Late last Monday night, something thumped on the side of the house beside the kitchen
window, then was down on the porch or the ground making crying noises.
I finally
found it: a baby starling on the porch. It had fallen out of the nest somewhere up in
the eaves. It was too young to survive
out of the nest, and it was possibly injured – and there was not a thing I
could do about it, poor little thing.
I related
this to Larry, who was working on vehicles in Genoa.
“What
kind of bird is it?” he asked.
“Bald
eagle,” I told him.
We’d
talked about the starling nest in the eaves enough times, I figured it must be
time to change the details, since he couldn’t remember the original ones.
One of
the roaming neighborhood cats most likely cleaned up our porch for us during
the night, as there was no sign of the baby bird the next morning. K
Judging by the racket they’ve been
making each day, the other baby starlings are doing fine. The above picture is from Sialis.com. (‘Sialis’:
a Greek word meaning ‘kind of bird’).
Baby
starlings start out making tiny, high-pitched peeping sounds, just like any
other wee baby bird. By the time they’re
two weeks old, the peeps have lowered in pitch to cheeps; and by the time
they’re three weeks old, they make mid-tone chirps. Give them another week, and those chirps have
turned into harsh, grating squawks.
The
amazing thing is that when they are adults, they will have a large repertoire
of songs and sounds, with the ability to mimic other birds and even some
animals and human noises. Listen to
their birdsong here: https://www.allaboutbirds.org/guide/European_Starling/sounds
A
couple of raccoons came up on the deck later that night. However, I’ve gotten tired of feeding
birdseed to the raccoons, and have been bringing the feeders in each night, if
I remember to. Not finding any feeders, the
coons proceeded to have a brawl with each other. They made so much noise, I was afraid they’d
trapped one of the neighborhood cats. I
flipped on the deck light, jerked open the patio door, and made loud hissing
sounds. That always scares them half to
death; they must think it’s a puma. One
raccoon squeezed through the railing and went down the deck post. The other ran for the steps – and tumbled
down them, head over heels. They do that
fairly often, even when I haven’t frightened them. I think they’re probably young ones who haven’t
quite learned the art of clambering up and down stair steps yet. Good thing they’re so furry and well padded!
This is
a picture from a few days earlier. As
you can see, they’re cleaning those feeders right down to the bottom.
After I posted
some pictures from one of my recent trips to Omaha, a friend wrote to ask, “What
is that contraption!?”
This is an
agriculture sprayer. They are used for
the administration of water and water/chemical solutions, often fertilizers,
pesticides, and herbicides. That one has
a boom reach of about 135 feet.
Tuesday afternoon, I decided I’d better
pay some bills despite not having my Acer laptop. Ugh, it was a pain doing it on this slooow
little laptop. But I got it done. It’s also a pain conducting financial matters
from new and different electronic devices.
I think warning bells, sirens, and lights must all go off simultaneously
in that particular place of business, and everyone runs en masse to their
computers to send me texts, emails, and instant messages requesting me to
verify immediately or sooner that it’s actually me trying to pay the bill.
Why should it matter who it is, if the silly bill is getting
paid??! What do I care if Joe Blow from Kokomo decides to pay my bill?? More power to him, I say! Not that Joe Blow has ever tried to pay any
of my bills, more’s the pity.
That done, I headed upstairs and got back to
quilting my customer’s Wildflower Way quilt. By the time I quit a little
after 11:00 p.m., the top part was done and I was ready to begin on the center
section.
Wednesday morning, Hester sent a video clip
of Oliver trotting around, snack packets of applesauce in each hand. “Oliver found the snack cupboard yesterday,” she
wrote.
In the video, Hester asks Oliver, “Are you happy you
found snacks? Do you have two?”
Oliver grinned, looked at one hand and then the
other, and repeated, “Two!”
He’s walking quite well now, and he was certainly
pleased with himself to have found that cupboard with all the goodies inside.
