Since we moved to the country in 1991, we have collected a lot of Mayberry stories.  One happened today.  The phone rang, and I checked the caller ID.  It read, "Melvin Nesbitt."  Thought I, "I don't know any Melvin Nesbitt, and I have kids here and am crazy busy, so I will just let the answering maching get it."  But just at the last second it hit me, Melvin, our mailman from our first day here until about a year ago when he retired...I do know him.  So I grabbed up the phone to find that Tollie had already answered it and was bringing me the other extension.

"Laurie", said Mel, "I am delivering packages for (I didn't catch the name) to help them out today." (Aside: Mel just can't hardly stay retired.)  "I am at Hattie's driveway with a package for her, but the gate is locked.  I could leave a note in her mailbox for her to pick it up at the Post Office, but I thought I would check with you first to see if you know the code."

I just learned the code last week (not because they didn't want us to know it, but because they hadn't gotten that part of the gate working until last week), but it had been sent to Kent's phone, not mine.  With a little hard thought, I pulled the number out of my head and told it to Mel.  He delivered the package, and all were happy.  Well, Hattie was a little surprised to see someone coming up her driveway, but she didn't hold it against me, so all is well in Mayberry tonight.

Turkey Stories

This morning Kent and I headed out to pick up our car that had been worked on yesterday.  As we were tooling down the road, just enjoying the fresh air blowing through the windows, we got behind a large tractor.  I think it was a tractor with a hayrake.  When we got to the stop sign at the junction, I gasped and said, "No one is driving that tractor!"  I could see the seat, but there wasn't any head sticking up out over it.  The only thing I could think of was that a VERY short person, like a 5 year old, was driving it.  

Kent looked at me in disbelief and replied, "Laurie, that tractor is on a trailer."  And, well it was!  It was on a trailer and being pulled by a black truck."  

So we giggled a bit.

Then, Kent looked at me again and said, "You know those plants in a little rectangular pot that are on Ashley's back porch?"  (Ashley owns Loma Linda, which is where Kent is a maintenance/grounds keeper).  "You mean those succulents?" I asked.  "Yep," he replied, "Ashley called me over to look at them yesterday." Then it hit me, Kent was probably watering them 3 to 4 times a week, and they only need it once a week at most.  I gasped again.

But, it gets worse....  "You have been watering them too much," I said.  "Yep, way too much.  They are artificial plants!"

Ashley was wondering why the pot was rusting out.  Now she knows.

Now we weren't giggling, we were roaring, and gasping again, but this time for air.

Kent and I clean two houses every other week.  I take my feather duster, because I love feather dusting things.  At Miss Joy's home, I climb on her big poofy sofa (after removing my shoes) and dust the window, curtains, and behind the couch.  Not long after we first started cleaning there, my feather duster lost a part of one of the feathers behind her couch.  The next time her great-grandkids were over they saw that feather and thought it was a snake.  She and I have giggled over that several times over the last couple of years.

(As an aside, and not really part of the story I am really telling, one day I left my feather duster outside her front door.  I put it there when I was finished with it so that I could grab it on my way out.  It was tucked in the corner between a potted plant and her outside wall.  I forgot to grab it, and she saw it the next day and thought a chicken had gotten stuck in there!  We really have giggled over that one.)

But today, I had an opposite experience from Joy's grandchildren.  I was vacuuming at Nikki's house, while she and her mother Kathy, and her son Brooks were sitting in the living room waiting for us to finish so they could pack up and leave for a barrell race down south somewhere.  As I was vacuuming in the corner by the door, I thought I saw an escaped feather.  It kept "blowing" and wouldn't be vacuumed up.  So I bent over to look at it, and said, "Oh, I think it's a worm."  Then Brooks ran over and looked.  He said, "It's a snake."  And, shore 'nuff, it was a little black snake.  Nikki and her mom didn't even get off the couch.  They were cool and clam as a lamb about it.  So, I grabbed a paper towel from the sink, wrapped it around the snake, kind of pinched it, and threw it away.  I hope it doesn't come out and crawl into one of their beds while they are out of town!  I wish I had just moved it outside into the yard, but I was a bit thrown off by the whole experience and didn't think of that until later.

