I Love To Go A Gardening
Growing Our Life in Northern Michigan
Degrees of Learning
I’ve been thinking a lot about the debate between many abuse advocates/survivors and Jon Uhler regarding Jane, the woman who had been raped 11 years ago while a student at Master’s College (now University). I wrote about it yesterday. I think Jon could learn a lot from the people who have experienced abuse and battled to overcome it, but he repeatedly listed his credentials in psychology and his belief that victims are empowered by naming their abusers. He dismissed what they said (quite arrogantly, I thought). He missed a great opportunity to be a true advocate.
I thought these two topics–education and what empowers an abuse victim–would be interesting to explore. I’m going to split them into two posts. In this post, I will discuss education and I’ll write about empowerment later. I want to begin by stating three things. I could add more, but listing these three is good enough for my purposes:
I value education.
I think a college education has value.
I also think that a college education has its limits.
Colleges were created to pool information so that every individual wouldn’t have to discover knowledge and techniques on his own by trial and error, “re-discovering” what others had already discovered and figured out. Colleges set a standard to attain to in an attempt to make sure students were well-trained and skilled in their chosen profession. Grades and degrees are official stamps of approval indicating that a student was presented with known information and was successful (or not) at passing tests. A degree helps customers seeking a particular service to determine if the person doing the job has been taught the skill.
Although there are certain fields, such as the medical profession, that requires certification before a person is allowed to do the job (and wisely so), college is not the ONLY way to learn and many things can be learned without it. Most students are given books to study and are then tested on the information, but anyone can study a book and learn from it if they really want to. A self-educated person is still educated. He has the knowledge, he just doesn’t have the official piece of paper. For example, I have been teaching myself Hebrew. I don’t need to sit in a classroom, I am perfectly capable of opening a Hebrew book, and I have access to teachers on the Internet, I have a friend who studies with me, and we have at least one Jewish friend who lives in Israel who helps us when we get stuck. I will never get a college degree in Hebrew Language Studies, but if I study diligently I will have the knowledge, which is more important to me. Both EJ and I believe that a truly educated person never stops seeking to learn. EJ went to college (as did I) and he says that college was just a first step. Getting out into the real world was when he really began to learn.
I have three stories to tell about education to illustrate what I want to say. I learn best through stories so I use stories to explain my thoughts.
Knowledge vs. Experience
Larry and his wife were the youth leaders for the Junior High School kids at church when I was growing up. I have forgotten most of what they taught us, but I still remember when Larry told us about when he went to school to learn to operate heavy equipment–you know, backhoes and bulldozers and such. Larry’s classmate excelled at the assignments and tests and got top grades. Larry struggled with the written assignments and got low scores on the tests. I think he might have had test anxiety. When it came time to actually operate the heavy equipment, however, the student who had excelled at the classwork sat clueless and overwhelmed by the controls. Larry, who had grown up on a farm and had operated tractors and trucks for years, was familiar and comfortable with the controls and excelled at actually driving the equipment.
College isn’t the only way to learn and excelling at classwork doesn’t necessary mean a person is actually skilled at the job.
Humility/Willingness to Learn
One of the things I love most about my husband is his humility and willingness to learn from everyone, whether they are college educated or not, whether they are rich or poor, whether they are a CEO at a prestigious company or the bagger at the grocery store. He treats the old man at the park with the same respect he gives to the billionaire owner of the company he works at. EJ believes that everyone has value and that he can learn something from everyone. And he does.
EJ is a CNC machinist. In every company he has worked, he has always sought out the old man who has been a machinist for 30 years or so, and asked him to teach him what he knows. Because EJ was willing to be taught, the old skilled machinists taught him the secrets of their trade–the secrets that weren’t taught at school. However, inevitably a young man would get hired and he would stride into the factory filled with his own self-importance. He would assume that he knew more than everyone else because he was, after all, educated in the latest CNC techniques and could teach these other guys a thing or two. He had contempt for the outdated knowledge of the old machinist. Because of the arrogance of these young men, the old machinists refused to teach them their secrets. They gained no more knowledge than what they had on their first day of work, which means they stagnated. Eventually, they either humbled themselves to ask the old machinists to teach them or they floundered in their self-important ignorance and were fired.
Humility and a willingness to learn from others is of great value and will take you further than a college degree.
Superiority
We have a fascinating book by John Hudson Tiner called The History of Medicine. From this book, I have learned some valuable lessons from men like Hippocrates and Semmelweiss.
