I remember well our city’s last two exposures to the Brood X cicadas. It’s one of my favorite “old person” stories to tell. “Gather round kiddies. Mimi’s got a story to tell you, that began way back in NINETEEN-EIGHTY-SEVEN (i.e., … Continue reading
It’s that time of year again – the annual “Run for your lives, she’s got cucumbers to get rid of!” phase of my summer. Over the past six days, I have harvested about thirty cucumbers, and have managed to give … Continue reading
The hummingbird season got off to a rough start for me this spring. I was heading out of town in early April, and the feeders are supposed to be in place by then, but I couldn’t find mine. I have two nice feeders, one that was a gift from a daughter, and one with perches, that I bought for myself. My funny little Ruby likes both of them. She will flit from one to the other, and then scurry off to a nearby wire or tree to lie in wait for any prospective competition. She is a skilled player, protecting her feeders with a diligent offensive – any sighting of another hummingbird, and Ruby is on the move, swooping, diving, rising high on the wing, in quick and dogged pursuit of any who would dare to threaten her territory.
At any rate, I searched high and low and everywhere in between, and those feeders were nowhere to be found. My youngest daughter heaved a sigh of relief, realizing that she was now off-the-hook for brewing up the nectar and refilling the feeders every three days (for SIX weeks!). I had to fly north knowing that my fine-feathered little missy was in the midst of her own northward flight, and would arrive to find her summer chalet unprepared for her arrival.
While in Minnesota, I happened to stop at a dollar store and saw some little hummingbird feeders, what great luck! I bought two to pack in my luggage, and got them up and running immediately upon my return home in mid-May. I was afraid that Ruby had moved on, but no, she soon showed up, displaying her usual aerial antics to protect the makeshift feeders. (One of which sprung a mysterious leak within a month…. I always quip that I’m going to make a little sign for those dollar stores, and slyly stick it on the door, right below where it says, “Everything’s a Dollar.” My sarcastic addendum would be, “Whether it’s worth it or not!”)
But I was happy. My Ruby, who gives me great joy, was back in residence. I’m fairly certain it’s been the same girl for three summers, now. Always the same behavior and “personality,” and hummingbirds live 3-5 years. Or maybe I’m already meeting a little junior of my funny girl, with birds-of-a-feather characteristics handed down from her mom. I see other little rubies and rubios attempting to dine on some of my fine, homemade nectar, but it’s always a quick visit, before Ruby runs them off. I don’t mind. I’ve grown quite attached to my special girl, and religiously refresh the feeders every three days, just for her!
Then, a couple of weeks ago, an “alarm” sounded – Ruby ran into the living room window. It was the first time that had ever happened, and I was sitting right there to witness it. Luckily, she hit it lightly enough that she bounced right off and flew into the neighbor’s tree, unharmed. I thought nothing more of it, until this past Sunday. I was in the kitchen, and heard a sound of something hitting the window. We’ve had a lot of mourning doves hit the window, and they’re always fine, but it didn’t sound loud enough for one of them. I ran into the living room and looked outside, and there was Ruby, on her back in the shrubbery. I went out to her. She was not moving. I gently flipped her over so that she could breath easier, but she looked bad. Her eyes went closed and she just laid there completely still, her wings still spread for flight. For nearly 15 minutes my daughter and I watched her. The only hint of movement we saw was a slight flicking of the tail feathers, almost like a heartbeat. I was crying, so certain was I that we were losing her. I called on St. Francis. “I know this is just a little bird, so small in the scheme of our world’s sufferings, but if you could intercede for this sweet girl, and bring about a tiny miracle, I would be so grateful.”