 Life in Mayberry is often hard, sometimes funny, but never dull.

This past week we had our first ever political showdown here in Ripley County.  Lots of candidates that will be competing both in the primary in August and the General Election in November were present.

I picked up a few new Mayberry sayings that I had never heard before.  They all came from some of the six men who are duking it out for Western District Commissioner.

One candidate in describing the various quick fixes that had been done to the courthouse in recent years called them all just, "lipstick and rouge".  What an apt little phrase!

Another one, after hearing the "horrible" condition of the roads mentioned one too many times said, "But that horse has already been beat." (I have heard that before, it was just perfect though when he used it the other night."

Another candidate in discussing the power structure in Ripley County said, "There are a lot of chiefs and very few Indians."

And finally, one said, "Only people that leave Ripley County with one million dollars come back here with 2."  I am not sure exactly what his point was, but I got a kick out of hearing him say it.

 

The various grandkids get to go shopping with me on a somewhat rotational basis.  This past week it was Adeline's turn to go.  She is very much her own little person, and that came through loud and clear in our several conversations throughout the day.

Some years ago I had Kathleen with me and we drove past the purple castle that Doniphan is graced with.  As we gazed at it, I said to Kathleen, "When my ship comes in, how about if we go to Europe and explore all the castles we can find?"  She was thrilled with the idea and our imaginations ran wild.

As Adeline and I drove past the Doniphan Purple Castle yesterday, I tried that same tack with her.  "Adeline, when my ship comes in, wouldn't it be fun to go to England and Ireland and Scotland and Germany and see all the castles that we can!"

Dead silence for about 5 seconds (and 5 seconds can be a lot of silence from a 6 year old).  Then, "Do you mean you and me, Grandma?"  "Yes," I replied.  More seconds of silence followed that little exchange.  Then came this from her, "Well, could you just go and take a lot of pictures?  I don't want to go without dad and mom.  And, I already decided I never want to fly in an airplane."

A bit later we were in the parking lot at Menard's and saw a person with a handicap working there.  I pointed them out to her so that we could talk about how we treat people, no matter who they are.  After about my first or second sentence she said, "Grandma, please stop, I never want to talk about this again."  

Finally, I was putting on a Fernando Ortega CD to listen to, but before the music started, I began singing the first song.  "Grandma, please stop, if I listen to you sing it first, it will ruin it for me."

In a world of innuendos and indirect statments, such honesty is refreshing!

 

Confession--I love a real tree for Christmas.  But, I also love a fake tree that looks really fake.  Fake trees that try to look real are just a little too cheesy for me.  A nice silver tree, especially one that is well-loved and shows it here and there, is just the ticket to brighten up my home for the holidays.

Besides, a silver tree reminds me of my Grandma Lil.  She and Grandpa Ben had one in their apartment on 13th Street in St. Louis.  I don't remember a lot about Grandma Lil and Grandpa Ben, but I remember the silver tree.  I also remember the smell of the shaving soap that Grandpa used, the tile in the bathroom, and the nicely shaped wooden posts of the beds.

Several years ago, I thought of Mom's silver tree that she used to put up in her sunroom, and I dug it out of dad's basement and set it up.  It was an instant hit with the grandkids.  It is different than any they have, plus what isn't cool about a turning color wheel?  Which reminds me of how nice it is NOT to have to put lights on a cedar tree every year.  Taking them off is even worse than putting them on because by the time you take them off the tree is especially prickly.  

Now, I also have another confession.  I don't like to decorate early.  I do like Christmas decorations, but they make me feel a little claustrophobic.  It is always with a sign of relief that I take down the decorations and pack them away.  It is probably partly because we are always having to fit people into our house with a shoehorn anyway, and the tree just eats up quite a large amount of room that could be used for seating at the family dinners.