Hippocrates was a Greek who was born in 460 BC. He revolutionized medicine in his time and is often called the “Father of Medicine.” Other doctors at that time based their healing on the belief that all diseases were caused by evil spirits, hateful demons, and vengeful gods. They treated their patients with chants and magic potions. One treatment called for a patient to travel to one of the many pagan temples in Greece, make a sacrifice, and spend the night in the temple where he was supposed to dream away his disease. Hippocrates believed that diseases had a natural cause. “Find the cause,” he said, “then you can cure the disease.” He worked to gain the confidence of patients and put their minds at ease. He instructed his students to find out as much as possible about their patient–his symptoms, how he felt when the illness began, what he usually ate and drank, did he change his diet? He instructed that patients be allowed to rest and were kept clean, had fresh air, and had simple wholesome food. He taught his students to treat every patient the same, both friends and foes, rich and poor. He wrote a guideline for honorable standards of action, called the Hippocratic Oath, which medical students still take after completing their training. He was remarkable. However, like many pioneers, he had to contend with the jealousy of his contemporaries, who warned that the gods would be angered by his changes.
Years later, a Roman named Galen was born in 130 AD. He made the first attempts to master anatomy. He felt that a thorough understanding of the body was necessary for good medicine. However, there were severe penalties for dissecting human bodies under Roman law which he dared not break so he dissected animals–dogs, goats, pigs, and monkeys–in order to learn anatomy. He furthered knowledge greatly, but animal anatomy differs somewhat from the human body so he could only go so far. Galen urged doctors to study firsthand for themselves, but his advice was ignored. He became the undisputed authority and for centuries no one dared to ever differ from him. In the 1500s, Jacobus Sylvius, one of the best-known doctors of his day, taught at the University of Paris. He refused to see any errors in Galen, and if the corpse being dissected didn’t agree with Galan’s writings and drawings, he believed the error was in the corpse. It took a doctor named Andreas Vesalius’ hard-fought battles to overcome the belief that Galan was always right and to further medical knowledge.
One of my favorite stories is of Ignaz Philipp Semmelweiss, who became the assistant director of the Vienna Maternity hospital in 1844. The hospital had two wards: one to train doctors and the other to train midwives. Pregnant women who came to the hospital were either sent to the ward run by the doctors or the one run by the midwives. Semmelweiss was surprised that the women all begged to go to the midwives’ ward. He learned that the women feared the doctors’ ward because more patients died there. In fact, so many women died in the doctors’ ward that it was basically a murder factory. Semmelweiss investigated why fewer women died in the midwives’ ward and eventually discovered that the reason the doctor ward had more deaths was because the doctors didn’t bother with cleanliness. They might leave the morgue after dissecting a corpse, rush to the operating room for surgery, then go straight to the wards to care for patients without ever washing their hands or changing their bloodstained coats. Young doctors were actually proud of their bloodstained examination coats because it made them feel more experienced. In contrast, the head midwife demanded that her midwives be clean and neat. She even had her students line up each morning and hold out their hands to prove their fingernails were clean. Semmelweiss was willing to learn from the midwives, and he set up wash basins and demanded his students wash their hands. He also required that patients’ bed linens be replaced as soon as they became soiled. The death rate in his wards dropped spectacularly. You’d think the other doctors would be thrilled that fewer patients died, but they were enraged by these changes, which they thought were foolish and beneath their dignity. They didn’t want to learn from “ignorant midwives” who didn’t have the education or status they did. They resisted, undermined, and eventually drove Semmelweiss out of Vienna. As soon as he left, the director threw out the wash basins and the students rejoiced. The death rate soared again. They didn’t care. They had “won.” It wasn’t until the late 1860s that doctors finally began to accept that many diseases are caused by germs and can be spread by contact.
A college degree does not mean that a person is superior to others or knows more, even in his field of study. It doesn’t mean he is infallible. It doesn’t mean that he doesn’t have more he can learn. The person he thinks is ignorant, uneducated, and beneath him might actually have more wisdom than he does (as the midwives had more wisdom than the doctors in the hospital Semmelweis worked at). The point at which a person thinks he has nothing more to learn is the point at which he ceases to learn and grow. A college education merely means that a person has learned the current information that is known–or believed to be true–at the time. It doesn’t mean that the information taught is actually correct or shouldn’t be questioned. Knowledge is only as accurate/true as the knowledge of the teachers–and sometimes it’s very wrong, as the history of medicine shows. What one generation is taught is often disproved or expanded on in the next.