Unbeknownst to me, my daughter, who had silently observed the fallen Ruby for quite some time, had gone into her bedroom to pray. She also called upon St. Francis, and envisioned him taking the bird into his hands and healing her. About a minute after she had asked for this favor, I went outside to say good-bye to my pint-sized pal. Her eyes were still closed, there was no discernible movement. I leaned in closer to her, and suddenly, her little eye popped open, bright and clear. She was looking right at me, and without warning, she took flight, nearly bumping into my head. Within two seconds, she was perched on her favorite guard post, the electric lines to our house. I was frozen and speechless for a minute, and then I started to yell, “She’s okay! My little Ruby is okay. She flew up to the wire!” My heavy heart was catapulted into rejoicing, and happy tears flowed from my eyes. Was it miracle? We may never know, but it definitely felt like one to us. I immediately went to work on a makeshift window display aimed at protecting my girl from further window collisions. Since then, I’ve been keeping my eyes open at thrift stores to find some sparkly window decor to make a more pleasing arrangement. I found a few perfect items the other day, at a store I visit sometimes when visiting my daughter in Dayton, OH. I told the checkout ladies my Ruby story, and what I was using the items for. They looked at me for a few seconds, then said, “You do know what the name of this thrift store is, don’t you?” I looked up at the wall behind the counter – “St. Francis Thrift Store,” it said. What can I say, except that my favorite hummingbird is obviously in good hands, because St. Francis has his eye on her now! The lesson to learn here is that the little things are the source of our greatest joy, and God truly is in the little things!
I have been threatening, for several years now, to head north for the summer. You know those senior citizens who zip down to Florida at the first hint of a frost? They call them “snowbirds,” flying south each winter. I … Continue reading
Practically everyone knows that the sweltering, disagreeable days of summer (in the northern hemisphere) are referred to as “the dog days.” That’s what I’ve always called them, ever since I was old enough to mimic my parents…and learned how to sweat. … Continue reading
It’s that time of year again, for a gardener. It’s been hot and sunny, which bodes well for produce like cucumbers, zucchini, and tomatoes (as long as its augmented by frequent watering with the hose). The harvest has ramped up … Continue reading
Rodents and spiders, snakes and crawdads, slugs and salamanders, insects and warty toads, and caterpillars of every variety – in my life I’ve held each of the above-mentioned critters (and then some) in my very own hands. With my rural upbringing … Continue reading
Overtaken by Offspring
(A theatrical comedy about family get-togethers)
ACT ONE, SCENE ONE:
Lights come up on the family Matriarch as she sits in her recliner, nodding off to sleep. Suddenly, there’s a knock at the door. Matriarch awakens in a startled fashion, and makes her way groggily to the door. Opens door to Delivery Boy.
Delivery Boy: Telegram for Mom
Matriarch: (Yawns rudely) That’s me.
Delivery Boy: Sign here, Mom….ummm, I mean Ma’am.
(Matriarch signs)
Delivery Boy: Thank you, have a “good one!”
*{Please note: “Have a good one” is NOT an acceptable way to wish people a good day (if that is, indeed, what you are attempting to convey). “Have a good one” is a useless, grammatically incorrect statement….a good what?! A good lunch? A good commute to work? A good cry? A good laugh? A good report from my doctor…? A good nervous breakdown?! WHAT THE HECK do you mean by “one?”}
Matriarch closes door, fumbles around for reading glasses so she can focus on delivered telegram she holds in her hands, finally finds a pair and gets them correctly positioned on her face, and reads: “Extended family members to arrive next Tues (stop); Driving down from MN with camper (stop); Will camp out with you and rest of family (stop); Will expect all siblings, in-laws, and nephews to be in attendance (stop); Get EVERYTHING ready.”
Tired Matriarch looks at calendar and collapses.
Lights fade for end of Scene One
ACT ONE, SCENE TWO:
Scene opens on Matriarch with pile of papers in front of her, as she writes frantically on one of the papers.
Matriarch (talking to herself, as usual): “Okay….meal list complete; packing list complete; time to work on my shopping list, and then a detailed plan of action for the next four days so that I can be ready to go when the family camping reunion commences. Friday….at work all day; husband & I out with friends in the evening. Saturday…at work all day; to grocery store in the evening; Sunday…to Church in morning; get busy preparing all the meals we will need while on our campout. Monday….work all day; in evening, start packing my personal needs for the campout, also, clean the ENTIRE house and prepare to house numerous lodgers (i.e, twelve people, counting me) in case heavy rains come and we are forced to bail out (literally and figuratively) and head home for dry and comfortable housing. Tuesday…finish any last-minute housing and food details, pack personal belongings and food, rent moving van, head out to our Indiana property for the family camping adventure.
