Sweetie's Last Day Inside

 As we near the end of 2013 Sweetie is having her last day inside my house.  I invited her in to have one more day of exploring.  You can see from the picture to the right that she headed up to the balcony.  I was following her with the camera and she did something I had not seen her do before.  She took a walk on the railing. When she jumped down, I rolled one of her favorite toys to her and she began to play with it.  There is something about a plastic Easter egg that interests her. It may be the lopsided way it rolls when she bats it with her paws.  After a bit of this play she went back  downstairs and roamed around in all of the tiny spaces she could find.  To get her back out in the sun room I had to trick her with a little Kitten Chow.

 It wasn't long before  J.W. came over with his truck and her new little house, that he had been building.  He helped me to coax her out the side door and into the waiting world.    From the picture to the right you can see that she is taking a backward look to be sure it is okay for her to venture out. 

After she was out to the edge of the bricks she tentatively put down one paw onto the Mondo grass, then the  rest of her  body.  Then she shot straight for the big green holly bush at the corner of the house.  She was very familiar with that bush as she had been seeing it from the inside for a month.

I gradually coaxed her to come out and go for a walk with me all around the house.  She kept very close to the side of the house all the way around to the front.  At this point I left her to explore and I went inside.   I think she spent the next few hours staying close to the house or in the bushes as I could not see her from the windows.

Before dark I wanted to get her back into the sun room, since her new outside house was not yet ready for occupancy.  I walked around calling her and finally she showed up.  I called and coaxed her, then let her come inside by the back door.  That had not been my first choice but that is how it happened.

I soon had her in the sun room so she would be inside for the night.   Then this morning I opened the outside door  again so she could go out as before.  But she did  not want to go out.  She may have gone out if the yard man had not appeared with a noisy hedge trimmer.  She really does not like loud noises.  As soon as he finishes his work and leaves, she may give the outside another try.  But for now I am happy to know that she is learning where it is safe for her to be.  I have high expectations for her once she settles in and knows to stay close to my house and learns where to find those pesky squirrels and voles and unwanted critters.

Out of the Kennel

Sweetie's benefactor is coming today to take her in for removable of the stitches on her underside. 

Her confinement time in the kennel has passed and she has had the run of the sun room now for a week.  She seems content as she now has something for comparison, being locked in the kennel.  She still likes to peek in and see what her care taker is up to.  As long as her food and water bowls are replenished in a timely fashion she does not try to climb the door looking for a way to get in to where I am.

Her benefactor, J.W., is faithful to come and do exactly what he has said he will do.  He has been spending his evenings building a super comfy house for her to live in when she is introduced to the big world out there, waiting for her to explore and conquer.

The last feline to live in the sun room was Chester, the black male cat which I thought would be my outside cat and main mouser.  Alas Chester lasted two days (or nights) outside.  I thought he was content as he was last seen lounging under a Leyland Cypress which is on a rise at the west side of my house.  It is a mystery as to why he disappeared after that second night.  His former mistress, now my daughter-in-law, had brought a heated portable nylon house for his comfort outdoors, when it became cold.  He never got to use it but Sweetie has been enjoying it from her first cold night in the sun room.  She appreciates a good thing when she sees it.

Since she enjoys the finer things, J.W. is building a nice wooden house lined with Styrofoam and inside the insulation will be the heated house.  This house will be set up on a  platform so that Sweetie can sleep in the knowledge that she is high enough to discourage most of the night time critters in the neighborhood.

It will only be a few days until she will be smelling the sweet outdoors and getting to know the lay of the land up here on the hill.  Then there will be no turning back.  Oh, I expect she will show up in the morning and evening for her regular meals.  I wonder if she will know what to do with her first fresh prey.  Will she be willing to share it with her care taker?  Only time will tell.  I do believe that J.W. will be stopping by to visit with her.  After all she has been his pet  project for some time now.  He was the one to rescue her from sure death at the hands of the animal control.  He was the one to give her a name when he said "She is a sweetie".  You do not forget an old love even when it is a kitten that you saved from extinction.

Sweetie's Confinement

My neighbor, Sweetie's benefactor came for her on Wednesday as planned.  She went quietly with him in the carrier, and the lady Vet was very pleased with such a gentle kitten in her surgery.  They were impressed with her quiet demeanor and that rather surprised me as she talks to me all the time.

After spending the night at the animal hospital she was dismissed and is now back in her kennel where she must rest until her stitches are removed after Christmas.  Her first day back in the kennel was spent mostly sleeping but as she rested and began to recuperate she began to show some agitation.  She tried to climb the side and also to climb to the top of the heated bed/house inside the large kennel with her.  She had a thing or two to say to me too, like what did I do to deserve this?  Haven't I been a good pet?  I obey when you say get down and even when you say stay.  So, why am I stuck back in here where I began my life with you?  There is no way I can explain to her that this was done to keep more stray cats from filling up our neighborhood.

The day before she had her surgery she spent most of the day inside with me.  She even went up the curved stairway with considerable speed.  She discovered the chimes hanging near the steps and gave them a ring as she went by.  I rather liked that.  For one thing it lets me know she is not busy scratching on the furniture or climbing up where she might knock over something made of glass.  Since I have the upstairs bedroom doors closed she has limited space to explore.  When I get curious to know just what is keeping her so quiet up there I call and she comes to the railing and sticks her head out to see why I am calling her.  When I encourage her she comes down and more play takes place.  She much prefers to be in the open part of the house rather than confined to the one sun room.  However I fear she must stay in a small space for a while.  The Vet says she needs a small space in order to not get too active and tear the stitches so carefully placed on her tummy.

 I can see the wisdom in confinement  but Sweetie must think she is being punished.  I did put a radio out there so she could hear human voices - even though she could not recognize them.  Hopefully the time will pass quickly for her.  I do not know if kittens can actually watch television but if I had a small one I could put it out there for her entertainment.  I can see that I am giving her human qualities, but I do not know how to deal with the situation otherwise.  Perhaps it is enough for now that she is in a protected place where food appears on a regular basis and water is regularly replenished.

Kitty No Tail

 Kitty No Tail, aptly named "Sweetie" because of her sweet disposition is off today for her first medical appointment.  She left by carrier when my neighbor came  by early to take her in to see the Vet who will inoculate her against Rabies.  When she recovers from this necessary health measure, she will be allowed to go outside where she really wants to be.  She responds very nicely to my neighbor who just has a special touch.  He has a low chuckle when he is talking to her and she is used to receiving kind treatment from him since birth.  He saved her from sure death at the hands of the animal control group in our town.  She will now tolerate my petting but not for long.  She prefers to play  when I engage her in various games. 

While visiting a new store in our area I went to the pet department to find her kind of kitten chow.  I saw some toys and bought two little balls red and green (for the current season) which had rattling objects inside them.  I thought she  would enjoy them and she did when I rolled one past her.  That kept her happily purring for quite some time.

When she is settled in her own outdoor home I expect she will just go crazy with excitement from all the added attractions at her disposal.  I hope she stays out of the trees for a while.  I have never had to rescue a cat from a tall tree and do not look forward to that.  However I think she is old enough now to come back down if she does get up too high.  She does like to climb as high as she can get, so it could happen.  She climbs the curved steps in this house and gets back down with no problem.

I think she is a worthy opponent when it comes to speedy movements.  I can detect a movement from the corner of my eye and by the time I turn my head she is gone.  She is pretty good to come when I call her, but she does it in her own time, not mine.  I do believe she is cautious enough to escape any owls or coyotes that may come around.  Her hearing is very acute.  I have seen her turn her head from a movement of mine when I am inside the house and she is in the sun room with the door closed.  I am talking about a faint noise like a footstep.

