Mission Accomplished

We saw the people we planned to see on this trip, and now we are heading home. John’s Uncle Howard was in great spirits, but we don’t think he remembered we were coming. It took him a while to know who we were and get us sorted out in his mind. He is 97 years old, so he can be forgiven for taking his time. He still has a clear memory of the bombing of Pearl Harbor where he had a ringside seat. There are only two other Pearl Harbor survivors in Memphis.

I rather liked that photo because I knew when I took it that I was visible in the mirror.

I was embarrassed that I nodded off several times. We brought in ribs and barbecue sandwiches from Howard’s favorite BBQ place, and we were all as full as ticks. In addition, we were facing the sun streaming through floor to ceiling windows. The difference between squinting and sleeping was about 1/8 inch. I apologized to John later for not being able to stay awake. He said, “That’s OK. We all nodded off from time to time.”

We stopped in Jackson to see Mary and Joe. Joe and I grew up in the same town, but Mary is the one I keep in touch with. I asked how she heard about Union University where they met, since she lived 5 or 6 hours away. It seems a good friend from her town went there a year ahead of her. She voluntarily promised her parents she would come back home; she would not fall in love and marry anyone far away.

080815 N Mary Cepparulo — Nathaniel and Mary

She started college, and sometime later her dad telephoned her and asked how her love life was going. She said, “There is nothing to worry about. I’ve dated this guy a couple of times, but we don’t have the same values.”

As soon as they hung up, her dad said to her mom, “We’re going to Jackson this weekend. Mary has met the man she’s going to marry, and I want to check him out.”

I think Mary said they have been married 48 years.

While I was enjoying Mary, John was talking to Joe. I doubt the two men had ever spent more than a few minutes together. John learned a lot about Joe’s dad in the war and about Joe himself. Nathaniel said he was tired and didn’t plan to talk. He was quiet, but he became animated when Mary chatted with him.

It was wonderful to reconnect with these dear people. We will drive hard tomorrow so that John will be home for cardiac rehab on Monday.

Missing: A Change of Clothes

We were approaching Knoxville on an interstate when John said, “There is lots more traffic now than the last Friday I came on my way to the train club.”

Nathaniel looked around and said, “But this is Saturday, Grandpa. Traffic wouldn’t be the same.”

“No, Nate, it is Friday.”

Nathaniel replied, “It’s got to be Saturday.”

There was a tense pause. “I don’t have enough clothes. I have only my suit and what I have on. I thought today was Saturday.”

John and I were willing to take the responsibility. John said he didn’t notice what Nathaniel put in his garment bag, and I told him later we should have said exactly how many days we would be away.

Putting a good spin on it, Nathaniel said, “Now you’ve got a good story on me, Gran. You left out the chicken last night, and I didn’t pack enough clothes today. Your turn next, Grandpa.”

We crossed the time zone, putting us back an hour. When we stopped at a fast food place to eat, we were in the middle of the lunch rush. There was a line in the ladies’ room. When a girl came in behind me, I told her she was number three in line. The three of us in the cramped space chatted for a minute. The woman ahead of me said, “There is a sign that this stall is out of order. That’s why it’s taking so long.”

“Oh,” I said, “That must be why they call it a stall!”

That was risky, making a pun to strangers. Luckily, the woman got it and laughed, as did the girl. I didn’t need to turn red and mumble an explanation.

We arrived in Nashville slightly before we told Bonnie we’d be here. After bringing in the cases, Nathaniel flopped on the bed and put a pillow behind his head. That put him right in line with the mirror that cuts off his head when he stands in front of it.

“Oh my gosh!” he exclaimed. “My feet are enormous!”

Maybe he saw his feet doubled – hanging at the end of his legs and reflected in the mirror. The way he said it made me double over in laughter. Surely it couldn’t have taken him by surprise, since he’s been growing a long time. He is 6’3″ and still getting taller. The toy camera came out, and I leaned over the bed to take a picture of what he was seeing. The flash marred the first shot. He took the camera, and holding out his arm, took another photo that magnified his feet even more.

We are so blessed to have grandsons with a good sense of humor.

Chicken Potpie without a Cluck

There were three witnesses when I said, “Oh! No!” in the kitchen.

“What happened?” they wanted to know.

Dumbstruck with disbelief, I didn’t answer while frantically pulling the pie plate from the hot oven. “I forgot to put the chicken in the potpie!”

I was wondering how I could get the crust off when John summed up the situation, “You can’t fix it. Just serve the chicken on the side.”

