Sarah Lynn's Nature's Splendor: Journal: Tornadoes, and Other Swirling Matters

Would you believe, my new laptop has no SD card slot? When I download photos from my camera, I have to use either the cord or an adapter with a USB type C plug. Aggravatin’. I didn’t even think to ask about it at Nebraska Furniture Mart’s Electronics Department; but it wouldn’t have mattered if I had’ve, I guess, since this was the only computer available with the specs I needed.

Tuesday, since I was staying with Loren for a few hours, I got back to work in his house, clearing, sorting, tossing, donating. I peeked into his laundry room the other day. Yeep (in the tone of Dinny the Dinosaur). I’ll clear that area out after I finish a few other rooms.

By a quarter ’til five, I decided Loren would be okay by himself for a while. He was eating a little (even got himself a banana and some yogurt early that afternoon, without any encouragement from me), though only a few bites at a time. He wasn’t coughing much, he was trying to talk a little, he was cheery, and he said he was ‘fine!’ whenever I asked how he was feeling.

So I came home and started wrapping and bagging Christmas presents.

On the way home, I stopped at Hannah’s house to drop off a set of books from one of Loren’s many overflowing bookcases for Aaron as a thank-you, along with a bit of $$$, for staying with his great-uncle Loren Friday night.

Loren has told me that Bobby, who’s a Sunday School teacher, or others in the family can have his books; so I know he’d be pleased that I gave a set to Aaron.

I won’t empty all the bookcases, but I know he can no longer plow through study and commentary books. He recently found a book about Laura Ingalls Wilder (not the Little House books, but more of a history), and it took him a long time to make his way through it. I’ve found quite a few books (biographies and such) that are appropriate for young people, and have tucked them into bags for our older grandchildren.

Loren has always treated our children like grandchildren (and their children like great-grandchildren). He forgets their names; but he does know who they are, and he loves them.

Last Sunday, I tried giving Lydia a ten-dollar bill for a meal she made for Loren. She wouldn’t take it. Malinda, 4, was standing there watching the show.

I looked down at her... “No!!!” said Lydia, trying to get Malinda out of my reach.

I leaned down fast, and said to her, “Here, takeitquickbeforeyourMamagetsit!” And I tucked it into her little hand.

She was laughing so hard, looking from one to the other of us. Lydia plucked it out of her hand and tried to give it back to me.

I said to Malinda, “Tell your Mama if she doesn’t want it for herself, she can divide it between you and your brothers! That would be two dollars and fifty cents for each of you.”

Malinda giggled, and told Lydia, “Two dollars and fifty cents for each of us!”

Lydia gave in, and kept it. Malinda smiled at me very sweetly – and gave her Mama a quite smug smile. hee hee

I took a few loads of things to the Goodwill. I’m pretty sure I long ago hit my yearly quota of allowable deductions for donations to the Goodwill, so I might as well wait until after the new year to really get in gear hauling stuff away. I didn’t know there was a quota, until last year when I was doing our taxes, listing the donations, and after I got to a certain amount, the running refund tally up in the top left corner stopped changing. I should’ve investigated the matter, but I figured Turbo Tax knew what it was doing, and I was in a gigantic hurry, as usual.

Stop reading here, if you have sensitive sensibilities.

You didn’t stop, did you?

Alrighty, then, but don’t say I didn’t warn you! 😂

A few months back when I cleared out all the ‘kindling’ Loren had amassed down there for the fireplace in his lower level (garbage! – and he’s always been so fastidious, in years gone by 😳) (he has two fireplaces, one on each floor of his split-level home), I found not only mice tracks and a nest or two, but also a late mouse who had gone to nothing but pelt and skeleton. I suggested to Hannah that it could be made into a rug for a little girl’s miniature dollhouse, and made her yelp in horror. >>snicker<<

Why my daughter did not consider that a rare moment of inspiration, I cannot fathom.

