Listen

 

Listen to me.

Listen and hear what I have to say.

If you don’t agree with me, I will be sad, but I know that’s the way it’s supposed to be and it’s okay. Just give me a few minutes of your time.

First off, you know I love you. I tell my morning peeps that every day. So it is with love that I want to tell you this.

Many of you know I’m a Christian. I follow the teachings of the Bible and Jesus Christ. No, not perfectly. No one is perfect except the Lord. But I try. And when I fail, I repent. Repenting isn’t just asking for forgiveness, although it is that. Repenting is turning from your sin and doing it no more. Changing your mind and changing your actions.

“Peg, just because you think it’s a sin doesn’t mean I do,” you say.

I know, right! But it’s not me that says it’s a sin. It’s the Book that teaches us Basic Information Before Leaving Earth.

“So, what brings this on?” you wanna know.

A short video popped up on my Facebook newsfeed. A two-year-old points up and says, “He’s coming! Abba up! The King is coming! Bring me a present!”

It gave me goosebumps.

“...your sons and your daughters shall prophesy,” says Joel 2:28

“Peg, that video is eight years old!” you say.

I know, but “...one day is with the Lord as a thousand years, and a thousand years as one day,” says 1Peter 3:8

So, knowing that, eight years may be only a blip on God’s radar.

I always thought I’d have lots of time to keep dropping little seeds of Truth in my letter blogs. Now I realize I may not have as much time as I thought I did.

I try, mostly, to fly under the radar. To not rock the boat. I don’t want to alienate anyone, and I don’t want to shove my religion down anybody’s throat. Although, I have to tell you, the world doesn’t extend the same courtesy to me. Walking down the aisle of the store, hearing bits and pieces of conversations, every other word a cuss word, with no regard to whomever may be in earshot and offended. Turn on the TV and I’m bombarded with the lies of the world. Open a book and there it is again. They say I have to believe what they believe or I’m intolerant. Who’s intolerant?

Flying under the radar, not rocking the boat, is not what God wants any of His followers to do. He wants us to be loud and proud! He wants us to spread His word and He wants you to hear the truth. He wants you to stop following the crowd! And most of all, He wants us to join Him in heaven when we leave this world.

So, I’m asking you. Do you know where you will go when you die?

I could say so much more. If your heart is open, if you want to hear more, I’m here. I’ll try to answer your questions and if I don’t know the answer, we’ll find it together.

If you think it’s all rubbish, then I’ve said enough. But know this. It saddens me deeply that you are missing out on the greatest gift ever given, eternal life in Jesus Christ.

Shadow Grasses

           I’m calling this week Shadow Grasses not because there’s a grass with that name and not because of the shadow grasses cast but because it’s both things I want to talk about this week; my shadow and grasses.

          Raini is my little shadow. As time passes, I see her getting more and more attached to me. Even when we’re walking about outside of the fenced yard, she doesn’t go more than a minute before she comes back to check on me.

          I had Raini out this past week and I was noticing all the varieties of grass and I started taking pictures.

          I don’t know my grasses and since it’s already Sunday afternoon, I’m not going to take the time to research them. I thought they were beautiful.

          Buts and —err, rather, bugs and wildflowers are more my jam. Funny how changing one letter can change the whole word. My fingers are on auto pilot while I’m writing. I just think a word and let my fingers type it out. I’ve been doing this so long I don’t even have to think about where the letters are on the keyboard or how to spell it. As you can see, from the start of this, my fingers sometimes anticipate a word before I think it.

          While on a walkabout with Raini, I spot this guy and I do know what he is. He’s a Golden-backed Snipe Fly.

          Then I spot this guy. I always try to take a picture when I first see them because I may not get another chance.

          In this case, this Little Wood Satyr followed us on our walkabout and he sat for a better portrait.

          These are the tiny little flowers of Bedstraw.

          This is a wild rose.

          This is a sedge grass called Bottlebrush.

          This is another instance of taking a photo fast because I may not get another chance.

          Then I did!

          This strange looking insect is in the Ichneumonidae family.

They’re a parasitic wasp, capturing their prey and sealing them in with their larvae as their first meal.

This is a geometer moth.

           Raini comes to check on me then she’s off again. She’s not a very big dog and swims in the sea of grasses.