Three years ago, I got things at Loren’s
bank properly in order after acquiring Power of Attorney over his finances. I met with some of the officials a time or
two to make sure all the t’s were crossed and the i’s dotted. I was in touch with them again some time
later when Loren gave his Social Security number to a scammer on the telephone. I told them when he moved to a nursing home,
and again when we sold his home and deposited that money into his account.
But Wednesday morning while I was
working outside, a woman from the bank called.
“I need to speak with Loren Swiney,” she announced.
I get peeved over this kind of
stuff. Do these people even keep files
on their customers? Do they put
pertinent information in the file? Do
they read the file before they make
such a call?
“He has dementia,” I informed her,
wondering if I sounded as irked as I felt.
“He’s been in a nursing home for a year and a half.”
I paused, wondering what she thought of
that information. Then I added, “I’m his sister, and I have
Power of Attorney over his finances.”
Silence. Then, “Oh.”
She waited a few seconds. I
waited, too. They almost always continue the conversation if you just keep still. Silence weighs heavy.
“I was just wanting to inquire into
whether all is well with his bank account,” she finally said.
“Yes, everything is fine; I check it regularly,”
I responded.
Okay, now I’ve made myself curious over
whether that woman really was from
the bank. Tomorrow I shall call and ask.
Irises were blooming in my flower gardens
that day, and the hostas and Autumn Joy sedum are growing like gangbusters.
I’m allergic enough to weeds that after
an hour or two of working outside in my flower gardens, I’m all itchy, and often
have little red dots on my arms. Sometimes
they are merely scratches, but other times it’s the start of a rash.
I cope like this: I
come in, and start by washing off my glasses and wiping off my VeryFitPro watch
with a Clorox wipe. Next, I wash my face
with St. Ives Apricot Scrub, then shower using Guava & Orange Essential Oil
& Sea Salt Body Scrub (a gift from Jeremy & Lydia) (the scrub feels
good on itchy skin), and wash my hair with Herbal Essence Hello Hydration
shampoo and conditioner, with Coconut and Flower Essence. I finish by applying lotion. At the moment, I’m using Nivea Oil-infused
Cherry Blossom & Jojoba Oil, and Peppermint Frost Shea Butter on those
extremities that were inclined to get rashes or feel itchy (though I do like all
different kinds of lotions). Peppermint
lotions and butters always feel cool and refreshing. They’re often packaged with Christmas themes
on the bottles and jars; but I save them for summertime.
That day I worked on
the central part of my customer’s Wildflower Way quilt.
Jeremy
and Lydia gave me some Mother’s Day gifts after church that evening; they’re always
too, too generous. They gave me a silver
satin clutch purse, a light orange infinity scarf with chiffon and lace, and a
brooch with big faux pearls and diamonds.
It’ll match the pearl necklace they gave me a few years ago.
I always have big
plans of coming home from the Wednesday church service and quilting for a
couple of hours; but if we loiter and chat with friends and family, and then go
to the grocery store afterwards, by the time we eat a late supper, I generally
decide quilting can wait until the next day. So I only got about 3 ½ hours of quilting
done.
At the
store, we got baked chicken, Panera Bread chicken/rice/vegetable soup, cottage
cheese, string cheese, Oui yogurt, cherry turnovers, bananas, and ice cream. That made a quick and yummy meal.
Later, I
went out to bring in the bird feeders, heard a scrabbling at the edge of the
deck… then a ka-PLOOOMP! onto the ground, and something BIG went scuttling hurriedly
away. Raccoon, of course. Though I didn’t see him, one can’t mistake
the noise they make.
Here’s a ‘Before’ and ‘After’
shot of some of the LeMoyne Stars in the quilt.
I was
lying in bed awake at 1:30 a.m., when I heard something in the rafters and/or ceiling, crunching away on something. It sounded like Teensy kitty eating his dry
cat food, only twice as loud. I jumped
out of bed, ran upstairs, and set off the last odor bomb I had in one of the
cubbyhole drawers in my quilting studio.
I went back to bed… and listened.
