Ur-s not a dog. Urs-a bear

Ursa Major
So familiar
So easy to find though black as the night sky
Her soft nose pointing to the only thing brighter than her eyes
Both guiding as her muscles ripple across the horizon
feet flying like Mercurys

We will all miss you

12/27/05

The Deer Hunters

I’m sure I told you about my dog, Ursa, who was diagnosed mid-March with melanoma. The first vet told me she could live only 3 months. After surgery at the U of I, I was told me she could live (maybe) up to 8 months if she had radiation and chemotherapy. [That would be about $1,000 a month – if she lived 8 months. I don’t like what radiation does to people and I didn’t think I wanted Ursa to go through all those bad days.]

Each time we see our local vet, he asks about her appetite and energy level. He must have thought she was doing well because, in May, he decided to give her the annual shots we had, earlier, determined were a waste of time and money. “If she keeps plugging along, we don’t want her dying from something we can prevent,” he told me. Her appetite has changed but it's hard to be concerned when none of the dogs is eating every morning. Her energy level is another thing entirely.



Monday morning - [18 July 2005]
The dogs and I have returned from our run. This morning, it was a run. The crews were oiling the roads between me and the park so I took the dogs [Ursa and Mika] to a large cemetery. I didn't want my shoulder jerked around so I tied the leashes together and let them trot alone for a while. The idea was that, when they'd tired a bit, Ursa wouldn't be so prone to yank me around. That first half mile is always hard on my shoulder.

We'd walked to the back of the cemetery when I saw a rabbit. I told “the girls” about the bunny but they saw only the tail bouncing into the brush. Too late to decide on a chase. They saw the next one and were on the chase. I whistled and called them back to me and was within feet of grabbing the leashes when, suddenly, a doe appeared behind them. She watched. Before they looked in her direction, they stiffened and she bounded away, the dogs, immediately, on her heels. When the dogs did a "bread and butter" trick around a permanent vase, Mika was suddenly jerked off her feet. Ursa sped on, hardly missing a step and Mika pounded after her. I hurried to the top of the rise, commanding their return but they didn't even break stride.

I don't know how the chase ended. Did the doe jump a high fence? I only know that the dogs, finally, returned. Once again, I almost had hold of the leashes [Mika's very short, now] when the doe appeared again. I had thought the doe was trying to lure the dogs away from something the first time. As we were in quite another place now, that could hardly be her motive this time. Again, she waited for the startle and shot across the field, the dogs speeding after her. I chased the action, yelling commands and was, again, ignored by all. This time, I was frantic and angry. The dogs wouldn’t come; I couldn’t catch them; and we were near the edge of the park. Anything could happen now. If the doe jumped the fence, she could cause harm to herself and others in traffic. If she didn’t jump the fence, she could, certainly hurt the dogs.

So, there I was, lumbering along screaming and, finally, cussing with voice at full power. As it echoed from one hill to the other, I was shocked into silence. I forgot about the dogs for one moment, so relieved that no one was witness to the full volume jeremiad which soon turned into a shrieking banshee demanding an immediate return of something. [Some one? A revenant?]

At last the dogs returned. They had been outrun again. This time, I got hold of the leashes, knotted Mika's and walked them [or did they drag me?] back to the car. The water dish was on the deck and Ursa nosed it with interest. I got the water and brought it to the deck where Ursa drank her fill and, true to her own likes, Mika would have none. When I saw the doe watching us, I dumped the water and closed the hatch. As I drove toward her, the doe loped across the road before me. Then, she stopped and looked back at us. She repeated this behavior twice more. As we left her, she seemed disappointed that she'd lost her playmates. I wonder if she exercises a lot of dogs.

The dogs have been out and fed and out again and Ursa has come to lie beside me. When she decided to nuzzle for a petting, her collar fell off. As I put it back together, I noticed that the rings on the ends of the chain were flattened. While holding the ring with pliers, pounding each ring into its previously circular shape, all I could think was, "Oh, my aching neck!" Imagine the impact on those little doggie necks when they broke the leash and reshaped those steel rings!

Ursa's doctor is amazed at her condition. I have advised him that his wonder drug has had some backup. A neighbor and her 12-year-old son laid hands on Ursa and prayed for her, then anointed her with oil and prayed again.

