Journal: Birds & Bees & Crinoline Ladies

 

I popped out the door a few minutes ago, tablet in hand, Merlin Bird ID app on, because I heard a Northern Bobwhite, and wondered what other birds the app might hear and identify.  It heard a Black-capped Chickadee!

I don’t think I’ve ever once gotten a picture of a Northern Bobwhite.  Despite their loud, ringing calls that say their names – “Bob-WHITE!!!  Bob-bob-WHITE!!!” – they are somewhat secretive birds, and like to scuttle along in tall weeds near fencerows and suchlike.

This photo is from the American Bird Conservancy. 

Larry was working on the roof of the motorhome, after discovering last week after a downpour that it leaks.  The previous owners tried to fix it by putting a rubber coating or sealant right atop old rubber coating.  That doesn’t work.

There he is up there working away.  He didn’t even notice me down here on the porch.

He doesn’t want me to look inside it yet, until he “gets it cleaned up a little bit more.”

Hmmm.  That makes me think it must be baaaad in there.

Last Monday evening, I put two small venison roasts, half an onion, potatoes, and carrots in the Instant Pot.  (I thought I’d programmed my laptop to throw ‘Instant Pot’ on the page in the place of the letters I P, but instead it tossed in ‘Imogene Pass’!  So I wrote that I put all that food in Imogene Pass.) 

Imogene Pass is west of Ouray, Colorado.  We rented a bright red Rubicon Jeep and went over it in 2014.  Victoria was with us.  Elevation at the top:  13,114 feet.  Waaaay up there.

I once tried telling Loren that Ouray, the town in Colorado, was pronounced Yer-AY, not OO-ray.  After that, he said “OW-ray.”  Not on purpose, you understand; he was trying to say it correctly.  😂

I just swatted a small wasp.  Where’d it go, where’d it go?  Did you know those dumb things can still sting even after they’re dead?  I hope the flyswatter didn’t flip it into the cushions on my chair.  I’m liable to sit down – and rise again, straightaway. 

Wasps can sting after death, as a reflex action.  The nervous system can still trigger muscles near the stinger to push the needle out, and the venom sac attached to the stinger can contract and inject venom when touched or squeezed.  Unlike honeybees, female wasps have smooth stingers that stay intact when they die.  The mechanism remains ready to pierce.

That evening, Hannah sent me a video from our niece’s property – the area with the lake near the Loup River where we have our Fourth-of-July picnics, and where she and Bobby often go walking.  They had their Australian shepherd dogs Chimera and Willow with them. 

My great-nephew Joshua has some sheep on the property.  He also has an orphaned lamb that his aunt and uncle had raised until it because too much of a nuisance, getting tangled in electric fences and escaping.  So Joshua put it in a big fenced area with his big Anatolian shepherd, General, which was one of Teddy’s pups. 

Anatolians are elite livestock guardian dogs bred specifically to protect sheep, goats, and other farm animals from large predators.  They are known for assessing threats and making decisions on their own without needing direct human commands, so they’re terrific dogs to put right out in the pastures with animals such as sheep.  They’re quite imposing; adult males can weigh up to 150 pounds and stand up to 29 inches tall at the shoulder.  They are fearless and courageous against major predators like wolves and coyotes.  They are guardians, not herders.  They live among the flock to blend in and defend them, and they often form a deep loyalty to their assigned livestock, viewing the sheep as their ‘family’.  They are almost always friendly and gentle with people.

(Photo from Comprehensive Animal Guide)

Well, General knew it was his bounden duty to warn Chimera and Willow to leave ‘his lamb’ alone.  So there he was barking his big, deep bark at the smaller dogs – and beside him stood the lamb.

The lamb who thinks it’s a dog.

Every time General barked, the lamb joined in, standing there all staunchly braced and staring menacingly at the Australian shepherds that are about the same size as the half-grown lamb:  “BaaAAA-AAA!!!  BaaAAA-AAA!!!”  😂

So it was “BOWWOWWOWOW!!  BaaAAA-AAA!!!”, one after the other.

