seen Tiger walk beside him with their sides touching. I’ve seen them share the food bowl. I’ve never seen him be anything other than respectful with Macchiato.

Spitfire discourages play with a solid thump and hiss.

So Smudge is the only one left and he will play with Tiger. It’s just that sometimes Tiger doesn’t know when to quit and Smudge’ll go outside to get away from him.

I suspected Tiger was trying to play with Mr. Mister but this is the first I was able to catch them at it.  

Tiger stalking through the Glads, then pouncing.

Mr. Mister isn’t playing so much as I heard Tiger cry out and run away. He couldn’t’ve been hurt too bad because he kept going back.

Eventually Mr. had enough and left the yard.

 I haven’t been out much to take pictures this week. I’ve been busy making masks.

Oh! That reminds me! I did make cinnamon bread and took it to Pastor along with two dozen masks in varying sizes for the church.

I just thought I’d put that in there as a closer in case you were wondering.

 The asters are getting prettier by the day!

Asters are like a lot of other things. There are all different kinds. Bushy, Showy, Smooth, New England, New York, to name a few. I’d really have to study it to find the exact kind these are.

But I’m pretty sure these are Calico Asters.

 I’d gone out fairly early to get some fresh milkweed leaves for my one remaining caterpillar and found these dew-covered asters growing in the milkweed patch. And, once again, I like both these pictures so you get to see two.

I wasn’t looking for caterpillars and didn’t expect to find any either since the milkweed is almost gone.

 But guess what I did find.

Two more caterpillars!

This one is about the same size as the one in my butterfly house.

And this guy looks big enough to pupate.

I know it’s hard to judge size by my photos so you’ll just have to take my word for it.

 There I was, walking among the milkweed, when I look up and see Mr. Mister watching from the sidelines.

And that reminds me of something else I’d forgotten to tell you.

Mr. Mister and Jerry are two really feral toms. Just showing up one day and never having belonged to any of us.

I say that but I don’t really know that. For many many years our cats were having kittens and they’d just disappear. I supposed they could’ve been kittens from litters past.

Mr. Mister used to whomp on Jerry pretty good sometimes but that’s just the way of two fully functioning toms. And Mr. being the younger, more virile, always seemed to get the best of Jerry.

Well, Jerry’s gone. We don’t know how, and not exactly when either. He’s not been seen since mid-June. It was weeks before either the Robinsons or I missed him. We each assumed he was at the other’s house.

 I had two butterflies born this week. First a female...

 ...then a male on the same day. See his wing spots? The black spots in the middle of his back wing? That’s how you can tell the difference.

I took them out to the flowers to finish drying and the next time I'd looked, they were gone.

It’s not quite fall yet but the leaves are starting to change and fall. This is the first one to appear in my letter blog this season but I bet it won’t be the last. As the season progresses, the colors will get better and better, and I won’t be able to resist taking pictures for you.

 The milkweed pods are starting to open and the seeds taking flight.

 Something really weird happened the other day.

Mike opened his laptop and did updates, which he hadn’t done in a while. He uses my computer a lot since it’s always open and conveniently located.

“Peg,” he calls. “Come and see this picture.”

I hate that! Mike used to do it all the time. Want me to come and look at the picture that came up on the screen when he turned his computer on or ‘woke’ it up. It was a different picture every time so sometimes he’d make me come look several times in any given day. At first, I really enjoyed all the beautiful photographs that came up on the screen but eventually I tired of it.

“No!” I’d say. “I don’t want to!”

“But it’s a pretty picture. I know you’ll like it,” he’d say.

And my heart would soften. I know he only wanted to share something with me that he thought I’d like, so I’d go look.

“Uh-huh,” I’d say and force myself to add, “Very pretty,” or, “Beautiful,” before walking away.

This isn’t something that computers always did. And I didn’t have a computer that did it until I got this one. The pictures are always very pretty.

I don’t know how I got him out of the habit of asking me to come and look but I’m guessing I finally flat-out refused. I was really surprised when he asked me to come and look at it the other day.

“Why?” I grumbled. “It’s not like I took the picture or anything.”

“Maybe,” he says. “Maybe you did.”

I was puzzled. Maybe it just looks like a picture I could have taken. Momma used to tell me all the time that professional photographers didn’t have anything on me. But she loved me. Still does, but now she loves me from heaven.

I got up from my computer and went to look.

Surprise!

