Journal: Birthdays, Airboats, and Day Trips

 

Last Tuesday we had a relatively cool day for the first time in a couple of weeks – it was only 80° by midafternoon.  I shipped off the New York Beauty quilt, via UPS, to Paducah for the Grand Rapids quilt show.  They transport quilts from the AQS warehouse in Paducah to whatever show location the quilt has been accepted in.  It cost over $30 to ship it!  Yikes. 

In a few weeks, I will learn if it has been accepted in the Des Moines show.

That afternoon, on a calm (well, ‘Nebraska’ calm), sunny day, the electricity went off.  But it was only for a few seconds, and then it came back on.  That’s the second or third time that’s happened recently.  Maybe squirrels are cooking S’mores on transformers nearby, and short-circuited the power lines?

Oh, haha... the Internet has a picture!  I found the picture after I wrote the above possible scenario.  Honest, I did!

I scanned pictures nearly every day last week.  There are now 30,774 photos scanned. 

Wednesday, as usual, I paused the scanning at 5:30 p.m. in order to get ready for our midweek church service.  It only takes me 15-20 minutes to get ready, but I prepare early, so that I’m out of Larry’s way when he comes dashing in from work, needing to shower and dress.  We’d hate to go to church on crutches and canes after crashing into each other, wouldn’t we? 

Andrew and Hester invited us over after the service, as Hester had baked a dish of strawberry-rhubarb crisps for Larry for Father's Day.  She fed us some of the rigatoni pasta/tomato sauce she’d cooked, and also lettuce salad for me (Larry has a hard time eating it, ever since he got dentures), with brownies for dessert.

I pointed at the pretty faucet on Hester’s kitchen sink, remarking that it was like the new one we’d put on my kitchen sink.

Then I discovered it had a touch-activated on/off faucet.  That’s not like mine.

All for Keira’s benefit, I put on a production of being astonished and amazed every time I touched the thing and water came pouring out of it.

Grandchildren are wonderful little people who think their grandparents are hilarious when they’re being utterly goofy and ridiculous.

While Hester was doing this and that in the kitchen, we sat down at the dining room table with little Keira.  Andrew, meanwhile, was walking around with Baby Oliver, whose eyelids were getting heavier... and heavier... and heavier.  But every time Andrew’s rounds took him through the dining room, Oliver’s eyes opened wide, and he stared and stared at us.  Papa, there are aliens in our house!!!

Hester brewed up some French Vanilla coffee for us with their Keurig brewer.  She set the cups in front of us... we gave it a try... and then we both poured a bit of cold water into the coffee, as it was too hot to drink.

Keira, watching this with great interest, promptly picked up her water glass and carefully poured some – into her pasta.  😄

Keira doesn’t miss much.  Looking at my jewelry, she asked, “Why do you have on two bracelets?”

“Because I have two arms!” I answered promptly.

She grinned, though that wasn’t quite the answer she was after.  A few minutes later, she gestured at my right hand and asked, “Why do you have on two rings?”

“Because I have two fingers!” I responded.

She giggled.  “Well, but... you don’t have two fingers, ...”  Then she rolled her eyes and gave that characteristic quick little shake of the head, as though to say, That’s not exactly what I meant.

I laughed and told her, “It’s because this ring with the blue sapphires matches my sweater vest, and this one with the pink coral matches my blouse!”

Keira nodded in that quick way of hers, smiling at me.  That was the answer she was looking for.

As we were leaving, it suddenly occurred to Keira, who was heading toward the stairs to go to bed, that she hadn’t properly told us goodbye.  She came rushing after us, gave Larry a hug, then launched herself at me.  I was a couple of steps down the front porch by then, but I caught her and gave her a big hug.  Good thing I didn’t have on high heels, and good thing Keira isn’t very big!  😂

A few minutes after we left, Hester send us a text:  “Keira says that was the best night she ever had.  😄  She’s almost 😴💤.”

We stopped by Burger King for some soft-serve ice cream to go with the strawberry-rhubarb crisps we were taking home.  Online and on their sign in the drive-through, it says ‘Soft-Serve Ice Cream, Cone or Cup, $1.00.’

Larry asked for two cups.

“We don’t have cups of soft-serve,” said a girl who didn’t seem to have all her marbles rolling in parallel lanes.  “Only cones.”

Larry looked at me, wondering if he’d heard her correctly. 

“Ask her if she can just put ice cream in one of their drink cups,” I suggested.

He asked, but she couldn’t hear him, and he rarely repeats himself when people say, “What?”  He’s obviously related to Ernest T. Bass:  “I don’t chew my cabbage twice!”

“Just a minute,” she said, “let me go ask someone.”

After several minutes, the girl came back to the mic and, with no word of explanation, announced, “That’ll be $1.07.”

Larry started to say okay, but I interrupted quickly, “Tell her you want two!”

He paused.  He doesn’t mind arguing with me, but he always wants to seem agreeable with everyone else.  Finally, in a meek tone, he queried, “Could I have two of those?”