Luckily, I heeded his advice. Half an hour later, we put the warm chicken chunks on our plates and topped them with the creamy veggies and crust. It may have been unorthodox, but it was edible, as shown by the empty pie plate. Thinking about it later, I decided that was as good a way as any to celebrate my parents’ 75^th wedding anniversary. Though long dead, they would have approved my cooking at home and taking sensible advice.

Have you ever omitted a key ingredient in a recipe? I’d love to know, since misery loves company.

Snake!

If you don’t like snakes, close this immediately. I grew up knowing snakes were sharing our property, and they didn’t bother me. We ignored the harmless ones and avoided the dangerous ones. Actually, I don’t think I ever saw a cottonmouth or a copperhead alive. Now spiders are another matter. Those critters send shivers up my spine. That’s a fact, without rhyme or reason.

John and I were chatting after lunch on the porch when he said, “Look there! It’s a snake – a first for us here!”

I couldn’t even see the creature, but I was already rising from the chair to get the camera. Even worse, I opened the door to go down the steps before I was sure it wasn’t poisonous. I’ve given myself a stern lecture and hope I took it to heart. Meanwhile, John was simply watching the black snake poke his head in every crevice of the little stone wall. We wonder if he was looking for our resident chipmunk, hoping that wouldn’t be Mr. Slithery’s lunch. The snake doubled back on himself and pushed into the next open space. At that point, I was watching instead of aiming the camera and saw the black head appear in the middle of the ground cover behind the wall. The old snake must have decided he was safe as he meandered off through the garden. I’m very glad our lunch was more successful than his.

Nathaniel’s Scarecrow

Grandson Nathaniel has been in an extremely dressed down mode this summer. He wears a suit and tie to high school four out of five days a week, looking snappier than most of his teachers. The other day when we went to the Bavarian Restaurant, he chose to wear a shirt and tie. John followed suit. I looked like the bag lady in jeans and a top.

When I saw the scarecrow in the neighbor’s garden this morning, I had to bring a photo home. The scarified gent was wearing a tie and a hat! He may not be more effective than lesser dressed crows, but he had a very jaunty attitude.

Birds and Beer

Birds and beer have nothing in common that I can think of, but both are included in this post.

The hummingbirds have been at war for the last several weeks. Every time one comes to feed, another one attacks. We have two feeders, one near the back porch and one on the side deck. We watch one feeder while we are eating, and I look at the other when I intend to write. This morning I was watering plants when a hummer hovered there, only 12 inches from my shoulder. I froze as he hummed for his liquid breakfast. What a privilege it was to share space with him! This afternoon I happened to see a tiny bit of peaceful coexistence. Two birds drank at the same time. They were nervous about it and soon rose in the air to have a whirling battle as graceful as any ballet duet.

The demented cardinal quit attacking the sliding glass doors after grandson Nathaniel washed them. I was reading the newspaper on the front porch this morning when I heard a whir and a bump. That silly bird flew onto the porch, landed on the floor, hurled himself at the glass beside the front door, bounced off, and flitted away. He must have done it four or five times while I was there.

I think I saw two hawks on a wire over the road while on my morning walk. The fog was so heavy that I didn’t see them at first. I stopped and reached for the toy camera, but they were gone in a flash. The birds were definitely larger than doves, and I had the impression of roundness about the heads. There was not enough light to see any color. As they flew, I noted big wings and squared tails.

Our son heard about a good German restaurant north of Asheville that sparked Nathaniel’s interest. Unfortunately, son $ had to cancel today, but we went on without him. I discovered the name of the place was more specific – Bavarian Restaurant and Beer Garden. What a delight! Nathaniel chose Blauer Engel Schnitzel; John had Münchner Sauerbraten, and I had goulash. As you might guess, I copied the first two names from the on-line menu, because I couldn’t spell them.

[Sorry for the caps. The paragraph looks OK in the draft.] We shared two desserts. We had Bavarian cream puffs and a fancy concoction in a wine glass. There was Black Forest cake in the bottom, topped with cherry ice cream, hot fudge sauce, and whipped cream. We felt sanctimonious stopping at Owl, the produce store, to buy vegetables and fruits on the way home.

Our Broken Landscape

We immediately noticed unsightly streaks on the sliding glass doors when we returned from NY. We didn’t have long to wait to find out what was happening. A male cardinal repeatedly flew into the door, presumably to attack his own image. When he wasn’t ramming the glass, he was sneaking around the corner and clinging to the screen on John’s office window. John tried putting up flags and red reflectors which didn’t deter the cardinal one bit. The hummingbirds came to check them out, hovering in front of them with bewilderment.