Published as Doe wins the race
Prairie talk Herald & Review (Decatur, IL) [Page: D4]

Date: October 25, 2005

Birthday weekend

You asked about my birthday. It was Labor Day weekend. I know that's a while ago and I apologize for the delay. The next time you’re at loose ends and can think of nothing more exciting than clipping coupons or banking that big check for the crop you’ve sold, consider spicing up your life at Grand Bear Lodge. Next year, the cabins will be finished and open for groups of up to 25. Guests have exclusive access to the indoor water park. I'm sure you have kids who would love to spend a day or two in the water chutes.

I had worked on this but gotten sidetracked with sick dogs. I think Montezuma had a dog. Someone has had his revenge on my dogs. Paige has come the past two weekends to help feed fingersful of food and offer palmsful of water. Two are back on their feet but another is down. Between feedings [is there a between?], I'm yanking down branches from some of these fallen trees. The fun around here is unending.


Friday –
Dan and Kendall arrived unexpectedly. That was fine. I needed all the help I could get. I had last minute packing to finish and needed to organize medicine (in bread balls) for four dogs and had some complicated feeding and medication instructions for the dog sitter. I can't seem to teach the dogs self-medication. I’d been cleaning the car but, not up to her standards, Kendall did more. I’d gotten into crevices, but she found more. We brought out the lint rollers and brushes and had another go with the vacuum cleaner. Then, she took the car out for a good wash and wax, something I'd tried earlier in the day. Kendall, a veteran fuel specialist who kept her truck in tip-top shape, was all over this little car with the hoses and brushes and, in no time, my little car shone.

Saturday –
The refrigerator filled with dog food specials for Ursa and stacks of food for our dogsitter, we grabbed the newly charged camera and finished loading. We were getting a late start and, before we could leave town, the flurry of phone calls began. Paige was at the townhouse, waiting.

It promised to be a great Labor Day weekend. We, on our way to fun of all sorts of fun, were happily chatting when, over the horizon, we saw the advancing National Guard convoy. Goosebumps. Wet eyes. A catch in the throat. The flag was passing by. All those beautiful young men, brave and strong, were on their way to cope with the devastation left in the wake of Hurricane Katrina. We were so cheered to see them and to see the long line of trucks and trailers transporting the city in which they would live for the next several weeks. In that mass of equipment, Kendall [a recent Guardsman] explained there would be MREs, tools, tents, lines, a generator, a kitchen, a hospital and more I cannot remember. I recognized the medic vans, the tow trucks and the water buffalo. We’d lost count of the vehicles long before we saw the tanker which, as a caboose once signaled the end of a train, signals convoy’s end.

So many had waited and prayed for help for the hurricane victims and, now, we were seeing hope on the move. I wish I could have been standing by the road with a flag and a smile. I know they didn’t hear my applause.

Paige had given us further directions, “Drive around back of the lodge, follow the road (a Bear Trail?) to compound J, townhouse #1 (?). Finding the outer edge of the parking lot, we wandered through, rounding circles not ours, until we found a clearing where a large oval patch of grass, skirted by roads, reminded us of the village "squares" of small towns. There it was. Our place. We parked, honked and Paige appeared.

What a set up! The street door opened into a spacious room with sliding doors at the far end. To our left was a washer and dryer with hanging space. Beyond was a kitchen with cabinet space on two long walls and under the eating space which separated the kitchen from the living room area. We had a dishwasher, a microwave oven, dishes, glassware, tableware and small appliances tucked into the corner of the counter but it’s good that Kendall had brought her knives. The girls had planned menus. When I had protested that a townhouse was unnecessarily large and too expensive, Paige had explained the townhouse had a full kitchen and it had been many years since the 3 of us had cooked together.

Between the bar and the living area was a large table with many chairs. The overstuffed sofas, arranged in an “L” around a shin buster, looked onto a gas fireplace and a television set into a decorative stone corner. The doors led to a small deck some 3 yards from the fence that separated us from a field of prairie grass, beyond which were trees on the edge of a sheer cliff on the river’s edge.

We relaxed and rehydrated on the deck and, as there was a “moose X-ing” on the road to the lodge, we set up a moose watch. What we saw were small birds with dove-gray breasts and charcoal backs who seemed to become blue when they flew away. It was an odd sensation. Kendall said they seemed to have purple beneath their wings – probably, the explanation for the blue flashes we were seeing.