Here’s a picture of a Great Blue Heron Hannah took at Lake North.  That is, she took the picture; she didn’t take the Great Blue Heron anywhere.

Hannah sent a few more pictures from their trip to the mountains, which of course makes me want to be there.  Here’s grandson Aaron’s new-to-him pickup heading over a pass. 

The road below and the trail overlooking the mountains with flowers in the foreground is on Cottonwood Pass.

Tuesday was a warm day, with a high of 93° and a heat index about 12° higher.  The dewpoint was 71°, and the humidity was 61%.

A high dewpoint is a direct measure of moisture telling you the exact amount of water vapor in the air, and dictating how hot and sticky the air feels; whereas relative humidity changes, based on the air temperature.  Both terms describe moisture, but they work differently when determining human comfort.

A higher dewpoint means more moisture, which stops sweat from evaporating and traps heat on your skin.  Under 60°F feels comfortable.  60°-65°F feels sticky.  Over 70°F feels oppressive.

Relative humidity tells you how close the air is to being full of water at that specific temperature.  Warm air can hold much more water than cold air.  100% relative humidity on a freezing morning feels dry, while 50% relative humidity on a hot summer afternoon can feel scorching.

I finished quilting the central panel of the Crinoline Ladies quilt and continued on with the bottom half.

I wonder how many times I have been quilting happily along, planning so carefully how to proceed from element to element so as to keep retracing at a minimum, and stopping-and-starting nonexistent – only to discover I’ve been quilting sans bobbin thread for lo, these many feet?

But before long, the machine was rebobbined (should be a word) and ready to go again.

I can’t make a nice, neat line of circles to save my life.  I make tipsy Easter eggs, instead (above, in the narrow blue border).  However, I’m inordinately proud of this rope design (border below the lavender one).  It’s only the second quilt I’ve ever done it on. 

Late Wednesday morning, it was 80°, and the high would be 88° that muggy day.  I did a bit of housecleaning, then headed upstairs to the quilting studio, where I quilted away until time for our midweek church service that evening.

Here are a couple of the Crinoline Ladies’ blocks; the vintage hanky skirts will be attached after quilting is complete.

A crop duster went over our house now and then that afternoon, flying low.  I didn’t smell any of the fertilizer or fungicide he was applying, but I definitely smelled airplane fuel.  It made my head pound before it even occurred to me what I was smelling.

It was sunny that afternoon, but there were tall thunderheads off to the north.  Thankfully, the thunderstorms bypassed us, so I didn’t wind up a drowned rat at church, as happened a week or two earlier.  Schuyler, however, a small town 30 miles to our east, got 5” of rain – yes, five inches! – and several reported six inches, in some areas.  The streets were flooded.

I held a sleeping Baby Russell for a few minutes after church, while Victoria told me how much he had grown in the last week.

“He’s growing fast!” I agreed.  “In fact, he’s gained ten pounds just since you handed him to me a couple of minutes ago!”  😂

Here’s Victoria with little Russell.

I picked up a grocery order at Walmart before going home.  One of the items was a Detroit Pizza, which I popped into the oven for supper.

Thursday morning, we had a little bit of rain.  I spent a good part of the day quilting.  That evening, I rolled the quilt forward to the final border, removed the Red Snappers that held it to the leaders, and finished all the quilting except part of the bottom row of ‘I Wish You Well’ blocks.  And look, my circles have improved! 

Better late than never, I guess.  🙄

A round of storms was coming our way; I could see the lightning to the west.

Larry called around 9:00 p.m. to say he was near Chambers, Nebraska, picking up another truck to sell for scrap metal.  He was wondering what the storm was like to his east.  He’d already gotten soaked, working in the rain.