What I am attempting to say is that I’ve encountered a lot of people who think they are superior to others because they have attended prestigious colleges/seminaries and have a string of fancy letters behind their name. I think that a degree merely means you learned the information set before you, and believing you are a superior person because of it is like believing you are a gourmet chef because you ate the food served you at a fancy restaurant. Don’t get me wrong: A college education can be a good thing, it can be a very beneficial thing, and I’m not intending to take away from the accomplishment of working hard for a degree. I love to learn. The extra bedroom in my house is actually a library filled ceiling to floor with books. Furthermore, I was in the honor society in high school and graduated in the top 20 of my class. I was also in the honor society in college and graduated summa cum laude. I worked hard and earned these accomplishments. But after proudly displaying my honors and degree for a couple weeks, I put them all in my life box (a box that holds momentos from my life) because they don’t define me, they don’t make me superior to others, and I value things like integrity, compassion, and hard work much more than the honors and degrees.
I think knowledge is a tool–like a hammer, saw, or rake. Tools are used to build and cultivate and make life better. If going to college will give you the knowledge to become a doctor and save lives, you have accomplished something awesome. But if a degree makes you think you are better than others, and if it causes you to treat others as if they are beneath you and can teach you nothing–like the attitude of the doctors that Semmelweis worked with–then knowledge has puffed you up and twisted you and your degree is rubbish. Knowledge is a tool to be used; it doesn’t make you a better person.
Graduating from a seminary doesn’t mean a person is a pastor. It doesn’t even mean he knows God better than the lowest “status” person in the church (whatever that means). Graduating with honors with a degree in psychology doesn’t make a person a counselor. I’ve known “pastors” who ripped apart sheep and “counselors” who were unworthy of the name. I’ve also known people, both educated and not, who had a true pastor’s and counselor’s heart. True pastors and counselors are not wise in their own eyes, do not refuse to learn from others, do not demand that people do things their way, and do not treat people with arrogance, contempt, disrespect, or dismissal. They have humility, love, integrity, respect for others, and are willing to listen and learn.
“…Knowledge” puffs a person up with pride; whereas love builds up.” (1 Cor. 8:1)
I may speak in the tongues of men, even angels;
but if I lack love, I have become merely
blaring brass or a cymbal clanging.
I may have the gift of prophecy,
I may fathom all mysteries, know all things,
have all faith — enough to move mountains;
but if I lack love, I am nothing. (1 Cor. 13:1-2)
Voices of the Victims
I am such a horrible, terrible person! I am bowing my head in absolute shame.
Yesterday afternoon I went out to the coop to gather eggs. The ducks met me, quacking loudly in complaint. That’s when I noticed that I had forgotten to feed them that morning. Horrified, I filled their food dish and they greedily filled their bellies. Then I noticed that I had forgotten to open the chickens’ little door. They had been stuck in their coop all day. I opened their door and they were able to enjoy a few hours of outdoor time.
This morning I opened the coop door and found that the ducks had put their food dish right in the middle of the doorway so I couldn’t miss it. They usually rush outside when I open the door, but this time they waited and quacked loudly until they saw me fill their bowl. I told them, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry!”
Not to excuse or justify myself, but I’m quite sure that the reason I forgot to fill the ducks’ bowl and open the chickens’ door was because I was intensely struggling with a story that has gone viral.
A couple of days ago, an abuse advocate/blogger shared the story of a woman who had been drugged and raped 11 years ago when she was a student at a Christian college. The victim described the experience:
“I am drifting in and out of consciousness [after unknowingly being given a soda with a date rape drug in it]. I do not know where I am. The stranger is on top of me but I can’t move. I am telling him to stop and get off of me. I hear him grinding and mixing some concoction. He is forcing me to swallow more alcohol. It tastes like it has sand in it. He insists I drink more. I wake up choking and coughing. Everything goes dark.” Excerpt from Do You See Me?