So, Sweetie has a whole new world waiting for her outside.  She has five acres to roam and explore.  I hope she stays within the confines of this place as there is a hoot owl living several thousand  feet away from here.  He has already tried to take my neighbor's cat, but this cat was too heavy for him.  He had to drop it before he got air born, but he left 6 puncture wounds in this big cat.  I will try to bring Sweetie indoors at night for a while just to be sure she is safe.  If you have been reading here before you know that my record for taking in felines is not exemplary.  I want to redeem myself with Sweetie, so I will leave the sun room open to her for a while, just in case she needs more protection at night when she is  sleeping peacefully.

A Purring Machine

 A few weeks ago when this little kitten was brought to  me, she would try to hide from me and would not leave her kennel.  What a difference I see now that she has had a chance to eat all she needs, drink all she needs and feel warm and secure.  I think she likes her new environment. 

Better things are in store for her.  When she has grown and reached the age for spaying, she will be taken outdoors and then life will become much more interesting for her. Right now she can see out of the many windows, and watch the wildlife all about this house.  But later she will be promoted to chief squirrel chaser and chipmunk aggravater as well as lizard conqueror.

I saw some evidence of her agility one day when a black fly materialized inside  one of the windows.  I thought it was on the outside but she knew better, as she jumped and pawed at the window.  When the fly flew across the room, I realized it was indeed inside.  In her old life on the streets she would have had a snack.  Yuck !!  That is hard to contemplate.

When she was allowed to come inside for a change of scenery, she had to jump up on things and get a better look at everything now at her eye level.  The first three times that I invited her inside she jumped behind my washing machine in the laundry room.  It was so narrow and deep behind there that she could not spring back up.  I had to move some storage drawers in order for her to get out.  After doing this for three times, I believe she  knows that there is nothing of interest to her back there, so she has not gone there again.

Sweetie has made a good adjustment and will be taken good care of, but plenty of animals are out there with no one to care for them.  My friend who loves cats has a good idea which I believe could prove to be a money saving effort for our local governments.  It is his contention that if free spaying and neutering of animals were available for animals up for adoption then there would be less stray animals producing more animals and in time there would not be a need for a big budget in animal  control.  At the same time there would be plenty of animals around to satisfy anyone  who wants a pet. His idea seems a much more humane way of controlling the many stray animals that are costing money to keep the animal population in balance.

Sweetie

 Sweetie was given her name by a cat loving neighbor of mine.  She had been living on the streets of Gainesville, Ga. along with some other cats near a business in the industrial area.  The cats had been ridding the businesses of mice and rats which had become quite prolific.

This cat lover began to feed the cats as he has a soft heart for stray cats.  They became socialized somewhat by his kindness to them.  Someone complained about the many cats in the area so animal control came with traps and began taking some of them away.  When this little part Minx was taken in a trap, he determined to find a home for  this kitten.

After a medical examination,  needed shots and assurances that the cat had no diseases it was given over to him.  He had come to me the day before telling me what a sweet kitten this was and asked me to take her in until she could be socialized a bit and then keep  her outside, to help rid my premises of moles and voles known to be here.  He assured me he would come over and help socialize her, and he  did, bringing food for her and a kennel for her to stay in until she was ready for more freedom.  He also brought litter for her to use and pans and a warm bed. He already had two cats at his house and one of them will not tolerate any new cats coming in.

He was very adept at making the cat at home and getting it in a happy frame of mind.  I have held her but she is still not sure about my intentions.  She comes quickly enough when she sees me putting in her food.  Today I opened the door to give her fresh water and food and she took the opportunity to come into my house from the sun room where she was set up for the duration.

I let her stroll around and explore the large tile floor where many plants are set around in front of large windows.  After a while she had done enough exploring so she went back out into the sun room.  That is when I got a snapshot of her inside her  kennel.  The door is open so she can explore all she wants out there.  When she feels more comfortable with me and will come to me or allow me to come close to her, then I may bring her inside for short visits.

My ultimate goal is to have her set up outdoors as she has been living on the streets.  She will have to gain some weight, at least up to two pounds so she can be spayed.  Then she can be released outside and begin to establish her territory.

Some years ago this same neighbor came to me with two male kittens which had been born under a shed in his yard.  He had found homes for all of them except these two.  I have written about those two cats in an earlier story in this Blog.  One of the cats was named Spitfire as he really fit the name.  He had been traumatized while his eyes were still closed. He spit- hissed at me for a long time.   My neighbor would pick him up and he came each day to pet them.  Eventually they became quite tame and that is what we hope will happen with Sweetie.  I think cats can sense people who have a deep love for their kind.  I am rather ambivalent about cats.  I wish them no harm and I enjoy them as long as they are outdoors.

I think Sweetie is on her  way to living up to her name.  It took her one week to begin to actually play.  She was so frightened of all things and for one week she tried to make herself as small as possible to avoid attracting attention to herself.  But yesterday when I saw her actually making up play, pouncing,  jumping and leaping, I knew she had turned a corner and things were progressing just as we had hoped.  She will not be one of those felines that populate the area, but she will become a good hunter and "terminator" of some of the annoying voles which like to destroy the plants I have outside.  So she is a welcome guest and I look forward to the day that she scores her first hit and brings it to share with me.

Stories of My Father

 Recently one of my nieces asked me to write about my father.  She was very young when he died and she had no memories of him.  In the picture to the right he was probably around the age of twenty six. 

Before this photo was made he went to live in Nebraska for his health.  He had been diagnosed with a lung ailment, I believe it was tuberculosis.  That was a common illness around the turn of the 20th century and was called "Consumption".

He was born in Upton Kentucky on January 11, 1883, the youngest child of Jemima Stuart Matthis and Charles Wesley Matthis I.  As a young boy he had a job as a paper carrier.  He had to get up early in the morning to meet the train as it came through the little town.  The train did not  stop, but someone pitched the newspapers out of the side of the train.  I am pretty sure that one of those papers was taken to his own home for his father, who was a well educated man, and always subscribed to a newspaper. His father was known as "Professor" and taught, Greek, Latin and Higher Mathematics.  He had some students living in his home and although I do not know exactly how it all worked out, he did help to establish Gilead Baptist College near Elizabethtown, Kentucky.  On a Genealogy hunt we found what was left of this college.  It was a church and we found the tombstones of one of his brothers who died in infancy and also one of  Barbara Matthis, his sister.   She died from lockjaw after stepping on a rusty nail.  Jemima grieved for this little girl for the rest of her life.

My father did not formally attend the Gilead college, he said that he would sometimes help his father by tutoring some of his students.  Chester had a knack for numbers and could add four column numbers by going up the column and adding four to the four before.  He did this before the adding machine was in use.  I remember as a little girl seeing him use the adding machine and remember him putting in numbers then pulling down a "handle" as he went along.  He earned his living as a bookkeeper for a coal company in south eastern Kentucky.  He also handled any tax accounting that was needed.  His office was on the second floor of a building which had other offices on the second floor. Underneath on the first floor was the post office and the commissary where goods could be purchased using  "script".  Script was the coins that replace actual money.  It does not sound quite legal to me now, but the coal miners had to exchange money for script to be used in the commissary.

