An Unusual Plant - Indian Pipe

I spotted this strange plant called Indian Pipe in our woods yesterday. I hadn't seen it for many years, and now it is in an entirely different area of the forest. There are several patches of it and I don't think it's fully matured yet as its top doesn't curve over as I recall from before. It was in a drier part of the woods waaaay back when and that's probably why it died out. Our footprints might have something to do with it also as we used to hike a lot in that particular area.

It has chosen to survive by growing at the top of the bank that was created when we put our road in. I stood on the road at the bottom of the bank and shot up in order to capture the pictures. No one will be able to hike up here without falling off the bank!

Indian Pipe's scientific name is Monotropa uniflora. I think it has probably just come up out of the humus of the forest floor. My field guide says it gets its nourishment from decayed organic material through a fungal relationship associated with the roots. It IS a flower, but a strange one!!!


MimiRock at Castle Yonder

33rd Anniversary

 

Here we are having crab cakes and soft shell crabs (and Chardonnay) at the best seafood restaurant in Bristol, The Starving Artist at Greene's Seafood.  We're celebrating our 33rd wedding anniversary. As I've said at the conclusion of the story I tell about how the Rock and I met, "WAHOO!!!"

We were married in Princess Anne, Maryland, which was not all that far from Ocean City where Rock lived. I lived in Wilmington, DE and we alternated weekends in each city for about eight months. It was 1976. We had a hard time finding a Pastor who would marry us because we were both divorced. Finally, Rock remembered he had an old college buddy who had become a Methodist minister and was currently in Princess Anne. So we called him and he gave us a time for a ceremony on a Saturday afternoon. 

But he still didn't marry us. He was a volunteer for the Coast Guard and was out on a boat, but expected to be back in plenty of time for the ceremony. A retired minister who lived nearby and his wife were to be the witnesses; we had no other attendants. Unfortunately, there was an emergency and the boat did not get in on time, so he evidently radioed the retiree who ended up marrying us.

I wanted to wear something new and special, and shopped all morning. I couldn't find a thing that I liked that looked filmy and seaside, so settled for a tailored pink pantsuit (this was the 70's, remember? I think it was polyester knit). It wasn't until the weekend was over that I realized we had taken no photos! I wanted no reminder of that pink pant suit, but it would have been nice to have had a visual memory.

We had no honeymoon--we were in a resort city anyway, and I was winding things down in Wilmington before I transferred to the southernmost county closest to Ocean City. So we went out to a fancy restaurant that had entertainment following dinner. The Master of Ceremonies was a friend of Rocky's. Then we went to our new home, a house that Rocky was remodeling, and the next 33 years flew past until now we're here and guess what? we still like, and love, each other! 

 

MimiRock at Castle Yonder

Flash Friday 55 For a 33rd Anniversary

 If you just tuned in, each Friday I post a short story of exactly 55 words. This is the brainstorm of Mr.Knowitall (Gman) who rules that it must have at least one character and a plot. 

So here is my story for this Friday which just happens to be the 33rd wedding anniversary for my husband, Rocky, and me. Not bad for the 2nd time around, is it?

THE STORY:    Jack Spratt wondered, if he could eat no fat, how was he going to help his wife lick the platter clean, so on the way home from work that night he stopped at a pet store and bought a half-starved puppy. His wife was, indeed, delighted so the three of them lived happily ever after.

MimiRock at Castle Yonder

The Doctor And Her Patient

 

This is Doctor T.  Looking on to make sure the doc adjusts Rosie's wheels right is the recently added therapy dog, "Lady." 


MimiRock at Castle Yonder

Rosie On Wheels

 

Meet Rosie! She's the therapy dog at my doctor's office. She belongs to the Nurse Practitioner, Cathy Maine, who brought her in when Cathy began working there several years ago. Rosie at that time had no need for the rear-end wheels, but about a year ago, she jumped off Cathy's bed, landed wrong, and the outcome was paralysis of her back legs. Cathy and her employer, Dr. Jane Toothman, decided to do what they could to ensure her quality (and quantity) of life. At first, Cathy brought her in a baby's stroller, and when she's having a bad day (Rosie, not Cathy) she still comes in the stroller and either Cathy or the doctor push her from examining room to examining room so she can visit with patients and do her job, providing therapy.

But she was at her peak yesterday when I had a doctor's appointment. That's a little squeaky squirrel toy lying next to her in the photo and those are my feet. Doctor T. took the photo. The next time I go I'll be sure to take my little Flip video camera so I can get a video of her playing. She runs up and down the hallway and those wheels go exactly where she wants them to go--and fast! When I get it, I'll post it! 


MimiRock at Castle Yonder

Sweet or Unsweet?

 

I went looking today for some sheep to photograph since yesterday I didn't have a picture to publish with the oral tale about the measles and sheep tea.  I found these between Bristol and Abingdon on the Old Jonesboro Road that runs along the base of the "knobs" that separate us from Holsten Lake where the TVA dam is.  We also live in the same range of knobs, but closer to Bristol. To see some more sheep pictures, go to my Facebook page or I'll post some in the sidebar.