Anyway, I put decorating off as long as I could this year, but today was the day.  So I rounded up 11 of our 17 grandkids, gave them the box with the tree, and set them to it.  They did a nice job.  The Biggles and Middles helped the Littles as needed.  They always do.  I love them for it.

Afterward, Colyn found some lights and the kids decided to try to brighten up our porch.  That didn't quite work, so they decided to decorate the playhouse.  Not only did they decorate it, but they cleaned the playhouse, and then they cut a little tree down and decorated it too.

Fernnook has gotten quite festive this year with a lighted outdoor tree and gnomes at the boy's place (Ken and KJ's), and a lighted outdoor tree at the Joel Harding home.  Of course dad's house has outside lights, but it faces Highway K, not K-2.  I don't know about further down the road past us, because I haven't been down after dark lately, but now we can add our own dazzle with our lighted tree and playhouse.  

We celebrated the lovely tree and playhouse decorations with cups of hot toto (as Toliver calls it) and marshmallows.  

What would family life be without all the conversations?  The last couple of weeks, since we are in December and Christmas is soon to be upon us, the Middles and the Littles have been having some interesting debates over some of the finer points of Christmas.

The first was between two of the Middles (both 5). (And, I admit, because I have slept multiple times since I heard this one, it may be off in the exact wording, though not in the ideas expressed.)

Adeline:  I can't wait until Santa comes.

Andrew: You know Santa is just pretend.

Adeline:  No he isn't!

Andrew:  Yes he is!

Adeline:  Well, I've seen him.  I saw him at Silver Dollar City.

Andrew: That was just a person dressed up in a Santa suit.

Adeline: Haven't you ever woke up on Christmas morning and there were a lot of presents under the tree that weren't there the night before?  See, he is real.

Andrew: That's just your parents that put them there.

Adeline and Andrew together: Grandma????

Grandma:  This is something you need to ask your parents, not me! (I am not chicken or anything....)

The second conversation was more recent and was between two of the Littles (both 2).

Toliver: Santa is coming to my house.

Linus: Santa is coming to my house.

Toliver: No, he is coming to my house!

Linus: He is too coming to my house!

Linus: (Turning to look at me with a big grin) Grandma, I bewieve in Santa!

Caveat: The next evening as we were driving home from church, Linus' older brother Chappell said, "Linus doesn't believe in Santa anymore."

I am curious how that came about.

(To see a post about a different girl in our family that believed in Santa for ever-so-long go to https://fernnookfarmgirl.blogspot.com/2006/11/mayberry-meanderings-in-august-we-have.html) 

 

We took a jaunt to Markham Springs a few weeks ago.  It was a wonderful way to celebrate early springtime in Missouri.  I hadn't been there since I was a young thing myself, and Kent had never been.  The kids had a blast.

At Markham Springs there are five different springs.  We didn't actually see them all because the kids got sidetracked with fishing in the springfed pond.  It is a lovely, clear, basically fishless pond.  There were some small minnows that the kids were able to catch with nets and use for bait, along with the worms they had dug up from Fernnook Farm before we left home, but besides those few little minnows, the pond was fishless.  Beautiful-yes, cold-yes, clear-yes, but fishy-NO.

Still, the Fernnook Kid's Club was busy for hours with casting, and rebaiting, and moving to more likely-looking spots.  There were some great quotes overheard by Kent and me.

Kathleen to me, "Either the fish aren't biting or there aren't any fish in this pond."  Me, "There aren't any fish here."  Kathleen acknowledged this with a shrug of her shoulders and an immediate recast of her line ino the pond.

Judah to Kent, "I don't care if there aren't any fish here, I am going to fish!"

Andrew to Kent, "I just love fishing."

So, fish they did!