          Silky Dogwood is blooming.

           This is another sedge grass.

          “What are you looking at mom?” and Raini sniffs the beetle I was trying to flip over.

          I’m pretty sure this is a wild lettuce plant.

          At the pond and my shadow is checking on me as I take pictures of another sedge grass.

A Red-spotted Purple Butterfly. No second chances at him.

      Cedar-apple Rust after a rain.

     

                   Black Medic.

          I love the Oxeye Daisy! Such a simple, unassuming flower.

                    Raini comes to check on me. “Are you okay, Mom?” 

          “Mom?”

          Another sedge called Blunt Spikerush.

Plantain is blooming.

             And so is the Herb Robert.

This wildflower has been used in the folk medicine as a treatment for diarrhea, to improve functioning of the liver and gallbladder, for toothache and nosebleeds, and is useful in healing wounds.        

Freshly picked leaves have an odor resembling burning tires when crushed and if you rub it on your body, the smell is said to repel mosquitoes.

Raini walked right past this little Ribbon Snake and never saw it. Since I didn’t want her to kill it, I didn’t tell her about it.

          The Mountain Laurel is blooming at the Kipps'. 

          It’s blooming other places as well but I took this picture in the Kipps’ yard.

          Speaking of the Kipps...

          We were visiting with them on the front porch when Raini got her leash wrapped around an iron chicken roosting on the step above where I was standing, leaning against the rail. She pulled it over and right into my shin.

          OUCH!

          I ended up with a knot the size of a goose egg on my shin and almost two weeks later it’s still there, only smaller. And talk about tender! I didn’t realize how much Raini brushed against or leaned against my legs until it caused a burst of pain every time she did it.

          Raini plays ball like a boss! She asks me to play first thing in the morning as I’m stumbling to get out of bed. And she'll play as many times a day as she can get me to toss the ball for her.

          It’s her job, I realized one day. Heelers love to have a job to do. It’s her job to get the ball and bring it back to me.  

          And jump! Oh! My! Goodness! Raini loves to jump and she can jump pretty high, too.

          Sometimes my pitches go astray. If it goes over the roof ridge, it gets stuck on the long flat part on the other side and I have to climb up on the roof.

          Sometimes it comes down on the side and gets stuck in the valley created by the chute.

          Raini comes back to me without the ball and whines. Since I didn’t hear the ball hit the ground, I already knew what happened.

          “Uh-oh!” I say and Raini leads the way to where the ladder is propped against the wall on the patio. I never take it back to the garage anymore since I use it so often. In this case I don’t need to climb up on the roof. I get the ladder and Raini leads the way back to where she knows the ball is. I lean the ladder against the chute and use a stick to push the ball off the other side.

          Raini supervises.

          Sometimes, the things Raini does surprises me.

          I buy frozen soup bones for the girls. I might only give them one a week. This week, I looked at Raini and asked, “Do you want a bone?”

          What surprised me was Raini turned, trotted to the fridge, stopped, and looked up at the freezer door. She knew!

          And this is what happens to a little girl when she sits under where Mom’s sanding a board!

          There was an awful lot of squawking going on out at the bird feeders one day. Upon investigation, I see it was a baby Purple Finch crying for food. I stood at the kitchen window and took a bunch of shots as the baby got fed.

          “What are you working on?” you ask.

          I just finished a porch sign for Miss Rosie. My old friend in West Virginia suggested Sweet Summer instead of Hello Summer like I was going to do.

          And, by the way, I want to thank everyone who gave me input on making signs. I may not always do what you suggest but I always do appreciate your ideas.

          “Which side should I show her first?” I asked Mike.

          “Fourth of July. It’s the side I like best.”

          And I like the summer side better. Nothing says summer to me like finches, Queen Ann’s Lace, and Bull Thistle.

          The thing I like best about making gifts for Miss Rosie is I get to make what I want to make. Miss Rosie always has the option to refuse a sign — or anything else I make her, for that matter. If she doesn’t like the looks of this one, I’ll make her a different one.

          But she loves the sign.

          “Which side do you like best?” I asked, thinking for sure she’d pick the side I like.

          “I think the Fourth of July side,” she said.