One website (of many) that shared her story summarized it this way:
Jane (not her real name) was a 21-year-old student at the Master’s College studying to become a Biblical Counselor. In her courses, she learned all about how to deal with situations of rape, including the importance of reporting it to the police. On a school break, she went to a restaurant with some friends who were students at the Master’s Seminary. (The restaurant was an approved location according to the strict guidelines for student behavior.) Also at the restaurant was a friend of her friends (also a Master’s Seminary student) who offered to buy her a drink. She said yes, and he brought her a Coke. But the coke was drugged. After she blacked out, the stranger carried her to his room where he raped her, drugged her again, and put her in a dress that was against the school dress code. He also repeatedly offered her alcohol to drink.
When Jane finally was conscious enough to realized that she had been drugged and raped, she confidently went to the police, knowing the importance of reporting such matters. She then spoke with her Residence Director, who was shocked–not at her rape, but at her use of alcohol and drugs. She was assigned a Biblical Counselor as well, who assured her that the only way to make this better would be to marry her rapist. She was also made to go see Rick Holland, the college pastor at Grace Community Church. He asked for all the details she could remember about her rape, much to her discomfort. (This is sexual harassment, by the way.) Rick consulted with Pastor John MacArthur and together they told her that she would be kicked out of school for violating school standards against alcohol and drugs. They were also angry that she had reported the situation to the police.
Jane was shocked at how people were responding to her, which was not at all in line with how she had been taught in her counseling classes to respond to allegations of rape. She was later contacted saying that she could finish her final year at the Master’s College under a few conditions. She found out that her rapist had confessed to raping her, specifically noting that their sex was not consensual. However, she was required to apologize to her rapist for her part in the matter. The second condition was she must consent to regular counseling sessions with her rapist. She refused, and was subsequently barred from campus. Up to that point she had received all A’s for her classes, but when she was expelled, the school changed all her grades to F’s. When she sought to further her education elsewhere, the appearance of her flunking out of college made that extremely difficult. After she left the Master’s College, she continued to receive messages from people associated with the Master’s College and Grace Community Church calling her to repent for fornication and drinking alcohol. The story was circulated that she was expelled for sleeping around and using drugs/alcohol.
Religious organizations do not have a good track record when it comes to helping abuse victims. This treatment is VERY common, especially in the denomination the college is affiliated with. The abuse advocate/blogger Rebecca Davis wrote:
I had no trouble believing that Jane could have been invited into a room and seated next to “the stranger” who raped her in order to immediately forgive him, not only because I’ve heard so many similar accounts before, some from people I know very well, but also because this is taught by the nouthetic counselors themselves.
If even now Jane, having been raped ten or so years ago by “the stranger” associated with The Master’s Seminary students, were to come to a nouthetic counselor such as this, she would find that the focus is off the wickedness that was perpetrated on her and the concommitant trauma and betrayal, and is instead on to her own sin. That is, no matter what had happened, no matter how bad it was, if Jane had been used in pornography and sex trafficking, still the focus would be on Jane’s sin.
Eleven years later, “Jane” is telling her story.
A few months ago, I was asked to become an Internet team member of a new ministry that seeks to educate churches on how to protect themselves from sexual predators. After much thought, I declined because I’m more comfortable speaking unofficially if and when I have something to say. I’m glad I declined because one of the co-founders (whom I will refer to as CF for Co-Founder) is insisting that the ONLY way that “Jane” will be empowered and healed is if she reveals her true identity, the identity of her witnesses, and the name of her rapist. He declares that she has a “moral obligation” to identify herself to protect other women. He is implying that she is lying and accusing her of trying to “tar and feather” a good man and a good university. He has, by the way, stated that he thinks very highly of John MacArthur and his teachings.
I was aware that many victims who read CF’s comments at Facebook were being triggered and feeling battered. Some of them privately told me they felt so battered and betrayed that they were unable to speak. They told me that they were glad that I was speaking out. I believe firmly in doing what Proverbs 31:8-9 says: “Speak up for those who cannot speak for themselves; ensure justice for those being crushed. Yes, speak up for the poor and helpless, and see that they get justice.” My voice wasn’t the only voice or even the most eloquent voice, but I did add it to the voices of the other abuse advocates and victims who challenged CF’s position at Facebook.
Here are some points to consider that were brought up by advocates/victims at Facebook:
- Advocates who talked personally with Jane vetted her story and believe her. Victims who have read her story (including me) are very familiar with the abusive tactics used against her, so we believe her as well.
- The statutes of limitations has passed so Jane cannot legally seek justice. Her stated purpose in telling her story is merely to encourage the college (now a university) to change how they deal with sexual assault victims. Working for change does not require that her identity be known.