Refreshed and full of plans, we gathered our things and prepared for a strenuous afternoon. We drove to the lodge. It had seemed further when we were searching for J-1. It was the last time we drove. As we’ve all done at camp, we walked to all on-grounds activities thereafter. We’d planned to eat dinner in the dining room of the lodge but, for a lunchtime adventure, we headed to the bar [Brat Bar?] and ate our lunch on the lowest deck overlooking over a small canyon. The weather has been so dry that our canyon was more a stone gulch. We did manage to see an occasional drip on the cliff face.

The noise [music] from the water park was so loud that I wasn’t sure that I wanted to spend time there but we donned our swimwear and plunged into the excited crowd. Hours later, I had experienced a number of lifetime firsts. We’d gone round and round in circles lounging on “tubes” for a while. This was a “dunking Mater” game, I think. Finally, we climbed the stairs with our tubes and waited in line for the water slide. It turned out to be more a water tube than a water slide. We were told to choose our music (Sousa, my choice), seat ourselves on our tubes and shove off. Fortunately, there were helpers for those of us with “bottom drag.” One daughter waiting, the other cheering me on, I rushed down this long tube, filled with lights and noise, and splashed into the waiting pool. Such excitement! What a shame no one got photos. We trudged up the stairs again and chose the “noise” and shot down the tube. On the third climb, Paige asked if I wanted to try the shorter line. This was good. I really liked the body surfing tube. I tried that several times, with one rest break to catch my breath before trudging up the stairs.

After our excitement in the tubes, we moved to the wave pool. There was no excitement there and, when someone did start the wave pool, I couldn’t understand why this was supposed to be so much fun. I wanted to go back to the slides but it was time to clean up and plan toward dinner so we slogged through the wet dressing room, drying and dressing so we could get into the car. It had been decided that we wouldn’t need the car for the trip again but we had to get it home.

At home, we showered, dressed and relaxed. For a while, we saw little from the deck but butterflies and birds. After we checked the lodge cam to see how busy the various areas were, Kendall and I brought our coffee onto the deck where, as evening was coming on, the dragonflies seemed to be everywhere.

Judging it late enough that children had been taken home for bed [we were wrong], we headed for the lodge for dinner. We left the Bear Trail for a short cut across a village green and discovered tree frogs. We didn’t see them, of course, but it did make me wish that Sam had come along. Sam is 7 and very fond of frogs. He carries a wonderful rubber frog to church. One evening, he shared. I wish I could have shared this experience with him. Surely, he'd love this sound.

I must look really frail. At the lodge, people were so impressed that I had gone down the water slide. Waiting for the kids after dinner, I fell into conversation with a guy named Mike. He was impressed that I’d been down the water slide and even more impressed that we were heading for the trails at Starved Rock on Sunday. I, then, explained that I’d told everyone all week that this was, apparently, supposed to be my last birthday. The kids were planning to kill me or discourage me from ever going anywhere with them again. He laughed, said the kids seemed to like me a lot and told me he’d look for me on Sunday.

Bless the dragonflies. There seemed to be no mosquitoes anywhere. The television was on but it didn’t interest me so I relaxed on the deck. Kendall and I set up our animal watch but saw little. We did love the night sky. It was so clear and the stars were so bright. We saw Ursa Major, now on the back side of the townhouse, and a few other specks in the sky. One bright light was, obviously, a planet but what of that one? “Well, that one is a plane,” I decided. Kendall left me and I watched the sky. I noticed lights crossing the sky, southwest to northeast, and concluded that these were heading for a landing in Chicago. Watching others appear in the northeast, I was surprised that several seemed to turn on the North Star where they, gradually, disappeared into the night sky.

Around 11 P.M., I wandered onto the balcony of my room because I’d seen lights in the sky behind the trees along the cliff. At first, I thought it must be lightning but heard no thunder. When I heard a distant explosion, I recognized the fireworks celebration that must be somewhere on the river.