And, I was so proud of them.  The biggles helped the middles with re-baiting, fixing lines, and any other fishy things that needed to be done.  Basically all Kent, Hattie, and I had to do was watch them and enjoy the beauty of the day.

A Season of Sorrow

I have been intending to write this post for some time now.  I want to capture for our collective memories the events and emotions of the past year for all of us here in Fernnook.

It was just about a year ago that we began to be worried about Uncle Jim.  He wasn't right.  He wasn't himself.  But, we were not sure what was going on with him or what to do about it.  As winter melted into spring, he became more and more erratic in his behavior and less and less stable in his ability to walk.  We began to take him meals, to get involved in getting him to his doctors, and to check on him multiple times a day.  

Then Aunt Jenny fell and broke her wrist.  That entailed a middle of the night trip to the ER for my cousins, an operation, and a hospital stay that was very traumatic for her and for her family.

So, the family was stretched...some caring for Jim and some for Jenny.  A couple of days after Jenny was released from the hospital, I saw an ambulance going down the gravel around midnight.  Cousin Sandy was staying with Stacy at Jenny's home helping to care for her.  I was sure the ambulance was for Jim, and called Cousin Kenny.  It wasn't.  He told me that it wasn't for Jim, it was for Jenny, and it didn't look good.  I was so grateful that Sandy was with Stacy when her mother died.

The next morning we decided that things had gone too far with Jim and we took him to the ER.  We were pretty sure he had lung cancer, but didn't know what was affecting his thinking and walking so severely.  Well we found out.  The lung cancer had spread to his brain and he had a tumor.  He was in a hospital in St. Louis recovering from brain surgery while we were at Jenny's funeral.

We fought so hard to get him treatment in time.  We all fought so hard for him.  But it was not in God's providence.  Two weeks of severe nosebleeds, two nose surgeries, and a stroke caused by one of the surgeries put off treatment for too long.  

We all came to the end of the summer tired, sad, and numb.  

For me personally, and for Kent, this was on top of a previous year which had us facing the deaths of Kent's father, Opa, and three very close church friends.  So, emotionally, when Jim died, it seemed our cup of sorrow was full to the brim.

In December, though, a series of events began that made us all feel like we were punching bags.  First, Andrew (our grandson who has CF) was hospitalized.  We were thankful to the Lord that what looked like a possible two week stay was cut down to four days, and he did get to be home for his family to celebrate Christmas a few days after the holiday itself.

Then, we were all heartbroken when Hattie, who was 12 weeks pregnant, miscarried two days before Christmas.  She and Ethan grieved deeply, as did we, over their loss.

Two days after Christmas, Uncle Ken (visiting his daughter Kelly in Houston) had a heart attack while he and Kenny were traveling home to Fernnook.  It happened in Tyler, TX, and he spent the next 38 days in the hospital in Tyler.  He responded well to a pace maker, but developed pneumonia, a UTI, a prostate infection, esophagitis, and ended up with a PEG feeding tube.  He was unable to swallow and lost the strength in his legs, and so was unable to walk.

Meanwhile, back in Fernnook, Papa (my dad) got a partially blocked lower intestine and was hospitalized for a week.  Then he also developed pneumonia.

One night, a few weeks later, Cousin Stacy called me at 3 am to see if I could come get her daughter Lizzie, because her other daughter, Emily, was unconscious after having a seizure.  Emily had seizures from bleeding on the brain 5 years ago, but she has been doing really well for several years.  That entailed a trip to the ER and a transfer up to Barnes.  Thankfully, there was no new bleeding and they believe it was a UTI that caused the episode with her.

Then I got a call from my Uncle David's caretaker.  She told me that they were putting David on hospice.  I have only seen him a few times in my life, but he is a dear, gentle soul, and this has been very sad for me.

Meanwhile, my brother Mike had a blood vessel growing toward his pupil that was affecting his eyesight and if left untreated could cause him to lose his sight in that eye.  So, he had a painful eye operation.