We’re not sure how we’re going to break the bird’s bad habits, but meanwhile, my landscape is far from idyllic. The marks on the glass are white, and there is only one white thing I can think of that would come out of a red bird. Are you thinking what I’m thinking? Our glass doors are now a perpendicular latrine!

If anyone has a solution to our problem, please let us know.

Beware of Tractors

It was good to be walking in the mountains again, even if they were shrouded in mist until I got home. Perhaps because I couldn’t see far, I noticed a road sign that has probably been in place the whole year we’ve lived here. How could I have failed to giggle at it all that time? The sign was there in plain sight a short way from the creek. The stylized picture of a farm tractor couldn’t be mistaken for anything else. If we had those in Tennessee when I was growing up, I never noticed them. I assumed most people in our rural area would always be watching for tractors on the road. We had more than tractors. From time to time herds of cows were driven through the town! Now that I have seen the tractor sign here, I will redouble my efforts at spotting them.

I would like to ask if anyone else sees “beware of tractor” signs.

Perpetual Goodbyes

We had a marvelous weekend in Stony Brook, and now it’s time to say goodbye again. John went for bagels to take back to NC while I visited with Tom and Dennis. We couldn’t help noticing two halves of a shrink wrapped building in the parking lot near the beach. When Tom asked Dennis about it, Dennis had the scoop. They were waiting for the crane that would lift it onto the foundation where an older house had burned last year. Dennis, with his daily visit to the firehouse, always knows what is going on. If his arm had been resting on the open window of his truck, I could have put two fingers on his wrist and felt the pulse of the village there.

Our Jeep was in the parking lot when Tom and I walked back. I thought there was a cat under the vehicle, but when it moved, I saw it was John’s feet. He was stowing the bagels in plastic bags. Bandit and Bravo hopped in Tom’s car, and we had show and tell. Tom always has some antique with an interesting story. Today he had a brass gizmo for making bullets, an egg beater, and a mystery gadget. I never thought to take a picture of that, but I should have. The object was made of metal – a short handle with a mesh of metal links attached. Tom explained it was the forerunner of a Brillo pad. People used it to scour the bottoms of big cooking pans. Tom said the egg beater was a gift, one that I’m thrilled to have. We’ll display it somewhere in the kitchen.

Tom let John hold his massive Sargent catalog for the current exhibit at the Met. My nose began to twitch as he flipped through the pages. I could smell the strong odor of onion and garlic. How embarrassing! Tom might need to fumigate the book now that it has been infused with the essence of everything bagels. Sorry about that, Tom.

We took another shot of the activity in the village before hurrying back to the motel. John needed to drive out to the train park for something. If trains were like drugs, he would be going for a fix.

I took a quick photo of the Hercules pavilion and will include a peaceful scene from Setauket harbor. I’m happy that we can visit the shoreline and that I don’t have to choose between mountains and sea.

Sea Level

We were truly at sea level this morning, walking by the marina where I walked for 20 years. It was very exciting, because there were rumbles of thunder at the beginning and end of the hour’s walk. Despite the threat, we were not rained on.

It was such a disappointment that we missed Tom. Dennis told us he was looking for us, but we missed him by a hair. We caught up on Dennis’ news, and Dave pulled in. I loved seeing them again, my anchors by the water. They, Nancy, and Tom were the pleasures of my morning for about five years. Now Nancy and I have moved away. I asked John to touch the railing for Nancy. He was happy to do that for her, but his face reflected his I-don’t-like-my-picture-taken attitude. Be understanding, because that is a common pose for everyone who ever lived with me.

Things in the village were mostly the same. One house was sold, and another is on the market. Extensive landscaping was in progress at another house, marked by raw earth and newly exposed plants. If you return often enough, you’d keep up with the changes.

I did notice one thing I would never have paid attention to before. Near the millpond were two shoots just encroaching on the sidewalk. Something about the vine made me stop. Golly! It was wisteria! I loved the wisteria along there on both sides of the road, but that was before I was responsible for curbing it. Knowing from my constant battle in NC, the wine can be vicious. I wouldn’t be surprised if it grew under the roadway. I stepped away quickly before the shoots could entangle my ankles.

Avalon Park was the same except for a new stone wall just across from the gristmill. That will be handy for tourists. I might have tried it out, but John was waiting for me. We went to the end of my old route before I suggested he go at his 3 mph rate back to the car where he could listen to his beloved NY radio stations. He knows his rate because of cardiac rehab. I suspect I walk at 2 mph, since I walk about two miles in an hour.

I stopped at the millstream to say hello to a black crowned night heron standing on one leg, perhaps one I used to greet all the time. There is a stick over the rock on the left that enters the water just above the bird’s head. It’s obvious I could use lessons from photography 101.