There was some clattering about, and then the girl said with some exasperation, “$2.14.”

We received two small clear plastic glasses, each half full with one small scoop of soft-serve ice cream.  🙄

Here’s another of those pinecones we saw when we were walking around the pond at Lakeside Park last week:

I’ve never seen pinecones like this, with thorns or spikes sticking out on all sides.  I’ll betcha seed predators such as birds, chipmunks, or squirrels don’t gather quite as many of these seeds as they do from the smoother pinecones.

Have you ever heard pinecones pop and crack as the scales or plates open suddenly on a hot day?

When it’s warm and dry, and the seeds are mature, the pinecone opens up to release the cone’s seeds.  There are certain types of cones that never open unless they are subjected to fire.

A few days ago, I found a picture of Loren on the nursing home’s Facebook page, taken (or at least posted) May 13^th:

In scanning old pictures, I came upon this one of Dorcas and Hannah at Twin Lakes, Colorado, August 07, 1998.

I sent it to both girls, and Dorcas responded, “That was one of my favorite dresses ever.  Trevor thought there were two of me at first.  😂”

A couple of people wrote and asked me about the picture of the ‘Dark’ or ‘Blue Morph’ of the usually-white Snow Goose.  This one had a mate who was snowy white, except for the black tips of its wings.

The dark color of the Blue Morph Snow Goose (once called Blue Goose) is controlled by a  single gene, with dark being partially dominant over white.  If a pure dark goose mates with a white goose, the offspring will all be dark (possibly with white bellies).  If two white geese mate, they have only white offspring.  If two dark geese mate, they will have mostly dark offspring, but might have a few white ones too.  The Blue Morph goose will molt the same way the white Snow Goose molts and its feathers will come back in the same color they were in the first place.

Waterfowl replace their old plumage with new feathers at least once a year.  Whistling-ducks, geese, and swans undergo a single annual molt, replacing all body, wing, and tail feathers shortly after the nesting season.  Most ducks, however, undergo two molts a year.  Molting season for Canada and Snow Geese typically occurs from early June to late July.  Geese that did not breed for the season usually molt first, while adults with young will molt right before their babies get their first flight feathers in.  

As for migrating, most ducks and geese do migrate; but if there are enough food sources year around, they might stay in one location.  Here in central Nebraska, we have both migrating and local flocks.

Thursday, the New York Beauty quilt arrived at Paducah.  It’s always a relief to see this, after shipping a quilt:  

I do hope ‘Dock’ carried the box inside.

Supper Thursday night was roast beef from Schwan’s, baked potatoes, onions, and carrots.  On his way home from Genoa where he was working on vehicles, Larry stopped at the convenience store in Monroe for some more soft-serve ice cream to go with the strawberry-rhubarb crisps Hester had given us.  I think the soft-serve from that store must be more ice milk than ice cream, because it is always much colder than other soft-serve we have gotten – and sometimes it’s a slight bit grainy.  Brrrrrr!

In early 2000, Larry mowed and cut grass at Quail Run, a local golf club.  He also did all the mechanical work on the golf carts and vehicles.  With this job came a perk:  he could take our whole family to the golf club after hours, any time he pleased.

So here we are at the golf club with 7 of the children.  We took out three carts:  Larry, Victoria, and I were in the lead; Hester, Caleb, and Teddy are behind us; and Hannah, Lydia, and Joseph are bringing up the rear.

There’s Larry giving Teddy some pointers as he prepares to hit his first ball: he swung... the ball flew... 

and quicker’n a wink, laughing all the way, Victoria, age 3, went flying after it.  She scooped it up and came running back with it, giggling happily as she came.

The golfers had to aim carefully, because Joseph and his passengers preferred to race around in their golf cart, and Hester rustled up a game of Frisbee with Caleb.  

I, meanwhile, crept stealthily around the pond, camera in hand, getting shots of Canada geese (who evidently hadn’t read the sign that said ‘QUAIL Run’) and their fluffy yellow babies.

The club owners knew what they were doing, it seems, when they told Larry he could bring his family to the greens – AFTER hours! 😂

Friday was Jacob’s 13^th birthday, and Saturday was Lydia’s 31^st birthday.

We gave Jacob a wooden biplane made of numerous kinds of wood; it used to be Loren’s.  We also gave him a Swiss army knife with red handles, and a book of State quarters with all but four of the coins filled in.  Jonathan, who’s 8 ½,  took a look, dashed off into his bedroom, and came running triumphantly back with one of the missing quarters, which he gave to Jacob.

We gave Lydia her things in a decorative, fabric-lined basket:  a small ceramic garden rake with flowers painted on it, knee pads for gardening, a Lilla Rose hair clip with colorful metallic beads, and a set of a dozen Danbury Mint Nativity ornaments that go over Christmas lights, so they are illumined.  The Bible verse on the back of each ornament corresponds with the painting on the front.