- CF thinks Jane has a moral obligation to protect other women by revealing her identity, her rapists’ name, and her witnesses. He says nothing of the moral obligation of the college to look into how they treat sexual assault victims.
- CFs criticism was focused ONLY on Jane. He fully supports MacArthur and the college.
- Several people, including a lawyer, have stated that since the rapist was never charged, Jane could possibly face a lawsuit if she identified him. (CF said she should anyway.)
- A victim pays a high price when she speaks out, including experiencing accusation, condemnation, blame/shaming, shunning, loss of reputation. If Jane spoke out, besides suffering additional emotional trauma, she could suffer legal liability and, if she cannot afford legal costs, financial difficulties. I think it’s very easy for CF to urge Jane to pay a price that he doesn’t have to pay.
- Jane has already identified her rapist: 11 years ago she named him in the police report and to the college. The college knows who she is and who the rapist is. It seems to me that Jane has done everything she could, and that the college is the one who is “morally obligated” to protect the women attending their school. I don’t believe Jane is obligated to tell the world her name. Nor do I believe it is safe for her to do so.
- I’m a bit suspicious of this strong push for Jane to reveal her identity. I wonder if the college would be legally liable if they revealed Jane’s name without her permission, but if they could pressure Jane (either directly or indirectly) to reveal her identity herself, they could shred her to pieces. They don’t have to do it themselves. It is typical that Christians will rush to defend, protect, and support abusers, especially if the abuser is well-known and popular.
- CF often cites his counseling education/experience but all the credentials in the world are rubbish if a person is not actually listening to the people he claims to be helping.
- The role of an advocate is to listen to a victim’s story and support her as she makes her own decisions in her own time about the actions she wants to take. THAT empowers her. It will only re-traumatize her to bully her to into doing anything against her will.
I have really hoped and prayed that CF would listen to the advocates and victims who are speaking to him so he could become a true voice for the abused. However, as I worked on this post, I read his additional comments, which were so arrogant that I felt very sick in my spirit. A person can’t claim to speak on behalf of victims if he dismisses and disrespects everything they say. Since CF believes–and insists–that victims need to publicly name their abuser, I will name him: I very strongly believe that Jon Uhler, the co-founder of Church Protect, is no true advocate for the abused. I believe that he is harming, not helping, victims. I strongly suggest that victims do not go to him for help. If you want a true advocate, I suggest A Cry for Justice. (You can also find a link to this and other sites I’ve found helpful at the right of this page.)
I am heartbroken for the suffering of victims. I am angry–and justly–that those who claim to help them only tear them apart instead.
Sweet Madeline
I’ve been thinking of names for our new cat. I wanted an old-fashioned name such as Millie or Molly. My friend suggested several names, some of which I discarded because they were the names of family or friends, but I really liked her suggestion of Maggie or Nellie. I discarded Nellie because we used to have a cat named Ellie and I thought that was too close. I tried out Millie, Molly, Maggie….Maddie. I finally decided to call her Madeline, which I think is a sweet sounding name. We can shorten it to Maddie if we want, although right now I keep thinking of her as “Sweet Madeline.”
We’ve introduced a number of animals to our home over the years. I’ve learned to let each new animal adjust to its new surroundings and other animals at its own pace. Some cats have boldly explored right from the start. Others have hidden for a while before venturing out. It’s all good, and they all eventually feel at home and accept each other.
Because we were told that Madeline was not cuddly, we expected it to take time for us to win her trust. After we brought her home, I periodically went out to the garage so she could get used to my presence. I would like her to not run from me when she finally is able to go outside. The first few times that I went to the garage yesterday, I couldn’t even find her, but by evening she came out of hiding–although she still kept her distance. This morning she mewed when I called “kitty, kitty” and let me get a few feet from her before she leaped away. I never force it. As soon as she leaped away, I went back into the house and then returned later. It really wasn’t long before she was coming up to me and letting me pet her. Madeline usually jumps under a tall metal stool for lovings. I think she feels safe there. Once we get to petting her, we are able to coax her out into the open. EJ was even able to pick her up tonight.