All this happened while Ken was still in the hospital in TX.  Just a week and a half ago, Ken took a rough ambulance ride to Van Buren to a rehab place there, but was immediately transferred to a different ambulance and taken to the hospital in Poplar Bluff.  They kept him for a week to get his heart rate back under control, then moved him to a rehab facility in the Bluff.  That was a disaster, and Kenny pulled him out yesterday and brought him home.

He is beginning to eat again, and, we pray, will be able to regain strength in his legs soon.  

If we have seemed distant or distracted or difficult to be with, forgive us.  We don't doubt the Lord's care for us, but it has been a long, rough season of sorrow for all of us here in Fernnook.

The Imps

 Andrew to me the other day, "Grandma, I just spit on your shoe." (And yes, sure enough, he did.  A nice little pool of spit was just sitting there on my shoe.)

Adeline to Grandpa Kent as he was carrying her on a hike through the woods, "Where we are, Grandpa?"

Andrew and Adeline tonight at our New Year's Eve get-together...dancing on the table, uprooting the aloe plant, dis-leafing the parsley, in the tub washing their feet together...regular little imps.  Just missing their third partner in crime, Chappell.  

Oliver M. Chappell

 Oliver M. Chappell

Toliver Chappell and Mary Mink’s boy

Born in 1872/3 date unknown

Died aged 11 years old

Cause and date unknown

Records lost in courthouse fire

He was Hattie Chappell Simon's brother 

In 1880 he was eight and Hattie was six

(Amazing how much Peter Harding looks like him.)

Letter from Grandpa Marion to Grandma Opal ( shared with me from Uncle Jim)

 

(From Jim to me on May 3, 2018)  Following is a letter Marion wrote to Opal in Oct 1929. It is not the complete letter but only three pages of it.  Opal would have just turned 19 and Marion was 24.  He was writing from Flint Michigan.  You must remember Marion only had a fifth grade education if that much so I made a few corrections to spelling and grammar.  From the way the letter was going Opal may have censored the last page and made sure it did not get saved.  Pure speculation on my part. We can thank Ty for locating this. He was the finder of the treasure.

Here it is:

Oct. 28th 1929

Miss Opal Simon,

My dearest loving little girl, I will write you a few lines tonight. How are you and what are you doing to pass the time off?  I wonder if you are thinking of your old lonesome boy tonight and wishing you could be with him to cheer him up.  Baby, life sure seems dull sometimes, if I didn’t have you to think about I don’t know what I would do but I know we will be together sometimes and so it makes me glad about it.  Because I can have you for always, Baby girl, isn’t that nice for us to be together for always and for me to love you for all time.  It just seems so good honey I can hardly stand to wait for I want you so bad.  Oh! Opal darling I know we will always be happy together.  For I could be happy with you anywhere on earth and I know you would always love me and we wouldn’t be jealous at one another because we wouldn’t do anything to be jealous over.  Opal darling don’t you ever doubt me for I will always be true to you, because I know I love you and I don’t want other women.  I would rather kiss you than any girl I’ve ever known and Opal darling I know just how you are.  I know it would be lots nicer if I had lots of money and I could give you anything you wanted.  But Baby girl I haven’t got it. I can only give you my love but sweetheart I can work for you and we can get by.  Opal sweetheart as much as I love you I would give you up if you could marry some man with lots of money and you could be happy with him.  But it sure would be a pain for me to have to give you up.

Fall and Winter Doings

We at Fernnook have had a busy Fall and start to Winter.  Having Ken and Kenny Joe here have added to the ideas for fun and festivities.  One tradition we started was to enter a Fernnook float in the Doniphan Lighted Christmas Parade.  Somehow we didn't place...but we did have a blast.  Even Grandpa Jerry Martin joined the Potbelly Gnomes as an Honorary Leading Citizen of the Province of Fernnook.  Unfortunately KJ fell off the float.  It was embarrasing for him, but there were no broken bones.  His motto, as it should be, is, "Whatever it takes to get Fernook on the map!"