My oldest sister taught school on a hill near the mines and I was her student there for the first and second grade.  One thing I remember about the school was that the floors were actually oiled and then swept.  I suppose it kept down dust, but the school had a peculiar odor which came from the oil.  Many years later I too taught in that school.  I recall have a pair of shoes which had "crape" soles and the oil caused the soles to disintegrate.  They were very comfortable to wear but did not last long on those floors.  The school had a bathroom for both girls and boys but those mountain children did not know how to properly use indoor plumbing and it was always out of order.  Away from the school, at a decent distance was an "outhouse" for both teachers and children.  It all sounds so primitive now, and it was!  We had a playground for the children and the equipment consisted of swings only.  The children played a lot of games outdoors during recess.

To get back to stories about my father, some of the things I remember were at Christmas when my dad went all out seeing that my mother had some special gift.  One year he got a secretary for you.  It was made of cherry wood and that was a good gift for her as she had no desk but did a lot of writing and studying - mainly of the Bible.  On another Christmas he got her a new car, though she did not drive, nor did she ever learn to drive.

Both of my parents were heavily invested in their local church.  In the summers when they only had two teen age children- Gene and me), they took vacations at Montreat, N.C. in order to  hear visiting preachers.  One year they heard Peter Marshall and my mother especially was impressed by his descriptions of a sunset.  He said it was baby bottom pink.

When the older children were still at home they took a cabin at Lake Herrington in central Kentucky and though it was not much of a vacation for my mother, my father enjoyed fishing.  The other members of the family enjoyed the lake and I loved being in the pool.  It was a fenced in area in the lake with a wooden walkway on the sides.  There was a slide which I used to learn to swim.  My father would stand in the water and catch me as I came down the slide.  We were usually there for two weeks.  I remember one Sunday I had a terrible sunburn on my shoulders.  I was around ten and could not wear anything on my shoulders due to the blisters. My father wanted his Sunday paper, so I was selected to go to the little store nearby and buy a paper for him. I protested as I thought it was immodest for me to go up in only my underwear.  My mother assured me that it was perfectly all right as I was such a little girl.  I had to go anyway, for my dad had to have his Sunday paper.  I do not remember why one of my brothers was not enlisted for this chore.

As a little boy my father always wanted a red wagon, but he never had one.  Teachers were not financially compensated commensurate with their abilities or efforts.  So a red wagon was not in the family budget.  My father was always very generous with his children and with my mother as well. I recall him telling about how his own father would buy oysters for himself but never offered them to anyone else.  My dad said he always wondered what oysters tasted like.

My father did play baseball when he was a young man.  He always enjoyed listening to baseball on the radio, and I remember seeing him stretched out on the bed for a mid day rest with the radio on and a ball game being described play by play.  That was when I was in my twenties so he never lost his interest in the game.

My father was an elder in the Presbyterian Church in Harlan.  It was on Clover street and when I was big enough to sit in a chair my mother had me in her class.  She was also superintendent of the Sunday School. I have a certificate signed by her, promoting me to the four year old class. 

Communion was a solemn  sacrament and I remember my father serving communion, carrying the silver tray with a silver top full of holes and in each hole was a small glass with "grape juice" in it to serve as wine.  I do not know how they serve communion there now, but in my present church we take communion by intinction , walking up to the altar, as is done in Catholic churches.

I recall one Sunday when our whole family was trying to get ready for S.S. and church.  We only had one bathroom and my brother and I were fighting about who got it next.  My father could not abide quarreling so he entered the hallway with his belt in hand and that ended the quarreling.  We knew that we had to settle differences peacefully but his actions served as a reminder.

With a house full of kids ( 8 ), peace and quiet was a necessity for adults.  On Sundays after church we came home and while our mother got the Sunday roast on the table ( it had been cooking in her drip drop roaster) we would read the Sunday funnies as my dad read the rest of the paper.  After lunch and a rest for my parents, we all got in the car for a Sunday afternoon drive.  Somewhere along the way my dad would stop at a road side store and buy drinks for us all.  I always wanted orange crush.  As we grew older, we had other activities involving our friends on a Sunday afternoon. And my parents liked to play a card game called Rook.  Often they would play with my older brothers and it was played for blood.  Once when a game was in full swing a knock came at the front door.  When they saw it was the preacher out there, that card table disappeared like magic.  They saw no harm in playing Rook on a Sunday but I suppose they knew the preacher would not agree, so the fun for the day was over.

I will resume stories of my father at a later time.  There is much more to tell.

The White Horse

Jim Gallow loved horses.  He liked to ride them and feed them and even took Bonnie with him on their first date to ride horses at Stone Mountain Park in Georgia.  Since he loved horses he thought Bonnie would too.  She endured a ride on a gentle one but never let him know it was not her thing.  She probably was fearful because she had not been properly introduced to them.

Jim and Bonnie both enjoyed photography and belong to a photo club.  They went on several out of state photo trips with their group.  Some of their photo shoots were local.  It was on such a trip that Jim took a picture of a white horse.  He did some work on the photo to get the shadows he liked and  when I first saw it, I just fell in love with it.  I like black and white photos and this one just spoke to me in a special way.  I even wrote a poem about it as I could feel his personality in the look in his eye and the general appearance of this large gentle animal.

My doctor likes horses too and has several of them on her ranch.   She enjoys riding them and it is a   relaxing time for her.  For a long time I had wanted to have this photo framed to give to her, for she had met Jim but I doubt they discussed horses, as they met on a visit I had made to her office.

Today I finally accomplished my plan to give her a picture of this noble beast all framed and ready to place on her wall, in her home or in her office.  Below is the poem that I wrote about this picture around three years ago.

Mysterious Figure


You live in black and white
My eyes are drawn to you

Solid, strong, keeping guard
Eying the situation

Guarding my attention
Keeping me in your sights

Your strength is evident
In your very stance

Your fine mane flying
In the breeze of life

The light of your truth and purity
Highlights your character

You are permanently in my soul
Can you possible know

That I treasure you?

A Reason to Celebrate

On October 12, 2013 our family was able to celebrate the wedding of Elizabeth Ferry and Bruce Parsons. It has been a while since we all gathered for such
a happy event.

Many friends and family from all around the United States honored them with their presence, and to support them in this new phase of their lives.

The wedding party included Elizabeth's family of brothers, sisters, and professional colleagues, Bruce's sister, mother, his two sons and scores of friends from high school and college.

A close friend of Elizabeth, the Chaplin at Emory hospital in Atlanta, conducted the
ceremony in the chapel of the Academy of Medicine.

Bruce's son Grant was the ring bearer and his son Reed read selected Biblical scriptures about the true meaning of love.  Following the ceremony and the cutting of the cake, the groom's life long friend gave the toast and told us about what his sleuthing had uncovered, regarding how Elizabeth knew that Bruce was the one for her.  It seems that early in their courtship she asked him if he wanted to go shopping with her on a Friday evening, to purchase patio furniture.  He said yes, and, as she said, "he showed up".  Everyone chuckled at this information and felt it was evidence enough that Bruce would be a dedicated husband.

Dancing, dining and spirited conversation was holding sway until the bride and groom made their exit out the entrance and down the wide front stairway.  On both sides friends held up sparklers as gathering darkness signaled that the evening was coming to a close.

We all wish Bruce and Elizabeth a long and happy life together.

  
All photos courtesy of Mike Morrell

Ageratum

In the mid 1980's I brought some Liriope up to the lake house from my home in Decatur Georgia.  I did not realize it at the time but I also brought the beginning of a whole new generation of blue flowers which have spread over several acres taking hold where they pleased, and the mower did not get them. 

I have no idea how this blue plant, Ageratum, happened to make it's way up here in the clumps of Liriope which I planted as a border, in the front of my home.  The first time I noticed them was when they popped up in the Liriope the next spring. I did not even know about this plant.  I had seen smaller versions of it in Nurseries, but had never seen it growing in other places. 