“It is my picture!” I exclaimed. “In fact, it’s the very same picture I have as my desktop photo. How did you get it on your computer?”

“I don’t know,” Mike said. “I did an update and when it rebooted, it came up.”

I don’t know much about syncing and file sharing between computers and I don’t know why this is the first time it’s happened. I don’t know what’s changed or who changed it.

 We could really really use some rain. Our pretty little creek is really really low. That’s really really a lot of really reallys!

“I see rocks I haven’t seen in a long time,” Miss Rosie told me.

 Despite the dry spell, our pond still has water in it. That’s very unusual. I could say it’s really really unusual but I figured you’d had your fill of really reallys already. Our pond’s normally dried up by this time of year. I don’t suppose the leaks have sealed themselves.

 I haven’t taken any sunrise or sunset pictures in a while. Sunday morning, I took this one. The moon is high in the sky. Well, it’s high in my picture sky anyway.

Okay. Truth time. I’ve been jibber-jabbering because much like nature abhors a vacuum, I abhor a blank page.

Nonetheless, let’s call this one done!

Watching and Reading

“Peg, what are you watching these days?”

I’m so glad you asked! After finishing Bones, we watched several movies in a row. A couple of them were really good and I’d recommend them. My Spy and Griffin & Phoenix are two that come to mind. After that we watched five seasons of a British Crime drama called DCI Banks. Sometimes it was hard to understand the dialog because of the accent but it didn’t deter us from watching it. Now we’re watching a Canadian drama series called Heartland. When I was cruising for something new to watch and saw Heartland, I remember my mother telling me it was something she liked to watch. Nine seasons are free with your Prime membership. And it’s really good. We end up watching at least three episodes every day.

“What are you reading?”

Another great question! I’ve been getting my books from the library lately. It’s not that I don’t like physical books, I do. But it’s easier to read on my iPad at night rather than have a light on and bother Mike. Not to mention that it has the capability of defining a word for me with just the touch of a finger. Words like nefarious, reticence, limned, remuda, innocuous. Words we don’t use often in casual conversation. How easy (and convenient) is that! I belong to two online libraries; our local one and a larger one out of Philadelphia. Anyone who lives in Pennsylvania is eligible for a free card at the Philly library and they have a much larger selection of online books.

I found myself between books this week. I’d finished one and the one I had on hold wasn’t ready yet. Depending on how many people are in queue ahead of you determines how long you have to wait for a book.

What to read next? I mused. Then I remembered a conversation I had with my siblings early last month.

“I finished Clan of the Cave Bear series and took a couple of days to see what I wanted to read next. I decided on Brotherhood of War series by W.E.B. Griffin. I read till 4 this morning,” my handsome brother David said.

“Is this your second time reading Clan of the Cave Bear?” I wanted to know. “If you're liking Brotherhood of War so much, I'll have to check it out. Right now, I'm reading Irene Hannon.”

“I read Clan of the Cave Bear 3,4,5 times,” David said. “I’ll let it rest for a year or more and then reread it. This is the 3rd or 4th time for the Brotherhood of War series. I like to reread some books.”

Patti, my beautiful older sister replied, “I’ve read all of W. E. B. Griffin books.”

They must be good, I thought and checked out this W.E.B. Griffin. He’s kinda famous and I’ve never heard of him.

William Edmund Butterworth III (November 10, 1929 – February 12, 2019), better known by his pen name W. E. B. Griffin, was an American writer of military and detective fiction with 59 novels in seven series published under that name. 21 of those books were co-written with his son, William E Butterworth IV. He also published under 11 other pseudonyms and three versions of his real name (W. E. Butterworth, William E. Butterworth, and William E. Butterworth III), Wikipedia says and lists all of his works.

I searched the online library and they had 50 of his books. The first in the series Brotherhood of War was available and I borrowed it.

I kinda sorta knew that this book wasn’t going to be my cup of tea.

Sorry David.

Right off the bat the author starts talking military talk. PzKwIV tanks. M4A2 Sherman’s. A lot of what I read was sentences like this: He was dressed in olive-drab shirt and trousers, with a yellow piece of parachute silk wrapped around his neck as foulard. He carried a World War 1 Colt New Service .45 ACP revolver in an old-fashioned cavalry-style holster (one with a swivel, so the holster would hang straight down even when mounted).

The guard at the door to the CP carried a Thompson .45 caliber submachine gun.

Okay. Maybe describing the accouterments of war in such detail is essential to the novel — and trust me, he did a lot of it — but I don’t have a background in the military like David does and found it…boring.