The
sound of animal footsteps sped up… and then vanished. Either they exited — or expired. K
Thursday
morning, Levi sent a picture of himself on a ladder, helping clean walls and
windows at the school and church, as the students do during the last week of
May each year.
“Don’t fall!” I texted back. “One
person with a wooden leg is enough,
in your family!” (Meaning Bobby, whose knee
and leg injury is quite serious, and is going to be a long time in healing, I’m
afraid.)
“Haha,”
answered Levi. Then, “Josiah was on a
ladder, too.”
“Eeek,”
I responded. “His father is suffering from a falling injury, too!” (That would be Teddy, who hurt his back and
tailbone last week.)
My
family should all bedeck themselves in bubble wrap!
That morning
I worked on one of the backyard flower gardens that was neglected the entirety
of last year. As you’ll recall, a lot of
my time was taken up clearing out Loren’s house. By the time that was done, I knew that if I
didn’t devote every possible minute to scanning my old photos, there was no way
I would get done in time to give hard drives full of photos to each of the
children for Christmas. So backyard
gardens were left to fend for themselves, and I gave a bare minimum of
attention to the front yard flowerbeds. The
flowers – all perennials – survived! Tulips
and daffodils have already bloomed, and lilies and peonies and honeysuckle and
tall lavender phlox will be blossoming soon.
At 10:30
a.m., I came in, showered, and then ate breakfast. It was noon, but no, it was not ‘lunch’: the meal ‘breaks the fast’; therefore, “breakfast”! And then up the stairs I went to quilt.
By midnight, I was approaching the middle of the Wildflower
Way quilt.
Friday morning I got all (well, I’m not
sure I’ll ever get all) the poison ivy pulled out of
one of the far backyard flowerbeds, plus a bunch of smaller volunteer trees cut
out. Always those volunteer trees! I should start a nursery, instead of cutting
them. The ad would read, “Weeds with
bark! $5 a container! Bring shovels and dig your own! Bring loppers, leave the roots – half the
weed, half the price!”
Afterwards,
I scrubbed thoroughly (so far, I have never gotten a rash after pulling poison
ivy), and then had a breakfast of raisin, date, and walnut oatmeal with half a banana
sliced into it, and a tall glass of milk.
Larry had Friday, Saturday, and today off. He has used part of that time to bring home
vehicles, tools, and supplies that he had at the garage in Genoa. He is supposed to have everything out by June
1st, as someone else will then be renting the place.
Friday morning, he had the Mercedes aligned, and I went with
him later to pick it up. The vibration
at 75 mph is gone. Maybe those new rear
tires will wear properly now.
That afternoon, I drove to
Fremont to pick up my laptop from the tech. He was unable to repair the charging jack, as
it’s wired directly into the motherboard and would take more specialized tools
than he has. He was nice enough not to
charge me anything, even though he spent several hours working on the laptop.
There were vintage car
shows in various towns around the state for Memorial Day weekend; I met a few
of the cars on the road.
It was approaching 6:00
p.m. by the time I got home. I quilted
until just after 11:00, passing the midway point in the quilt.
Saturday, I pulled the box the Acer came in from the upstairs
closet, took out the papers with the Square Trade warranty information, and
called the number.
After I was asked several
questions by first a woman and then a man, neither of whose thick accent I
could well understand, it was determined that the warranty would indeed cover
all repairs, or a new laptop if it could not be repaired.
Soon I was emailed a shipping
label. I always wonder how they think
that will pan out, if one’s electronic devices are not working. I guess everyone in the whole wide world has
multiple devices these days, hmmm?
The
laptop will be sent to The Repair Depot in Stillwater, Oklahoma, where it will
[theoretically] be repaired, and then returned to me. I was instructed to back up all my data before
shipping it.
Yeah,
well, that would be a fun thing to do, if I could plug the machine in! The battery is low enough that it would never
keep the thing running while I backed everything up.