At first I tried to get rid of it, not by spraying herbicides on it, but by digging it up.  I learned pretty soon  that the web of interlaced roots had no intention of leaving their chosen spot.  Therefore, I just let them do what they pleased.  What they pleased to do was find new places where they would send their seeds and start new colonies of Ageratum.  Every spring I found new places where they had chosen to take root.  This was brought home to me the other day as I was driving down our road toward my entrance when something blue caught my eye on the edge of the woods.  Yes, it was the same blue flower which has popped up on my hillside, the long driveway, down near my raised beds, and just this summer at the corner of my house near the drain pipe, as shown in the photo.

By the persistence of this plant I would guess it is classified as a weed, but not necessarily.  It is identified as Ageratum houstonianum.  It can be purchased in colors ranging from white to lavender-blue.  Seeds are sold for annuals and perennials as well.  It ranges in height from 6-8" and up to 18 inches.  I think you could call it the lazy gardener's plant.  It certainly does not require any help in propagation, or in thriving.  In fact it is hard to stop.   One type is called Hawaii White, common name "White weed", yet the seeds are sold along with the blue and other seeds.  So whether you call it a weed or a flower, is up to your attitude.  I am ambivalent on this point.  I like it as a flower but I would like it better if it would grow only in the woods or along the edge of the woods.  My attitude is that it is pretty and requires no help from me so I just let it be.

Baby deer and Baby Groundhogs

Seeing the young of wild animals is intriguing to me.  Early one morning last week as I sat having my breakfast, I noticed a movement outside my south windows.  Since I have many plants indoors and outdoors in that area I  stood up to be sure of what was moving.  It turned out to be the twin fawns and their mother had come back and come closer this time.  While the babies nibbled on the Hawthorn plants, the mother stood still and watched.  She was not eating as she was on duty to be sure her babies were safe.  She must have heard something from the west as she shifted her position and turned her head in that direction.  One of the fawns reacted by moving also, but went right back to munching.  Eventually they all began to move slowly away.  I stood still during all of this and just enjoyed seeing them.  Had they all been adults I may have tried to discourage them from dining so close to my house.  The urge to observe them made me more lenient this day.

Since the groundhog family seems to still be in my vineyard I am using the trap from the wildlife people to try to trap and relocate them.  My neighbor has been a big help in this endeavor.  The very day I brought the trap home and set it up and baited it with cantaloupe, he called to tell me he had taken the trap to a park and released this adult gopher.  The next day I reset the trap and put in strawberries, but in several days they had rotted and no gophers had appeared.  So, I switched to cantaloupe and the next morning he called to say he found a baby gopher in the trap.  He took it off to release it but had trouble getting it out of the  trap.  He said it had long fingers wrapped around the wires at the end of the trap and would not let go when he shook it.  He had to resort to using a stick to poke at him before he would release and run off.

The trap has been baited again with cantaloupe so we shall see what the day brings.  I feel sure that there were more than one baby in the tunnel.  We have had so much rain here in the south, that they may be holed up in their hole !!  They must sleep a lot as I only see them at certain times of the day, like mid morning and later in the day.  Of course this is a fairly large place and I cannot see everything that goes on here.

In front of my house in a flower bed I saw three yellow, swallow tail butterflies working the Lantana.  I think they have only a short time to feed, lay their eggs and disappear.  It is nice to see them  fluttering about.  The Pomeranians who visit here like to try to catch them, but never do.  They do exercise their lungs and legs when they see them outside.

I do have a soft heart for the young ones of any species.  I recently found a tiny salamander in a sticky trap by my front door.  The trap was there to capture scorpions if they got through the door.  It was too late to help the salamander.  If he had not been caught in the sticky tape he would probably have died of thirst indoors.  I have at times found them in some secluded spot where they have died and just dried up.  I think there are many more outside around the rock walls to take their place,  as I see them when I am out weeding.  My daughter saw a family of scorpions on the rock wall around the flower beds.  As long as they stay out there I have no objections, but indoors it is a problem.  I like to go barefoot indoors, especially at night.  Stepping on a scorpion is not a pleasant event.  So, baby or not, I really do not want them indoors.  It is only intriguing to watch wild animals when they are outdoors and I am indoors.

Sharing Space with the Wild Animals

Recently I have come face to face with one of those great toothed tunneling critters called groundhogs.  This place is big enough to share the space with them, but I am not increasing in population and they are!  My neighbors are noticing them making tunnels under their homes, and in other places.  I had already engaged a Wildlife company to trap and remove them and they did trap five and take them away.  The first animal they trapped however, was a neighbors cat which was just too curious!  He was released to go to his own home and freedom.  The trapper eventually came and took the traps away and there was peace in my vineyard.

But sometimes a peace can be uneasy or short-lived.  In our case it was short-lived.  When I saw one of those  critters enjoying the healthy grass up near my new pecan tree, I knew that it was useless to ignore him.  That attitude only sets the scene for many more to come.  So, this time I called the Wildlife Management office in our county and asked for help.  Oh yes, they could help and told me to come over and they would loan a trap to me for two weeks.

I made the trip over to their office and when I entered the building I opened the door to be greeted to a baby black bear who had met with some kind of unfortunate situation, and was sent to the taxidermist.  He was firmly planted right inside of the door.  It is a bit startling at first as who expects to see a bear when you first open the door.  Bears are usually in cages not inside of buildings- even Wildlife building.  At least I knew I was in the right place! 

Walking on to the office I needed, I found two ladies hard at work talking on the phone to someone in north Georgia who had spied a black bear.  They wanted him taken away.  Settling that problem she turned to me and began to sign me up.  While I waited for her to go for the trap,  I saw a poster about snakes in Georgia.  I asked the second lady if they sold them.  She  explained that they were out of them right now.  I told her that I wanted them for my grandson who loves animals.  She said she had lots of other posters about wildlife and left the room to see what she did have on hand.

In the meantime the other lady came in with this huge trap and signed me up to take it out.  Then she proceeded to show me how to set the trap.  I had no confidence at all about being able to do it on my own.  I told her I had a mental block about such things but if I had trouble I could find someone to help me.

Then in came the poster lady loaded down with posters to thrill any animal loving young boy.  The snakes poster was not available but lots of other ones were.  Salamanders, Birds, Bats, and one on  Lake Ecosystem.  But there is more; the others were about mountain streams, endangered wild flowers, Georgia's Traveling Songbirds and Freshwater Biodiversity of the Upper Coosa River Basin.  In addition to the colorful labeled pictures, the backs of the posters were covered with information on understanding  them and ideas for learning more.  Wow, I had not expected to be the recipient of such interesting and informative posters.  My grandson will be delighted.  I am delighted as well.  These folks care about the wildlife and the ecosystem of our state and the world.

With a glow in my heart I headed home and promptly took the trap to where it could be found by the groundhogs living up  there.  I surprised myself by being able to set and bait the trap and cover it with branches to partly conceal  it.

I was even able to engage the help of a neighbor who will watch for any animals who appear in the traps and will release them into the wild, but far away from our houses.  A distance of five miles was recommended.

 I am never quite sure what turn my day will take.  Some days are just normally dull and routine and then  along comes one that is custom made for me, like this one today.  Never a dull moment sounds hollow and empty when I think of a day like today.

Summer Sights and Sounds

     Walking through my kitchen I looked ahead to the outside door of the sun room.  Something caught my eye and I walked quickly in that direction, to see a doe and her two babies walking by.  The mother walked casually with her longer legs.  The rust colored fawns with their speckled coats had difficulty keeping up with her.  She walked steadily on, not slowing her pace.  The babies had to walk in double time to catch up then slow down, but not for long.  No doubt she was showing them a safe place to go for a walk and perhaps find some tidbits for grazing.  I could  not tell  which path they used to  come to my drive up on this hill; but I could see where they were headed.  She steadily led them south to the grass in front of my walled flower garden, then continued west and into the woods. 