“Peg, you should give it a chance!” you say.

I did. I gave it 28 pages. How many pages should you give a book before you decide to read it or give it up? A good question and one I Googled.

If you’re fifty years of age or younger, give a book fifty pages. If you’re over fifty, which is when time gets even shorter, subtract your age from 100—the result is the number of pages you should read before making your decision to stay with it or quit.

Well, some days I feel like I’m 72 but according to this formula I quit eleven pages too soon.

Unlike my handsome brother, I seldom read books a second time. Not that I didn’t enjoy them, more like there’s so much else out there to read!

I went with David’s other favorite. Clan of the Cave Bear. It’s been more than 30 years since I’ve read the series so I borrowed that — and read more than 60 pages that first night. It was after midnight when I quit; eyes so dry and blurry I couldn’t read any more. And I’m really enjoying reading it again.

 Speaking of old…

Mike and I have been playing with the same deck of Skip-Bo cards for more than a year — two, maybe three even! We’ve played with this particular deck for a long time and we play, on average, three games a day. One after each of our meals. Since Patti gave me Momma’s deck when she passed, we finally decided it was time to trash the old ones. I don’t think we’ll ever tire of playing this game.

“Peg, what’re the stats?” you wanna know.

Since I’ve been tracking wins and losses almost two years ago, we’ve played 1,978 games. Mike wins the most and has won 1,352 of them. He’s pretty lucky. After all, he has me, doesn’t he?

Oh! Speaking of Mike and lucky…

“Peg, look at this.” Mike was at my computer and I was washing dishes.

I dried my hands and went to look — and had to look twice!

 Don’t laugh but this could’ve been a picture of Mike. He’s done this. A ladder on a metal roof, fixing an antenna, with a power line running nearby.

We’re just gonna slip a little bad news right in here before we go on with my week.

“What’s going on, Peg?”

Last weekend, Saturday I think, I noticed I hadn’t seen one of our cats for a while. It was very unusual for Anon not to be around. She’s Smudge’s mother, our gray and white feral female. Anon never went far and was always on the kitchen patio for breakfast. At the end of the day, as I crawled in bed, I asked Mike, “When was the last time you saw Anon?”

“I don’t know,” he said.

“She wasn’t at breakfast this morning and I haven’t seen her all day.”
          “Do you think she’s stuck in the garage?” Mike asked.

“I don’t know.” I couldn’t see any reason she would be. There’s a cat door. And if she’d’ve been stuck she’d’ve meowed and I’d’ve heard her.

I know right! That’s a lot of triple contractions! Not legal, but it’s kinda the way I talk.

I should’ve known better than to bring something like that up at night. Mike got out of bed and checked the garage. She wasn’t there. He went out front and called her. He went out back and called. Then, just for good measure, he went out front again. No Anon. But I did have a worried Mike all night.

The next morning, no Anon.

Later, in the afternoon, while out gathering milkweed for my caterpillars, I got a whiff of dead. I searched the bank from the yard side and didn’t see anything. I went in and got Mike and we took the golf cart down the road side of the bank and found her. I’m guessing she was hit by a car. If an animal had killed her she’d’ve been at least partially eaten and she was quite whole and quite skun up. All the hair was missing from her back quarter.

So, our tribe is down by another member this year. First Molly, then Ginger, and now Anon.

Sigh.

But at least I’ve got this handsome guy to lavish my love on and play fetch with.

Tiger is about four months old now and old enough to be neutered. We went through our local cat rescue to have it done. They only charge fifty buck-a-roos whereas the vet charges almost two hundred clams!

We had to have Tiger in Meshoppen by 8:30 Tuesday morning. Mike makes me crazy sometimes.

“What time do you want to leave by?” I asked him.

“7:30?”

“An hour! We can be in Tunkhannock in 25 minutes.” Meshoppen is about halfway to Tunkhannock.

“How about a quarter to eight?”

“I was thinking eight o’clock.”

In the end we left a little before eight. Tiger rides well as long as we let him ride in Ginger’s car seat and not confine him to the carrier.

When it came time to pick him up, we left even earlier. “Maybe she’ll be back early and we can get home in time to watch the evening news,” Mike said.

I didn’t argue.

We were there really early. There was one other car waiting and she’s one of the workers at the shelter. We parked and took to watching traffic pass by on the busy Route 6.