          Mike smirked like the Cheshire Cat. “It’s more colorful,” he said.

 

          I was playing ball with Raini before bed one night. I looked over at the soft glow of the porch light in the early evening and thought how warm and inviting it looked.

          You probably just think some old mountain man and his woman lives here.

          Let’s call this one done!

         

Updates

           I left you last time with Mike’s injured shoulder and a whole bunch of untold stories and a bunch of unshown pictures.

           This time I have an update on Mike as well as more pictures and stories. The only problem is I don’t know where to begin or how much to skip!

          “Peg! How do you eat an elephant?” you say.

          I know, right! One bite at a time.

          Mike called the doctor’s office on Monday. “I hurt my shoulder and had to go to the ER Saturday night.” We thought he’d get right in.

“Michelle can see you Thursday,” the receptionist said.

          “Never mind,” Mike said. He thought he’d be better by then.

          The regular receptionist was on vacation and they had a substitute. She must’ve said something to someone because she called back telling Mike to come in that afternoon.

          Michelle, Mike’s PA (physician’s assistant) didn’t think the fracture had anything to do with his pain. She thought it likely he tore a tendon or ligament but it wasn’t completely detached. She wanted Mike to have an MRI but would have to jump through a bunch of hoops in order for insurance to pay for it.

          “It’d be better for orthopedics to put the order in, then they don’t question it,” she said. “If your pain gets worse or you need more pain meds, call me — and use the sling they gave you at the ER!”

          Mike hated the sling so wasn’t using it.

          Walking us to checkout, Michelle asked the temporary receptionist to make an appointment with orthopedics in Sayre, said goodbye to us, and went back to work.

Orthopedics couldn’t see him for sixteen days.

          “Won’t it be better by then?” I asked my oldest and much-adored sister.

          “Not necessarily,” Patti said. “When I tore my rotator cuff, it hurt like a bitch and took months to heal.”

          That made me feel a little better about having to wait so long. But I had it in the back of my mind to send Michelle a note on the Guthrie website and tell her how far out the appointment was.

          I’ll tell you what. If you don’t use the website set up by your medical group, you’re missing out. On the site we can see all past and future appointments, who they’re with, where they are, after visit summaries, doctor’s notes, test results, and x-rays. You can also send and receive messages from your care providers. It’s pretty handy.

          Michelle could get Mike in to orthopedics sooner, if she thought it was necessary.

          With everything going on, the only time I thought about sending her a message was when I wasn’t in a position to do so! OY!

          Long about Wednesday, Mike counted out the remaining pain pills.

          “I won’t have enough to get me through the weekend,” he said and called Michelle’s office for a refill.

          They had a lot of questions about how much and how often Mike was taking the Percocet but they did refill the prescription.

          I’m guessing that asking for a refill sent up a flag that Michelle saw and when she saw his orthopedic appointment was so far out, she made a call, and we got a call.

          “They can see you in orthopedics in Sayre tomorrow at nine,” the temp said.

          That afternoon we made a trip to Tunkhannock to pick up the Percocet refill. On the back way out of the parking lot, I came face-to-face with this.

          “What are the crosses up there for?” I asked Mike.

          “Where?” he asked, paying more attention to where he was driving than the scenery around him.

          I pointed out the building to him, but by then we were close enough I could make a guess on my own.

          “To keep the bricks from falling,” he answered.

          All I could think of was the building that collapsed in Davenport.

          I’ve often seen a hawk sitting in this dead tree, hunting in the field. Now there’s a building going up there. Do you think he’ll hunt there anymore?

          The next day we saw Gabe, a PA for an orthopedic surgeon. He could see that Mike has arthritis in his shoulder as well as the old fracture.

“That could’ve happened anytime from when you were...” he paused, thinking of a number. “... eighteen, up until a few years ago.”

          “In 1969, I was in a motorcycle accident that killed my friend who was with me and they thought I wouldn’t live either,” Mike said. “They even called my brother home from Vietnam.”

          Gabe started nodding. “It very well could’ve been from then.”

          Gabe examined Mike and could tell there was swelling. He checked Mike’s range of motion. “I’ll give you a steroid shot right in the shoulder and we’ll see if it gets better on its own. I don’t think it’s going to need surgery but if it gets worse, let me know and we’ll get an MRI to see exactly what’s going on.”