Actually, most of my data is on external hard drives, except
for the last couple of months’ data. If
everything should somehow, unfathomably, get wiped off my laptop, I could get
my non-backed-up photos and journals from my blog, though the photos wouldn’t
be the original high quality.
I
attempted to print the label. The
printer refused to connect to the laptop, though I tried Bluetooth, WiFi, and
my usual hotspot; so I emailed it to the printer.
The
printer, after giving the matter serious thought, eventually informed me that
it could not print, because it needed a 5x7 paper on which to print.
I
pulled out a piece of paper and, using my rotary cutter and June Tailor slotted
ruler, cut it to 5x7. I tucked it back
into the printer and pressed ‘OK’.
But it
was not okay.
Again I
was informed that it needed a 5x7 piece of paper.
I jerked
the paper back out, measured it, sliced 1/32” off one side, shoved it back into
the printer, and jabbed ‘OK’. Print, you recalcitrant thang, you!
The
printer buzzed, blinked, sent the print head hither and yon, and finally pulled
the paper into its innards and deigned to print the thing.
I used the Acer
for just a few minutes, emailing some important documents to the other laptop,
before I shut it down and packed it up. Wow,
that thing is FASSST. I knew this; but now I know it all over again,
and better, after using this baby-toy
HP for two weeks and a day. It’s not the
brand; I’ve had several HPs that were every bit as fast as the Acer. It’s the fact that I get gaming computers –
not to play games on, but because I need a computer that can cope with all the
programs I use – sometimes, several programs at once, with lots of windows and
tabs open.
I
gathered laptop, coffee, purse, and camera, poked my feet into sandals, and headed
off to visit Loren.
On the way out of town, I dropped off a charging cord I had
gotten for this little HP laptop, as the wires are showing through the old cord
(and you’ll recall I took the new
cords I had gotten last year for both this laptop and my older HP to the
Goodwill, not realizing what they were for, erg) – anyway, the cord I got was
the wrong one. I took it to the UPS
Store – and discovered I couldn’t drop off the Acer laptop there as I had
thought to do, because the label was for FedEx – and the FedEx dropoff was a
couple of miles back the way I had come – through lots of roadwork and stalled
traffic.
Shipping
that laptop off to some unknown fate wasn’t much fun. But it had to be done.
How am I to quilt, I’d like to know, without EQ8??! And there’s PaintShop Pro... and all my
Microsoft programs... my calendar with all the notifications... waa waa waa!
I
stopped at Sapp Bros. to fill with gas and clean the windshield, dilly-dallied
my way through the roadwork and heaps of traffic, and, an entire hour after
leaving home, was finally on the highway east of town. From there, it takes an hour and a half to
get to Prairie Meadows.
I
arrived right as supper was being served to the residents. Loren was at his usual table, sitting by
himself. Even though he was at the
farthest side of the room, he spotted me almost the instant I walked through
the door, and beamed at me.
Later,
he explained that he had looked between three or four different ladies’ heads
(pointing in the wrong direction), and that’s how he saw me so quickly. I had no
sooner sat down and commented on what a good meal he was having, than a young
black girl (I’m not sure if she’s a nurse, or only works in the kitchen)
appeared at the table, plate in hand, asking if I would like it.
Would
I! I would! I thanked her profusely, and she alllllmost
smiled. She’s a pretty girl, and she’s
nice as can be, but she rarely smiles.
I was
half starved half to death, and had almost bought myself some fruit at a truck
stop a few miles west of Omaha. (The
price stopped me. :O ) Supper
was salmon on rice, steamed asparagus, chef salad, grape juice, and spice cake
with whipped topping for dessert. I
scarfed it all down in nothing flat.
“Do you
want the rest of my cake?” asked Loren, pushing his saucer toward me.
Thinking
he needed it and I most certainly did not, I said, “Nope! I’m clear
full.” I looked at my empty plate, saucer,
and glass. “I did everything but lick
the platter clean.”
Loren
burst out laughing, and kept on
laughing for a minute or two.
