Catchin' Up

We’ve been home for three weeks now. I spent two of those weeks writing about our vacation and doing little else. My goal for this week’s letter blog is to catch you up on what’s been going on around here these past few weeks.

One of the first things I did when we got home was to unpack the three boxes of stained-glass supplies that my handsome brother-in-law gave me. There were hand tools, tons of patterns, lots of glass, a stand that holds glass, cutting mats, a strip cutter, circle cutter, grinder, and forms to keep your window square. But what I’m most excited about is the glass saw. With a glass saw you can make cuts that are otherwise impossible to make. I don’t know when I’ll have time to play with my toys but I’m thinking it might not be until the snow flies.

I am extremely blessed to have such a kind and generous brother-in-law. But I’m not the only one he gave gifts to. He gave Mike a couple of antique signs. An iron railroad crossing sign and an old yellow stop sign.

Did you know that stop signs were yellow for about 30 years? It was because you could see the yellow equally well at night whereas red was very dark. In the fifties they started putting glass in the paint to reflect light and red became the standard color.

I love getting gifts! But then again, who doesn’t?

My beautiful old West Virginia friend gave me the most awesomest chime ever! I just love it! It’s really heavy and has butterfly cutouts. Mike hung it on my kitchen patio for me.

Speaking of gifts…

I found this in my mail when we got back from our trip.

“What is it?” you ask.

It took me a little bit to figure it out too since there were no instructions in the box. It’s an attachment for a drill that turns it into a saw. There’s a mechanism inside that changes the round and round motion of the drill into the up and down action of a saw. It came with three different saw blades.

“I didn’t order this?” I told Mike.

“I didn’t either,” he said.

“Who could’ve sent it? Patti’s the only one who ever sends me anything,” I said of my oldest and much-adored sister. I called her.

“No. It wasn’t me. The only thing I sent you was the article on the butterflies,” she said.

The article, by the way, is still sitting right here staring at me, waiting for me to have time to really enjoy it.

I have no idea who sent this to me nor do I know why unless it’s a way to cut metal easier than the way I was doing it. I did blog about my woes making ladybugs.

Another day I found a bag with two bouquets of flowers hanging from my front doorknob. The fact that there were two tickled something familiar in my mind but I couldn’t put my finger on it.

“Who could it have been?” we wondered. Our first thought was the Kipps, although I don’t know why they’d get us flowers.

I called but the Kipps weren’t home so it wasn’t them.

“Maybe it was Jody,” I speculated about my beautiful friend.

“Wasn’t me,” she said. “But you have good friends.”

I do indeed.

Then it hit me. I knew who’d done it because he did it once before. One of the guys down at the hunting cabin has become a good friend to us and he always brings me a gift. It used to be sweets but the last time it was two bouquets of flowers. My waistline much prefers the flowers. What with the COVID it’s been more than a year since we’ve seen him and that’s why my mind didn’t go immediately to him. I called and thanked him for the flowers.

“I’ll be here until Sunday so I’ll stop up and visit sometime,” Art said.

I have some thank you notes to write. It might be winter until I get to those, too!

Mike was so very good to let me do my story making over the last few weeks. I’m still three weeks behind, but once I caught up the vacation news, I took a break and helped him in his renovation of the exercise studio.

“Peg, getting up and down off the ladder is hard for me. I’ll pull the boards and you take them,” Mike suggested.

When this place was a sawmill, they didn’t fool with such silly things as insulation. We’ve already had the ceiling done with spray insulation, now we needed to do the walls. Mike pulled the boards and I stacked them.

“Do you think we’ll find any treasures?” I asked.

“Nope,” he answered, but I can always hope.

The only things we did find were birds’ nests, bee hives, and tons of sawdust — some of it a foot thick!

We’re planning on reusing the boards so all of the nails had to be hammered down and pulled.

I’ll tell you what! A day of pulling nails for this girl equals a week of sore elbow and forearm! But I know Mike appreciates the help. His arm hurt, too.

We took the boards to the upper barn until we need them.

Poor Bondi! She likes to be with her people but there was too much stuff for her to get into plus we were working with the door open. It wouldn’t take her any time at all to dash right out the door — in fact, she did! She’s so so very fast! She scooted right past me and into the exercise studio and I never saw her go until she was going out the door!

