Birds of a Feather

As I opened my eyes this morning and struggled with waking up and rising from my bed, I began to think of a subject to write about. It becomes more difficult to write a different subject to blog about after so many times. I began to hear birds outside my bedroom window and thought of the birds I’d seen in the past and how beautiful they were.

One of my favorite birds was the Baltimore Oriole that would build their hanging nest in the tall cedars in front of my grandparent Miner’s house. I would sit and watch these bright orange creatures with contrasting black markings weave grasses into a nest, then fly back and forth to feed their young.

Peacocks strutted when I was stationed in Orland, Florida. They would spread their tails in a Sally Rand fashion and make their raucous call heard all over the neighborhood. I’ve see some all white ones with lacelike tails dancing in the wind. They are beautiful, but the lack of color is less eye catching.

One type of bird that flies around my home that I am always to see is the gold finch. In German they are called distle fink, meaning thistle finch. Some people call them a wild canary with their brilliant yellow feathers and black markings.

Barn swallows swoop all summer long as I mow my lawn. It’s a beautiful sight to watch their graceful flight moving around capturing the insects I stir up.

There are occasional blue birds and hummingbirds that will make their homes somewhere near my house. Their colors are almost magical and always a welcome sight.

One bird whose fight always makes me either happy or sad. They will sing the same song as they make their annual flight overhead. In the autumn as the leaves tumble, A wedge of them will wing southward to warmer climes. The honking saddens me, knowing cold winter winds are close behind.

The same flock may wing their way northward in the spring, singing the very same song, but their honking brightens my day and puts a smile on my face, knowing that springtime is close. Just hang on, warmer weather is near.

Backing Up to Tuesday

Last Tuesday, I drove to Connellsville to have lunch with classmates from high school. It’s a monthly greeting, meeting, and eating group, about twelve or so of us, with others welcome. We joke, laugh, talk, and enjoy a meal that we don’t have to cook for ourselves.

On the way there as I drove along, there was a little sub-sub-compact car almost up my tailpipe. I wasn’t speeding, but as I crossed the crest of a hill, lying across the road was a dead tree. It had fallen and completely covered my side of the roadway. The tree was about eight inches in diameter. I couldn’t stop quickly enough or drive over it. With the car so close behind me I made the choice to swing into the left lane. No one was coming and there was only broken debris on the side. I spun the wheel, crossed my fingers, (Hard to do with the wheel in my hands) and sped over the smaller chunks of the tree. It all happened so fast, I didn’t have time to pray for safety. I could hear the rumble of debris scooting under my car. I was too occupied with keeping my car on the road to worry about the guy behind me, although I did see him start to swerve and follow my lead. I don’t know what happened to him, but I know I didn’t see him in my rearview mirror again. So far, no oil leaks, no muffler sounds, and all of my tires remain inflated.

My Wednesday was routine with the Chestnut Ridge Historical Society workday. We sealed and labeled the newsletters for mailing to our members. I got the job of editor when the previous editor suddenly quit. The president asked if I would help and I accepted. It’s a challenging, but interesting function. Research in choosing an focal and local feature topic is the main thrust and filling it with other shorter stories keeping the history as local as possible.

As soon as I got home from the society, I mowed my yard. Later I went to Wednesday night prayer services. Thursday I made a quick shopping trip to get some ground beef. A friend gave me some peppers. I made some for supper and froze the others. I diced the rest of the smaller, mixed heat types of peppers, then froze them to use for cooking later.

On my way home from shopping, I stopped at my friend Jan’s house. She had some books for me to read. I picked up hamburgers for both of our lunches.

 

Wearying Weekend Woes

I posted on Monday the stressful week that I’d had. It was routine until Thursday when my concerns began to blossom. The router on my computer decided that it had worked enough and retired. At the same time, my cell phone also gave up, leaving me almost cut off from the world. (Not quite…It’s the drama.)

Friday it was a hustle to get a router and new phone. I listed the several difficulties I encountered and the pressure of being home on time for a repairman. With new phone and the router in place, I was only slightly better off. Because I’m less than proficient with the computer and electronics, I couldn’t synchronize them, still unfamiliar with my new cell phone. I convinced my son-in-law and daughter to help me. I’d volunteered to be the docent for the Chestnut Ridge Historical Society and needed to be there Saturday morning.

After the historical Society, I came home, going later to our assistant pastor’s ordination exam. I’d never attended one before. It lasted two hours and thirty minutes. Hurrying home, I had to call the youth to see who would need a ride in the church van for the morning.

Two kids needed a ride. For safety reasons, there’s always a driver and a chaperone. We drove to their home. The house was dark. I rang the bell and knocked with no answer. We drove an empty van back to the church for choir practice. Later I found the kids had overslept.