Lights fade as Matriarch climbs into bed and immediately falls asleep, murmuring something about bug spray, bubble wands, and big bottles of wine. The director thinks it best not to disturb her for a curtain call. Check back late next week when this delightful, dramatic comedy presentation continues with ACT ONE, SCENE THREE, when the Matriarch waves good-bye to her older daughters, sons-in-law, and five grandchildren as the visit (finally) comes to an end. 😄
A road headed into the wood and I, …I jumped at the opportunity! Sorry Robert Frost, no plagiarism intended. It’s just that those lovely poems of yours are stuck in my head, and sometimes they work their way into my … Continue reading
Sub-title – “From Pacific to Atlantic, Gee the Traffic Was Gigantic”
Monday, August 21st was a day of wild and crazy events in the heavens and on the roads, but we lived to tell about it. We started out at 8:15 am, headed to Auburn, KY, a small town well within the total eclipse zone. The drive time prediction was 3 hours, 45 minutes. We got snagged up for a while on the Bluegrass Pkwy, which added an agonizing half hour or so to our trip, with us not knowing what was going on, and having no access to any exits. The sun entered into partial eclipse status while we were on that stretch of highway. Finally, we were able to merge onto the main interstate, and after that convergence fanned itself out, it was smooth sailing the rest of the way. We arrived at our destination in plenty of time to catch the main event.
I had originally resigned myself to the idea of missing the party, even though I really wanted to go. My husband’s thinking on the subject was that it wouldn’t be worth the trouble. But, then…he started researching total eclipses, and suddenly, we were in the planning mode. Articles he read were saying that a partial eclipse is NOTHING compared to a total eclipse, and he decided to believe them (thank you, people, whoever you are, for your influence in this regard!!). He did a remarkable job with his planning, getting us to a perfect location – a huge park in a podunk town. There were maybe 100 to 200 people there, all spread out over this massive piece of property. My husband, youngest daughter, Benny (our dog), and I had the entire football field to ourselves!
We used our special, eclipse glasses as the moon traveled further into the path of the sun, and noticed as the air got considerably cooler, and the sky grew eerily dark (except for the horizon all around, which looked like a 360º sunset). The buzzing of the noisy cicadas ceased suddenly, a few birds swooped down over us, and our view through the glasses went completely dark – time to whip off those glasses and be awed by the heavens like we’ve never been before. Cheers and whistles went off in all directions from the crowd, someone even brought a few firecrackers to set off precisely at that defining moment of reaching totality. One planet and one star came into view in the shadowed sky, and the lights came on in the distant parking lots. But the incredible dance of the sun and moon quickly blocked out everything else – I couldn’t take my eyes off of it. It was beautiful, amazing, inspiring, incredible, and absolutely way beyond anything that I could have imagined. I’m sharing the photo my daughter took on her I-phone, but it doesn’t do it justice, of course. Nothing can ever do it justice, except living through it, and seeing it for yourself.
A few seconds after totality slipped away, people starting jumping in their cars and hightailing it out of there. We took our time driving through our new favorite small town, taking a few photos, and filling up the gas tank, and then we, too, hit the side roads. We avoided the major highways until we were almost to Louisville, and then decided, “It can’t be all that bad,” so we jumped on I-65. That was the longest 45 minutes of our trip home. We bailed out again as soon as we could figure things out (without data on our phones or a GPS unit), found more back roads, crossed the river at Madison, IN, drove on up to Rt 50, and turned towards Lawrenceburg and a short hop home from there. Eight hours after leaving the park in Auburn, we were home. Some of our best adventures of the day happened on those side roads!
Here are some more photos from our day, for you to enjoy, along with a link to a simple pano shot my husband did of us. If you missed this celestial event, maybe you can join us for the next total eclipse in 2024, in Indiana, just a stone’s throw from us (and, possibly, our Indiana property might fall in the totality zone…wouldn’t that be perfect for our next prodigious penumbra?!). Don’t miss the next one, peeps. It is God’s handiwork at its finest!
https://theta360.com/s/ssyqDdfR93sajXTuW1J5hfD16
all thumbs up after the big event
making friends with fellow adventurers
Me, in a chair, after the eclipse (“Honey, I shrunk myself!”)
the country’s smallest post office…?
the scariest bridge we crossed
grandma's coffee soup 