Bondi is housebroken and has been for about three weeks now. I was hoping she’d give up crying outside the door and go nap someplace, but she wouldn’t. I can’t stand to hear her cry and I didn’t need her running out the door every time I went for a tool, so I resorted to kenneling her while we were working. There were a couple of super nice sunny days that I let her stay out in the dog run. She still cried but I’d stick my head around the corner and talk to her and she settled down and did some sunbathing.

“You know, we could make the run bigger. We could angle it over to include the exercise room door and put a gate in,” Mike suggested. “Then we can let her be with us and not worry about her getting out.”

Mike is a good husband. Despite his efforts and threats to give Bondi away, I know he loves her as much as I do.

We had extra fencing stored in the upper barn so we brought down the four panels that were left over.

Mike drove posts in to support the panels and now we’ve got a bigger run and I have a gate! I don’t have to step over the two-foot-high fence anymore — although I don’t think it hurt me any to do that.

Once all the boards were pulled from the wall, we had a clean-up to do then we put the Advantech flooring down.

Then the weekend was here and I’m visiting with you!

So many Bondi stories! Let’s knock a few out.

Bondi was a good girl on our trip, but I think she missed her cats. She plays with them as much as they’ll let her. Tuckered out, I caught her napping with Tiger in my computer chair.

The cats aren’t the only ones Bondi missed. She missed the Kipps, too! When she saw Miss Rosie, she jumped up on her legs, begging to be picked up, and couldn’t contain her wiggles and squiggles! It was all Miss Rosie could do to hold on to her. Then Bondi showered her with all the kisses she saved up while we were gone.

And Tux! Bondi loves Tux! He’s so patient with her as she checks out his ears and mouth.

I’ve been taking Bondi for walks. It’s good for both of us. Bondi loves the leaves that pile up beside the road! She runs and dives under and comes back up.

She’ll twist mid-air and change direction. She’s learned just how far her leash will let her go.

Bondi picks up everything! Most of the time I think she does it so I’ll take it away from her and it becomes a game. I’ve learned if I let her have the stick or rock or even the shell from a nut, she’ll lose interest pretty fast. But one thing I don’t like her to get is dead things. On a walk around our pond, she picked something up from the water’s edge. I saw a dried-up webbed frog foot sticking out the side of her mouth. I thought it was kinda funny that the foot had a ‘spur’ sticking out but I was so intent on getting it away from her that I didn’t give it another thought. I won. I held it up. Bondi jumped. For a little dog she can jump surprisingly high. I held it higher. Then I saw, and got a whiff, of a very putrid bat.

Bats die, too, I thought. I get sad a lot about things dying, but I’m practical enough to know it’s a part of living. I also take comfort in knowing this life is temporary. There will be no death in heaven, which lasts for all of eternity.

I was sitting at my desk writing a vacay story. Bondi was outside. I got a little niggle that I should check on her. I went out and couldn’t find her. She was gone from the run. The last time this happened, Mike had lifted her over the fence and took her on the golf cart with him. Mike was on the tractor this day, but you never know. I called.

“Do you have Bondi?”

“No,” he said.

“She got out of the fence,” and I was quick to hang up and go looking for her. I called her a few times but wasn’t surprised when she didn’t answer. She’s my boss and doesn’t have to answer to me. She will, however, obey Mike.

Sigh.

I didn’t have my shoes on and it would be faster for me to take the golf cart. I came in the kitchen door and right out the front door. I got on the golf cart and drove around the house to the fenced dog run. And there she was. Outside the fence, chewing furiously on something.

An image of the day before flashed through my mind’s eye. I always have to be careful when I let Bondi out because the boys will bring little gifts up onto the patio. They don’t always eat all of whatever they’ve caught. Bondi is only too happy to scarf down mouse liver or poop sack or whatever it is they’ve left behind.