Kendall found me on the balcony when she came to say good night before going off to her camp on the main floor. The townhouse can accommodate 10, with some camping out in the common area which is where Kendall preferred to be. I couldn’t persuade Kendall to share my room. This had been decided in advance. This room had been chosen for the birthday girl so there I was in the lap of luxury. It was, definitely, the best room in the house. Like the living room, it had its fireplace, television and overstuffed sofa (a sleeper) but it was larger than the living area so it could include a king-sized bed, a wall dresser, a whirlpool and a dressing room. This would be the time to say I slept a dreamless sleep but that, for once, was not true. As dreams are an almost forgotten experience for me, I enjoyed waking from dreams to the night sounds just off my balcony. Kendall was right. She’d, surely, slept better in her own camp.

Sunday –
Kendall and I were back on animal watch early in the morning. Our mystery birds had returned and there were paths in the grass. We hoped that deer had visited in the night and we hoped we’d see them before we left. No such luck.

As we left our townhouse, we discovered the source of all the children's voices. The "green" was filled with groups of children throwing balls, flinging frizbees and chasing footballs.

We ate brunch at the Lodge, a very good veggie omelet and tons of other stuff, before we left for Starved Rock just down the road. We checked the map before we started down the trail. The main trail is no longer a trail. The trip into the valley and up on the other side was a matter of endless stairs.

We took photographs as we walked around atop the rock and descended to explore parts of the valley. At one place, Paige pointed and said, “They’ve put up a railing, I see. This is where I pushed Daddy over the cliff when we were here.” The railing is a good idea. Sliding off a 6-inch cliff can cause serious injurry. Our exploration over, we headed for the final stairs. These stairs were high and I huffed and puffed a lot. Finally, I stopped to rest and Paige laughed. “When I brought Daddy, it was about here that he told me ‘Go on, go on. Save yourself!” I was grateful for Josh’s arm. I’m not so selfless than I would send everyone on without me.

At the top, I'd recovered a bit -- I'm, definitely, a flatlander -- and we wandered through the cluster of cabins and carved “totem poles” to the car. I stopped to admire some of the animal life walking their people around the area before we walked to the car. From there, we drove to Utica, a town of huge rummage sales. We approved the technique of one salesman and went round the block to hear him blow his ram’s horn again. Actually, we were looking for a grocery store. The Hi-Vee had be recommended but, we found one on Main Street and prowled that instead.

Soon, we were home for a short recuperation and snack. Deciding against another dose of chlorine, we headed for miniature golf – another first for me. Because it was my birthday, I won. At least that’s what the scorekeeper told me. There were a couple of “Acts of God” shots – God, played by first one and then another of the kids -- and one great shot performed by a trained ball. Still, the rest enjoyed the same edge. Mike was at the equipment shed when we returned our clubs and balls. He wished me a happy birthday, asked how I did, was impressed that I, a first timer, had beat the professionals and gave me a sound kiss on the cheek for a happy year ahead.

From there, we headed for drink on another low deck on the little canyon. It was a quieter deck than we’d had yesterday. The canyon echoed with its own tiny sounds, echoes we'd missed on the preceding day when they were swallowed by the surrounding vegetation and covered by the music from the water park. Today the great competition for silence were the motorcycle tours parading through the area. I'd, first seen them as they'd gone by our golf course. For much of the afternoon, small groups of cyclists continued to explore the grounds. I was glad we learned a new way to our digs. Watching the foot traffic on a bridge beside us, we saw that people were going beyond the first complex by way of a footpath so, leaving, we followed the same path along the canyon toward our abode. We did, finally, hear water. We could tell it was a trickling waterfall but, even from the overlook, we could not glimpse it. Lagging behind, I came across a small, very dirty pool into which frogs leaped at my approach. I lingered.

Before settling into our evening, Kendall cornered me to present gifts. She had chosen a black suit, long skirt and jacket with a red blouse whose occasional flocking lent it an Oriental feel. I should have worn it to my Birthday Supper of Shrimp Kabobs with mixed vegetables on buckwheat soba noodles. I’m sure a guest of honor is allowed bare feet. As it is, I have not worn my new outfit because I have yet to have an occasion. I shall, soon, be able to put the great new beige jacket to good use on one of these cool nights.

Sitting on the deck, watching dusk fall, I saw wild turkeys. I have photographs. “See these black dots? This is a turkey head and this is a turkey head.” These, as you will know, are not great photographs. We had watched too long before we got the idea of taking pictures then, when, everyone got into the act, the turkeys continued to wander further and further from us.