I wondered where they were going, as in the distance I could hear rumbling thunder.  Where  would they find refuge from the coming storm?  Her trusting twins did not stray from her leadership, but dutifully followed.

Summer rains are fascinating.  I stretched out on the bench at the end of the sun room, and settled in for the duration of the storm.  As the outside darkened, the rumbling, rolling thunder came closer and became louder.  The lightening picked up it's pace.  First I heard the rain hit the south windows, loud thuds seemed to echo through the room.  Then the pelting drops began on the windows in the sun room, not the same loud thuds but more persistent pings hitting the glass.  As the rain increased, it began to pool at the north drain pipe, making splashing noises in the water.   Metallic strikes came from drips hitting the drain pipe.  Persistent drops came running off the porch roof, not in a steady stream but skips of water falling fast like a tap dancer's feet moving across a polished stage, in a hurry to get to the other side.

Mother Nature was having a grand time presenting her power in her own inimitable way.  Nothing could stop her concert, nor should it.  All of her creative powers were leashed out onto this house and hill.  The leaves and branches gave way to her forceful wind, bowing and blowing in the wake of her strength.

Where could the doe and her twins find protection from this force of nature?  Perhaps  she found shelter in the bank of a mossy slope with her babies nestled close to her body.  Did she enjoy the storm as much as I did?  Were her babies frightened by the lightening and the ear bursting thunder?  Surely they felt the security of their mother's presence as the rain rolled off her back and protected them from the worst of it all. 

The entire storm lasted three quarters of an hour, not exactly music to sleep by. Eventually the thunder could be heard from further away, and the rain slackened.  The lightening moved away and the earth was left saturated with nourishing water, enough to leave puddles, little streams, and rivulets along the side of the gravel road where  the fawns that so recently walked.  What stories did they have to tell when they got back to their home place?  Will they be less afraid when they are caught out in another summer storm?  I like to think they will remember it all as the time mother curled up with them and comforted them in a mossy bank.

James Francis Gallow 10-4-1952 - June 28-2013

It has been brought home to me again, how much difference one person can make in your life.  Jim was in my life for 37 years, since he became my son-in-law.  He left much too soon.  It is not usual for the younger members in your family to pass on before you.  It is out of sync with life patterns.  It takes a lot of adjusting and readjusting and shifting things around in your head and in your emotions and in your life when someone important to you is no longer here.

Jim had much in his own life to deal with, in terms of physical disabilities, yet he was able to continue to make a positive impact on those with whom he came in contact.   For everyone he met he had a smile, a handshake and a hearty "How are you"?  It could be to a clerk in a store, a stranger when he was out walking with his dogs, a workman at his Condo, a neighbor he knew, or a newcomer at the pool, and with it all, a  twinkle in his eyes.

Jim could be very serious or just joking, and make you feel at ease.  He did not dwell on the sad side of life but made it easy to forget you had your own set of problems.  I had to learn when he was joking or was serious.  I don't think I ever really learned the secret of telling the difference.
 
Jim was a leader, he could just walk into a room and emanate energy.  I always felt secure when I was with him in a new situation as I knew he would take the lead and smooth out the way.  There were many occasions in my life when I needed someone to take the lead.  After Jim retired he was free to help me handle many situations which cropped up at my house.  He had the ability to analyze any situation and see what the best solution would be for that unique time and place.

Jim liked spicy food and when he would be cooking at my house he held back on the spices for me.  He learned to make the best bean soup ever, using the pressure cooker.  He bought one for me but I never did get the hang of it.  He did teach me a lot of other things about the kitchen.  He did not claim to be a baker, he left that up to me when he was in my territory.  When he came up to help me with some chores that were beyond me,  I tried to make some things he liked to eat.  His dietary preferences changed when he had to avoid wheat and I could no longer make cherry pie, his favorite.  He could eat potatoes however and always loved my potato salad.  He gave me a great gift by allowing me to make it for him when he came up to help me.

When we had enough people in the house to play cards he entered into the game of "hearts" with gusto, saying "let's go looking for the lady" referring to the queen of spades which no one wanted to hold in his hand.  He liked to win and kept us all on our toes.  He was good at "shooting for the moon"  and won more often than he lost.

It was not often that I could best him and usually did not even try.  He was interested in Politics and could make a very good argument for his position without even announcing his preference.  He did not like to see prejudice in any form and would point out how injustices had been inflicted on people thoughtlessly.  If you were lazy in your arguments he would catch you in a New York minute.  He was quick to say "I don't know" rather than try to give false information.  He was also quick to say, there is something called the "inter web" and would get on the keyboard to find any information you or he needed.

Jim was curious about what I thought about faith and we discussed that a lot at lunch or during times when work was not pressing.  We had some deep, serious, thoughtful discussions.  He was not prone to divulge his own deep inner feeling, but he was very conscious that not everyone held the same views and he was respectful of that.  Yet if he picked up on a misunderstanding of your knowledge of a particular group of people or culture he would skillfully guide you into a better understanding.

Jim liked history and we exchanged books from time to time.  He knew I liked biographies and kept that in mind when he brought a book to me.  Jim kept drug store glasses both here and at his home, probably six pairs here.  We were always looking for a pair and I had them stashed away in several places, plus goggles for outside use.

 I had two drawers for him to keep his work clothes in and one for his work shoes - all in my laundry room.  He needed them as he worked on outside chores.  I relied on him to show me how to set the thermostat for the floor heat, attic heat, A/C and any electrical appliances.   He did so much to help me be able to live in my own home, for as long as I wanted.  No son-in-law could be better to his mother-in-law than he was to me.

He looked out for my interests in finances, advising me at every turn, making it easier for me to manage on my own.  He was a good teacher, never losing patience and it takes a lot of it to teach an older person how to use a computer, or to convince someone else to change old habits.  I owe him a great debt and perhaps the best way to repay it is to "move it forward" and use his example to make life easier for one other person.   He surely did make a lot of difference during his life to a host of people he met along the way.  If he was having a bad day in his life due to health problems he kept it to himself and let others see only that confident, carefree side and not bring them down.  He did it with a smile and a "how are you" just for starters. 

I am so glad that I had him in my life.  I learned so much from him and he was very supportive of me in my efforts to learn new things and enrich my life by trying new things.  He was alert to the things that would benefit me here in my home and in my life. From time to time he would send me links by email  to sources of information on something I was interested in.  He loved the music of the Beatles and would send me songs to brighten up my day.  I was not knowledgeable about the Beatles nor their type of music so he wanted me to know how meaningful their songs were in everyday living.  He helped me to know "Rocky Raccoon" and it became a byword for us when something needed to be done.  He would say "I will as soon as I am able".  So, I can say to Jim's spirit "I will join you as soon as  I am able". In the meantime I will always have the memories of Jim and as long as I remember I will still have him in my life.  I have 37 years of memories and visual reminders are all around me.  Reminders like the boom box he gave me many years ago, the remodeled kitchen he helped me design and have installed,  energy efficient windows all over my house, a ceiling fan he installed, two pecan trees he planted, and many perennials.  There is the volunteer magnolia he saved by freeing it from it's confinement between two huge fallen logs.  There is the blueberry bed he tilled and planted with bushes and enclosed with a fence and netting. He helped me negotiate many improvements here like a new dock, a new car, a new roof on the house, and a new style back door which he painted green.  I love that green door so much that he painted the front door green too.  He worked with my son one Mothers Day to surprise me with a charming cross tie stairway up a hill to my house.  Perhaps the greatest thing was his time to teach me to use a computer, which has given me a new hobby and new outlook on life.