There was a whole mouse brought onto the patio the day before. I held Bondi in one arm as I bent down and picked the mouse up by his tail before I set her down. She saw or maybe she smelled it. She did see me toss it over the fence. She ran to the fence and stared forlornly at the pitiful thing. I walked away thinking she’d never be able to get to it. Usually, the possums take care of that stuff overnight but not always. I’m guessing I didn’t have any visitors in my yard the night before, the smell was irresistible to Bondi, and she found a way to get to it.

And now she was trying to swallow before I could take it away from her.

I stopped the cart and ran over just as she got it down. It was gone.

“You’re a bad girl for getting out the fence,” I told her conversationally.

On the way back to the golf cart, Bondi safely in my arms, I spot the mouse laying just where I’d tossed him. So, what she ate — I don’t know!

I parked the golf cart back in its spot and carried Bondi right back out to the run. I didn’t see any obvious holes where she’d gotten through. Did she go over? I wonder. I stepped over the fence, found the mouse, picked him up by his tail, and dangled him enticingly in front of Bondi.

“Come on,” I urged. “Come and get it.”

She just looked at me.

I walked the fence line and when I got close to the house and called her, she stuck her nose under a part of the fence and crawled out under it. That stinker! I picked her up and tossed the dead mouse over the bank. Back across the fence I went, put her down, found a nice fat board and put it against the bottom of the fence. She wouldn’t get out that way anymore.

Bondi can be a good little helper around here. She went in the bedroom and drug out Mike’s pants where he’d shed them the night before.

Mike doesn’t value her help like I do. Especially when I’m weeding the flower bed. I went to toss a handful of grasses into the yard where the mower would chop them up only to have them snatched by a leaping little dog.

Mouth full, she took off a hundred miles an hour.

When I didn’t chase her to take them away, she dropped ‘em and came back for more.

I didn’t really appreciate it when she took to weeding on her own. It seems she can’t tell the difference between a weed and a flower.

Last year, I didn’t take any care as I pulled up some wild Sweet Everlasting and planted it in my flower bed. It’s really just a weed and I didn’t think it would grow, but it did.

Bondi thought it was a weed and chopped it in half. I brought the top in and put it in my windowsill vase.

Then I caught her chewing on my Gladiolas! The flowers are long gone and I’m just waiting for them to die back so I can dig the bulbs and take them in for the winter. I didn’t really care that she was chewing the leaves off.

“Peg! What if it’s poisonous to dogs?” you say.

I know, right! That was my thought exactly. So, what did I do? I Googled it. Turns out, Glads are not good for dogs. The bulbs are the most poisonous but consuming any part of the plant is dangerous. I’m not sure she was eating it but she was definitely chewing on it.

Once again, I found myself beseeching God on behalf of my will-eat-almost-anything little dog.

Then I let my worry go. I can’t change what’s already happened. But I could stop her from eating anymore.

I got the roll of chicken wire from the garage and looped it around the Glads. It was only then that I notice she’d already lopped off my Peony. The roll of wire was heavy and awkward to handle so I had to move my cement butterfly and bird water leaf out of the way. Underneath, I found a little snake was living there. I didn’t want Bondi to get him so I dumped the pretty stones and broken pottery out and turned it over on top of the snake. Bondi couldn’t get him now. I finished wrapping the flowers and carefully put the leaf back in place and refilled it. The snake never moved and Bondi never got sick.

A week later, it was dark outside and we were calling the cats in for the night. I went out on the patio and see Spitfire acting really weird. There was something out there and he had it cornered by the water bowl, only I couldn’t see what it was. In truth, I never even got close. No way was I approaching the unknown. There is a patio light but it didn’t break up the shadows around the water bowl. I went back in and got a flashlight — and my camera. As I’m stepping back out onto the patio, I see Spitfire taking a swing at the water in the bowl. I shine my light and see a snake tail disappearing up inside.

I let him stay — for the night.

The next day I undid the top and saw him curled up inside. Lucky for him the tank was almost empty or he might’ve drowned.

I’m guessing he was out from under his concrete leaf and Spitfire caught him. The water bowl was the closest place for him to get away.

I took him back to the leaf and shook him out. He wasn’t happy. He hissed and shook his tail at me. He wanted me to think he’s a rattler but he’s not. He’s a young Rat Snake.

Speaking of visitors, we had one at the pond. “Vernon said it was a beaver,” Mike told me.