A few weeks later on Christmas Eve we had our traditional appetizers and gifts.  But, we broke tradition on Christmas Day, and instead of having ham and picnic sides, Ken and Kenny Joe did a reverse sear on some lovely prime rib.  To make the day more perfect, we were blessed with a lovely warm day...the kids had a blast playing kickball and riding their bikes.  Some of them (the younger set) were playing pirates in Papa Bob's boat.  Somehow the key from one of the tractors ended up in the boat, and it took Papa a good while to find it the next day (oops!)    

 

A few nights ago several of our grandchildren were here long after dark.  It is just that time of year that the glow worms start to appear.  I love their magical, fairy-like, quick wisp of a glow that fades back into the deep dark of the night.  (For the uninitiated, glow worms are the common name of the larval stage of several beetles and even flies...in this case they are the larva of fireflys).  You only see them in September and October (or at least that is the only time I have ever seen them) after the weather begins to cool down a bit.  

So, the children were running around in the dark, some with flashlights and some without, when one of them noticed a glow worm.  Soon, they had brought me a plastic cup with a lid, and every few minutes, one would run up with another glow worm to add to those collected in the cup.  Now, if you look at the picture above, you will see what a glow worm looks like.  Really, they are a bit creepy, but that didn't phase the children.  Even the girls, Kathleen, Elsie, Opal, and Adeline were gleefully catching them and depositing them into the cup.  What a wonderful time they all had.

Later, as I was driving Joel's kids home, I told them about all the fun I had as a city kid visiting Fernnook and running around after dark with my cousins.  Kathleen said to me, "Grandma, do you ever wish you were still a kid?"

That was an easy one for me.  I loved my childhood, but I truly do believe that maturity is worth more than all that has gone before it.  I do miss people from earlier times.  I miss my mother.  I miss Grandma Opal.  How I wish I could play one more game of High Five with them and laugh until we were silly.  But, I don't want to go back to those good old days; rather, I want to somehow pull them into these new good days.

Well, I couldn't really explain all of that to Kathleen, so I just said, "No, honey, I wouldn't want to go back to being a kid.  If I did that, I wouldn't have you precious grandchildren that I love so much.  Honey, these are the good news days, and I love them!"

 

The other day, Tyler and Adeline stopped by for dinner.  Adeline was carrying a little watering can and told me this was her friend.  It was a frog.  "How cute," thought I.  "She is so good at pretending.  The watering can is her pretend frog friend."  During dinner her friend sat on the table, and she tried to squish a pear down the spout.  Then when we told her to take the pear out of the spout, she popped it in her mouth...ugh...but so 3 year oldish.  Why did she try to put a pear down the spout?  Well, to feed the frog, why else?  It wasn't until quite some time had passed, that I happened to look into the watering can.  And what did my little eyes behold?  Why, a frog, of course.  A green, sticky, long, skinny frog just sitting in the bottom of the watering can.  That watering can made a nice little home for her little frog.

Another Adeline story happened last week.  Kent was watching the kids outside during Wednesday night Bible study.  Two of the kids were on the swings, and there were only two swings and Adeline wanted to swing.  So, she turned to her grandpa and said, "When will it be my turn, Brother Kent?"  That's what you get from going to church where your grandpa is the pastor.  And tonight I heard that little Kate Smith was playing with her Barbie dolls with her dad.  She handed her dad the Ken doll and said, "This is Brother Kent.  Will you put these sandals on him, dad?"  