After church I couldn’t find my insurance card or owner’s card I needed to have my car inspected Monday morning. I thought I may have to cancel, but my other daughter followed me home from church and got reprints on the computer. Although I certainly had my share of concerns, God allowed each problem to be fixed when I needed them to be operational. I attended church services Sunday evening and the Monday car inspection went well.

I got two loads of laundry washed, dried and put away. I love the smell when they’re hung on the clothesline and dried. The driver of the Sunday school van mentioned while we made the fruitless trip that he was going to buy some apples to make cider, another blessing or me and for him. I’ve made schnitz (dried apples), and given away to several people. My two trees are still hanging heavy and had been trying to find someone who needed them I picked nearly two bushels of my surplus for him. He picked them up. “I said come and take all that you want or need.” His apple blossoms froze in the spring and they didn’t bear fruit.

 

Caught in a Whirlwind

It’s absolutely amazing how stressed a person can become when he’s overcommitted. It isn’t always something that he’s planned, but when push comes to shove, it’s either take a shovel and dig in or be buried. Wednesday was normal for me. Four hours volunteering at the Chestnut Ridge Historical Society doing normal things of alphabetizing documents and other menial chores necessary to maintain the integrity of local historical documents and artifacts.

Thursday the week started to disintegrate I got a call from the company that made updates to my basement to keep the water out. I’d called about a louver in the air circulating exhaust vent that had broken. A repairman would be in the area Friday and the appointment was sent. Thursday evening, my wifi router gave up the ghost and I wasn’t able to do the things I needed to do. Simultaneously my cell phone went senile and I couldn’t use it other than to text.

I tried to reset it, but like one of our presidential candidates, it didn’t even know the correct date. It told me that it was January first. I tried to restart it, but when it rebooted, it regressed to December 31st. Oh for joy to the world.

I waited until morning when I could visit the Verizon store, then next door to purchase a router. No problem, right? The phone store was to open at nine am, but the store’s lights were off, so I went next door to choose a router. I looked over their supply and chose a middle priced one not trusting a less expensive one. Returning to the phone store, the lights were on, but had to wait until the woman got off the phone. Inside, she hooked me up to a newer model, similar to the one I had.

Back home I attempted to attach the router. I couldn’t. It was set to use a coaxel and I needed all plugs-ins. I hurried back to do did an exchange. All the time I was stressing about being late for the appointment. The repairman was to arrive between noon and one. I made it home with minutes to spare, the repairman came and was gone in 15 minutes.

I’m not used to the phone or installing the router. Too many things were necessary to do. I called my daughter and her husband who are more tech savvy than me and they soon had things rectified. I’d volunteered as docent for Saturday at Chestnut Ridge and had to rush off. Saturday evening was the ordination questioning of our assistant pastor, then I had to hurry home and make calls to ascertain the riders for the van ministry for church for the morning.

 

Something's Missing

As I looked around over the last few days, I remembered times in my life when I missed the changing colors of autumn. This year the color of the leaves seem so vivid and wonderfully bright. While at the Chestnut Ridge Historical Society on Wednesday I saw the most beautiful maple trees. Someone planted them in a row along the grounds of the Flax Scutching in Stahlstown, Pennsylvania. They blazed with an intense fire-like red. The sun made them glow brightly against the green grass background.

Driving home from shopping Thursday, another tree displayed rich orange hues with a green underpinning. Each color complimented the other making an orchestra for my eyes. A few other trees wore a deep crimson coat and were scattered among trees that still wore their summer greens.

These views were things that I missed when I was stationed in Orlando, Florida while enlisted in the U. S. Navy. I liked to see and hear the ocean. Threes bearing orange trees surrounded me, but the orange hues of that fruit scattered throughout the foliage wasn’t the same. Recently I returned from Sacramento, California. It was too early for the trees of tangerines, lemons, and oranges to be ripe. Their deep green seemed almost invisible in the shadows of the dense leaves.

I missed the beauty of Pennsylvania autumns while I was stationed in Keflavik, Iceland. They do have trees and winter; and the trees do lose their leaves, but the major difference is, their trees are little more than shrub height. The trees on the island were decimated by frequent over-harvesting of fuel for homes and ships. Because of the deforestation and winds, the trees never recovered and their leaves don’t seem to change their colors.

This year I missed the annual Ohiopyle Volunteer Fire Department’s Buckwheat and Sausage Festival. The pandemic caused them to cancel this fundraising event. I’ve worked with them in some capacity for the best part of fifty years. Washing dishes, cooking buckwheat cakes, or frying the sausage. I always was glad to help, but as I’ve aged, those two days would wear me out. I missed the camaraderie and taste of the slightly sour buckwheat cakes and spicy flavor of the sausage.

I also miss the social event of the Flax Scutching. It was an annual gathering of farmers to cut and scotch the flax plants. The tough fibers of the flax plant was harvested and separated before it was spun into thread. The thread was used to weave into linen or mixed with wool to make linsey-woolsey for our ancestors’ clothing. Alas, it also fell victim the Corona Virus.