Larry took the camera off the side of Loren’s house where it was aimed at the driveway and repositioned it on a lamppost to aim at the house. Sooo... here I am, loading up the BMW with stuff from the lower level of the house.

I have not yet found the hand-embroidered quilt Norma asked Hannah and Amy to look for, shortly before she passed away a year and a half ago. Nor do I know what Loren did with the quilt and matching pillow I made him, using the blocks his previous wife Janice had hand-embroidered before she passed away in 2014. Also, somewhere there’s a quilt I made Loren and Janice back in... ? 2009, maybe? I should look in some of his upstairs closets tomorrow and see if I can find them.

Oh! How ’bout this: I just looked at my pictures of that quilt I made in February of 2009 BL (Before Longarm), and discovered I made a bunch of pillows to go with it, too! Forgot all about that.

Here’s Loren’s quilt, made with Janice’s embroidered squares, and below is Loren, after I gave him the quilt.

By 11:00 p.m. that night, I was tired. Actually, my back was more tired than the rest of me. I was still going strong putting gifts in bags, but my back was protesting, so I took it to the recliner and stuck a heating pad behind it. Too much carrying of a bunch of heavy things that day. Now I would have the fun of ordering some things for baby Brooklyn!

I’d gotten several large gift bags filled, and they were in big boxes with family names on the sides. Bobby and Hannah’s gifts were done... and Teddy and Amy’s were partially done, as were Todd and Dorcas’.

‘Bagging’ gifts doesn’t sound nearly as Christmasy as ‘wrapping’ gifts. But these vinyl/cloth bags are quite nice, really.

Everything is always in a jumbled mess when I first start. But before long, the ratio of bagged or wrapped gifts to unbagged or unwrapped gifts changes from ‘less than’ to ‘greater than’, and things gradually become neater.

Theoretically.

For several days, we’d been given warnings about high winds coming on Wednesday, with the possibility of bad storms, too. So early that afternoon when I noticed the sun and the pretty blue sky were getting covered up with thick, dark, fast-moving clouds, I jumped in the BMW and headed for Loren’s house. As I drove south down Old Highway 81 to Highway 22, the skies to the west looked dark and dirty. I flipped on the radio and learned there was a tornado near Humphrey, not very far to the northwest. I thought about making a U-turn at the bottom of the hill and heading back home, but I wasn’t sure Loren could comprehend that he needed to go to the basement; and he hasn’t been answering his phone since he got sick.

The storm was coming our way at over 70 mph. Loren’s house is 10 miles to the east. I listened for the exact location of the tornado... and decided I could make it.

I hadn’t gone two miles before the sky in my rearview mirror had turned a dark navy blue.

I got to Loren’s house with a few minutes to spare. When I started telling him a tornado was coming our way, he grinned at me, held out his hands, and made them ‘tremble’ in an exaggerated way, like he’s done as long as I can remember, pretending to be scared when he’s not.

So... I told him about the Kentucky tornadoes... and about a 7-year-old little girl who got sucked right out of her home into a tornado. She said, “I was up in the air, going around and around, and I prayed to Jesus to help me, and then the tornado tossed me right out into the mud.” Loren laughed about that, but sobered when I added, “She survived, but will have to have back surgery.” Things that used to seem really awful to him don’t so much, anymore.

We stood at the front window and watched the storm coming in fast, darkening the sky. Clouds dipped down... went back up... dipped down... Loren was not alarmed in the slightest.

After all, we were brought up to love big, bad storms! I remember standing in the open garage door beside my Daddy, holding his hand, and delighting in the thunder, the lightning, and the pouring rain.

And then something hit the house. THONK!

Loren said a longer sentence than he’s said for two days: “What was that?!” 😂

“Something hit your house!” I said, trying to sound urgent. “Maybe a branch?” – and then the hail came bangity-banging down, and the wind began howling.

“It’s hail!” I told him. “And just listen to that wind! Time to go to the basement.” I headed for the steps, adding, “Come on!” in a no-nonsense tone.