Pretty soon another car rolled in. The guy got out and was talking with the lady.

“Do you think it’s her husband?” we speculated.

“I don’t know,” I said and snapped a picture.

I zoomed in and had to laugh. “I don’t know what he’s telling her but she’s not buying it!” I turned the camera around and showed Mike.

 Paula, the lady who took a car load of cats to be fixed, was late getting back by about ten minutes so we left the house early for nothing. Mike still missed the news.

On the way home Tiger rode in the center cat seat. I reached over and stroked his face. He closed his eyes and rested his head in my hand.

“He probably didn’t rest at all,” I said. “Can you image being in that car with all those meowing cats?” I felt sorry for Paula. “But maybe she’s used to it.”

Going up a hill we pass this guy. Living here, in this part of the country, with so much well drilling going on, we see some interesting cargo being transported.

“How many axles were on that truck?” Mike asked.

“I don’t know.”

Mike wanted to see the truck again so we pulled over at the gas station once we got back into town.

Tiger was quiet the rest of that night but the next day he was back to his old self, pestering his older brother Smudge.

Another day we were stopped at the end of our road when this passes us by.

I’ve been making face masks. I couldn’t find any elastic for the ear pieces at the stores but I was able to order a hundred-yard roll on Amazon and got it in three days. Now I’m all set. I’ve got plenty of material. Plenty of elastic. Plenty of coffee filters to put between the fabric. Plenty of time — if I don’t work on my other craft projects. The next thing I’ll have to get is another pack of needles. Sometimes, when I’m zigzagging across the nose wire, I’ll hit the wire. I’m not doing too bad though. I’ve only done it twice. But I only had a four-pack of needles. So, I’ll have to get more of those and more thread. I don’t even try to match colors. Black goes with everything. And all of the masks are reversible. It’s like getting two masks in one.

Mike is still working on the kitchen patio. His back can’t take too much at a time so he takes lots of breaks to rest. And I encourage that. We’re not on anyone’s payroll or timetable. It’ll get done when it gets done. And I think it’s looking fabulous!

And that’s pretty much all the news from my corner of the world. But it’s not the end of pictures. How about some bugs first, then we’ll do wildflowers.

This guy, with a pretty orange and black underwing is called — what else! — an Underwing Moth.

I was trying really hard to get a picture of him for you but he was really wiggly. As soon as I let the pressure off — poof! — he was gone in a cloud of moth feathers.

It’s believed that the bright colors of the underwing resemble the eyes of a predatory animal, such as a cat. During the day this moth is well camouflaged on a tree trunk or branch. When he’s disturbed he’ll suddenly flash open the hindwings. A bird or other small predator that’s not used to this display might be frightened, allowing the moth to escape. Unlike other bright-colored moths which are bad-tasting or even poisonous to predators, underwing moths are tasty to some birds like the Blue Jay. And to help with nighttime predators such as bats, these moths can hear pretty well.

I found this moth on a milkweed leaf. I don’t know what he is and I haven’t spent much time looking for his name either. There are so many moths out there I could search for hours and never find him. But he’s interesting looking, isn’t he.

Now this one I did post on the bug page on Facebook. For one very good reason. I thought he was a little walking stick but he flew! Do walking sticks fly? I didn’t think so but it turns out there are a few who do. This guy, however, is not a walking stick. He’s a Thread-legged bug, one of the assassin bugs. He’s got front legs like a praying mantis and can grasp his food while he consumes it.

Speaking of praying mantises!

I found three of them in my milkweed patch. They’re waiting for a Monarch to land to lay her eggs then he’ll nab her.

 This guy had his back to me. I tapped his backside and he turned and looked at me. I laughed and took his picture. Is it any wonder they made a sci-fi movie featuring a giant one of these? They’re pretty scary looking.

 I found several of these guys lurking around the milkweeds too. The daddy long legs or Harvestmen Spider. We’ve talked about them before. They’re not poisonous and can’t bite you.

I’ve never seen this one before and was surprised to learn it’s a vetch. I guess I shouldn’t be since the leaves do remind me of Crown Vetch. This is Cow Vetch. It’s in the pea family and is mostly used for fodder or ground cover.

 I think I have Mike trained.

We were out for a golf cart ride on our dirt back roads when we cross the bridge across our pretty little creek.

“Did you see that purple flower?” he asked and I had to smile.

“No.

What was it?”

“I don’t know.”