MimiRock at Castle Yonder

A "Cure" For Measles

The Respiratory Technician dropped by today to check on my oxygen equipment, and was he a talker! It was great for me because he told me a really good story and then several old herbal remedies prominent in his family who were from Scott County, Virginia.

Here's his story that happened approximately 100 years ago. His grandfather worked for a lumber company when he was an adolescent. They were in a forest less than a day's walk from his home cutting white oak for barrel staves. His skin turned very red and he began to itch all over and clearly was running a temperature. His co-workers told him they thought he had the measles and he should go home. However, the measles would not "come out." It was clear that my storyteller believes that "measles have to come out and if they don't, it can kill you." I understood him to mean by "coming out" that bumps would not break out on the skin.

The young man put on all his clothes so he would not take a chill with the fever, and he walked all the way home. His mother worried because the measles would still not "come out." So she went to her neighbor's who owned several sheep. They collected sheep dung, then boiled it, and made a tea. She took it home and the young man drank it, and sure enough, the measles "came out" and he survived.

Some story! I invited the tech to our local storytelling group as I think he would fit right in with several of our members who collect local history. He looked interested, and I hope he comes!

His story also reminded me of one of Donald Davis' stories about Jack outsmarting the doctor by using pieces of sheep dung as "pills." I'm wondering if the measles belief and the cure using sheep dung is a rural legend (similar to an urban legend).

Great Laurel

 


MimiRock at Castle Yonder

To see a world in a grain of sand

And heaven in a wildflower

To hold infinity in the palm of your hand

And eternity in an hour

William Blake

FLASH FRIDAY 55 Short Story

 

        Lily Day smiled dreamily to herself. Her marriage to Bosco had been bliss. She was glad she had waited to have sex until they married; it seemed important to Bosco that she be a virgin and faithful. Since he generously shared his wealth with her, she was happy to bloom for only one day. 

Dry Your Hands On This!

 This Brown Daddy-Long-Legs greeted me yesterday a.m. when I walked into my bathroom.

Needless to say, I dried my hands at my husband's sink.

I'm not afraid of spiders so I watched this one most of the day. She (he?) stayed on the turquoise towel in this same position, and I didn't notice she had gone until late afternoon. They are nocturnal, I believe, so she may have been looking for someplace shadier to deposit her eggs. Oh, goody! More spiders coming! I believe they're good for us, eating flies, aphids, fleas, lice, and bedbugs (don't speculate--I don't have of those--well, maybe a fly now and then; I keep all the aphids outdoors and the fleas on the dogs. Lice and bedbugs are ABSOLUTELY FORBIDDEN!

Oh dear--it just occured to me that perhaps she was depositing her eggs on my turquoise towel! And I threw it into the laundry hamper last night so I may have washed those babies down the drain! 

So it goes...

It's an urban legend that Daddy-Long-Legs (or Granddaddy Long Legs, as some call them) are poisonous. They do have a tiny venom sac, and they will bite (as recorded on the TV show "Myth Busters,") but not enough to harm anything larger than another spider. 

The scientific name is Phalanguim opilio and they belong to the pholcidae family. The link above will give you more info than you probably want to know unless you're a biology major.

A Crone's Prerogative

I've changed my mind. I don't want to do another Blog after all. Too much trouble. I'll just talk about aging on this blog.

I'm going to let the other URL sit for awhile to see if I change my mind again.

Sorry!

E.V.A. My Version of Extra-Vehicular-Activity

 I created a new Blog to make comments about aging, declining health, and issues specific to Citizen Seniors.  If you'd like to look at it, the URL is http://cronesandcoots.blogspot.com/

I'd like it to be light-hearted, thus the title, so the first picture I uploaded is this photo taken today at a meeting showing how I can multi-task, cane in one hand, transportable oxygen in the other also grasping a water bottle, tubing in my nose, and purse strapped across my chest. 

Certainly, aging is serious business but there is also humor in it. I'm not denying the grief process and I think I have enough resources to deal with all the losses that are inherent in aging and declining health.

But I think humor is a good way to communicate with others who may be going through the same struggle as well as cheer myself up!

55 Flash Fiction Friday

 

Another Blog I follow, Granny Sue's News and Reviews, introduced the idea of writing exceedingly brief stories for blog-publication on Fridays. She had learned of it from Susan of Stony River Farm, another Blogspot treasure, who passed on the idea of Mr.Knowitall-aka G-Man from his Blog. See how the Internet works! 

I really like this challenge. It is similar to the group called "One-Sentence Stories"  that is on the Professional Storyteller website. I found it fun to compose a complete story in one sentence, although admittedly the plot and conclusion is left to the reader's imagination. 