He came.

Red-breasted nuthatch

I flipped on the lights as we went, and walked toward the more sheltered north side of the lower level, where there’s a bed, several bookcases, and the little half-bath. Loren followed me, then turned back toward the front windows, getting right up close, because they were covered with dirt, rain, and grass, and it was hard to see out.

“Oh, stay back from the window!” I admonished. “If that glass breaks, shards will come flying in, and you’ll get all cut up!”

He scurried back and sat on the bed – but he only stayed there a minute before he popped back up and scampered over to look out the window. I just couldn’t keep him away! 😅

I pointed at all his books, and said, “At least we’ll have plenty to read, if we have to stay down here very long.”

The lights flickered.

“If the lights don’t go out,” I added, which made him laugh.

Soon I could tell the wind was lessening a little, and I wanted to look out, too, so I quit worrying about his windows obsession and proximity.

After a while, the worst of the storm had passed over, according to AccuWeather radar. It was now over by Schuyler, heading east fast (80 mph!) ---- right where Larry, Teddy, Bobby, Caleb, Kurt, Aaron, and other members of the family were driving and/or working! Larry was driving his boom truck with the pup, both fully loaded. It would take a terrible wind to move that thing.

(Everyone would make it home safely.)

Later, back upstairs, Loren looked out his front window, and pointed out a police car over on the bypass, lights flashing. It was hard to see out the front window, because it was covered with dirt and mud and cornhusks. “That must be a storm spotter,” I told Loren, though I thought he was a little late on scene.

In a few minutes, he pointed out another one, parked close to the first. “Now there are two storm spotters,” I told him. He grinned, at that. (I probably sounded like a first-grade teacher reading from the Dick, Jane, and Sally books.)

Then there was a firetruck. Or was it? Finally the rain washed some of the dirt from the window, and I realized it was an ambulance. I took another look at what I’d thought was part of an irrigation system near the highway ----- and discovered it was a semi and trailer on its side in the ditch! That ditch is deeper than it looks from this distance. That would’ve been an awful jolt. They’d extracted the driver and were loading him into the ambulance.

I was fixing something for Loren to eat, and he suddenly made an exclaiming noise (he hasn’t been talking much – partly because it makes him cough, and partly because he can’t think of the words – this problem with words has gotten a whole lot worse for him since he got sick) and pointed out the window to the east. One of his big trees was down!

I called son-in-law Jeremy, who owns Precision Wood Products and Tree Service. He answered in his usual friendly way, and I asked, “Has business picked up a lot lately?”

He laughed, and said he was just out driving through town right then, looking at the mess. I told him about Loren’s tree, and sent him a picture.

He’ll take care of it as soon as he can. It didn’t fall on anything, thankfully. (That’s the neighbor’s house to the east; I took the picture from Loren’s back/side deck.)

Soon a couple of big wreckers arrived to right the semi and pull it back up on the road. Loren couldn’t eat, for watching all the excitement out there.

Some people about three blocks from our church, near the West Park School where I attended when I was little, had the roof ripped off their house.

In a line traveling northeast from West Park to Lost Creek School and straight on towards Loren’s house, lots of trees are down, and some have fallen on houses and garages. Later I read in online news that someone got footage of a tornado as it moved through that area. It was very close to both Hannah’s and Victoria’s houses. Hannah reported pieces of metal wrapped around trees, and big branches down. There were large pines down in Victoria’s neighborhood.

One offspring after another called to see if I was all right, and if Loren was all right. Victoria said Carolyn and Violet (especially Carolyn) were frightened.

“That’s because you frighten them!” I exclaimed, partly kidding her, and partly knowing it to be true. She gets all agog and excited, and even scares the cats. haha

She had her phone on speakerphone, and I said, “Tell Carolyn, ‘Grandma thinks big storms are spectacular!’” (Carolyn and Violet like big words.)