I saw a tree like this one down the road and Art, one of the hunters in the hunting club down there, said it was a quill pig.

A couple of days later I see all these stripped branches floating. A memory of Trapper John comes back to me. He said if I see stuff like this it’s a sign of… what? I couldn’t remember so I messaged him.

“It’s a beaver,” Trapper said. “Porcupines don’t chew that deep. Do you want him out of there?”

“I think he just visited,” I told him. “I’ve not seen any new signs in weeks.”

Trapper said beaver season is coming up and he offered to let me shadow him when he’s setting his traps this year. So, for all you Trapper John fans, there may be a story in the offing.

We made a trip to Sayre. We’ve traveled this road many times but I found a couple of pictures to take for you.

I’m guessing wind damage.

There’s something you don’t see every day.

A gift for a girlfriend?

Gas is cheaper in Waverly, New York, just a couple of miles from Sayre. We drove over to get some. There are some beautiful houses in Waverly.

We stopped at a flea market on the way home. Mike’s got the bug — the road sign collecting bug. He found three more to add to his collection.

There’s an old shed on the property.

And some new ones. Mike drove around the parking lot so I could get a picture of this totem pole.

The day was so beautiful that I took Bondi for a walk.

Asters.

We were leaving the yard when a bright flash of color catches my eye.

I found a whole bunch of triangle-shaped seeds laying in the road.

Bondi sees a spider. I didn’t let her get it.

Farther down the road I see these hulls.

I thought they might be prickly but they were very soft, more like Velcro. I picked one up and it contained two of the triangle-shaped seeds. I was puzzled as to why there were no hulls under the first tree.

These, my dears, are beechnuts. You can totally eat them.

Another nut I found and is also edible are the hickory nuts.

Nuts and spiders weren’t the only thing we found. We saw no less than five snakes sunning themselves on the road. Two of them were still alive. They slithered off into the leaves when Bondi and I approached but they’re not fast enough to evade a car.

The pretty blue of Chicory flower draws my attention.

As does the bright yellow of a single buttercup.

I hear the distinctive rat-a-tat of a woodpecker. I stop until I can spot him high up in a dead tree.

I went down to the bottom of the hill and down a little path to our pretty little creek.

Several times this past week I saw these huge insects flying.

When I saw where this one landed, I checked him out.

If you guessed praying mantis, you’d be right!

Something else I saw take flight was this Great Blue Heron, from my pond.

Around my yard I took a few pictures.

Don’cha love the resourcefulness of the poke weed? Most plants flower and seed and that’s it. Not the poke. No siree. They continue to flower even with ripe fruit on the bush.

Winter flowers. Dried stems of the Bergamot.

The Spiderwort my beautiful friend Jody gave me is still sharing its beauty.

Jody gave me Chinese Lanterns too which are dressed in their fall reds.

I’d gotten a giant puffball from a field but it was yellow on the inside and past its prime. I dried it and this summer sprinkled the spores all over where I know mushrooms grow. I really didn’t think it would work. Boy! Was I surprised when I’d gotten two giant puffballs! This is the smaller of the two. Unfortunately, they were both too old by the time I saw them.

My Inky Caps come up in the same field but I didn’t have time to cook them. Inky caps have to be cooked fairly quick after you pick them or they turn to ink.

And my Hydrangeas! They were whitish-green all summer and are now turning red!

Speaking of reds, here’s a tree for you. This is something my heat-lovin’ beautiful Arizona-livin’ sister won’t see in her neighborhood.

We took the back roads to take Bondi to the vet this week. She got her transmission taken out.

“Does that mean you got her fixed?” my beautiful Missouri friend asked.

Exactly. Transmission is one of Mike’s euphemisms.

The vet instructions were no running or jumping for ten days. We managed to keep her from doing that for exactly a day and a half.

“She’ll quit if it hurts,” Miss Rosie said.

It’s been five days and she’s doing great. She probably didn’t need all of the pain meds they sent home with her but by golly, I had to pay for it so she’s getting it!

Fall colors.

Speaking of color, I have to tell you a story — one I’m not especially proud of but in this letter blog, we keep it real.