I told
him how our blind friend Rita used to grow asparagus in her garden, and we’d
take handfuls of it with us when we went for rides on her tandem bicycle. It was so good, and kept us from getting
thirsty. (Those were the days before it
was common – and sensible, evidently – to carry bottled water when one went bike
riding. We were only going to be gone an
hour, after all! >>eye
roll<< And one would’ve been
laughed clean outa town, had one worn one o’ them thar silly-looking bike
helmets.)
Loren ate
his cake, and I realized, He was behaving like our mother used to do, offering
her food to us and to the grandchildren, just because he thought I might still
be hungry, even though he wasn’t full, himself.
I
showed him pictures of the raccoons on our deck clearing out the bird feeders,
and gave him some pamphlets by Charles H. Spurgeon, pastor of the Metropolitan
Tabernacle in London back in the mid- to late-1800s. I hadn’t gotten any of the Messenger
newspapers he likes to read, and forgot to grab a magazine before leaving the
house; but fortunately there was a small handful of those pamphlets in the car.
He was happy with those.
A week
or two ago, one of the nurses told me that after Loren reads his newspapers and
magazines, he always shares them with others.
When I put
the pamphlets in his room before leaving, I saw the long-lost 11x14 digital picture
frame that someone finally found in one of the Prairie Meadows office cupboards. I’d left that frame there
way back in... February, I think, of
2022. The maintenance man was going to
put it up somewhere for all to enjoy, but never did. I’ve been asking for it for a good long while,
and finally figured one of the staff had helped themselves to it. But somebody found it, and now it’s sitting on
Loren’s dresser.
When I
walked in, it was on – and the picture on the screen right that minute was of
our parents back in the 1940s. There are
quite a few old family photos on the SD card I put in the frame.
Hmmmm...
whataya bet that’s why Loren has asked me both Saturday and last week how Daddy
and Mama are? – because he’s been seeing their pictures on that frame. I used to tell him the dates they passed away,
and he would be surprised, then sort of remember, and finally remark on how
fast time flies. He has never gotten
upset when I told him this; but Saturday I decided maybe it was time to quit
telling him. So I smiled and said, “They’re
fine,” and he smiled, too, and said, “That’s good.”
I took a longer way home, a more scenic route, specifically
so I wouldn’t get stalled out at the roadwork east of Columbus. It was a pretty drive.
When I
was little and traveling with my parents, my father, if he wasn’t pressed for
time, would hand me the map and let me choose the route. I always hunted for the squiggliest roads, knowing
those would be the most scenic and fun to drive. (I was restricted from choosing routes
through, oh, say, New York State to get to California, however. Boo, hiss.) I grew up loving maps and loving to explore.
I got home in time to quilt for two or three hours that
night, getting started on the bottom half of the quilt. (The missing arcs at the bottom of the
Mariner’s Compass will be added in after I roll the quilt forward.)
I came downstairs around 11:00 p.m. to sit in my recliner
with the heating pad behind my back – and realized I’d forgotten to wash the
dishes. The sink was full. So I washed the dishes. It only took 35 minutes; but it was a loooong 35 minutes.
Early
Sunday morning found me getting ready for church, blow-drying my hair, sipping
Snickerdoodle coffee from Amana Coffee Company, and reading Quilt-Talk posts
and the news, which is a trying occupation on this little laptop that doesn’t
like to load pages. It also regularly
disconnects with my ergonomic keyboard, probably on account of outdated drivers
– and it will not download new ones, probably because the laptop is old enough
that it would not be compatible with the new drivers. (I promise, I will continue to complain. ha)
After church Sunday morning, we drove to the cemetery and put flowers on the graves until it started raining.
There
was a wedding that evening, and for once, the couple is not related to us, not
even distantly. Astonishing. :-D
Um, well… they are related
to several of our sons-in-law and daughters-in-law. Let me count…
Three. The bride, Ashley, is
related to Bobby, Kurt, and Andrew. The
groom, Nicholas, is related to Bobby.
