Journal: Squinnies and Splish-Splashes

 

Last Tuesday was one of the first hot days that I thought the flower gardens really needed to be watered.  Larry had strung out the hoses the night before, so I trotted outside to turn on the sprinklers and adjust them – and discovered there were no sprinklers attached to the hoses.  

One open-ended hose was in the gently sloped flowerbed on the west side of the house.  There’s a drip hose in that bed, but it’s plugged up somewhere, and waters only the part of the bed at a higher elevation.  Thinking the water would surely run downhill and all would be well, I left it on for a couple of hours one day last year – and found out there’s a low spot at the high end of that bed.  Water pooled, and all the tall Asiatic lilies, already in bloom, fell over.  I don’t want that to happened again.

I had no idea where Larry had put the sprinklers last fall, and I sure wasn’t going to go rummaging around in the too-full garage.  Fortunately, Larry stopped by for lunch that day, found the sprinklers, and hooked them up.  I’ve had them running several times since then. 

If the hosta leaves get too much sun on them, they burn and turn brown.  When I first planted them, they were shaded by tall Austrian pines.  Those pines died.  We replaced them with Douglas firs and Blue spruce, but they haven’t gotten tall enough yet to shade very many of the hostas.

The bird feeders were refilled and rehung, and the birdbath had been filled.  The bathroom was all shined up, and I played my way (via piano) through several pages in an old songbook while a fresh pot of coffee brewed.   Then I went around taking pictures of flowers blooming in the yard.  The Stella D’oro daylilies and the Asiatic lilies are starting to put on quite a show.  A resident thirteen-lined ground squirrel (also known as the striped gopher, leopard ground squirrel, and squinny) sat up and posed for me all cute-like.  Can you tell his cheek pouches are full of sunflower seeds?

I had not heard the name ‘squinny’, until I looked up ‘other names’ to make sure I had them correct – and there was that fourth name, ‘squinny’.  

A friend remarked, “With a name like ‘squinny’, why would they ever get called one of the other names?  It is a fun name just to say out loud.”

Yep.  Little thirteen-lined ground squirrels will be ‘squinnies’, now and henceforth.

After a late breakfast of an egg over-easy on a toasted bagel half, I began putting all the reprints of old family pictures I’d gotten into the old wooden-covered album.

By midafternoon, it was 85°.  There was not a cloud in the sky.  Here’s one of the Stella D’oro daylilies, with a little bee gathering pollen.  

The begonia from Caleb and Maria is totally covered with blooms, while the geranium they gave me last year blooms on.  It’s gone kind of gangly, but the blossoms are still pretty.

Granddaughter Joanna asked if I might have a scenic picture with Larry in the shot, as she wished to pattern a drawing after it and give it to her grandpa for Father's Day.  I ran a search on my entire set of photo folders, and realized anew that the majority of pictures I have of Larry are of him being goofy, usually entertaining the kids, but sometimes merely for my benefit.

By suppertime, to my surprise, I had managed to fill all the pages I had cut for the little wooden-covered album, and had pictures left over!  I have more black paper, and could cut more pages; but the album is full enough.  The pages don’t stay perfectly in place, as it is only tied together with a leather cord.  Also, the gold corners keep hanging up on each other.  

I’ll put the remaining pictures, which are all newer and probably don’t belong in the old album anyway, into another album.

I still need to rub the wooden covers with Murphy’s Oil.  Assuming it was new when my mother started putting pictures in it in 1938, that makes it 86 years old!

Here’s Lura Kay, G.W., and Loren with their dog at the barracks in Fargo, North Dakota; and there’s Loren as a senior in high school, and again a few years later.

Mama sent pictures 2, 3, and 4 to Daddy when he was in the Navy during World War II, somewhere on a ship near the Philippines.  I remember him telling how excited and delighted he was to get those pictures.

Wednesday, I paid some bills, washed some dishes, and then headed up to my quilting studio, where I put together pieces of batting and then the backing for Maisie’s quilt.

Later that afternoon, I went down to the basement to see if there might be a photo album I could use for the leftover pictures – and discovered that the three large albums I’d thought were Dorcas’ – were mine!  Annnd they have not been scanned.   They are clear full of pictures, including many 8x10 school pictures.  They were lying on the floor in an area where Larry moved things around to put his bike stand so he could ride in the house during the winter a couple of years ago.  Furthermore, they were under a pipe that drips with condensation occasionally, and the cover on the top album was well-splattered, possibly permanently.  I certainly would not have put my albums on the floor.  But I wonder where they were, back when I was rounding up all my albums and scanning them??  Larry hasn’t a clue.  (And he thinks I put them there, of course.  We are running out of people to blame around these parts.)