And Carolyn said, said she, “I will do that, too!” ((pause)) “When I am five.” hee hee

A few minutes later, I heard her say to her little sister, who was playing away unconcernedly in another part of the room, “Violet, are you doing all right over there?” 😄

Victoria said that while they were still in their basement immediately after the storm passed over, the doorbell rang. She went upstairs to answer it – and it was some neighbors, checking to see if she and the little girls were all right. She very much appreciated such concern and thoughtfulness. Fifteen minutes had not gone by before other neighbors had come out to help move branches, cut trees that had fallen, and see what else they could do to help.

Jeremy sent a couple of pictures. That’s his equipment you can see in the second photo.

Larry didn’t feel so good that evening, and thought he’d better not go to church. The winds were still blowing at 70 mph out here, so I decided to stay home and keep him company rather than drive in such weather. I texted the kids, so they wouldn’t worry.

Caleb was the first to answer: “Ok. Hang on to your hats.”

“And wigs!” I wrote back. “Wigs are important. A woolly mammoth just blew past the upstairs window!”

Seconds later, Lydia wrote, “Okay. I’m keeping some of the kids home. Jeremy and Jacob are going. I don’t want Jonathan out there with his asthma.”

“No!” I responded. “Wind can be disastrous for kids (and people) (not that kids aren’t people) with asthma.”

Then I added, “Tell Jonathan I got his birthday present (he would be 8 the next day, December 16) – and it’s long-haired and funny, and he’ll nevah, evah guess.”

Lydia texted back: “😂 He’s trying to guess. A dog stuffed animal?”

I offered a couple more suggestions: “A hippy? A mop?”

Lydia: 😂

A minute later, Hester wrote, “Did you see any tornadoes or have much damage around your house?”

“It’s okay here,” I told her, and then recounted the excitement at Loren’s house.

Later, Larry and I were looking at the Moultrie camera images. Ooooo, just look what the wind was doing to the shingles and the gutter on Loren’s house!

They did all go back down into place when the wind diminished. The gutter seems to have repaired itself. (Yeah, yeah, I know that’s impossible. It’s loose.)

That night, I got an email from a lady from Washington State for whom I have quite a lot of quilting. The lady, Donna, had told her friend Linda about my quilting, and Linda then sent me a number of her quilts to do. Remember her wool Christmas quilt I did not too long ago, and the African quilt I did earlier?

Donna wrote to ask, “You don’t have any of Linda’s quilts, do you?” (I don’t) and then told me the sad and unexpected news that Linda had passed away the previous night. She was 70, and had not known she was ill; but her heart had evidently not been working right, and had finally stopped. The ladies had just attended a Christmas potluck today at lunchtime that day.

That’s sad, isn’t it? Especially so, I think, when it happens right before Christmas.

Thursday afternoon, I fixed Loren’s meal... started out to the BMW – but it wasn’t there. Larry had driven it, as 1) it was too cold for comfortable motorcycle weather, 2) one truck was loaded with paraphernalia, and 3) his other pickup was leaking power steering fluid. He didn’t answer when I called, as he was busy swinging big beams onto a basement somewhere.

I sent out a call for help. Teddy soon had Ethan, their oldest, headed my way. Since they only live a couple of miles away, he was soon pulling into the drive. He took me to Walkers’ shop, where I absconded with the BMW. Larry would have to hitchhike home.

As it turned out, he didn’t have to hitchhike after all; Kurt brought him home. See, it pays to have a big family! 😉

While I was at Loren’s house, I washed some dishes. I generally rinse them off in running water. He has always thought this was a great waste (effects of living in a camper, probably) (but then he thinks he shouldn’t turn on any lights, either, as that’s a waste of electricity). So he came over and shut the water off, just as he used to do years ago, in my very own house! I always howled and turned it back on (and if he did it again, I doused him with a glass of water). This time, I quickly stuck a soapy bowl under the no-longer-running-faucet and then just stood there, raising my eyebrows like I wondered what in the world had happened. He made a funny face. I just stood there, holding the bowl under the faucet. After a moment, grinning a little bit, he reached over and turned the faucet back on.