It’s difficult to take photos/videos of Madeline while I’m giving her lovings, but here is one video I took of her. She is very affectionate:
Annie is hissing a bit at Madeline, but we know that’s all part of the “getting to know you” process. Both cats are shut up in the garage for now. Eventually we will open the pet door so they can go in and out of the garage. The garage is large so they can avoid each other if they want and yet they can gradually get used to each other. By tonight Annie didn’t start hissing until she was quite close to Madeline so we are making progress. Once Madeline and Annie get used to each other, I will introduce Danny to Madeline so he knows she’s part of our family.
It was very hot again today, but it didn’t feel quite as hot as this last weekend. Tonight we are supposed to get storms and then the high temps tomorrow will be only 62, which is a 30 degree drop. It will be a relief! I read that some schools downstate canceled classes today because it was so hot. That’s a first! I’m not sure why they canceled classes when the schools all have air conditioning, but whatever.
A Friend For Annie
For the last several days we have been experiencing record high temperatures in the mid-90s. Although it’s now autumn, the temperatures are higher than any we’ve had this summer. In fact, the National Weather Service says that our temperatures in Northern Michigan this weekend were hotter than the nation’s typical hot spots–hotter than places such as Houston, Honolulu, Miami, Phoenix, and Los Angeles.
The hot temperatures have been horrid, and we’ve been melting. Doing any activity leaves me drained, red-faced, and wet with sweat. Ugh. We have one more day of heat and then the temperatures for Wednesday will plunge to a high of 64 degrees. I can’t wait. I’m barely holding on….
This is the time of year when we keep finding wolf spiders on the porch at night. I hate it when Danny wants out after dark at this time of year; fortunately, it’s not often. I always put a leash on Danny at night because he is black and invisible in the dark. I carefully scanned the porch before I opened the door and didn’t see any spiders so I felt it was safe. However, when we returned, there were two large wolf spiders on the porch. I stifled a scream and hurried us inside as quickly as possible. (Shudder). Saturday night EJ and I sat in the kitchen and watched the wolf spiders hunting on the porch. We saw two: one large and one huge, but neither anywhere near as big as Shelob. We didn’t see them actually catch anything. In the autumn mornings, I often see one or two dead wolf spiders on the porch so something is apparently hunting them. I googled it and discovered that wasps, amphibians, reptiles, birds, shrews, coyotes, and birds eat wolf spiders. Wolf spiders eat all sorts of insects (which may be why I find dead insect bodies on the porch), amphibians, and reptiles. Yikes! They also hunt spiders, including other wolf spiders. Wolf spiders are nasty.
Sunday EJ and I had some errands to run. We drove to Joann’s Fabrics, Meijers, the farm store for some poultry feed. We stopped at a farm market for some apples. Next year we will be able to get some apples from our own trees that we planted…IF we can keep the deer from munching on the trees over the winter. We ended our errands at the local grocery store where JJ works.
JJ had to work yesterday until about 8 p.m. When he arrived home, he said that as he was driving home, a couple were walking alongside the road. They frantically waved him to stop. He didn’t know if there was some sort of emergency–an accident ahead or something? So he stopped and the woman, without saying a word, tried to open the door to get inside. Fortunately, the doors were all locked so JJ just drove on. If it had been any sort of emergency the couple would have spoken up, not just tried to get into the car. JJ called the police when he got home. An officer stopped by but said he wasn’t able to find them. He said he would drive around a bit and let JJ know if he found them, but otherwise let it drop. Apparently the officer didn’t find them because he didn’t contact JJ again.
EJ drove in to work today and then came right back home because his back hurt and he wasn’t feeling well. Poor guy. 😦
Although we didn’t really want another cat, EJ and I have been discussed getting another outside cat to keep Annie company. She has seemed very lonely since Tesla, our other outside cat, died of very old age last autumn. We weren’t sure where to find one–we wanted to make sure a new cat was fixed and that it wasn’t a problem for it to be outside. The animal shelters we were familiar with downstate all required that adopted cats be kept inside. Also, we didn’t want a huge adoption fee.
Today at Facebook, a local animal control /shelter posted “We have a very special Kitty in need of a barn life. She is spayed and vaccinated. She is not enjoying a home life. Sheba has been adopted and returned twice. Do you have room in your barn for her?”
