Relative Temperature

I know, I know. People talk about relative humidity, but I am dealing with relative temperature. It was 42 F (5.5 C) when I went out to walk yesterday. I dressed as I would when it was the same temperature in January and February. The difference is that I shed my hat and windbreaker halfway through the walk. This morning I saw 42 again and wore one outer layer – a sweatshirt. Despite wind roaring along the ridge line, I was comfortable. Why is 42 not the same year round? Is my brain relatively warmer when it thinks it is Spring? Am I so eager for Spring to be real that I dress for it and expect the weather to follow?

I walked through the house and went straight out to do weeding. This time I attacked a small bed under the old oak tree, one that I had never touched since we moved here six years ago. Every year hostas and other shade-loving plants appeared magically. I noticed there were saplings, some three feet high, lording it over the hostas. The defining stones around the edges had begun to disappear under creeping weeds. The area looks somewhat better, but I must go back and remove lots of sticks. I am conjecturing that through the years, people who mowed the lawn threw offending sticks into the plants.

I should have focused my eyes on the ground and come straight back in the house. No, I stopped to admire the area I weeded yesterday and got sucked in. There was a sapling that would come out easily after yesterday’s rain. Next to it was a bunch of yarrow. The yarrow was not as willing to come out of the earth. Those plants had to be persuaded with the sharp jab of a weed digger and a firm tug with my hand. Maybe I should follow neighbor Joyce’s lead and let the yarrow have an area of its own. Do any of you have an opinion of yarrow?

A few weeds at the edge of the iris bed beckoned when I saw the first bloom of the year. After dispatching the weeds, I took a photo of the iris to send to SIL Beth and grandson Nathaniel. The two of them dug up the non-performing plants and put them back almost on top of the ground. This bloom and other buds are saying thank you nicely now. I love it when plants are properly appreciative.

Nature’s Entertainment

For the most part, bloggers have quit complaining about the restrictions placed on all of us to limit the spread of the virus. We’re in the same boat around the world. They are writing about kindnesses done, benefits of family togetherness, and things seen because there is time to notice. I’m sure I would have noticed our freaky weather, with or without a mandate to stay in place. Wind had been fierce for hours, but I didn’t see our Bradford pear tree ripped apart until some time later.

The very same afternoon our day was as peaceful as could be.

Two days later I took a photo of tiny bits of hail on the front porch.

The sound was deafening. You can hear the rattle of hail hitting the steps and the car. I cut the video short, because the sound remained the same throughout. In the first second, a robin flies from the tree to its nest under the eave. The bird was upset with us for being too close, as if he knew we should be practicing social distance of six feet.

Our kind neighbors, Dawn and Jeff, offered to cut up the pear tree limbs. What a team they were! Jeff wielded the chainsaw, and Dawn piled up the branches. Neighbor Logan appeared, wearing a protective headset for his ears.

A still picture didn’t tell the whole story. I noticed Jeff make a small cut with the saw and lift the saw so that the blade was horizontal. He marked the limb with his eye and made the next cut at that spot. What a neat way to cut firewood into equal lengths! Dawn waited for him to cut the top, which she then pulled to the side. I was amused that Logan, who is often blurred in photos because he moves so fast, was as still as a statue. Who knew he could be motionless?

Destruction and Maintenance in the ‘Hood

Limbs of a Bradford pear tree were blown down by wind. I think it may have happened in the middle of the night, because none of us heard it. John left in the early hours of the morning when it was still dark. He didn’t mention it when he called to let me know he had gotten to the train club. This is the view from our front porch.

Neighbor Bob the Builder was working on his grounds. He used the equipment to dig and was picking up ties from his truck. We stood there spellbound as he maneuvered it deftly.

We scooted out of the way as he swung around and deposited the ties in place. We were very impressed. And to think, he didn’t have video games to play with as a child!

My favorite photo was taken a few days earlier. When I came back from walking, I saw Bob’s hat hanging on a light fixture. It made me laugh, and the camera wanted to know what was amusing.

If we’d had wind that night like we did last night, that hat would have sailed into the next county.

David’s Dream Pancakes

Some days ago grandson David mentioned what he’d like his brother Nathaniel to prepare for his birthday. The background is that Nathaniel owed David pancakes. David slept late the morning Nate cooked breakfast several weeks ago. We ate all the pancakes, so chef promised David he could have whatever he wanted another time.