I carried them upstairs, and there I came upon an album of Norma’s that only has a few pages filled with pictures.  I think there are enough empty pages for the remaining reprints I have.  I printed all the pictures I have of Loren since he moved into Prairie Meadows (hard to believe he’s been there 2 ½ years); I’ll put those in the album.  I will scan the pictures in those three albums after I finish Esther’s quilt.

I got most of the top borders of Maisie’s “You Are Loved” quilt finished before time for our evening church service.

Late that night when I was bringing in the bird feeders, I finally remembered to bring in the SD card from the game cam.  There were more than 18,000 pictures on it, from October 5^th to December 1^st.  The batteries would last a lot longer, if the camera didn’t take a picture every time the feeders wiggle in the wind.

The usual suspects were pictured at the feeders time and again, if I hadn’t brought them in early enough.  They cleared out black-oil sunflower seeds and suet alike, and they arrived earlier than I’d thought – often just after 8:30 p.m., as it was dark by then in November.

The data stamp showed that it was 73° at 2:12 the afternoon of November 14^th – but only 26° at 3:47 a.m. on November 9^th.

I went out to work in the yard at 8:30 a.m. Thursday morning, and should’ve gone out earlier.  Though it was only in the 70s when I went out, the humidity was high enough to make it feel close to 90°.  I headed for one of the shady gardens – and discovered that’s where the mosquitoes were, too!  That’s the first time this year I’ve encountered mosquitoes, other than one or two strays, in the mornings.  I doused myself with insect repellent and carried on.  😝

At about 9:00 a.m., Larry came to get his better helmet, as he was riding his motorcycle to the Wichita, Kansas, airport to get a dump truck one of his coworkers had bought.  He planned to have the people there lift the motorcycle into the truck’s box before he headed for home.

After weeding one big flower garden, I called it good, washed out the birdbaths and filled them, set up the sprinkler, and came in.

Here are clematis blossoms, and the hibiscus from Todd and Dorcas.  I had not realized before that the hibiscus puts out new blooms, every day – the blossoms only last a day.  I pull off the spent blossoms each evening, and by early morning it is covered with buds that open later in the morning.

Having put the bedding in the washing machine when I got up that morning, I transferred it to the dryer and went to take a shower.  I’ve learned not to start a load of clothes in the washer and then take a shower, because the showerhead then rains down icewater and steam, by turns!  Aaaiiiiyiiiiyiiii. 

I spent the rest of the day quilting.  

I sent pictures to Dorcas, and she sent me a picture of her tree hibiscus – and bonus pictures of Trevor and Brooklyn.  Isn’t that blossom pretty?  There are so many pretty coral and peach-colored flowers everywhere I look, I decided to look up Color of the Year 2024.  Can you guess what it is?

Did you guess?

It’s Peach Fuzz.  😆

One of the pictures of Trevor, taken on their front porch, has a big ol’ granddaddy longlegs on the post behind him.  (They’re actually harvestmen, but we’ve always called them granddaddy longleg spiders.  Furthermore, though they are arachnids, they’re not spiders.  They are more closely related to scorpions.)

“After I took his picture,” said Dorcas, “I see a spider behind him!”

“It also looks like the hibiscus flower is tucked behind his ear,” I remarked.  “I took a picture of someone in our school one time, and a student’s drawing of a pheasant was behind him – and it looked like the tail feathers were sprouting right out of the top of his head.”  😄

I once got a picture of Caleb in a picnic shelter somewhere, not noticing until after I got the pictures back (it was in the day of film-and-printed photos) that there was a bare bulb glowing right over his head.  I showed it to him and asked, “Did you just have a good idea?”  😆

The birds were enjoying the birdbath that hot day.  Along came an American robin, and then a male Orchard oriole, who was altogether put out that the robin was taking so long in the shower.  Look at him opening his beak threateningly at the robin.  “It’s my turn, I tell you, my turn!”  The robin seemed impervious to the Orchard oriole’s pique.  The oriole did finally get his turn.

Next up, a male Baltimore oriole.  The Baltimores are bright orange or yellow and black, while the Orchards are bright rust and black.

The blue jays go at it with Great Gusto, and thoroughly splatter any bird nearby.  

And then there are these recently-fledged English sparrows, who need to put on little rubber boots in order to get out of that slippery bowl.