           Officially, he’s calling it tendonitis, inflammation of the tendon. He doesn’t want Mike to take Percocet or use the sling unless he absolutely has to. “You don’t want your shoulder to get frozen,” Gabe said. “That will create a whole new set of problems you don’t even want to deal with. Use your arm, but if it hurts, stop!” And he prescribed physical therapy.

          Knowing what’s going on relieves a lot of anxiety — and the steroid shot relieves a lot of the swelling and pain.

          What do you say we go back two weeks and look at some of the stuff sitting in my file that I wanted to share with you.

          Let's begin with a sunset picture. It’s not all reds and oranges but I thought it was still pretty.

          The Kipps' pretty Rhododendron.

This is Birdsfoot Trefoil. It’s used in agriculture as a forage plant, grown for pasture, hay, and silage. It’s a high-quality forage plant that doesn’t cause bloat in ruminants such as cows and sheep.

In folk medicine it was diluted and used for anxiety, insomnia, and exhaustion.

          When you see this mound of foamy spit, you can be sure there’s a little guy inside called a froghopper. In the nymph stage, most people call them spittlebugs. They use the foamed-up plant sap to keep them hidden from predators as well as insulation from heat and cold and to keep them from drying out.

This is yellow salsify, also called goat's-beard, or oysterplant. You can eat the basal leaves raw or cooked and the root, when cooked, is said to taste like oysters.

When these flowers go to seed, they look just like giant dandelions.

This is sorrel, also called sourgrass and false shamrocks.

Wood sorrel (a type of oxalis) is an edible wild plant that’s been eaten around the world for millennia. Native Americans chewed wood sorrel to alleviate thirst on long trips, cooked it with sugar to make a dessert, used it to alleviate mouth sores and sore throat, and ate wood sorrel to help with cramps, fever, and nausea.

My iris is blooming. Miss Helen, an elderly lady that I used to help, gave me a bunch of iris bulbs and I planted them all over around here. When they bloom, I think of her.

This particular bunch I planted in the flower bed next to the house.

“It won’t bloom because it doesn’t get enough sun,” I told my beautiful friend Jody the last time she was here for a visit. So I was surprised when they did bloom.

And now they look like this. A casualty of playing ball with Raini.

          My Chinese Lanterns are blooming. My best old friend in West Virginia even has lanterns on hers.

          This is Yellow Hawkweed also called Devil’s Paintbrush.

          Here, in the dog run where I mow around them, they grow tall. Out where Mike mows, they only come up an inch or two before they bloom. I have a few of the Orange Hawkweed around here, too.

I love the Oxeye Daisies. Here’s a conjoined twin. I don’t know that I’ve ever seen this before.

Unopened flower buds can be marinated and used in a similar way to capers. The opened flowers can be dried and used in tea.

The last wildflower I’ll show you this week is the invasive and evil Multiflora Rose. The thorns are what is so wicked about them but they do have the beautiful rose scent. You can use the rose hips to make tea which is high in vitamin C. The best time to harvest the hips is after the first frost because they become soft and sweet. If they’re not soft and sweet, leave them on the bush until they are. To make the tea, mash the rose hips and steep in hot water. Rose leaves and flower petals can both be eaten raw but pick the leaves when young, before they develop thorns on the underside.

Something else I want to update you on is my accidentally formatted external storage device. I got it back this week.

Jerry, of Calaman’s Computer, gave me a bit of advice.

“Peg, it might seem like a good idea to have all your photos in one place, but on the downside, and as you’ve found out, if you lose it, you lose everything! You’d be better off to get yourself a whole bunch of one terabyte units and back them up that way.”

Jerry is a firm believer in Western Digital.

“It fails a whole lot less than Seagate,” he told me.

And I now own two LARGE Seagate storage devices.

Jerry thinks he got all my files back for me. He restored more than 660,000 files. The only problem is they are all now in one file whereas I had them sorted by year, month, and day.

“At least the dates will be on the photos,” I said thinking that would help.

Jerry shook his head. “I don’t think it reclaimed any of the information, just the picture itself.” He opened it on his computer and clicked on properties. No dates. “You’ll just have to sort them into files according to what they are. Like flowers, or dogs or whatever,” he suggested.