People send pictures in to the TV stations so they can see their photos on air. In my mind (and I could be wrong) it’s the stations way of getting content without paying for it. If I’m going to give my photos away, I’ll give them to you.

Anyway, a couple of days ago, the weatherman was showing a beautiful sunrise picture — maybe it was a sunset, I don’t remember that part anymore. He just couldn’t say enough about it. He gushed and gushed. On and on he went about the beauty of the photo. I took one look at it and knew it’d been digitally enhanced. Lord knows I’ve done enough of that myself that I can recognize the tell-tale signs. They actually show quite a few photos that have been enhanced. I usually just point it out to Mike and let it go.

But this particular photo got shown again the next morning, by the same weatherman, and once again he couldn’t say enough about it. He couldn’t think of enough adjectives!

It sorta made me mad.

“Why?” you ask.

Don’t ask me why!

I should message him and tell him! petty little me thinks.

Why, Peg? Why burst his bubble? I asked myself. Don’cha love internal conversations? What does it hurt? Who does it hurt‽ Am I jealous?

I had to think about that. I don’t think I’m jealous. I didn’t even think the photo was especially pretty. I’ve taken many pictures that are more beautiful. I’m not exactly sure what got my hackles up except it feels like they were cheating and he was duped.

I don’t necessarily have anything against enhancing photos. It can turn a hum-drum photo into a spectacular one.

Case in point. I took this sunrise photo this past week. This is what my camera sees. It’s just okay.

This is more the way it really looked and what I would do to it before I present it to you.

But if I wanted to, I could make it look like this! You might never know the difference. You’d just think we had a spectacular sunrise.

I try to never take it to such an extreme because like I already said, it feels like cheating.

Speaking of morning pictures!

We went for breakfast and I took pictures of the early morning fog.

The sun was starting to break over the mountain by Mark’s Valley View.

Mike had an omelet with rye toast. I had my favorite pancakes with a side of bacon. Mike saved some eggs and a corner of his toast for Bondi. I didn’t eat all of my pancakes so I got a takeout box.

At home, Bondi went for the pancakes. She’s my girl! Later she went back for the toast. Later still she ate the little chunks of ham and egg that Mike saved for her.

Art stopped by for a visit. It was nice out so we sat on the kitchen patio.

Bondi was leery of him at first. After a while she was in his lap showering him with kisses. Art lets Bondi lick his mouth, which neither Mike nor I do. I looked at Mike and he grimaced. I couldn’t watch and looked away.

What do you think I see over on the other side of the patio rug? The corner of toast, that’s what. I’m not surprised she didn’t eat it.

After a bit she wiggled and Art put her down. She found her toast, took it out behind the water dish, and buried it.

Art leaves, we go back to whatever, and a couple of hours later Bondi goes out. When she comes back in, guess what she was carrying?

“The toast?” you guess and you’d be right.

She came running in the house and into the other room where she ate her toast. Maybe it tastes better once it’s aged in the dirt.

I have a conundrum I’d like your help with. But for my more squeamish friends and family, you might want to skip this part and go directly to the end where I say, Let’s call this one done! because it’s the last story for the week.

One of the feral cats is gone. Mr. Mister hasn’t been seen in weeks. That’s just what happens to cats in the country. Sometimes you find out what happened to them, sometimes you don’t.

I was going to get the mail one day and spot something red on the concrete. Checking it out, I see it’s guts. But what puzzles me is how does it happen that I have a gut trail for 25 or 30 feet ending with a piece of gut draped over the fence that holds our to-be-burned cardboard.

I think of all the crime shows I’ve seen. A gun or swinging bat would do that, I think, but none of that stuff was happening in my back yard.

If it had been a fox or coyote dragging something away, the guts wouldn’t be hanging in the wire. The only other thing I could come up with was maybe a raptor got a rabbit, was eating it in the yard, the cats got too close, so he took off, carrying his dinner.

A quick search of the yard found more guts even farther away but no fur. Wouldn't there be fur? So that theory was out.

My mind stays with the same principle only now I’m thinking maybe he found something already dead, like say, Mr. Mister, and it was leaking as he carried it away.

What do you think?

Let’s call this one done!