“That’s a trick faucet!” I told him.

He nodded in agreement, and went back to look out the front window, which is a major pastime of his nowadays. It regularly interrupts his meals, this ‘looking out the window’ obsession. I asked him if he saw the wreckers right the semi that had landed in the ditch yesterday.

“No,” he said, looking puzzled; but I know he was watching them get started on it Wednesday when I left his house.

As I sorted through the books I’d taken out of one of Loren’s downstairs cupboards (they were in the cupboard because the bookcases are all full, and even have books stacked sideways on top of the upright books), I found this old book. Knowing that Robert collects very old commentaries and study books, I took a picture of it and sent it to him, asking if he had it, and if not, if he might want it.

“I refuse to bear any responsibility if it’s doctrinally incorrect,” I added. “I have no idea about it. Oh, and it was 25 cents.” 😅

Robert soon wrote back, “I don’t have that book. If no one else wants to claim it, I would take it.”

After saying I ‘had no idea’ about the book, I grew curious, as usual. I really do like history.

Notice that on this Front Matter page just inside the cover, where it has the author’s name, “Henry Van Dyke”, it says, “Pastor of the brick church in New York”?

Imagine describing it thusly today, and having a prayer of finding it amongst the gazillions of ‘brick churches’ there!

But I’ve found it. This was the original:

It’s called ‘The Old Brick Church’, and was built in 1767 at Beekman and Nassau Streets.

Interior view:

The Brick Church was turned into a hospital during the Revolutionary War. It was pretty much left in ruins, and the parsonage was burned down. The parishioners repaired it, and it reopened in 1784.

Here’s a little story:

On a Sunday morning in May 1811, while the congregation worshiped, a fire broke out in a waterfront warehouse three blocks away. A burning cinder was carried on the spring breezes to be dropped onto the wooden steeple. There it smoldered, then caught fire. Before long the steeple was burning.

As the congregation crowded onto Beekman Street in horror, certain that they would witness the destruction of their beloved church, a seaman named Stephen McCormack elbowed his way through the well-dressed crowd and, using his skills as a sailor, shimmied up the lightning rod. Using his jacket, he beat out the fire and saved the church. The thankful parishioners offered the young man a $100 reward, but he disappeared into the crowd and never returned for it.

The church was torn down in 1856; but there have since been three ‘Brick Churches’ in other locations. They are Presbyterian. Here’s the website:

https://www.brickchurch.org/about/history/

Another story:

Members of the Brick Church were expected to tow the doctrinal line and Mrs. Maria Townsend found that out quite clearly in 1820. Church officials discovered that Mrs. Townsend felt that wrongdoers would be absolved of their sins and admitted into Heaven by the grace of the Crucifixion. Presbyterian belief firmly declared that the wicked would be punished in Hell. Maria Townsend was called in to explain herself and renounce her earlier statements.

She refused.

After two years of exasperation, Maria Townsend gathered her children and began worshiping at Trinity Church. The Rev. Dr. Spring was not pleased. From his pulpit he announced, “It has become my painful duty, to announce that Mrs. Maria Townsend, a member of this Church, has for two years past, persevered in denying the doctrine of the everlasting punishment of the wicked, and has presented her children for dedication, at that place of pretended worship, where the doctrine is taught that the wicked will be saved as well as the righteous.”

Maria Townsend was publicly excommunicated from the Presbyterian Church. The indignant woman got the last word, sending Rev. Spring a polite and educated lesson on God’s love and the sacrifice of His Son.

The Lost 1767 Old Brick Church

Isn’t it something, the way congregations who knew what it was to suffer persecution for their beliefs would turn right around and persecute others for their beliefs?

I wonder what they make of the verses that say, “There is none righteous, no not one.” And what do they think of Jesus telling the thief on the cross beside Him, “This day thou shalt be with me in Paradise”? And how do they explain the Apostle Paul’s conversion? He had mercilessly persecuted the saints, previous to his conversion on the Damascus Road.