I can’t cry about what I haven’t got; I need to be thankful for what I do have.

I got it home and started looking at it on my computer and discovered my program does show me the dates the photos were taken.

That’s the good news.

The bad news is there are a whole bunch of files on there that I can’t open. There are more than 10,000 EXE files. Executable files aren’t independent files. They have to be associated with a file or program to do their job. I deleted all of those. Then I see I have a whole bunch of zipped files. I don’t know what they are and I can’t open them — yet. I haven’t been able to spend much time working on it.

“What have you been doing‽” you ask.

Well, for one thing, I finished a commissioned treasure box — and with everything else going on, I forgot to take pictures. So I can’t show you that one.

But I can show you another treasure box I made as an early birthday gift for my beautiful little sister Phyllis. This is a different design box than the ones I’ve been making.

Most of the stuff I make I use molds. But I’m super proud of the octopus because he’s all me. No mold. And I made all the clay for this box, too, all except for the ring in the dragon’s mouth. That was store-bought clay. I don’t know why I switched.

Phyllis loves it and all of the goodies I sent along with it. She laughed when she opened the box and found that’s where I’d packed the sugar cookies. I had to make use of every space I could because I packed a lot of different things in there for her.

          I love garage sales — but I don’t need a thing! However, when your friends are hosting a sale as a cancer fundraiser, you go, and you spend money.

          Mike took me and one of the things I picked up was this flower press that someone had taken the time and talent to make.

          “I don’t think anyone’s going to buy this,” one of the gals said as she pulled it out of a box.

          We opened it up and there were pressed flowers inside.

“I’ll take it,” I said. “How much?”

          “How about a dollar?” Linda suggested.

          “Sure. I’ll give you a dollar for it.”

          “What are you going to do with it?” she wanted to know.

          I could press flowers but I have a new and better one that Momma got for me. “I can take the flowers and make a suncatcher with them,” I told her.

          I picked up a bag with a dozen wooden paddles in them. Miss Rosie is always looking for unusual things to paint on.

          And I got three old horseshoes to hang on my fence.

          “They’re not real horseshoes,” Mike said. “They’re for playing horseshoes with.”

          “Make sure you hang them the right way,” Miss Rosie said when I told her I’d bought them. “Did you see anything I might be interested in?”

          “They had so much stuff! And they were still unpacking when I was there.”

          I hadn’t planned on going back but if the Kipps were going to go, maybe I’d ride along and see what other treasures were pulled from boxes. I called Miss Rosie back.

          “Are you guys gonna go out to the sale?” I asked.

          “Lamar and I thought we’d go up after we got our haircuts this afternoon,” Miss Rosie said.

          “Would you mind if I ride along?” I asked.

          “Not if you don’t mind waiting while we get our haircuts,” she replied.

          I didn’t.

          When we got to Jan’s in New Albany, Lamar got the chair first. I chatted with Rosie while we waited. When he was done, Lamar and I took a walk around town. He showed me places and shared memories of his childhood. He should write a memoir. He’s got some very interesting stories to tell.

          We made a circuit around a couple of blocks or so and ended up outside the salon.

          “I’ll go see if she’s done,” Lamar said.

          When he came out, he came out without Rosie but with her purse. I laughed.

          It reminded me of the time our youngest and very handsome son Kevin had gone to Margaret’s car to get her purse for her. Margaret is one of our oldest and dearest friends, not to mention that she’s a very attractive and stately-looking woman. If I had my old pictures, I could probably find a picture for you. It happened during an event where they were running a food stand in the parking lot of our old business to benefit the Lion’s Club.

          Kevin came across the parking lot and when he saw he had all our attentions, he did a runway walk, modeling the latest in women’s accessories. He did a great job.

          “My masculinity isn’t threatened because I carry a purse,” he said when he got to us.

          I used that line now on Lamar.

          “Your masculinity isn’t threatened because you carry a purse, is it?” and I grinned.

          Lamar is such an easy-going spirit. “Heck no! It doesn’t bother me a bit.”

          It wasn’t long until Miss Rosie joined us. This is such a handsome looking couple, don’cha think?