We contacted the shelter and discovered that they were having a special adoption and the fee was only $10. So I hopped in the suburban and went to get the kitty. I learned that she’s been returned to the shelter twice already. Her first home had small children and they scared her. Her second owner returned her because she wasn’t happy inside–although the second owner only kept her for a couple of days, and EJ and I don’t think that’s long enough for a cat to adjust to a new home. We’ve had some new cats that boldly explored our home as if they had always lived there, while others have hidden for a week before they ventured out. But, whatever. The cat apparently isn’t cuddly, which isn’t a problem since she is going to live outside. When the animal control person tried to take her out of the cage, the cat kept grabbing the cage door and it took forever to get her to let go. Then it was difficult to get her in our cat carrier. Poor thing.
The new kitty looks a lot like Tesla, Annie’s companion who died. When I got her home, we blocked the pet door so she and Annie can’t get out of the garage. We will keep them in the garage for a couple of days so they can get used to each other and so the new kitty can learn that this is now her “home.”
We don’t really like the name Sheba so we’ve been trying to think of a new name. Maybe something that is sort of old fashioned-ish like Annie’s name. I’m thinking something like Millie? Molly? Any suggestions?
Band of Chickens
Last week was as sunny and warm as the previous was rainy and chilly. Today is the warmest day yet. The forecast was for rain–and all afternoon the clouds have darkened and we’ve heard occasional rumbles of thunder. So far, however, the storms have slid just north of us. The storms are supposed to bring cooler temperatures as a cold front moves in. I’m glad for cooler temps because the warmth and high humidity are oppressive and causing me to move in slow motion.
EJ painted the ceiling of the porch and around the door this afternoon, while I did laundry and wash dishes (in slow motion).
Later, after EJ finished painting, we went out to the coop to put bands on the legs of the hens that we hadn’t gotten around to banding last year. The bands are colors and have charms, so I given them names according to their color or charm. Last year we banded Henny Penny, who has a red heart band on her leg (because she’s my favorite), Butterfly who has a butterfly charm (she talks a lot), and Bluebell who has blue band.
The chickens all came into the coop when I entered, especially since I put oatmeal in their food dish. They love outmeal. With all but Captain AmerROOca inside, I shut their little door so they couldn’t get out and then tried to capture an unbanded hen. The chickens all erupted into panic, filling the coop with a hurricane of feathery movement and angry squawks. I opened the little door whenever a banded chicken wanted outside and closed it before an unbanded hen could leave. The fewer banded chickens in the coop the less turmoil there was. I caught each unbanded chicken, one at a time, and held her while EJ banded her, then I released her outside. When they were banded, I gave each one a name: Sunshine has a yellow band; she pecked at her band after it was on. Tilly has a teal band (Tilly sounds almost like “teal”). Ladybug has a ladybug charm on her; she bit my sleeve as I held her. The fourth hen escaped outside before we could band her. I may not bother trying to band her. I will be able to identify her since she is the only one without a band. I will give her a name as soon as I think of one.
A lot of roosters seem to be rather mean, but our Sassy isn’t. I think he is remarkable. Yesterday I held out a treat for him. He took it (politely) and then dropped it on the ground for his hens to eat. He does this every time I give him a treat. He really takes good care of his flock.
Earlier last week I thought I had killed Shelob. It was an accident, I swear it! The ducks quickly get their pool muddy so I dump the water out every evening when I go out to put all the poultry to bed. I try to vary where I put the pool and which direction I dump the water. The night I almost killed Shelob, I dumped the pool in the direction of the fence. I didn’t think the water would go as far as Shelob’s lair, but it did, and it flooded her hole. I didn’t see her for a couple of days so I wondered if I had killed her. But if I hadn’t killed her when I flooded her hole the first time–deliberately but ignorantly because I didn’t know who the hole belonged to–and if she isn’t killed when we get downpours, then I thought she could probably survive when I accidentally flooded her hole the second time. But you never know, it’s possible that she can only survive so many near-drownings. However, a few days later I caught her quick movement when I went out to gather eggs, so she’s alive. I wasn’t sure if I was sad or glad that she survived. She scares me, but she’s interesting all at the same time.
I got to wondering what the inside of wolf spider holes look like. Do they construct their lairs so that they aren’t easily flooded? I searched Youtube and found a video about what a wolf spider lair looks like:
In the process of looking for information about their lairs, I found other information about wolf spiders:
Wandering wolf spiders rely on speed and camouflage to escape predators. They have good vision and are very sensitive to vibrations in the ground that help them detect predators. Some species hide in tunnels in the ground. Wolf spiders will bite to defend themselves if necessary.
I have seen how quick Shelob is. And I figured she had good vision and felt ground vibrations because she zooms down into her lair when I’m still several feet away.