A friend and fellow quilter has a son and daughter-in-law who own a ranch where they raise a few beef cattle and a whole lot of dairy goats.  I love fresh goatmilk, all frothy and sweet.  They sell goat cheese and cajeta in their Grade A Dairy and Creamery, too, and even have handmade goatmilk soap.

So I looked at their website – and discovered that a gallon of goatmilk is now $18.00!!  😯

When Jacksons lived in Trinidad, Colorado, Larry worked for a goat farmer, milking goats and helping to make cheese.  He was 13.  It was just before he and his family moved here to Nebraska.  Every morning before school, he would ride his bike over hill and dale, three miles each way, to the goat farm.  He returned immediately after school for the second daily milking.  They milked the goats at 6:00 a.m. and 4:00 p.m., and they also milked four cows once each morning. 

This was all done by hand – there were no machines.  When the man and his wife learned that the Jackson were moving to Nebraska, they cried.  In addition to just plain liking Larry, they said he had been their best employee ever.  Not only was he dependable, but his hands were strong enough to do an excellent job of milking the animals, and he was always gentle with them.  They got more milk from their goats and cows alike when Larry milked them than they ever had before. 

Here’s a picture of Larry’s father, Lyle, when he was about four years old, riding his pet goat.  It was taken in about 1940.

A friend was giving a rundown of all the things she was cooking and baking that day as she prepared for company to arrive later.

“Mmmmm, what a spread you are creating!” I said.  “It all sounds absolutely luscious and scrumptious.”

Saying that reminded me of our now-12-year-old grandson Levi, who has liked big words since he was barely a year old, just like both of his parents did before him.  But every now and then, his thesaurus failed him.

So there he was at two years old, trying out some dish his mama, Hannah, had made: “MMmmmm!” he exclaimed.  “This is delicious.”  Another bite.  “This is scrumptious.”  One more bite.  “This is dangerous.”

Then his head popped up really fast and he stared around the table in surprise as both parents, his elder brother, and his elder sister all burst out laughing.

Saturday, Larry went to Topeka to pick up a couple of scissor lifts and a flatbed trailer, so I went to visit Loren by myself. 

He’s always happy to see me, and he was delighted with some pictures Victoria sent of her three, Carolyn, 4, Violet, 3, and Willie, 4 months, and another of Baby Willie with some of his great-grandparents, who are good friends of Loren.  He recognized them immediately, though he can’t always come up with names.

His friend Roslyn was nowhere to be seen, and I did not inquire into her whereabouts.  Loren’s answers to questions – any questions – generally seem plausible and credible, but are invariably a far departure from reality.  It doesn’t even matter if we ask about something that happened in the last couple of hours; the answer will be farfetched or complete fantasy.  Besides, in case Roslyn was gone, or was sick, or something else, I figured it would be better if I didn’t mention her.  (Loren thinks her name is ‘Norma’, and chuckles when the nurses call her ‘Roslyn’, like he thinks they’re quite silly.)

I took the long way home, driving to Schramm State Park to take pictures of the Canada goslings that were just fuzzy little balls of fluff a month ago.  They are now almost as big as their parents, and they sport the telltale white chinstrap of the adults.  Can you spot them?

The south route home, though a lot farther, is much prettier, over hill and dale and through woods and pastureland and farmland, as opposed to the almost totally flat landscape all the way from Fremont to Columbus.  

I crossed the Platte River twice, first at South Bend, and next at North Bend.  Both times, I saw several airboats on the river.  I dislike the horrendous racket those boats make!  I’d rather be in a kayak, any ol’ day.  Larry took some of us on one, years ago.  We all had to wear noise-canceling earmuffs, and there was absolutely no way of conversing with one another, the whole way down the river.  I did not enjoy the experience.  I want to hear the birds, maybe see some deer, or raccoons, or opossums.  Why, I’d rather see skunks waddling alongside the river, than be in an airboat that scares off every living creature, whether fish, fowl, or fauna!  Those awful things probably scare off the flora, too.  😏 

Speaking of fish, look at the huge fish that was poking his head out of the water, hoping for a handout at the Gretna Fish Hatchery at Schramm State Park.  He was at least twenty inches long – and there were a whole lot more just like him.  Some were jumping out of the water, but I never managed to catch a shot of their acrobatics.

Here’s the route I took.  Next time, I’ll go farther west before I turn north.  It’s a pretty part of the state.

Sunday was a nice day, 78°, but windy.  Robert and Margaret and their daughters – only two of their children are yet unmarried – are on vacation, and Robert preached yesterday at a friend’s church in New Mexico.  My great-nephew Michael Walker, son of my late nephew David, had our Sunday School hour.  Bobby then preached for the main service, and his younger brother Stephen, who is also our school principal, preached for the evening service.

And now... I have laundry to do, dishes to wash, and some housecleaning to do before I get back to the photo-scanning.  A quilting friend recently sent me a package of quilting books.  I’m itching to quilt again!  Soon, soon...

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