See the whole set of pictures here:  Birdbath Entertainment

I set the sprinkler on my hostas, and before long a small puddle formed on the sidewalk.  The young sparrows were delighted.  This bathtub wasn’t nearly so slippery and deep!  They splished and splashed and fluttered their wings and flipped their tails.  They shook so hard after dipping into the water, they got all tipsy and tumbled over onto their sides.  Papa Sparrow, trying to keep an eye on these tots, tilted his head and looked at one that nearly did a somersault.

“Kid, are you all right??”  (At least I think that’s what he was saying.)

I tried to get back to the quilting frame, but caught movement out of the corner of my eye, and looked out the window in time to see an Eastern kingbird.  He splashed vigorously in the birdbath – and then the sprinkler sprayed water his way, and he went to playing in it, practically doing a jig as the water droplets pelted him.  After shaking himself thoroughly, he took off after a small butterfly, which he handily caught on the wing.  Alighting in the chokecherry bush, he preened his feathers with aplomb.

A chipping sparrow flitted onto the shepherd’s hook.  They’re so cute, with their little rust-colored caps.  And then a brown thrasher landed on the lawn, spotted me in the upstairs window (most birds never notice me), and just as quickly, scurried under a Blue spruce.  For such big birds, they sure are timid.  They’re in the same family as the mockingbirds, and boy, oh boy, can they ever sing.

I tell you, if you want lots of birds in your yard, what really draws them, more than sunflower seeds and suet, are water features!  I place the sprinkler so it constantly refreshes the birdbaths, and the birds love it.

The butterflies and bees are happy, too.  There are cabbage whites, fritillaries, skippers, painted ladies, and sulphurs.  I saw a monarch on my way to Omaha – immediately before it had a meeting with the grill of the Benz.  🥴

Meanwhile, Larry was on his way to Wichita, riding his big BMW motorcycle.  The dump truck he was getting was at the Wichita Dwight D. Eisenhower National Airport.  At about 2:00 p.m., he called the place, and the man nonchalantly informed him that they closed at 3. 

“I have at least 2 hours to go!” said Larry.  (It was more like 3, really.)  “Why didn’t you tell me what time you closed when I called earlier?”

“You didn’t ask!” said the man.

Then he also told Larry that the dump truck couldn’t be driven far on the highway, because of the big blade on the front!  “It’s too heavy for highway driving; plus, it would cover the headlights at nighttime.  And it covers the grill and makes the truck overheat.”

He never said a word about any of this when Larry talked to him earlier, telling him he would be riding his motorcycle there and driving the truck home, a distance of 300 miles.

Larry asked if they could put the truck outside the gate for him.  Nope.  He asked if someone could stay and wait, telling the man how far he’d already come, and offering to pay for their time.  Nope. 

“I have other things to do!” he informed Larry.

That was one important hombre.  (And it must not have been his dump truck.)

Surely somebody could’ve been there to verify Larry’s papers, take the money, and give him the keys.  I see from the airport’s online posted schedule that the last flight of the day leaves around 8:30 p.m., and most all shops and services stay open until the last flight has departed. 

But as it turned out, the coworker who was purchasing the truck, José, and his wife with him, were in Kansas that day picking up another piece of equipment, and they were about an hour from the airport.  So he went to get the dump truck out of the gates before they closed them, and sign all the papers. 

At that point, Larry was still over 80 miles away.  He told José, “By the time you and your wife go find something to eat and go shopping, I’ll be there.”

So José and his wife went to eat and go shopping.  😄

When Larry got there, the first order of business was to remove the plow from the front of the dump truck.  It took some finagling, but they got that big thing off and loaded onto the flatbed José was pulling.

Since they couldn’t put Larry’s motorcycle in the dump truck, as the forklift was inside the locked gate, they loaded it on the flatbed, strapped everything down, and headed for home.  José drove slowly for a little ways and Larry followed to make sure everything was riding safely, then told José to go on ahead, as the dump truck wouldn’t go much more than 60 mph.

I got about a third of Baby Maisie’s “You Are Loved” quilt done.  I tried not to quilt it too densely, wanting to keep it soft.  I was so involved with the quilting, I almost missed the bright sunset!

I went to bed at midnight, putting my phone on the nightstand beside the bed, in case Larry called.  It was 2:30 a.m. when he got home.

It was a pretty day Friday.  I turned on the sprinkler again, and returned to the quilting.

The little bird in this border is a tufted titmouse.  

Aren’t they cute, with that little crest on top?  They’re small, about the size of a chickadee, around 5 ½ inches.  What do you think the plural of titmouse is?  Yep, it’s ‘titmice’.  😊

Like the much bigger blue jays, tufted titmice use their feet to hold sunflower seeds while they break them open.