I don’t understand how people can have major beliefs that totally fly in the face of practically everything they read in the Bible.

As for the Trinity Church where Maria Townsend began worshiping:

Trinity Church began in 1696 with a small group of Anglicans, members of the Church of England, they created the first Anglican Church in Manhattan, New York. As New York’s population grew the Church built new chapels such as St. George’ Chapel and St. Paul’s Chapel. In 1776, the first Trinity Church was destroyed by the Great Fire of 1776 during the war. After President Washington was elected the second Trinity Church was built, George Washington and his government were worshipers at this church while the nation’s capital was in New York City. Alexander Hamilton was also a member of Trinity Church, five of his children were baptized here.

Shortly after midnight, I finished wrapping (bagging, actually) gifts. There are a few kids who need one more little thing, I think.

Baby Brooklyn is a week and two days old now. Dorcas sent several pictures, including some of Trevor holding her, looking down at her with much love on his face.

Tiny babies make little boys look like big brothers, don’t they? Trevor is delighted with his little sister.

Here's Dorcas with Baby Brooklyn:

Friday, Hester sent me some pictures of their new house, now with everything in its place and Christmas decorations up. She just got the curtains up in the living room; it took her a while to find exactly what she wanted for the living and dining rooms.

Hester and Keira had also gone to their basement Wednesday when the tornado sirens went off. “Keira was mostly excited about the Cheetos we were snacking on in the basement, lololol,” wrote Hester. “We don’t eat them much, and it was a highlight. 😅😅 She was ready for more sirens the rest of the day and had special animals that needed to come be safe, too. 😆 The storm wasn’t nearly as bad here for sure.”

I took Loren some food that afternoon: Alaskan cod, French-cut green beans, a banana nut muffin, a banana, apple juice, and Thompson grapes. Larry would later find quite a bit of it still on the table; but at least he ate a little more than he had been eating.

After leaving Loren’s house, I stopped at the post office to mail Christmas packages to Keith and family and to Dorcas and family.

Next, I delivered a gift to Jonathan; he was eight years old that day. We gave him a stuffed Golden Lion Tamarin, two books about the little monkey, and a small hard rubber tamarin, too. I also tucked in a card of stickers, small and large 2022 calendars, and a couple of shiny punch-out cardboard ornaments.

After giving Jonathan his gifts, I had a rip-roaring time with Malinda which all started when she tossed a little pink ball cap, I caught it, announced it wanted to go home with me, and ker-plunked it on my head. She shrieked with laughter – and the game had begun.

Once the gift-wrapping room was fairly neat again that day, with bags and paper and tissue and cards all put away, I headed upstairs to scan photos.

Before starting on the next album, I scanned a little stack of old photos I’d found on Loren’s table. Here are Loren, Lura Kay, and Mama in 1940; and (below) Loren, G.W., Lura Kay, and Mama in 1945, Miniere, Illinois.

Saturday, it was only 8° in the middle of the afternoon, and the windchill was 1°. When I got to Loren’s house, I got some things from the refrigerator for him, then went to see if I needed to wash the dishes. I still had on my coat and scarf. Loren walked into the kitchen, gesturing toward me (he does a lot of gesturing, in lieu of actually saying words), and then finally saying, “I need.” He gestured again, touched my arm, and said, “I need.” He was smiling at first, then looking concerned, maybe a bit anxious, because he couldn’t put into words what he wanted to say, and I wasn’t quickly catching on.

“You need something?” I asked, smiling.

He nodded, then took the tail end of my scarf and gave it a little pull. “You need my scarf?” I asked.

He laughed, and the wrapped his arms around himself.

“Oh!!!” I exclaimed, “Are you cold??!”

He nodded, relieved. “Cold!”

I scurried off, saying, “I’ll turn the furnace up a couple of degrees; the house will soon be warmer!” Then, “Do you have a sweater?”