Don't ever think that you will not make a difference in life.  It would be terribly shortsighted to do so.  It is just a question of, will it be positive or negative?  No one can be at the top of their game every minute, but you will make a difference whether you realize it  or not.  So why not adopt the attitude that you will be a positive force and make that positive difference in any life with whom you come in contact.  If you think you have too many problems to make the effort, I hope you will remember Jim, or someone you know whom you can remember as making the difference for you.

Why is first important?

According to the book of Luke, chapter 2:23, the first born male shall be called holy to the Lord.  There may be a host of reasons why the first male was given such importance.  Women did not hold a high place of importance in that culture, and often were considered chattel.  Men however could hold property, reach places of power and could be relied upon to support the parents at some point in the future.   Being first was on my mind yesterday. We are studying the book of Luke in our adult Bible class at my church.  Our teacher asked for a volunteer to read the Bible passage in Luke, I raised my hand first so I was the first reader.

Thinking of all things first, I got a glimpse of a firefly a week ago.  That first of the season always gives me a lift in spirits as it signals that summer is indeed here, the fact that it appeared before the 21st seems in line with the other things I see around me.  Just a day or so after seeing the fire fly I saw that my big Gardenia bush had one bloom opened.  I had feared it was a goner but nope, it is alive and well and smelling good.

I was looking out my window and saw a spot of yellow in a patch of tall Stone Mountain Daisies.  it seems way too soon for them to be blooming.  I went out to inspect and yes, one bloom had opened and more are forthcoming.  On this same outing as I went to my compost bin, I saw red blackberries and craning my head to see more I found two ripe berries.  Of course I picked them for later.  This blackberry bush had escaped destruction, and just showed me that accidental gardening can be fun too.

Some other accidental gardening which is proving to be rewarding is the Magnolia tree which was caught between two felled trees, when it was about two feet tall.  Now it is around twenty feet tall.  It seemed to flourish after the felled trees were cut, and removed to give it room to expand.  I sighted a first bud just threatening to open,  I was watching it but apparently not close enough to see it open.  All I did see was the pod of seeds left where it had been.  I saw no other blooms, so this must have been a trial run!

Another first for this year came from  the blueberries under the netting, where around nine bushes are growing.  They looked huge and dark blue.  When I brought them inside (around 1/2 cup) their taste was disappointing.  They were tart.  Thinking it must be my taste buds not working well, I asked my son-in-law to taste them.  He too, said they were tart.  I was speculating as to why such a fine looking berry could be tart, then decided the answer was not in my head but perhaps I could find it online.  I searched  and got some help from other gardeners who had the same experience.  Most said the berries had been picked too soon.  The advise was to let them sit for a couple of days on the kitchen counter or just wait longer to pick them.  I did let them sit 24 hours and then tasted again.  This time they lived up to my expectations, and were mighty fine in my cereal.

 My thoughts went back to the first fruits of childbearing, about why the first male is so important.  The survival rate for newborns in the past was not very high.  Perhaps parents prized that first male child so highly as they were not assured that the next one would survive.  For whatever reason it is exciting to see the first new baby in a family, or the first bloom on the stately Stone Mountain Daisy, and even the blueberry which holds so much promise, as time goes by.

Garden Surprise

     Intending to ride my golf cart up to the mail box, I started down the driveway but  was stymied by a huge electric company truck blocking my way.  I turned around and headed back up to the house but stopped by the plants in the curve of my road.  I saw yellow lilies which I KNOW I did not plant.  What I had planted there were white lilies (Lilium longiflorum).  My family has been generous over the years to present me with  Easter Lilies which made their way into my garden, after the bloom had faded.  I have other bulbs planted there, a pink and white striped Amaryllis,  along with the white lilies and double orange day lilies.  Other perennials are there also.  Never did I plant yellow lilies.

     So, I had to know how they happened to be there.  Across the road I have yellow, scented day lilies which bloom later in the summer, but the only yellow lilies I have are some distance up the road, behind my house.  I had to know more.  Thus I went looking for information and found a great source of information on the Easter Lily.  It is the Aggie Horticulture web site.  Here is the easy way to access it:  http://aggie-horticulture.tamu.edu/archives/parsons/publications/lily/lily.html 

     It has  some fascinating information about the beautiful Easter Lily which is the fourth largest crop in wholesale value in the U.S. pot plant market, behind poinsettias, mums and azaleas.  That is a direct quote from the web site.  I have a renewed respect for the perfect white lily which I have enjoyed all these years.  One fact is that the white cultivar (Nellie White) is named for a grower's wife, Nellie White.  A very specific area between California and Oregon has the perfect climate, soil and conditions for producing the bulbs for this joyful Easter plant.

     Since I did not find any answers from a professional standpoint, I did find other gardeners, like myself, who have been puzzled by the same thing.  Some had the Easter lily come back up as orange and some had come back as yellow.  No one seems to know exactly why.  If an Iris can revert to the original color, then I suppose it is possible for the Easter lily to do the same thing.  I once had fifty white Iris plants, given to me by a friend.  They all reverted to their original color which was mostly purple.  The yellow lily which showed up this year was not robust like the original plant, this year there was only one bloom.

     I shall enjoy it as it is, where it is, and not complain.  It is a miracle to me, that a bulb which looks much like an onion when placed in the ground, can come up each year and present a lovely perfect bloom to delight the beholder.

Camellias in Winter

Thirty years ago my friend gave me a
Camellia bush.  It was small and slow
growing.  I put it in the ground and
waited for the blooms.  None were
forthcoming.  Then I began to read up on where the Camellia liked to be planted and how to care for it.  I had some experience with this southern bush but had not actually grown one from start.  In fact the first time I saw one was when I was twenty years old and was in college in Richmond, Ky.  My boy friend came to see me around Easter and had a gift for me.  It was a beautiful corsage of two pink, symmetrical camellias.  I was overwhelmed by their delicate shape and color.  We pinned it on my dress and I had never felt so elegant as that day.

Living in Kentucky I was not likely to see this flower growing in someones yard, as it is a southern plant.  So, when I moved to Georgia and found one growing in my yard I was overjoyed.  I was able to enjoy the deep pink blooms in the winter and watch the Cardinal raise her young there in that bush.  I had a perfect view of it all from my window on the side of my house.  It was food for my soul.

Some years later when I moved to north Georgia, was when my friend presented me with this Camellia.  After reading up on the culture of this plant, I moved it to a new spot on the east side of my house where the soil was richer and the sun just right.  Then it rewarded me by growing into a ten foot bush with hundreds of blooms.  It did not happen overnight, but when it reached maturity I was rewarded over and over again.

The picture shows a lighter pink bloom surrounded by the deeper pink blooms.  The lighter pink comes from a bush I planted three years ago.  It only had two big buds this year.  I could not resist cutting one to bring indoors to cheer me on this cold rainy day.

The end result of successful gardening is how you feel when you finally harvest the fruit.  To get this buzz on a cold rainy day, it is all the sweeter for the waiting.  If you live in the north and cannot grow the beautiful Camellia, perhaps you can find Japonica, a cousin to the Camellia.  My sister Frances had one by her kitchen window and I loved seeing it there when I would visit.  The bloom is not as large as its cousin but it is a cheerful sight on any day.