“Can’t anyone do a turkey call?” we asked each other.

“What we need is our favorite turkey,” said Paige.

“The phone has everything,” I said. “Go call Daddy and put him on the speaker.”

After a lot of giggling, Paige went for her phone (which is, also, her camera). She dialed and, very soon, we heard her say, “Do your turkey call.” There followed minutes of great hilarity. It was a silly idea, of course, and the phone hadn’t enough volume to reach the attention of any of the turkeys. Then, as we watched, one turkey raised his head and, one after another, a few of the rest did, too. It was of no help. They were still too far away to photograph. When the turkeys had worked their way across the field and were about to disappear into the trees to the west, Kendall walked to the west along the fence. When she came back, I asked her where she’d been. “I remembered there was a path down there and thought I’d see if I could catch them there,” she said. Then, she described for me, in eloquent details, the look the turkey had given her when he looked back to see her pointing her camera at him.

The turkeys gone, we settled down to an evening of Yahtzee and adventure remembrances. We’d had some good times and we found they were good again. During the last gasp of a game, the girls decided they must start the meal. There was chopping and skewering, boiling and baking to be done so Josh and I were left to our own devices. He and I finished the game, calling the kitchen crew as the turn of each came. Now that I think of it, we could have moved the game to the bar. It would have saved a lot of steps and time. I guess we were just too comfy on those sofas.

During supper, Paige mentioned there was one more gift to come. I was a little surprised. Paige had paid for the weekend. I thought that was sufficient. She said it wasn’t but that I couldn’t get my gift until morning – at the lodge.

After a good meal, Paige suggested a facial. This is something she does well. We were surprised that none of us had packed for this event. The next thing on the agenda was my introduction to a whirlpool. A very interesting event. For the next couple of hours, I relaxed and napped to every compass point on the great, comfortable bed. Eventually, I visited the balcony, said goodnight to the meadow and turned out the lights. I awakened several times and, once, did some packing to the accompaniment of racing motors across the river. That explains the parade of motorcyles, I guess.

Monday –
Up earlier than intended but it was a happy coincidence. The turkeys had returned. We, first saw them in the west. As they moved to the east and the center of the field, Kendall and I tried, again, to photograph them. More dots, I’m afraid.

We all finished packing, made the great tomato trade – Paige’s large green for my small red -- and loaded the cars. I sorta thought all those goodbyes were wasted when Paige’s parting remark was, “See you at the lodge.”

We seemed to be milling around while Josh played with his computer, something he does at every opportunity. It had been explained to me that he could use his computer only in the lodge. Something in the air, I guess. It’s some sort of wireless connection. I watched the activity in the water park until the girls called me. Paige sat down at the computer and began to explain about blogs (again). We'd discussed this before. The Blog idea had intrigued me but I'd never quite made it beyond the intrigue. It takes an enormous amount of effort for me to unscramble any technical information. If it's more complicated than "open door," I'm soon lost.

As I was fading, Paige got my attention with a blog site named "Pour Mater, announcing that she and Kendall had set up this one for me. It begins with her words of presentation:
We love you momma.
But if you won't write it, we will.

What the girls had done was start a blog and begin to fill it with messages from my files. Now, really – isn’t that sweet? We played with it for a while but I can’t say I’d learned much when we parted. They have promised to consult with me on a continuing basis. It’s working out well. Each has given me advice regularly and Paige has added a couple of new blog sites for me to play in, storing things I might lose as my computer fades a little more each day. I’m saving lots of stuff and will get around to editing and posting as time goes by so, if you miss me, you know where to look.

It really was the best birthday ever. We'd missed little. There was no time in our schedule for horseback riding or real golf; we hadn't known about the fireworks; and we heard more than we wanted of the motorcycle races as it came to us across the river. The great gift was time and peace and dreams. The dreams recurred over the next few days -- until Ursa got sick. I hope for their return.

When I wrote to the guys in the Gulf, I sent things they could send to their children. "It's important to have something to hold in the hand," I told them. That was so true in a place and time where there was no e-mail and no blogs. In former years, I'd have had photos and these new clothes to remind me. Now, I have a blog in which to play -- definitely, definitely, the gift that keeps on giving and something I'll never wear out or outgrow. Cyberspace, it seems, is limitless.

I hope your Labor Day was as pleasant.