He shook his head. “No,” he answered.

Now, I know he has sweaters. He has truckloads of clothes. But he doesn’t know where they are.

“I’m sure you have something,” I said. “I’ll go find something to warm you up.”

I found a wool shirt with a quilted lining that I thought would be big enough to go right over the shirt he had on. It did.

He buttoned it all the way up to the chin, and was soon much warmer.

That made me feel so bad! I think it didn’t even occur to him to turn up the furnace. And I’ve always run a lot hotter than he does, so the house didn’t feel cold to me at all. 😥

Here are Lura Kay, 8; G.W., 4; and Loren, 9; in Fargo, North Dakota, 1947.

I just checked my external hard drives to see what the absolute tally of photos is. It’s 232,429. 24,250 of those are the photos I’ve been scanning from albums BDC (Before Digital Cameras).

The birds were busy at the feeders that day. Aren’t the little juncos cute, in their little charcoal tuxedos with the pristine white shirts?

I got a few stray files off my old laptop and cleared some things from it so Larry can use it, should he wish. However, the fan sounds worse than I remembered; it’s liable to go kaput at any moment.

The blue jays are so pretty... but when they come swooping in to the feeding station, everything but the woodpeckers vamoose!

After the Sunday morning service, Victoria had roast beef, potatoes, carrots, and onions for us to pick up. We took some to Loren, but he was sound asleep. We left a small plateful for him and tiptoed back out.

He needs help shaving, showering, and changing clothes. I need to put fresh sheets on his bed, too. Maybe tonight...

Larry goes to Loren’s house each night in the wee hours of the morning, and sleeps in the bed in the lower level. Sometimes he hears Loren get up for a bit. He’s not coughing much now, and he’s breathing much easier when he sleeps. Each morning when Larry gets up to go to work, Loren is sound asleep. Larry leaves some breakfast on the table before he goes. I think Loren does not even think to open the refrigerator door and see what’s in there.

When I get there in the early afternoon, I find some – not all – of the food Larry left eaten. I throw out what’s left, and give him some supper.

When Larry arrives, he finds a good deal of the supper left on the table. He throws it out.

Jeremy told Larry that he drove by Loren’s house to look at the fallen tree – and spotted a big blue spruce (or maybe a Douglas fir) along the front property line that is leaning a little. He thinks it might survive, though.

We took a look at it – and Larry saw at least two more big trees there in that row of evergreens that are a bit tilted. Hopefully, all of them will be okay. They aren’t tipping very much; I would not have noticed, had Jeremy not brought it to our attention.

We went to the grocery store after church last night, getting groceries for both us and for Loren. When we got to Loren’s house a little after 9:00 p.m., he was asleep. But we saw that he’d eaten the meal we’d left for him earlier, and, what’s more, he’d washed and put away his dishes! He hasn’t done that for a week and a half.

Early this afternoon, I saw via the Moultrie game cam that Loren went out on his porch... down the steps... and evidently to his mailbox and then back inside (as I think I could see some mail in his hand). That’s another thing he hadn’t done for over a week, so far as I know.

Today I took Loren mandarin orange chicken, mixed vegetables (corn, peas, green beans), string cheese, and a banana nut muffin. I added peaches, applesauce, and cranberry juice from his refrigerator when I got there. I asked him if he’d noticed that we stocked the refrigerator. He said no, and came to take a look.

He made a surprised face, exclaimed, waved an arm, and then laughed.

Again, he had washed his few dishes – though this time, instead of putting them away, he’d strewn them all over the countertops. Maybe so they could dry? I put them away, and everything was nice and neat again.

I was surprised after ordering this Nyjer seed feeder to discover how big it was. Unfortunately, the little birds that like Nyjer seed in our part of the country (finches, in particular) had a nearly impossible time trying to pull the seed from the metal mesh. So Larry used his drill with a big bit and made larger holes all over it. Now they like it just fine.