Did you know that squirrels cannot husk and eat sunflower seeds much faster than the birds can?  Trouble is, they just sit there and pig out until the seed is all gone!  And then there are the raccoons.  They just gobble down the entire seed, husk and all.  And when they’re done, they lick out the tray, besides.  Give them credit for cleaning their plates, I guess.  😆

Bobby and Hannah and their family, along with Bobby’s father John and sister Esther, have been vacationing near Durango, Colorado.  Levi texted me with pictures of the snow-covered mountains.  Just yesterday, the northern Rockies got another foot of snow.

There was a robin getting a drink from the birdbath near my open window, and when he heard the notification that I’d gotten a text, he paused with his drinking and tipped his head, the better to listen.  Then my phone started ringing, and it was loud enough that it startled him, and the feathers on his head stood up so, he looked like he was trying to be a cardinal.

Early that afternoon, I moved the sprinkler, vacuumed the rugs, and made a gallon of fresh-squeezed lemonade.  Here’s the juicer, a Healnitor.  I got it last summer.  

I headed back to my quilting studio, glass of lemonade in hand.

In discussing music with Levi, I was reminded of how, back when I was in my 20s, my father-in-law Lyle gave me a beautiful accordion (it was red!) that had been his.  Since I’d been playing the piano from age 3 or 4, I was soon able to play that accordion, but it sure was awkward.  A couple of weeks later when we went to visit Lyle and Norma, I took along the accordion to show him how I could play it, whipping through some rollickin’ tunes I knew he’d like.

He did like it, but, raising an eyebrow, he asked, “Why do you have it on upside down??”

I was blank.  Upside down??  I took it off, turned it around the other direction – and discovered I could rollick way better with that thing on right side up.

Lyle laughed sooo hard over that.

Early that evening, there were a dozen or more American goldfinches at the feeders, and a couple more getting a drink from the birdbath.  My mother used to call them ‘wild canaries’.

By 10:00 p.m., I was sooo close to being done with Maisie’s quilt.  But my back got done before the quilt did.

I did a meander on that central section of the panel, and am disappointed with it.  Why’d I do it?!  I knew I’d be disappointed!  The quilting blends with the outlining too much.  But I thought maybe this time it would be fine, since I was pretty much following the designs in the print.  Nope.  Should’ve done those straight-line curve things (wonder what they’re called?) that I often do for water backgrounds.

Ah, well; live and learn.  It would be nice, though, if I didn’t have to keep learning the same things time and again!  🙃🙄😏

It rained a good part of the night, and was quite windy Saturday morning.  After looking at the weather, I quickly got ready to go see Loren.  Severe thunderstorms were expected later that afternoon, but if I hurried, I could be home before then.

Loren was lying in his bed when I got there, but I noisily shut the door and turned on the light, and he awoke.  He stayed lying down while we visited, but he was awake the whole time, and much more cognizant and able to visit (uh, ‘listen’) than he was the last two weeks.  He enjoyed looking at the two National Geographic magazines I’d brought him, and at pictures on my tablet, too.

When I showed him a photo of the pages in the old wooden-covered album with his senior picture and a later picture of him and asked, “Recognize any of these people?” he grinned and said, “Yes, that’s me when I was really young, and me when I wasn’t quite as young.” 

That was the longest sentence I’d heard from him for a month, I think.  Or at least the longest sentence that made any sense.

I left after about 45 minutes, and he only made one token attempt to keep me longer, since I told him bad weather might be approaching, including strong winds, hail, and possible tornadoes; and I wanted to beat it home.  So he stopped trying to read me something from the magazine (he’d gotten hung up on a full-page advertisement for a Toyota 4-Runner, circa 1988, and told me several times over what a good vehicle it was). 

I agreed, saying, “We had one of those back in 2000-2001.”

This, he found puzzling, since the ad was clearly for a new vehicle – and the vehicle was a 1988 model.

“It’s an old magazine,” I explained.  “36 years old, to be exact.”

He was right properly amazed, he was.

“I’d better hurry,” I said, interrupting as he started to again read me the ad that he had already read to me some four or five times.  “That weather is coming fast!”

“Oh!  Yes!” he agreed, looking concerned.  “You’d better!”  Then, “Drive carefully,” he added, and I assured him I would.

As I drove, I listened to weather warnings on NOAA radio, first of severe thunderstorms, and then of tornadoes.  So far, all were slightly to the northwest and moving northeast; but that was liable to change, what with multiple supercells popping up all around. 

As I crossed the Elkhorn River and saw people floating downstream on innertubes, I wondered if they had any idea about the approaching bad weather that might soon overtake them.

I got home at 5:30 p.m., having only gotten half a dozen sprinkles on the windshield.