Thank You

You spend a lifetime trying to get them off the ground. You run with them until you are both breathless. They crash. They hit the rooftop. You patch and comfort, adjust and teach. You watch them lifted by the wind and assure them that someday,they will fly.

Finally, they are airborne; They need more string and you keep letting it out; But with each twist of the ball of twine, There is a sadness that goes with joy. The kite becomes more distant and you know it won't be long before that beautiful creature will snap the lifeline that binds you two together and will soar, free and alone.

Only then do you know that you did your job.

~ Erma Bombeck

I Have Mouse

Well, I don't have one now.

I've thrown out the body Grayling brought me. Good ole Grayling! She'd been playing all around the dining room. I could hear the skittering and leap landings. When I looked, she was playing with, I thought, one of the catnip mice. She batted it once or twice more, pouncing on it and sniffing at it. When it rolled to a spot too near Trooper's tail, she hesitated and, then, sat down. She looked up at me. I decided I'd just move it away from him so she could go on playing when I realized this was a real mouse. With great surprise and pleasure, I told her what a good kitty she is. This, I repeated again and again. She just sat and soaked in my praise. When she was satisfied, she walked away and I got a plastic bag to remove the evidence of her good kittyhood.

Since then, I always remind her that she's the good kitty and she seems to like that phrase. She jumps up onto the futon and speaks to me or, if she's on the futon, she gets up and faces me, stretches gracefully and meows a message in her sweet little voice.

I know mice have all sorts of access but I have to wonder if this mouse didn't come in through the front door. Friday morning, I found the door open. Friday night, Grayling brought me her gift.

A Cider Adventure

Fw: Re: It really is Friday, now [15 July]

Tired again! That end of the week kind of tired again. But, this time it really is Friday. And another day I didn’t get to the Y.

This morning, I dropped off Mike’s blackberry container at Chris’ house. “What’s in here?” she asked before I could explain. I told her to tell him these were two bulbs for Resurrection Lilies and that he should plant them where he can see them. They look great in the middle of the yard.

Coady and his friend, Brandon (one of four on our block) wanted to know when we could make cider. They pushed and pushed so I canceled my trip to the Y and I told them we could do it when I got back from errands. The cider event had turned this into an equipment run because I needed new buckets.

Driving down Harrison, I saw an elderly man playing with a mower. As the garage, driveway and side yard were filled with mowers, I assumed he was a repairman. I turned around and went back to talk to him. Yes, he would take my old mower but, first, he would pet my dogs.

Trooper was so happy. He was going to get out and stay for a while. Ursa’s attitude was, “You’re a nice person but I belong to her.” He cut me a rose, a Rambling Rose, before I left. The fragrance is wonderful. [Don’t you know I missed my musical cue!]

On Division Street, Coady and Brandon started calling to me. Apparently, they thought I wouldn’t recognize them at Brandon’s house. “Get permission from your authority figures and come on down,” I told them.

The boys were here before I’d gotten the dogs to the yard. I asked the boys if they could load the mower into the car but they came back to report that they couldn’t manage it. The dogs were ready to go in so I joined the boys. We cut away the tape I’d used to stabilize the handle, folded the handle and, with the boys on one side and me on the other, we lifted the mower into the car.

I drove to Coady’s house to get permission for the boys to go with me to the mower shop. Brandon’s grandfather was there, too, so - - - well, two birds. On the trip, the boys played with their Spider Man and Ninja Turtle but, when we got there, Coady insisted on helping unload the mower.

The mower man wanted to do it for us but I told him that, at this age, it’s important for boys to do these things. When I got back into the car, I found Spider Man and the Ninja Turtle were very busy fellows.

At home, I washed out the yard cart, again, while the boys emptied, rinsed and refilled the litter pans I use as birdbaths. I gathered equipment while the boys played in the water. I pulled the yard cart to the side yard and began picking up apples. When I convinced the boys to join me, there were a lot of “Eoo!!” exclamations about touching the many squishy apples.

Like grass, the apples on the other side of the fence are always better so the boys wanted to climb the fence. Fence climbing is not an option at our house so they did, finally, go around to the neighbor’s driveway. I think we made a net gain of a dozen apples, as dropping or tossing apples into the cart was out of the question. Boys being boys, their method was an interval of pitch and catch, sometimes followed by the big windup and fast apple to the target. Sometimes, the apple hit the cart. Sometimes, it didn’t. We missed a lot of the apples on the driveway when Brandon saw a bee-like insect. The ear-piercing shriek rang through the neighborhood.