This post has nothing to do with garden spiders really.  I just like this picture that I took a few years ago.  I have had a few of them (garden spiders) on the porch in the last week, and I do love me a good garden spider.  The bigger the better.  They fascinate the children with their trampoline web skills.  And...I did have a cool, huge wolf spider (or maybe not a wolf spider, but whatever it was, it was huge) that had an egg case hatch out on my porch.  There were thousands of teeny-tiny spiders on my gardening shelves.  But, what really caught my attention yesterday as I was tooling down Fern Hollow Lane (towards Mike and Deb's place), and the real reason for this post, was something in the middle of the road that was flopping back and forth.  My glasses are not the right prescription anymore, and I had a hard time seeing what it was until I was right nigh on it.  Then I could see it was a snake. At first glance, it looked like a two-headed snake (like the one at the Cape Girardeau Conservation Building).  After I was able to untangle it in my mind, I could see that it had just one head with one very large and open mouth trying to swallow a huge frog.  I must have spooked it because the frog got loose, but only for a second.  The snake snatched it back up and quickly slithered off into the weeds with the frog squealing.  It was a nice size black snake-maybe two feet long.  May it live to have many successful hunts.

Oh, I received a text today from Natalie.  She said, "I was going to take a picture of Peeta's new praying mantis pet but a hen ate it."  She knows that much as I like spiders and snakes, I do not like praying mantises.  I answered her, "Poor Peeta; happy hen."

 

Photo by Dick Daniels

A few days ago, I noticed a nasty smell near our front door.  At first, I though, "Oh, it's from the Japanese Beetle trap."  Mount Doom, my beloved crepe myrtle, has been poorly this year.  Some might think it is because it is confined to a hole in our little concrete patio...but that is not the problem.  Mount Doom was totally infested with Japanese Beetles this year, and I was close to heartbroken over it.  Japanese Beetles, though, I have learned, are easy to trap...so trap them I have been doing.  That and beating Mount Doom in the evening with a rake and then joyfully squishing the bugs that fall off onto the patio.

But, the reek was not from the beetle trap.  It does stink, but this stink was really and truly by the front door.  So, I said to Kent, "There must be something dead under the porch."  At least, I hoped it was under the porch.  Under the porch is hard to get to, but under the trailer is much harder...I did not want Kent to have to go under the trailer to drag out some dead critter.  So we hunkered down and pointed a flashlight back into the recesses under the porch.  There was a something there, and it looked like a big duck.  Joel and Nat have ducks and I was afeared it was one of theirs.  Or, possibly one of the wild ducks that sometimes paddle around in our small pond.

Kent slithered in through the hole and put that big dead thing in a trashbag.  Now, it is dark under the porch, so he didn't get a good look at it then, but once he got out and handed me the bag, I could see it was not a duck at all.  It was a big black headed vulture.  I do not like black headed vultures.  They have migrated into our area, and they are calf killers.  They are also a very creepy bird.  They love to hang out in dead trees and old buildings, like in the old Simon barn that is in Tyler and Jen's field.   

Bill saw a hurt vulture on the lane the other day.  This guy must have wandered all the way to our porch and crawled under it.  Thanks to Kent, the smell is gone.  That is good news for all the folks who walk through my door.

And, totally unrelated to the vulture, I have high hopes that Mount Doom will yet blaze with blooms this year now that the beetle population is getting under control.  Squish, squish.

Opa and Oma Tidbits

The above pictures of Opa and Oma are from quite a few years ago.  They are both 90 now, and Oma has been in rehab with a broken femur while various family members have been staying with Opa.  I am with him this week, and I have been asking him some questions.  I do not doubt that most of the older Hardings know these stories, but I wanted to get them down as best I could.  He struggled a little in telling them, so forgive me (you who know the stories best) if I have told them wrong.

I asked Opa about what Christmas was like when he was growing up.  He said that his dad, Papa, would go out Christmas Eve to get the tree and then DeeDee and Papa would decorate it.  If Papa did not come home with a really nice tree, DeeDee was not happy.  Sometimes some of the gifts would be tied to the tree as part of the decorations.  