High winds and rain started abruptly at 11:00 p.m., and it was coming down hard.  The same storm system later brought tornadoes to states to our east, but there were none in Nebraska that night.  Larry got home safely – though still damp – after stopping at the halfway point for a short nap.  We got about 1 ¼” of rain.

It was a cloudy morning Friday, and the high would only be 78°.  I rehung the bird feeders, tidied the bedroom, showered, shined the bathroom back up, played the piano, and made myself a tall mug of Georgia Peach cold-brew coffee.  The jug was almost empty.  I had just thought, I need to make a new gallon —” when it occurred to me, I don’t think there’s enough coffee beans to make a gallon jug of cold-brew! 

I looked at my email – and there was a note from Aroma Ridge, informing me that my order of coffee beans had been delivered.  Whew.  Dire emergency averted.

So, having opened the box (it’s like Christmas, and it even smells good, into the bargain), I found that I had the following choices:  Blueberry White Chocolate, Raspberry White Chocolate, Maui Joe’s (description:  ‘warm coconut, fresh macadamia nut, and fruity pineapple), and American Dream (description:  ‘fresh cherries and cream’).

I blow-dried my hair and ate half a blueberry bagel, toasted and slathered with butter, and topped with a liberal dollop of Blueberry Preserves.

I like to order a little treat from Walmart every now and then, something we’ve never had before.  This is what I tried this time, and they’re good:  Hazelnut Cocoa Biscuits.

I also got a couple of peaches.  The ones I got the week before were scrumptious.  Peaches and nectarines are just right when you take a bite and the juice runs all the way down to your elbow.

But as it turned out, these were brown and grainy and stringy on the inside.  I requested my money back.  All $.82 of it.  They should’ve paid me for my dejection and angst, too; that was more significant than the peaches themselves!

A cousin texted half a sentence, followed soon thereafter with, “It makes upset that my phone will send the message before I am done typing it.”

“I know the feeling! 😅” I commiserated.  “But it does give the other person the option of finishing your sentence as they like, haha.”

I used to love it, back in elementary school, when our teacher would start reading us a story, then stop at an exciting spot – and our assignment would be to finish the story.  Other children usually groaned, but I happily grabbed paper and pencil and started writing lickety-split.

One of my favorite teachers, my fourth-grade teacher, just died last week.  She taught us Nebraska state history.  I especially loved stories about the pioneers.  Sometimes when we’d study a subject, I felt like there just wasn’t nearly enough information in our schoolbooks; so I’d ask my mother to take me to the public library so I could check out more books on the subject.

I remember trying to check out a tall stack of books about Nebraska, and being disappointed when the librarian apologetically told me that I just couldn’t take that many books on Nebraska, because fourth graders all over town were studying Nebraska, and others might need a book or two!

She let me take half a dozen rather than the dozen or more I’d originally chosen.  But I was back the next week, returning the first half a dozen and getting six more.

By late afternoon, the quilting was finished on the Crinoline Ladies quilt, and I’d begun putting on the binding.

That evening, we met Bobby, Hannah, and the kids at El Mezcal, a Mexican Restaurant with quite delicious food.  I got a chicken enchilada dinner – and wound up with enough for supper the next night, too.

There wasn’t as big a variety of birds singing Saturday morning as usual, but those that were, were really goin’ at it.  There were multiples of each kind answering each other and carrying on conversations from all sides of the yard.  There were English Sparrows, House Finches, Blue Jays, American Robins, Mourning Doves, Eurasian Collared Doves, and Northern Cardinals.

It was a pretty day, 72° on the way up to 83°, bright and sunny.  Because of all the rains the last few days, this old farmhouse smelled mildewy.  I set off a Rain Forest scented odor bomb in one of the upstairs cubbyholes under the rafters.  I only do this in final desperation, because the chemical smell is hard to cope with, too.  I opened windows and doors, hoping it would get better quickly.

That day, I finished the binding and got three of the handkerchief skirts for the Crinoline Ladies attached to the quilt.  Three more to go!