After a "pulling is better than pushing" tutorial, Coady brought the yard cart to the back yard. There we conducted a discussion of the possibility of death – “My mom will kill me – as Brandon displayed the remains of a particularly mushy apple on his shorts. He blamed Coady, who said he’d retaliated when Brandon had laughed at his falling down.

A short discussion later, we moved on to the apple tree in the back of the yard where I found myself alone, crouching under the low branches of the tree. The boys had stopped to pick grapes. The grapes were green and discouraging but it was a while before they got to the apple tree because there was much to explore and water to test. Because I was feeling the weather moving in, I urged the workers on to the task but they had trouble orienting to task. Apples are too round. “Okay, guys,” I, finally, said, “God didn’t put toys on fruit trees. Let’s remember this is food.”

I left them to fill the yard cart with water while I came to the house to gather equipment. When I returned, both boys were drenched. I pointed to the yard cart and Coady told me he had put water in there. I explained, again, that I wanted it filled. When I returned, the cart was nearly full. I waited until the cart began to overflow. “Now, we turn off the water and I’ll bring out the machine.” They were ecstatic when they learned that washing the apples meant sloshing apples around in the water.

With the boys hard at it, I came to the house for the juicer. Then, the doorbell rang. Brandon (across the street) has returned from his St. Louis visit so he and his friends, Brandon and Chuck, had come to see me. Brandon had little to say about his visit and, though I’m sure they had come with mowing in mind, no one mentioned it. Knowing I had more boys in the back yard, I had to hurry this group along.

I’ve begun to think of cider days as stormy. I wasted a lot of apples when the last rain had hit, so I knew I had to hurry my crew. They didn’t understand the urgency. “Listen to the trees,” I told them. “It’s starting to rain.” They looked at each other and, then, at the sky. While I pushed apples down the chute, I listened to the rain on the trees amplify. When I said we’d have to stop, the boys insisted they couldn’t hear the thunder over the machine. Now, is that a man’s brain or not? Girls can hear thunder, sirens, laughter, etc., over the sounds of machines. Boys hear only the machine.

I ground the last of the apples I’d chopped and began to clear the equipment. We had precious little cider but I, dutifully, set it to strain while we put the last of the gear into the garage, the closest structure. As we headed toward the house, the rain began to beat down on us. I sent the boys to the front, jugged our prized elixir, grabbed my car keys and a large towel and ran for the front door.

When I reached the porch, Coady was just coming back to tell me his dad had come to get them. I handed him the jug and went out to apologize to his dad. He laughed. He’d expected that, boys being boys and cider making being cider making, the boys would be wet, stained and sticky. And, really. What could make boys happier?

Epilogue
It’s Saturday evening. Today, I’ve spent several hours finishing the cider. Yesterday, I was thinking about getting a Jack LaLanne juicer because I wanted more juice and dry pulp. All that straining takes a lot of time. I’ve, since, decided Jack’s might only look better on TV. Plays one on TV? The Internet is a wonderful tool. There are other juicers more highly rated. Some use centrifugal force and some are augers. Whoever heard of a triturating juicer? Sounds just scary!


After which perdita writes: You should add this to your apple cider post. Though sleep, not rain ends the picking, it had the same sort of feel to me :)

After Apple Picking

My long two-pointed ladder's sticking through a tree
Toward heaven still.
And there's a barrel that I didn't fill
Beside it, and there may be two or three
Apples I didn't pick upon some bough.
But I am done with apple-picking now.
Essence of winter sleep is on the night,
The scent of apples; I am drowsing off.
I cannot shake the shimmer from my sight
I got from looking through a pane of glass
I skimmed this morning from the water-trough,
And held against the world of hoary grass.
It melted, and I let it fall and break.
But I was well
Upon my way to sleep before it fell,
And I could tell
What form my dreaming was about to take.

- Robert Frost-

Sign of a Quirk

Hey, #1-

Remember that note I sent eHow? Got a reply. Do check out the name of signer. No wonder I had trouble there.

member.service@ehow.com>

Dear Mater,

Thanks for your communication. Registration is no longer required at eHow. The registration pages are outdated and will be changed soon - we are always making improvements here at eHow.