Memorable Picnics

     My earliest memories of picnics goes back to my early childhood when our family would join forces with friends of my parents, for a picnic on the banks of the Cumberland River, in eastern Kentucky.  Our favorite place to go was where large, room sized rocks made a  perfect table for laying out the fried chicken, and everything that went with it.  I do not remember swimming in the river.  As I recall the rocks were up too high from the river, and we had the surrounding woods to run around in and explore.  My mother's best friend was named Estelle Smith, and she was usually there with her husband and one son.

     The pastor of our church played a big part in the other memories of early childhood picnics.  His name was Dr. Mark Andrews, and he must have enjoyed picnics too.  Each year when our whole church held our annual picnic at the Boy Scout Camp, Camp Blanton, he supplied the drinks for everyone.  That in itself was quite a project.  He brought a new, galvanized tub filled with lemonade and ice.  In those days to make lemonade you had to buy fresh lemons and get the juice out the old fashioned way.  As a child I did  not appreciate all the work that went into doing that, but now I realize it was a monumental task.

     My sister Frances, who was twelve years older than me, made picnics so much fun.  She always made pimento cheese sandwiches.  That involved a lot of work, as she grated the cheese by hand.  When we reached our destination, which was quite often the banks of Norris Lake in Tennessee, she set up a portable cooking affair and proceeded to make peanut butter fudge.  She could whip up the fudge while all the kids, her three, and her younger siblings who tagged along, jumped in the lake to swim.  It just did not get any better than that.

     During my college years, one picnic I remember came about from an invitation by a young man who later became my husband.  The picnic was held at Boonesboro Beach, in Kentucky.  He belonged to the World Affairs Club and what I remember was all of us sitting in a circle and someone passing around a bottle, everyone took a sip except you know who!  My mother preached against alcoholic drinks and it had its effect on me.  I avoided it like the plague.  Unfortunately, my date did not avoid it and he did not avoid it big time!!  Fortunately, he was not driving as we had hitched a ride with someone else.  He fell asleep in the car on the way home.  If he had not  apologized the next day, that would have been the end of our friendship.

     When our family was young we would take off for a picnic at the drop of a hat.  I could whip up a  picnic at a moments notice.   Even in winter we were not deterred.  Somewhere in my box of old photographs is one of us in the dead of winter in coats and hats sitting around a picnic table on the banks of the Potomac River, outside Washington, D.C.  Once I wrote a letter home to my family which gave them all a good laugh - though it was not funny to me.  I told them what I had taken on a picnic and mentioned two chicken legs.  They, who cooked up whole chickens for a picnic, just laughed  about that.  For us it was not so much the food as the event.

     Picnics occurred almost weekly when my husband was free from work.  It was fun to take the children out and fun for all of us to be together.  On one picnic I took along a chocolate meringue pie.  After we finished our meal we put the uneaten part of the pie in our basket, and all went for a walk, leaving our lunch behind.  As we walked back  to where we had left our pie, we were all  looking forward to finishing it, and sat down in great anticipation.  However, someone had wandered by and found it  first.  It was gone, no doubt about it.  Someone suggested that maybe it was Yogi Bear who had done this dastardly deed.  We were pretty miffed about it, but what can you do?  We know that the thieves  had a good dessert that day!

     Sometimes when things go wrong you can only blame yourself.  One fourth of July we joined in with some family members for a sailing picnic.  The guests brought along a huge bowl of fruit salad.  Oh, if only it had been Tupperware with a lid, but it was not and did not.  Someone put it in the bottom of our sailboat.  It was not all smooth sailing that day as we learned later.   That bowl of fruit salad had tipped over and the wonderful fruit spilled all over the floor of the boat.  All the regrets in the world could not bring it back!

     So, as you plan your picnics this summer (and I hope you do plan some )  think about tight fitting lids and securing your food left unattended.  Think about inviting someone along who might not have a family to go picnicking with.  It will be like Wrigley's gum, it will double your pleasure. They will enjoy it and you will earn a feather in your cap for being such a nice fellow!!

Do you knock it, slap it, or cut it with a knife?

The answer is - act according to what you find more effective.  It seems we all have a different method of how to choose the perfect watermelon.  In the  produce section I was leaning over the huge cardboard carton filled to the top with watermelons and I was not alone.  Another lady was doing the same thing.  She was knocking on the watermelons with her knuckles while I was slapping them with my open hand.  I began to chat with her re: selecting the ripe one, as the knocking does not tell me anything, whereas the slapping will create a thud which tells me it is more open inside, less dense and thus more likely to be ripe.  She said "I grew up in Moultrie, Georgia and I know my watermelons".  So, I invited her to knock on the one I had chosen and tell me if she thought it was ripe.  She did rap and said yes, it was ready.  So, I thanked her and put it in my buggy.  In parting I said when I eat this watermelon I will remember you and if it is good, I will remember you fondly.  She smiled knowingly as I walked away.  Neither of us had mentioned that there are other ways to make the right choice.  Walter Reeves our Georgia guru of gardening says you can tell by the creamy color of the side where the watermelon touched the ground while growing.  I suppose you could use all three methods just to be sure.

Sitting on top of the pile of watermelons were two long boxes with red knives in them.  Someone passing by said "I don't need to buy a knife to cut a watermelon".  Then I remembered my father's method of choosing the perfect one.  He would stop by a roadside market where he was well known, and choose one he thought would be ready.   He then would take out his pocket knife and  deftly carve out a triangle chunk to see how red it was.  I did not hear of him being reprimanded for doing this so he must have been very accurate in his choices thus buying the one he cut!!

Buying that first watermelon of the season is a bit stressful.  You are hungry for cold, red, melon and the chance of choosing an under ripe one is cause for concern.  After you have lugged it home, put it in the fridge for proper cooling, waited patiently, and when the  crowd is there to help eat it, you do not want anything but the best red melon you ever had!!

Some people like to use salt and say it brings out the flavor.  I think there is merit to that claim, but mainly it needs to be very cold, very ripe (but not over ripe).  And there is always the decision of choosing a fork or a spoon, everyone has a favorite.   Then there are those who just want a wedge to chomp into with no spoon, no fork, no salt, just sink your teeth in and enjoy.  Where do you come down on this issue?  I suppose it doesn't matter for there are so many types of these favorite summer melons that everyone should be pleased.  If you happen to buy one with seeds don't forget to save them for the critters out in your landscape.  They will enjoy them even if you do not.

Chester, Where Are You?

This beautiful black cat with the inquiring green eyes, has left me, and I wish I knew why.  Was he trying to tell me something, the day the walked back and forth, mewing as he walked?  I thought he was, so I sat down in the old teak Adirondack chair and petted him, and talked to him.  He rubbed against me and purred and seemed happy.  Then he left me and walked over to his food and water and ate a bit.   So I went back inside and continued with my chores.

Later in the day, I heard a dog barking.  Since I have no dogs and we have a leash law here I went out to investigate.  Chester was lounging under the Leyland Cypress which is on a rise above the driveway.  The barking was coming from a Doberman Pincher who seemed like a domesticated dog.  He was a beautiful chestnut brown color and had no collar.  His bark sounded more like a friendly hello and not an attack kind of bark.  He did  not offer to chase Chester, just was saying hello.  I saw no problem here, so I went back indoors and continued my work there.  I thought he must belong to a neighbor from across the woods.  In hindsight I wish I had called Animal Control as he may have been lost.

Later in the evening after dark, I heard the barking again.  As it was dark outside and I could not  see, I did not go out to investigate.  After a few minutes the barking stopped and I decided it was the Doberman saying hello again.  In hindsight I wish that I had taken a flashlight and gone out to see if the Doberman was back. 