          We hadn’t gone far when we hit rain. We need rain so bad. Unfortunately, we drove right out of it.

          We crossed the bridge into Monroeton and I saw (and missed) a picture. I really wanted the picture to show you but didn’t want to inconvenience the Kipps by asking them to turn around.

           I can get it the next time I come through here, Methinks.

           How often do you come through here? I ask Myself.

           Hardly ever, Myself answered.

           And while having this conversation in my head, I hear Michael.

          “Why did you wait so long to ask me?”

          And that’s why. I have to debate the merits of asking for a turnaround as opposed to waiting until the next trip through. In the meantime, the road was unfurling under the tires and we were getting farther and farther away.

          “Can we turn around?” I blurted out before I could think about it anymore. “There was a picture I missed.”

          Those sweet, kind Kipps immediately started looking for a place to turn around.

          “You can turn around there,” Miss Rosie pointed to a lot.

          “I was going to go around the block,” Lamar said.

He went around the block.

“How far back?” he asked.

Much to my chagrin, I had to admit, “The whole way back to the bridge. I saw it just after we got off the bridge.”

Then Lamar thought about my hesitation in asking for a turnaround. “Well! You must think we’re meanies!”

          On the side street I saw this interesting yard display. It looks like a wooden man sitting on a plow drawn by two wooden turtles.

          The flagpole messes up the shot but I wasn’t asking for another go-around! 

           And this is what I’d seen and missed snapping a picture of.     

   

          I was glad I’d gone back to the Relay for Life sale. I bought a few more treasures that I didn’t really need.

          Someone had taken insulators and wrapped wire and beads around them. Three were decorated and several more were plain.

          I picked up a couple of hummingbird feeders. One was glass and I just thought it was pretty. The other one had a water well to keep the ants out. 

          I got two plates because they look like flowers already.

          “You could put carrots in one, and celery, and peppers, and some dip in the middle,” Miss Rosie said pointing to each little cup in turn.

          I laughed. “We see how your mind goes! To food! I was thinking paint or beads or just drilling a hole and hanging them the way they are.”

          In the bottom of a box lot I’d bought, I found what look to me like old glass lamp parts. I have a few ideas rattling around in my head on how I can use these, so you’ll have to wait and see if they ever come to fruition.

          Miss Rosie and Lamar found a few treasures of their own.

          Lamar took some different roads on the way home. Being as how he grew up in the area, he knows all the back roads.

          Can you say, “Road pictures!”

          Now, speaking of the Kipps and treasures....  

I was at my favorite thrift store and found a copy of the 1972 Grange Cookbook. This is the best cookbook ever! I have one, as well as some of my siblings do, that our beloved Aunt Marie gifted us. Mine is still in good shape. Of course, the dessert section is food splattered, but other than that, I’m missing the back cover and maybe the last page or two but they’re probably in my recipe box.

          I was surprised when I found out that Miss Rosie uses the very same cookbook, only hers is a mess. She’s used it so long and so well that the pages are separated from the binding and have no semblance of order. She holds the whole thing together with a rubber band and spends more time looking for a recipe than making it!

          Anyway. Not long after I found out what kind of mess her cookbook was in, I found this one, and picked it up for her. Then I got to thinking...

          “Peg! Don’t think!” you say.

          I know, right. I tend to overthink.

          I was thinking that maybe she doesn’t want a new one. Maybe she has an emotional attachment to her old one, like I do!

          Miss Rosie laughed when I said that.

          “No. No, there’s no emotional attachment. I’m so glad to have an all-in-one-piece cookbook. Thank you!” she said.

          This pretty little lady is one of my sisters-in-Christ. We go to the same church. When Annette found out I wanted some rhubarb, she brought me some! And you know me and my camera! I had to capture the moment.

          Annette laughed when she saw me snapping her picture.

          “You know, I used to really hate having my picture taken. But now I’m used to it.”

          She brought me enough rhubarb for a nice full pie. Some people won’t eat rhubarb unless it’s mixed with strawberries. Me? I love rhubarb all on its own! That’s not to say I wouldn’t eat a piece of strawberry rhubarb pie if someone gave me one.