Since he spotted a flower for me, I couldn’t very well not take its picture. Some of you may recognize the Morning Glory also called Creeping Jenny and Field Bindweed.

The powdered root and whole flowering plant are used for treating fever, urinary tract problems, constipation, and for increasing bile production.

The flowers and young shoots can be eaten.

A green inch worm on Evening Primrose.

I was looking at this pretty statue of a dog in someone’s yard, thinking how life-like it looked. Then his head moved.

I laughed.

“What?” Mike asked.

 “That dog was sitting so still I thought it was a statue.”

Mike looked and the dog’s head followed as we went past.

“How’d they get the head to move like that?” he joked.

Once I download the pictures to my ‘puter I can see he has a shock collar on. That explains why he didn’t even bother with us.

A couple of pictures of the Walker Farm.

“What are those things on the fence?” I asked.

“They’re to tighten the wires,” Mike answered. “See? There’s one of every wire.”

“I guess I didn’t know they left them on the wire.”

This is Gray Dogwood. The nectar and pollen of the flowers attract a wide variety of insects. The leaves are eaten by many moth caterpillars. The berries are eaten by all kinds of critters. Bears, skunks, and squirrels to name a few. The dense thickets provide nesting sites and cover for birds.

Gray Dogwood has a few medicinal uses. It was used as a wash for cuts, toothaches, and hemorrhoids.

The Indians smoked shredded bark for ceremonial purposes.

 The old house has fallen a little more every time I see it.

“We should get one of those old windows or a door,” I said hopefully.

“Uh, no,” Mike was quick to say. “You just can’t go in there and take stuff.”

“Why not? No one cares about it.”

“It’s not safe,” he pointed out.

 I saw this one as we went past.

“Hey! I think that was Turtlehead. Back up, would ya?”

Mike is a good husband and backed up for me.

It is Turtlehead! I was lucky to have spotted the solitary plant.

 Turtlehead, also called Balmony, Shellflower, Snakehead, Snakemouth, Turtlebloom, Bitterweed, Fishhead, and Fishmouth, is very bitter so it’s not edible but it has many uses in holistic medicine.

As we go on down the road I start to spot more and more Turtlehead. We’re passing through the Sate Game Lands and there’s a big long stretch of Turtlehead.

“If I’d’ve known there was going to be more, I wouldn’t’ve made you back up!”

The beavers have dammed up the culvert again. I wonder how long it’ll be till the game wardens bust it apart again.

Deptford Pink with the pretty orange of Spotted Jewelweed in the background. I’m not sure what the other purple flower is.

I’ve never seen this one before either. This is Common Snowberry.

Brooms were made out of the branches and the twigs were hollowed out to make pipe stems.

In folk medicine the berries were rubbed on the skin for burns, rashes, and sores.

A decoction of the roots and stems was used in the treatment of the inability to urinate, venereal diseases, tuberculosis, and the fevers associated with teething sickness. A tea made from the roots was as used to clear up afterbirth.

 An Aster.

Moth Mullein. It comes in yellow or white like this one.

And this is the Virgin’s Bower after it’s gone to seed. Kinda pretty, ain’t it.

I went to put letters in the mailbox and see my Kipps going down the road on their morning walk.

I love the Kipps.

“HEY KIPPS!” I yell.

They turned and waved.

Who knew there were so many kinds of dogwood!

This is the Silky Dogwood. It’s uses are very similar to the Gray Dogwood.

 And with that let’s…

“Whoa! Peg! Wait just a minute!” you say. “You haven’t told us how your Monarchs are doing this week!”

That’s right. I didn’t.

Okay.

So, I had this female born first. She has a bad spot on her wing.

I thought she was just missing a little color but it’s slightly deformed too. It didn’t stop her from flying though.

Later in the week I had another female.

 The next day I had a third butterfly born.

The butterflies usually emerge in the early part of the day. I guess that gives their wings a chance to dry. I’ll check the butterfly house three, four, six times during the morning. This one was born after I’d stopped checking as often and by the time I saw her she was fully dry and rarin to go. I couldn’t get a hold of her so this picture, as she took her maiden flight, is the only one I have of her.

I say her but I can’t tell for sure which sex it is.

 I lost another chrysalis. The chrysalis had a hole in it like a fly or bee maggot may have emerged but I didn’t find it in the bottom of the house so I don’t know what it was.

Right now, I have two caterpillars left and seven chrysalises.

 Don’t forget, y’all are in my heart.

And now, let’s call this one done!