Those pink beads, both round and square, were from an old broken bracelet of mine.  I thought Violet would think that was nifty, as she’s a sentimental little dear.

When I pulled out the pearls and beads to use on the hanky skirts, I saw some of the silk ribbon and the tools I used with it, and thought, One of these days, I want to do more silk ribbon embroidery! 

Time.  There’s such a dire shortage of the commodity!

Sunday, another sunny day, it got up to 88°.

After church last night, Violet (the granddaughter for whom I am making this quilt) noticed my necklace and bracelet, and complimented me on them.  I told her about the necklace:

It was my mother’s, and it came from Avon.  I explained about Avon ladies:  they came every two weeks, and they sold perfume and lotions and jewelry.  My mother bought necessities and gifts, never frivolities for herself.

One day Daddy happened to be there when the Avon lady came.  Mama ordered a few things she needed; then the lady handed her this necklace.  Mama looked at it for a few moments – a little longer than usual – then handed it back.

Daddy took note of this, and asked Mama, “Do you like that necklace?”

“Oh, yes,” said Mama, “It’s beautiful!”

“Go ahead and get it,” he said, thinking one just purchased items from the Avon lady and got them right then and there, rather than ordering them and waiting a couple of weeks until they arrived.

Mama protested, “Oh, but I don’t need it!”

But Daddy laughed, and said, “I think we can get you a necklace once in a blue moon.”

He was disappointed when he learned it would have to be ordered.

I told Violet, “When I was little, my parents had enough money to get all we needed, and quite a few things we just wanted.  But when my brothers and sister were little (they are 22, 20, and 17 years older than me), my family was poor.”

I told her about the year my parents didn’t have enough money to buy Christmas presents for the children.  So they stealthily took the children’s wooden block set and hid it one day, and then every night after the children were asleep, they’d get those blocks out, and, sitting together at the kitchen table, they carefully painted each block, which had just been plain wood until then.

At Christmastime, they gave the painted blocks to the children, who thought it was a brand-new set.

When we got home from church, I looked for a picture or two of my mother to send to Violet – and lo and behold, I found a picture with her actually wearing that necklace! 

I wrote to Victoria, “Tell Violet this was my Mama – and look, she’s wearing the necklace I had on tonight, which Violet complimented me on, and which I told her about.”

I sent another picture of her when she was young, too.

Soon Victoria sent an audio clip of Violet telling me how pretty she thought her Great-Grandma was.

“I thought my Mama was the prettiest lady in the whole world!” I answered in agreement.

Look what it says on the bottom of this picture:  “from Hester, with all my love.”

I believe she sent that picture to my father when he was in the Navy.  When he’d get pictures of her and the children when he was on that big ship, he’d run through the passageways waving the pictures and shouting, “I got pictures!  Come and see!” – and his shipmates would come hurrying to look at them. 

The postmaster, who was also the ship’s banker, told him that he sent his family far and away more money each week than anyone else on the ship – in fact, more than anyone ever had on any ship he’d been on as postmaster.  Daddy would buy broken things, fix them, and resell them.  He’d buy shirts, pants, socks, and shoes from the ship’s store (aka, ‘slop chest’) and sell them on shore (the Philippines).

They weren’t supposed to haul stuff off the ship to sell; so he’d buy clothing in graduated sizes, including too-big shoes, and put them all on from small to large.  The too-big shoes accommodated the numerous socks he put on.  When the sailors were allowed off ship, they had to pass inspection. 

As Daddy, who weighed 127 pounds, according to his enlistment papers, walked down the gangplank, the Commanding Officer, who really liked him, burst out laughing.

“Swiney,” he said, “You look like a stuffed shirt!”

And he was a stuffed shirt, quite literally.

He’d sell everything he had on except for the skivvies, and come back to the ship having an awful time trying to hold all his money.

“No pockets!” he’d laugh.