There are two gifts that really stick out in Opa's memory.  One was an electric car that he could ride in.  The other is part of a sad memory for him.  His dad gave him a really nice, rather expensive watch, and that was the only gift he received that year.  The girls though (Opa's 3 sisters), received several gifts each...toys, clothes, and various other things.  Opa feels bad because he hurt his dad's feelings over not appreciating his watch.  He was upset that he only received one gift.  He came to understand, though, the value of that gift in later days.

Opa's mom had a temper, but his dad was usually pretty easy going.  There is one time, though, that Opa remembers Papa being very angry with him.  When Opa was 17, the family moved off of Humphry Street where they had rented for years to a house that was outside of the city.  It took a ride on two different buses for Opa to get to his old friends.  One Saturday, Opa rode back into the city to hang out with his friends at The Pool, a pool hall they frequented.  Because it was a Saturday, when Opa headed home, there weren't as many buses running as there were during the week. This meant he had to wait extra long times to catch the two buses he needed to get home, and the outcome was that he arrived at the house past his curfew.  To top it off, he had forgotten his keys.  So, he knocked on the door.  Usually, when one of the kids was late, it was DeeDee who would answer the door and give the miscreant a piece of her mind.  This time, though, Papa answered the door.  He was so angry at having to get up in the middle of the night to let Opa in that he just hauled off and hit him in the face.  Opa said that was the only time that Papa ever struck him.

But, then Opa turned his mind to one of his favorite memories.  He was leaving for the army during the Korean War.  Oma was going to stay with Papa and DeeDee, and Papa drove Opa to the place where he was meeting all the other recruits to ship out.  Papa put his hand on Opa's shoulder and asked him if he was really sure this was what he wanted to do.  He told Opa that if he was not sure, he knew some people that would be able to work towards getting him out of leaving.  It was a very tender moment for Opa, and it made him feel very loved by Papa.  Opa, of course, chose to stay enlisted.  He felt that Papa was sensitive about the military because he hadn't served in WWII since he had a family.  Instead, his war effort was put in here in the States producing food.

And...just so they don't get lost somewhere, here are a few tidbits I learned today.

Papa and DeeDee met at work.  They both worked for a place that made car parts.  The business is no longer there, but the building is.  Opa said that DeeDee would come in late so often that she was fired.

His favorite cousin was Ardell Jr.  He could walk to Ardell's house from Humphry Street.

DeeDee really spent a lot of time and effort to make sure the girls were dressed nicely.

Then, a bit of a zag here, Oma has been talking with her half-sister, Bobbie, a lot since being in rehab.  Oma was an only child (we thought), and her dad, Addison, left her mother (Honey) and her when Oma was a baby.  She never saw him after that.  (He did come to Honey once and ask to see Oma.  Honey let him look at her across a school playground.  Then Addison left and was never heard of by the two of them again.)   Just recently, through some research on Ancestry, Bill connected with a half-sister of Oma's that we knew nothing about.  That is Bobbie.  They haven't met, but they do talk, and recently quite a bit.  Bobbie told her that some years ago, Addison's wife (who was from Ohio) and Addison were driving in Colorado when he had a heart attack and died in the car.  She drove him to a funeral home there in Colorado and left him.  

Nothing big or exciting or earth-shattering...just some family lore I would like to save for future generations.

  

And, here I was believing (wishing, dreaming, hoping, praying!) that
skunks hibernated all winter.  Well, they don't.

It continues.

Last week, Kent and I were returning home from pickleball and just as we
topped the small hill on the gravel that headed toward our mailbox, we saw
two teenager skunks.  They were traipsing ahead of us down the middle
of the road.  Their tails were high and fluffy and in their delicate little steps
they reminded me of two women with parasols mincing down the road to
get the attention of the male sex.

They are quite fetching really.  Too bad they are such a nuisance!

They sort of wandered from side to side and then took a sharp left into our yard.
When we got to the top of the driveway they were headed toward our shed.

I wonder...how many baby skunks an be born to one mama every year?