Nobody knows what the restrictions for COVID-19 will be like in five weeks. Nathaniel could still be in New York, or he could be back in Charlotte. Chances are slim that he would be with us on June 1. I was interested in what food David had in mind. He developed his idea, verbally musing about pancakes, chocolate, and fruit. The fruit should be in the batter, and it would be lovely to have chocolate in it, too. Blueberries would be great. That’s how Dark Chocolate Blueberry Pancakes were born. David has been working six days a week, and I thought it would be nice for him to have a treat. Of course, a treat for one meant a treat for all. What a start to the day!

Nathaniel is not off the hook. David still hopes to have our chef create fabulous pancakes when he gets back here. (Note to Nate: He is leaning toward fresh pitted cherries and chocolate.)

Low-tech Apple Streaming

Apple monologue:

“Can you find me where the stream recedes after a storm?”

“There I am!”

“Come closer.”

“I’m floating.”

“I’ll rest awhile.”

“It’s your turn to continue the story. Your guess is as good as mine, because I was gone 24 hours later. Did a boy climb down to pick me up? Did a raccoon have me for his pre-washed dinner? Might a skunk or possum have eaten me? It was nice chatting with you. Goodbye.”

Viral Fighting??

We checked with neighbors to see if they needed anything from the supermarket. No one did, but neighbor Shawn and I were laughing about shopping at Ingles. I said we were going for the thrill of it, as well as getting necessities.

She texted, “We all must be so bored that we go to Ingles for our thrills!! Take it all in for me.”

John and I had walked through a couple of aisles, following the one-way arrows, when the store manager greeted us. We responded by asking how he was doing. He explained that business was rough. He gives a pep talk to his workers every day, because they are on the front line to fight COVID-19.

He said, “You wouldn’t believe the senior store hour on Tuesdays and Wednesdays. The people get in fights – blood all over the place!! It’s the first hour of the day EVERY Tuesday and Wednesday!”

We were aghast. I apologized to him for my age group, which did nothing for the situation, but hopefully made him feel a little better. He said a customer accosted him the day before, demanding that everyone in the store wear a mask and gloves. He gently told him that they followed all the state and federal rules, and he had no authority to make workers do any more than that. Workers handling food wear gloves, but they always have. An inspector comes every day to make sure all workers are in compliance.

I said our daughter is a cashier at a supermarket in New Jersey. He responded, “I wish her all the best. I know what my cashiers go through, and it must be awful for her where the virus is so much worse. Keep up the good work.”

As we ended the conversation, I said, “At your meeting tomorrow, tell them a cheering squad was here for them.”

He laughed and said he appreciated it and would tell them.

After we checked out, I took a shot of the front of the store and sent it to Shawn.

“Whoop whoop!!!” she replied, always ready to enter into the spirit of the day.

A bird footnote: Joyce texted, “They are here! The hummers are here!”

The hummingbirds are here a day earlier than I expected, but I went right home and boiled sugar water for them. The first feeder is on my deck. I must remember to bring it in tonight when the temperature goes below freezing.

Easter, Six Feet Apart

We were required to be six feet apart, and that did something amazing. It stretched our Easter into a great three-day celebration.

Neighbors Shawn, Bob and Logan (9) came for dessert on the porch on Saturday. It was surprisingly warm for late afternoon. For the foodies — we had Caribbean Fudge Pie. I thought something dark and sinful would be appropriate to mark Christ’s full day in the tomb. We enjoyed the easy chat that marks our gatherings, something we have really missed for the past several weeks.

Easter Sunday’s weather was uncomfortably cool and windy. We worked out a safe plan for eating at the same table. We held the front door open so that neighbor Joyce wouldn’t need to touch it. She handed us the dessert she had brought, after which we all washed our hands. She sat at one end of the table, and we huddled at the other end. Remember, our hands were all washed at the same time. I placed dishes beside Joyce, and David brought them to us after she helped herself. I used a spatula to put rolls straight from the oven into a bowl, and we used tongs to serve ourselves. If anyone remembers the terribly tasteless rolls last Thanksgiving, I’m happy to say these were much better. I enjoyed hearing about Easter when Joyce was a child growing up in this area. She remembered the church always had an Easter egg hunt, but it had to be in another location. The church property was much too steep to accommodate children and roly-poly eggs. It was a long day for a child. They began with a sunrise service, followed by Sunday School, festive Easter service, and dinner with lots of relatives. When Joyce left, we opened the door so that she wouldn’t need to touch it.

Foodies, we had ham, crust-less quiche, broccoli with Hollandaise sauce, sweet potato casserole, rolls, spiced peach salad, and chocolate cake.