Now, all the speculation in the world cannot remedy the situation I am faced with, as Chester has gone missing.  All the calling and looking does not bring him back.  His former owner says that he was prone to "go missing" for days then come back home.  He has the tip of his left ear missing and a scar along the side of his nose, to show he has had some scrapes.  He knows how to take care of himself, but still I fret that I should have done more.

His former owner brought an elegant house for him, with a mattress and heat pad for cold winter days.  It is waiting for Chester if he decides to come home.  I put his bowl out for him during the day.  But if I do it at night the raccoons will begin to habitat my grounds, and that is not a wise plan.

Years ago when my grandson was around six years old he had a gray cat named Smokey.  He was allowed to go out, and one day he did not return home.  My grandson was hopeful and said he would return.  For a whole year he was hopeful, and into the second year he was hopeful.  And, you know what?  It paid off for after two years had passed, Smokey returned home, a little leaner but otherwise none the worse for his two year absence.

Therefore I will not lose heart, or hope, but just keep putting out his bowl each day, and looking out my back door window to see if Chester is curled up on the mat.  He knows where he can eat, drink, and sleep so if his navigation system is in good order, I will one day see him, or hear him mewing for me to come out and pet him again.

If You Happen to See

 If you happen to see, the most beautiful cat in the world , tell him I love him, tell him I want my baby, I want him back, back here with me.

Tell him I'm sorry, and I miss him.

He just wandered away, maybe it was the big strange dog barking that chased him away.  But that old dog is gone now and I want him to come back where he belongs, here resting on the mat at my back door.  He has been sent a great new house to use this winter, it even has a heating pad inside and plastic doors to go in and out, front and back as he pleases.

His food is waiting for him, but not out at night as the raccoons in the woods come over and wash their paws in the water and eat the little crunchy tidbits in his dish.  We don't want to feed them, just the beautiful cat with the green eyes and the gentle personality.

So, if you happen to see him, just call him Chester and send him back home, back home to me.

Chester #2

Well, you caught me on my first day of freedom, out doing a little grass sampling.  Not the sort of thing a human would do on a first day of freedom, but hey, sometimes the taste of grass is just what fits the bill.

This place is going to be all right! I can come and go as I please, I can always come home for food and petting, I don't need money, and the hunting is open season all year long for ME!  I have not had my big catch yet, but I am just settling in and looking about to make the best selection.

Bubbie showed me the golf cart and I dutifully hopped aboard, but I did not stay.  I just don't feel secure in anything with wheels.  I have not forgotten getting into a wheeled thing and ending up in a room on a high table with a man in a white coat !!  He had me right where he wanted me and I like to be in control, so I prudently avoid any wheeled things.

Things just smell different when you are on the outside, a lot of new smells are up here and I intend to look into what is causing them.  Some, I think, are rabbit smells.  I did not  see one from my window this past week, but I still remember how they smell.  I love to chase those sissies.  They have the strangest way of running!  Okay, I have to get busy now and find out what is out in the woods next to us, I'll be in touch.

Chester #2

Chester Says

 "So this is where I am to live?  In this room with all the windows?  How do I get out to catch that chipmunk that just ran by?  And where are the other two cats I used to live with? Why didn't they come to live here too?  They were such sissies!  I could run rings around them with my  eyes closed.  It is so quiet up here far from Atlanta where cars and trucks and noisy things are.  Of course here I can look out all the windows, and I have them all to myself.  I will catch up on my sleep and rest and eat this bag of food and when the chance comes, I will be in fine shape to go out and see just what is out there.  I did see a butterfly go by.  It was safe from me for now.  I keep hearing a loud banging that I did not hear in my last home.  I saw a really big bird fly by, and then another one.  They look alike with their red heads and long beaks.  I will have to have some special strategy to catch those big boys.  But I know I can do it, I have a reputation to protect.  There is just these glass windows between me and a world of fun out there.  I will bide my time, and purr and practice on my scratching post until my big chance comes.  They can't keep me in here forever.  They will be begging me to get out there and catch those pesky critters.  So, if I play my cards right, the time will pass quickly and there will be some changes around here.   I am too great a hunter to waste away behind glass windows.

Mark my word, Chester will rule this hill, all in due time.

Katrine's Poem

Some of my family may like to see/read a poem written by Katrine Matthis Bailey.  It was written at Conway, South Carolina on October 10th, 1972.  She loved going to the beach and to the marked difference it had to offer, after living inland, in the mountains.

 

Caress of the Sea

 

An ocean breeze, kiss of the sea,

ruffled my hair, and sang to me,

sang songs of peace, and rest and ease,

sang songs of hope, my heart to please;

rested my soul of all it's stress,

bathed my body with each caress,

repose I found beside the sea,

repose that made new life for me.



Rethinking the Joys of Nature

A couple of weeks ago I was enamored by the Pileated Woodpecker (Dryocopus pileatus) Since I have had the opportunity to observe them for a while I have changed my opinion of them.  I still think they are beautiful birds, the colors and designs on their wings plus their size make them interesting to see.  Having said that, I must admit that I am not captivated with their presence here at my house.  I wish they would just go away and find someone else to aggravate.  They are endangered birds, but I feel like I am the one who is endangered!


They are pecking off  the wood from my house, around the windows and up on the sun deck.  They may be trying to tell me that I need to replace the wood as it is quite old.  But if they are looking for a friend by the reflections of themselves in my window, I see no hope for them leaving on their own.  Consequently, I have engaged the services of a man who is qualified to help manage the birds along with the Carpenter Bees and the Groundhogs.  I have been told that the Pileated Woodpecker is looking for food in the old wood or is attracted by his own reflection. If he can hammer out a hole in a tree big enough for a nest for him, then you can imagine what he has done to the trim on my house.  I hear a knock then a splintering of wood and I grab the only weapon I have, a long plastic handle from a dusting brush.  A few taps on the window and he flies away. The more practical way  of discouraging him from coming here is to treat my house for Carpenter Bees.  My Wildlife guy has done that.  So, I am waiting to see if this beautiful creature will find other places to peck for insects.

In the meantime one Groundhog has gone somewhere else to live, helped by the same guy who sprayed for the Carpenter bees, which also have a taste for the cedar on my house.

My son-in-law plans to buy an air horn for me to use when the birds come pecking.  If that does not discourage them, I have a secret weapon waiting to be turned loose.  The secret weapon is Chester.  A male feline with green eyes and a coat of sleek black fur.  His distinguishing mark is the missing tip of his left ear.  He carries it like a badge of honor.  He has acquired  quite a reputation in the area of Atlanta where he has made his home with my future daughter-in-law.  Last week-end he was brought to live with me..  For a week he will remain in my sun room, and after a week, he should feel at home here and will be content to be top dog on this hill.  I have been getting acquainted with him and he does love to be petted.  He is very polite about staying in his present area.  When I leave through the inside door to go to the other part of the house (off limits for him) he waits patiently when I tell him to stay.  I see him looking out the windows a lot so he is learning where the chipmunks travel and he sees as well as hears the birds outside.  No doubt he has seen a salamander or two skittering about.  I wish he could talk in a language I would understand.  I know the purring is saying that he feels comfortable, but what does "Meow" really mean?    He has one week to rest up and then he will be turned loose on the five acres here to hunt to his hearts desire.  He will show no mercy, I am told.  That is agreeable with me for the critters he will go for are not good for my garden.  I am thinking particularly of voles.  The voles in the past have taken down a favorite "Peace Rose" and around 100  bulbs in my front flower bed.  So, the age of Chester in charge is rapidly approaching and if he by chance gets a Pileated Woodpecker (doubtful)  I will feel for the bird but all is fair in love and war.