I fixed a supper of rice with the previous night’s pork ham roast cut into chunks, and a bag of corn, peas, carrots, and green beans thrown in, along with salt, pepper, and lots of butter.

Soon I could hear thunder rumbling.  I found these photos of a tornado near Clarkson posted on the Facebook 81 Corridor group.  The debris in those pictures are from a barn that the tornado tore apart.

The tornadoes – at least six of them – passed us to the north a few miles.

I hurried back upstairs to work on Maisie’s quilt, hoping to be done soon.

At 9:30 p.m., I finished quilting it and cut it from the frame.  Next, binding, the machine-embroidered label, and the little coordinating book.

I posted some pictures on several quilting groups, and spotted a comment that I cannot for the life of me fathom:  “I’ve started this quilt three times in the past and never gotten more than a dozen or so blocks done at a time before going on to other things and losing the blocks somewhere in the quilt room.”

Why would anyone do that?!

Sunday morning as I was getting ready for church, I looked out the window and realized I’d forgotten to bring in the bird feeders Saturday night.  Most were plumb empty – and the only one that wasn’t empty had a squirrel on it.  😄

I opened the window and the squirrel skedaddled.  The suet feeder has a mess of crumbles in it and below it on the deck banister.  That always means ‘raccoons’.

As I curled my hair, I responded to comments on quilting groups and sipped Hazelnut Cream coffee by Cameron.  That’s good coffee.

A friend who isn’t fond of sewing bindings wrote, “Stopping to miter the ends of binding together is like running a marathon and stopping a few feet before the finish line to tie my shoe.”  haha

Kurt and Victoria invited us for lunch after church – grilled chicken, and salad made with lettuce from their garden.  They gave Larry a generous piece of coconut cream bar from Wildflower Pastries (Rachel’s bakery), especially for Father's Day. 

Baby Arnie is five months old now, and trying hard to crawl.

Last night my nephew Robert (who is who is also our pastor) told me about a turkey he’d rescued from a flock of about 45 turkeys.  It was getting picked on, and the others would’ve killed it, as they did another one, if he had not rescued it.  He took it home and put it in their back yard – and now they have a full-fledged, affectionate pet.  It follows him everywhere he goes, even when he’s mowing the lawn.  Back and forth, back and forth, it marches along behind him.

When he mentioned that they plan to eat it someday, I cautioned, “Well, then, whatever you do, don’t give it a name!”

“Too late,” he laughed.  “I named it Tyler.” 

He said when he goes into the yard after being gone a while, the turkey comes rushing and leans against his leg, then might lie down right next to his foot.  

It very badly wants to come with him if he’s working in the garage, but he won’t let it in there.  It hardly ever makes a peep.

Saturday night, he and some of his family were having devotions on the back patio, and that turkey came stepping up onto the cement patio and proceeded to stand right beside Robert’s grandson Micah’s chair.  It just stood there silently, looking on while Robert read.  Micah, of course, was having a hard time containing himself.

When Tyler the Turkey started falling asleep where he stood, Robert quickly pulled out his phone and started took a video of it.  “He’s falling asleep just like people do in church!” remarked Robert, making Micah and little brother Nathanael laugh. 

The turkey fell so sound asleep for a moment, its head nearly tipped over, and that roused him just enough to make him get his head back in place.

“This is the kind of docile behavior that got it picked on in the flock,” Robert said.

Anyway, this turkey is one that will have a cushy life – right up until he lands in the smoker.

It rained here earlier this morning.  Right before dawn, there were a couple of very bright lightning flashes, followed immediately by a crash of thunder so loud the windows rattled.  Larry didn’t even flinch.  It probably blended right into the dreams he’d been having nearly the entire night, occasionally kicking and making muffled yells.

For breakfast, I had an egg over-easy on a toasted Asiago bagel half.

I love bagels.  But when I got these Asiago bagels, I didn’t realize Asiago is a type of cheese – they’ve been baked with shredded Asiago cheese on top.  I don’t particularly like it with the usual peanut butter and honey on one side (of the bagel half) and a bit of jelly on the other; but it’s very good with an egg.

Here’s a paper wasp on a Stella D’oro daylily.  And no, I didn’t make up the name ‘paper wasp’, like some woman on Facebook is determined I did.  That’s what those things are called, because they’ll scrape wood from houses and suchlike, then chew it into a pulp to make paper-like nests shaped like umbrellas.  So there.

Time for bed!  Binding and label tomorrow; that’ll probably be all I have time for.

,,,>^..^<,,,          Sarah Lynn          ,,,>^..^<,,,