Neighbors Connie and Marla came the day after Easter. The big storm passed through during the night, resulting in tornadoes through much of the South. Our area was spared. Despite severe flood warnings, Jonathan Creek stayed in its banks. We had our dinner on the back porch with plenty of space between families.

This looks like an eating contest. It wasn’t.

We all talked loud enough to be heard, so distance was not a problem. There are only days left until they move. We enjoyed hearing more about their new place and how they feel it is the best place for them. How we will miss them!

This Easter was a strange one because of the COVID-19 virus, one that will be remembered. I’m sure there are many stories of how people shared the day with loved ones.

Were you able to connect with your favorite people?

Two Odd Things

We had crossed the highway on the way to the creek when John said, “Look! A rainbow!”

The sun was shining brightly behind us, and there were no rain clouds in sight. We noted that the air was quite humid. I figured it was a Maundy Thursday miracle. God made something out of nothing, and who were we to make nothing of it? I was pleased that the rainbow had a proper arch to it, unlike the flat one I wrote about not long ago.

After we came up the steep hill, we found our road blocked by an 18-wheeler. It was still inching backwards. We walked well away from it, and as we came up to the cab, the driver hopped out. To his credit, he uttered no expletives, just complained bitterly about the GPS. He had driven all the way to the big bend in the road before realizing there was no way out. Neighbor Mark came from his house and asked where he was headed. He needed to be at Oaks Unlimited on the highway. The men put their heads together and decided the best way to proceed was to back out and continue on the narrow country road until he came to the previous entrance to I-40. It would be making a big loop, but it beat getting stuck in the ditch trying to turn the other way. Mark walked one way and we the other to stop traffic, if needed.

After the truck drove off, I went to Connie’s porch and chatted with her while John and Mark talked on the road. The big rig didn’t come back. We noted that other vehicles came by, so the fellow must have made it out of the area.

Taping Good Friday

Grandson David, John, and I were in church Tuesday to tape the choral parts of the Good Friday service. There were eight singers, an organist, the choir director, the pastor, an audio person, and the videographer. We were extremely careful to follow the state mandate of having no more than ten in a room together. Four members of the choir were in the front of the church, and the other four outside the sanctuary door in the Narthex. I took a photo of the church before we began rehearsing.

The fellows finished putting all the equipment in place, and they tested the balance of the voices. The unrelated singers in front were at least six feet apart. Grouping the rest was easy, since John, David, and I live together and could stand close to each other. When I took this photo, there was still light outside. The planners wanted us to wait until dark to tape the service, a detail I would have missed.

John and David were ready to sing.

I took the last shot when we were about to tape the procession. Going down the aisle was the audio man acting as crucifer, a singer as cantor, and Pastor as himself. The choir director’s back was at the door. I was glad to have the alto in our group in the shot, because it was her birthday. She was laughing and said, “I was excited that I needed to dress up and put on makeup!”

Half way through the taping, most of us swapped places. I opted to stay outside, because I am not a regular member of the choir. It is going to be interesting to see how all the bits will be spliced together. It’s Maundy Thursday now, and David is working. John is at the church taping music for Easter Sunday. I’ll watch the service being streamed tonight by myself, and they will watch after they get home.

Our Table at the Creek

For the third week in a row, we took Sunday’s take-out dinner to Richland Creek and ate at the same picnic table. Our smiles were big, because we had Italian food from one of our favorite restaurants. Grandson David and I shared a meat-loaded calzone, and John had mushroom ravioli in white sauce topped with candied pecans.

Note the travel mug with the WordPress logo.

Airborne seeds were floating everywhere. One landed on John’s shoulder for the duration of the meal. We were sitting near flowering plants that began to stir up John’s allergies. We urged him to go back to the car while we finished eating. David and I checked the labels on the plants – all lilacs. There was Carolina Lilac, Mr. Baker’s Lilac, and common lilac.

We drove on the Blue Ridge Parkway, stopping at an overlook with a large cascade across the valley. I asked David to pose with it. There was enough water that even I could hear the sound of the water hitting the rocks.

The cascade is almost in the center, coming down below a gap in the mountains.

We drove to the place just above the cascade and got out to see the stream where it began. We were fairly close to this little waterfall. It may have been small, but it was pleasant to trace the course of the water that divided and came back together at the base. The stream flowed under the Blue Ridge Parkway and must be joined by other streams to make the impressive cascade visible above.