          My pie was good but if I had rhubarb for another pie, I bet I could make it even better. That got me to thinking about Jenny. This beautiful lady is one of our neighbors. I know she has a rhubarb patch so I asked if I could come and get some.

          “The sooner the better,” she told me. “It’s getting to the end.”

          Mike and I went on over to the farm. I was surprised when Jenny came around the corner driving a skid-steer. By the time I got out of the car and around, she was already stepping out of it.

          “Look at you!” I said.

          Her handsome husband joined us. “Oh, yeah. She does it all. And when we see her coming, we get out of the way!” Randy said.

          Jenny gave him a playful slap and we all laughed.

          The rhubarb was getting to the end and I didn’t take too much, only enough for a pie.

          Speaking of food...

          Mike and I really like these little cheesesteaks that we get from Walmart. They’re J.T.M. brand and everything you need is in the bag.

          “You should tell your sister about these,” Mike said.

          “No,” I emphatically said. “Patti likes what she likes and knows where to get the best Philly cheesesteaks. I doubt these would compare to a real one.”

          “They’re pretty good,” Mike said.

          “They are. But you have to also remember that Patti hates to cook.”

          The last time I made them, Mike asked for my phone. I didn’t think anything of it because he often uses my phone to access the internet, since I’m always connected and he isn’t. I was surprised when he called Patti and told her about them.

          Patti listened patiently.

          “Does it have the  sauce?” she asked.

          Nope. No sauce. But it’s got a nice bun that you pop in the oven when you start. By the time you cook the meat and onions and melt the cheese on top, the buns are ready. It comes four sandwiches to a bag and breaks down to about three-fifty a sandwich.

          Patti thanked Mike for thinking of her and said she’d look into them.

          I try to take Raini out, walk her around, and let her dip in the pond. I was watching her and this time she stopped short. She usually dives right in so I was puzzled and snapped a picture. In the picture I can see she’s alerted on a frog in the water. She crept down to the water and when the frog dived, she went in after it.

          In the weeds I spot a black and white moth. I snapped a picture just as he took flight.

          Oh well, I thought, maybe I’ll see him again.

           Little did I know that just the very next day I would be fishing one out of Raini’s rainwater drinking tub. This guy is called a Common Spring Moth. 

          I’ve had an inordinate amount of Yellow Finches at my feeders this year! I mean, it’s just crazy how many finches there’ve been!

          The other day I was sitting at the computer, the door was open to the kitchen patio, and I kept hearing a bird squawking and carrying on. I didn’t really pay much attention to it but it went on and on and ON! Eventually I did get up to see what all the ruckus was about. I looked out the window and there on one of the branches sat a mama finch feeding her wing-flapping, crying baby. By the time I got my camera and went for a picture, my little shadow ran out the door, scaring all the birds away.

          Speaking of Raini, my shadow, she’s very jealous of Bondi. I’ve been trying to assert my dominance over the pack.

          So, there I was, sitting in the chair, bent over, loving on Bondi who was on the floor at my feet. I was scratching her back and cooing love words to her. Raini did NOT like that one bit and kept trying to nose her way between us.

          “Go away,” I told her and gave her a shove. “I can love on Bondi if I want. I’m the boss!”

          Raini gave a pathetic little whine and trotted off.

          Fine.

          A few minutes later, Raini came back with Bondi’s favorite squeaky toy and dropped it in front of Bondi. Raini’s ears were straight up and turned forward as she looked at Bondi then looked down at the toy. Looked up at Bondi and back at the toy. I laughed. I knew what she was trying to do and I bet you do, too! 

          If you think I’m out of pictures and stories, you’d be wrong. But let’s save them for seed. I don’t want to bore you overly much. 

          Let’s end this the same way we started it. With a sunset picture. This one I took from the roof of the house. I like to take Raini out before bed and toss the ball around to tire her out. Sometimes I throw the ball down the length of the yard, at least as far as this old woman can throw it, sometimes I throw it against the building to bounce back at her, and sometimes I toss it on the roof. I got the ball stuck and had to go up for it.

          I know! I know! A 63 almost 64-year-old woman’s got no business climbing a ladder and getting on the roof. But I’m careful and if I hadn’t’ve, you wouldn’t’ve gotten to see this! 

          Remember, you are all in my heart.

          Done!