Keira was the flower girl, and she took her job quite
seriously. Pictures from Hester:
We left the church a bit earlier than usual, because Larry wasn’t
feeling just the best, and because I had lost a watch and thought it might be
at the cemetery, and it was still light enough to look for it. Larry found it in a flower box in the back of
the Mercedes; I have no idea if I lost it when I carried the boxes of flowers
out to the Mercedes before Sunday School, or later when we were getting them
out at the cemetery.
It was quite nice out, so we wandered around a bit, looking
at the headstones, and I took a bunch of pictures.
The headstone for Caleb and Maria’s baby Liam, who was born
much too early, always gets to us. The
engraving was made from a real picture; that’s Caleb’s hand holding the baby.
I found one headstone
that I hadn’t seen for quite a few years.
It’s for a young woman named Anna who died in 1965 at the age of 36, leaving
behind 9 children. She was coming home
from work, stopped at the train tracks to wait for a train; and when it passed,
she crossed – directly into the path of another train on the second set of
tracks. I was four, and Anna’s was the
first funeral I remember attending.
I also recall that when a
little friend of mine, who would’ve only been two at the time, skipped along
the sidewalk that day, I informed her in a quite pompous ‘I'm older than you
and know better’ attitude, “We mustn’t skip. Funerals are sad.”
I can still see her
standing there looking at me, eyes wide.
(Amazingly, we are still friends.)
Hester
sent this picture, too, writing, “And this was Keira’s job at the gift table.”
That’s
Keira there in the middle, industriously removing wrapping paper from that box.
“Andrew
and I checked and double-checked to see if she was really supposed to be doing
that,” laughed Hester. “But they said
yes, and kept giving her more presents to unwrap for them.”
She
sent a few more pictures, writing, “She had such a good time! She said her favorite thing was shaking hands
with everyone. She said she was the
bravest girl ever!!!!”
hee
hee She’s such a funny and dear little
thing.
When we
went through the reception line immediately after the service, she gave my hand
a shake in her quick little way, and was then going to reach for Larry’s hand,
but I hung on, went on shaking her hand, and said, “Hi! Where have I seen you before?” which made her
laugh. But she really was in a hurry to
get on with the hand-shaking. Nicholas
and Ashley were laughing, too.
“She
definitely got into the conveyor-belt mode,” laughed Hester when I told this to
her.
As I work on this letter, it seems that every window I try
to use goes ‘not responding’. Sometimes
I give up and go play a few songs on the piano.
I come back, hoping at least one of
the windows I need is back in working order.
The laptop keeps making the aggravating sound it plays when something is
unplugged from a USB or SD port, meaning that the ergonomic keyboard has once
again disconnected. Bah, humbug.
Once this afternoon I decided to take a few minutes to read
the news, and nearly sent the poor thing belly up.
I think one little starling just flew the coop! Something went skittering along the wall and
front door, landing on the porch. I went
to peak out the window on the front door just as it flew, wings pumping
away. It flew like a baby bird, but I’m not totally sure, as I didn’t get a good
look at it.
The pickup that Larry has been trying to finish is now on
our driveway; he brought it home from Genoa on a flatbed trailer. He has not been able to get it started, because
now it has a fuel leak (and it’s probably leaking all over the driveway). He’ll have to take a lot of it back apart
again to find the leak.
This evening, I got the SD card out of the game cam on the
back deck and looked through the pictures, deleting the majority of them. But I did find a couple of funny pictures
where a squirrel – or his tail, to be
precise – startled a grackle that was trying to eat suet. Look at him bounce backwards off the suet
feeder when that reddish-brown tail flipped right up in his face. (And yes, the pictures are in order.)
Bedtime! (Actually,
it’s long past bedtime.) It’s been raining for several hours, and will
continue for another half an hour, according to AccuWeather. I won’t work in the gardens in the morning. The weeds would come out of the ground easier,
but I don’t really care to be a cold, soggy mess.
,,,>^..^<,,, Sarah Lynn ,,,>^..^<,,,
.jpg)