He’d go straight to the ship’s bank with that money, only keeping enough to buy more things to fix and sell, get a money order, and address it to my mother.

Here he is on the ship – he’s the one in the white t-shirt on the right.

The men’s watches would often quit working, getting rusty because of sea salt and humidity.  They’d give them to Daddy, and he’d fix them.  He’d take the watches apart, soak the little parts in isopropyl alcohol, let them dry, put them back together, and then sell the watches back to their initial owners.  It was cheaper than buying a new watch, after all, and they figured they were paying him for the labor, which they didn’t want (or know how) to do.

Daddy, telling this story, would laugh, “No telling how many times I sold the same watch back to the same man!”

It was a hot, sunny day today, getting up to 90°.  I refilled and rehung the bird feeders, tidied the bedroom and bathroom, played the piano, and cleaned the kitchen.

It’s our son-in-law Todd’s birthday.  He and Dorcas and their two children live in Tennessee.  We sent him a woodworker’s level.  He just finished building a beautiful little schoolhouse in which Dorcas will homeschool Trevor and Brooklyn.  Now that the schoolhouse is finished, he will complete the workshop he’s building for himself.

“I figured you already had a level,” I told him, “but maybe having two won’t hurt anything.”

We once gave grandson Nathanael a level for his third birthday.  It was real, but I made sure it was constructed mostly of plastic, so it wouldn’t break.  I showed him how it worked, and he immediately went around checking the level of nearly everything in the living room.  

A little while later Bobby came home from work.  He barely set foot in the living room before Nathanael informed him adamantly, “Daddy!!!  You have to re-level the big bookcase!!!”

“The schoolhouse is beautiful,” I told Todd.  “We think it was a wonderful thing to do for your children.  I know I would’ve been absolutely, totally delighted with such a lovely schoolhouse, when I was little!”

“Just trying to invest for their future,” he said.  “I’m kinda fond of the teacher too.  The only thing we have left to buy is a photo of the Ten Commandments, and then we will be completely done.”

“Yes,” I replied, “we can tell that, even from way over here.  😄  We appreciate how you treat our daughter and your family.”

“I would be lost without them,” he said.  “God is good, and He has blessed me beyond words.”

Tomorrow I plan to attach the last three hankie (hanky?) skirts to the Crinoline Ladies quilt.

Okay, I looked it up, and learned that both ‘hanky’ and ‘hankie’ are correct, but ‘hanky’ is the more common spelling.

Gemini also decided I needed to know all of this:

 

A Quick History of the Handkerchief

 

Ancient Rome:  Roman elites used a cloth called a ‘sudarium’ to wipe sweat from their faces.

Middle Ages:  Wealthy Europeans used them as a status symbol and a sign of nobility.

16^th Century:  King Richard II of England is often credited with inventing the modern cloth handkerchief for blowing his nose.

The Renaissance:  Ladies would drop a lace handkerchief to signal romantic interest in a gentleman.  He was to pick it up and return it to the lady.

 

Proper Handkerchief Etiquette

 

The Two-Pocket Rule:  Keep a clean one in your left pocket to offer to someone crying.  Keep your used one in your right pocket.

The ‘Offer Only’ Policy:  Never ask for your handkerchief back if you lend it to someone to wipe tears or a spill.

The Screen:  Use it to cover your mouth during an unexpected cough or sneeze.

The Folding Rule:  Always fold a used handkerchief inward before putting it away, to keep the grime contained.

 

There.  Now I’m all ed-jee-cated ’n stuff.

Motto for the Day:  “Keep the Grime Contained!”

No, never mind; that’s kind of grim.

New & Improved Motto for the Day:  “For Crying Out Loud!”

(I should embroider that on a big ol’ handkerchief for somebody.)

Oh!  There’s a little tree frog crawling up one of the windows!  He’s creeping up verrrry slowly and carefully on a small miller.

And now I shall leave you with that cliffhanger, because... it’s bedtime!

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