Sooo--I aim to rise to this challenge. The woman in the picture above is the character for my first 55 Flash Fiction. The rules as explained by G-Man are that it must be exactly 55 words, have at least one character, and have a plot. So, here goes:

The rage Irena felt was not flaming like a fire that had just started, but more like burned embers that smoldered through endurance. She was thinking about that when she saw him head for their table. Remembering how it had begun, she fingered the object in her purse, opened it and took out her solution.

The Tame Wild Grouse

 

Meet Gomer! This is Rocky's pet grouse. Normally a skittish wild bird of the forest, for over a year Rocky has been feeding Gomer bird seed. In fact, Gomer has so many fans that when the Rock has been in the hospital, he has been fed by Rocky's men friends. I've even thrown out a handful of seed now and then. It all started in March 2008 when one day Gomer wouldn't get out of the way and blocked the path of Rocky's truck. Rock finally got around the bird, came home and took back bird seed and has been handfeeding Gomer ever since. He evidently has imprinted on trucks, and sometimes cars, and actually will chase us down the road if he's hungry and we don't stop. He has ambushed at least two of us, me in my car and our friend, Jack, in his truck, by flying down at us from the trees. He flew across my windshield, barely missing it, and actually landed in the bed of Jack's truck. This is the time of year for Gomer to mate; that's why his feathers are puffed out around his neck (giving him his name of Ruffed Grouse) and his tail is nicely spread . He is ideally camouflauged as you can see from the above photo as he blends in with the leaf litter which mulches the forest floor. We haven't seen a female grouse around, so I hope he gets lucky soon. We haven't heard him drumming, either, which is what grouse do to attract a female by jumping up on a hollow log and flapping their wings so that the log vibrates and makes a drumming sound. Maybe Gomer needs to do a little more drumming. 

Upside Down Tomato

 I've always grown tomatoes--well, maybe not every year, but most years even here at Castle Yonder as soon as I got enough planter beds in sunny locations.

With our new handicaps, health-wise, I can no longer tend a veggie garden. I'm not planting many annual flowers, either. Arthritis combined with lack of breath does not react well to bending over, kneeling, hoeing, or spading. 

But I've been intrigued by the catalog pictures of the kits they're selling for "upside-down tomato" plants, so sent for one. Rocky and I started working on it Sunday. We are so slow these days, but we managed to get it all unwrapped and read the directions on Sunday. On Monday, we put the green bag into the wire cage, and I went to the nursery to buy a tomato plant. I couldn't narrow it down to one, so I bought two, one for the bag and one for a flower bed that had just the right space open where I had pulled out a dead rose. (Roses don't do well back here in the woods.)

Yesterday, Tuesday, we mixed the soil included with the kit, put it into the bag, and planted the tomato, a determinate variety, called "Patio," which was the recommended kind to use. We put the water reservoir on top, filled it up, and Voila! we have a tomato garden, if you can call one tomato a garden. 

Well, I'm the proverbial farmer who closes the gate after the horse has gone, because I started watching our chosen spot for the amount of sun it gets. This deck that you can see in the above picture (that's me pointing at the top leaves of the tomato hanging out of the bag) is off the basement and has another deck off the Master bedroom up above. We hung the tomato from the rafters of the floor of the upper deck.  You don't know how many times I've sat back here and kept moving my chair to get out of the sun. Well, evidently not at this time of the year! Yesterday, I discovered it's pretty shady back here and I don't think our tomato is going to get the required 6-8 hours of sun a day. I think the overhang provides too much shade. Notice all the shade in the photo which was taken around noon.

So, I'm looking around for another place we might hang this. Problems...problems...hmmm...gives us something to think about besides ourselves!

Red Astilbe with "Francee" Hosta

 April showers brought May flowers, and May showers brought May flowers. Some of which will last into June. 

Six weeks ago I thought I probably would not be doing much gardening this year, but after physical therapy and the assistance of a cane, I have been able to do more than I expected. Thank heavens, I've spent the last few years focusing on perennials.

We had a lot of rain last week, but much of it was light, even misty, so it did not deter from doing a little weeding. It takes me a lot longer to do something, but at least I'm able to get it done. (I sound like Larry, the Cable Guy!)

I planted this portion of the terraces on the southeast corner of our side yard last year. There are five terraced planters here bordering the steps that lead down to the basement. The upper terraces are shadier, especially this end where I decided to plant this red Astilbe. The white-edged hosta is "Francee" and it is planted in the highest upper terrace.

The little pink flower on the right hand side of the photo is a Cranesbill, or wild geranium. I have both the garden variety and wild ones, and other than the fact that the "tame" ones have a heavier bloom and a habit of mounding, there is very little difference. I lose track of which ones are wild and which ones are tame. 

A pink Astilbe I planted at the same time and is out of sight in this photo is just showing color and is not as healthy looking as this red one. I've tried them in years past, but only the white ones have survived in another area of the yard. They have not opened their tall buds yet.