The newsletter should be set up soon. Until then, I apologize for any inconvenience you have experienced, and thanks for using eHow!

Best,

James Quirk
eHow
----- Original Message -----

Sent: Wednesday, May 11, 2005 10:47 AM
Subject: Bit of a problem here

Dear eHOW,

Looks like a good site but tell me -

How do I log in when I am told that:
1- Registration is no longer necessary! [but, apparently is]
2- The Member Name and Password combination you entered is not correct.
[How would you know? Pretty sure you've never heard of me.]
and
3- we're sorry, we were not able to locate your account
[Hmm. Never heard of me? See point #2.]

Is it possible to get the newsletter in spite of these problems?

MATER

another PROGRESS report

Did you have a happy 12th Night? Mine has been great.

I never knew the healing of a broken hand could be such an interesting a process. If typing weren't so tiring, I'd go on and on about all the things I've learned and about all the people I've met.

Today, I met many people. Things were quite backed up at the doctor's office so I "entertained" in the waiting room. No tea was served, you understand. No songs were sung. After another round of X-rays, I saw the doctor. "Fine," I said in reply to his query. "Oh, but I suppose you're supposed to tell me how I am." He and the nurse were so pleased at my reply. He told me I was the one who was supposed to decide how I am and the nurse broke into a chorus of "no one has been fine today" while he apologized for moving so slowly through the morning. It had been a bumpy morning. Everyone had had some sort of problem that needed tending. [Needed talking out more likely.]

Once again, the doctor admired my scar. Full marks to me. It is I who was given the task of massaging and desensitizing. We counted screws today. I have 9 screws and a plate. "Tell people they're very small screws," he told me. The doctor is very pleased with my progress. Flexibility is excellent and he tells me that I should begin strengthening exercises in PT. [I think we did that yesterday.]

Yesterday in PT, the therapist bypassed the heat pack, something I'd looked forward to having after scraping the car windows. She, also, ignored the silly therapy putty. After measuring flexibility for the doctor's report, she put me to work on a large steering wheel and, then, on a computer game which is operated by a rolling handle. This wrist flexibility will come handy should I ever take up motorcycle riding.

The doctor says I can begin to remove my splint for longer periods of time "which I assume you're doing," he said, glancing toward the knitting I had put aside when he came into the room. So, now, I can do light duty with no splint and general heavy duty with my splint. After all these weeks, I have plenty of each to do. I'm to see the doctor again in 4 weeks. He says I, probably, will have finished PT before that appointment and can, then, take off the splint when I'm ready.

I took the doctor's time with a request and explanation. I told him that I agreed with his assessment of the medical community and services but I had a question about the recovery resources. I said that, if I'd had to go home from surgery by cab, it would have been an expensive ride because of the stop at the pharmacy and I'd have gone home with no food. No cab driver is going to suggest: "Hey, lady, you're gonna need some food, too," and I know I was prepared not at all. Most of us don't think about a trip to the pharmacy and about eating. We want to get home. A good recovery requires food, water, medication and sanitation. What concerns me are those who have no transportation home -- the place recovery begins.

I asked him if he knew of anyone who was providing this service. He and the nurse were thoughtful but could think of no one. I gave him some details to chew on and check on and asked him to call me if he learned anything. He did suggest that I contact the volunteer department but I told him that volunteer departments have to be aware of the needs before they try to fill them. I believe such a query would best come from the same day surgical department.

The nurse and the doctor were sure that this was not a common need. "I'm sure you're right," I told them. "And that's why it would be so easily overlooked and so easily accomplished." The nurse lingered to say she'd worked in same day surgery clinic and remembered that, sometimes, there were people who needed cabs only to have the cab company refuse to transport post-surgical patients. She was delighted with my tale of my ride home. Dale brought me a big tub of homemade chili, stopped to get me (and Dan) food I could eat with one hand and reheat (or not) for the next couple of days. Dale, also, saw to the pharmacy visit, dragging Dan along to use his card and his money. The nurse thinks Dale is great. Little does she know how great!

You can see that I've been idle far too long. Given the time, I do invent things, don't I?

Well, I'm off to exercises, a little time in the splint and, maybe, a light task or two.