Wolf spiders do not spin webs and reside instead within burrows. These burrows may be open or sealed with silken doors. In rainy seasons, wolf spiders plug their burrows with pebbles and build turrets to deflect floodwater. Twigs may also be placed at the top of the burrow.
I had already seen how Shelob builds a turret around the entrance to her lair. I think it’s fun to place duck feathers near her lair. A day or two later, the feathers are glued around her entrance. Her “turret” is getting higher.
Mating for wolf spiders is a dangerous affair because males are sometimes killed and consumed by females following mating. However, males often survive to mate again.
After mating, the female wolf spider seeks an isolated, covered location within which to lay her eggs. Females lay approximately 100 or more eggs, which they encase in a silk sac. Wolf spiders exhibit unique parental care behaviors. Female wolf spiders often carry their egg sacs with them. When eggs are ready to hatch, the female wolf spider rips the egg sac open in order to release her spiderlings. Spiderlings then swarm the female’s body and legs, where they remain for protection. They stay with the female for a couple of weeks, at which point wolf spiderlings disperse. They are then ready to begin fending for themselves.
I am very aware of Shelob because her lair is only a few feet from the gate into the poultry pen. I don’t want to get too close to it, so I’m very aware of where it is every time I go out to care for the chickens and ducks. And because I’m so aware of her, I wonder about her.
Autumn Wariness
The weather this week has been as sunny and warm as last week was rainy and chilly. As I enjoy the beautiful weather, my mind has been with those who were in the path of the hurricanes–both Harvey and Irma. Thankfully, all my friends in those areas are doing well, although I’m amazed at the flooding and damaged in those areas. My mind is also with friends in the west who are living near wildfires. Even those not close to the actual fires are having to deal with heavy smoke. 😦
I had been planning to exercise up and down the driveway today, but I’m quite sure I’m catching the bad cold that JJ has been struggling with over the last several days. I’ve been feeling a bit unwell around the edges. I didn’t have much motivation today. Bummer.
This morning I read articles saying that “Swarms of flying bugs seen around West Michigan are creating a buzz on social media.” The swarms were also seen in Detroit, and in Pennsylvania, Connecticut, and New York. I believe they are also the insects that I videoed swarming here in Northern Michigan. It sounds as if this is not a normal occurrence. I wonder what is causing them to swarm?
I have learned since moving to Northern Michigan that every autumn when the nights grow chilly, the wolf spiders start to crawl out onto our porch. There are not thousands of them, or hundreds, or even several. Just one here or one there. But that’s more than enough to scare me when I open the door and find a giant spider sitting on the porch. So when the days grow shorter and the nights chillier, I grow wary. I scan the porch before I open the door.
This morning I was walking down the hallway toward the door that opens into the garage on my way to feed Annie and then release the ducks and chickens from their coop when Danny told me that he wanted outside. I carefully looked through the door window at the porch. No spiders. I opened the door and…..AHHHHHH! There was a large wolf spider–not as big as Shelob–on the threshold of the door. I slammed the door and told Danny he had to go out the living room door which opens onto the deck. For some reason, the spiders don’t lurk there. I suspect it’s because it is less sheltered than the front porch.
After I let Danny out, I went out to the coop, filled the pool, water buckets, and food dish, and opened the little doors for the ducks and chickens. I discovered a pile of eggs that a hen had hidden. There were five in all inside the inner coop. I had wondered why the number of eggs had decreased. I was unsure if the chickens were no longer laying–although it seemed early in the year for that–or if I just wasn’t finding the eggs. There’s really not a whole lot of places to conceal eggs, but the ducks and chickens seem to be extremely skilled at hiding them.
Danny joined me outside the pen and we walked together through the garage and back into the house. I grabbed my bottle of bug killer and went through the living room door and around to the front porch. I took a photo of the spider–for evidence that it had invaded my space?–and then I sprayed and sprayed and sprayed it. It started crawling toward me. I didn’t wait to see if it was going to attack or beg for mercy. I hurried back into the house through the living room door, went over to the kitchen window that looks out onto the porch, and watched the spider crawl back toward the house door.
I showed my photo to EJ before he left for work. It isn’t a very good photo, but I wasn’t exactly going to go up to the spider and tell it, “Say Cheese!” while I took a portrait. EJ said, “Why is the spider shining a light?” Of course, it was obviously eye shine from the camera flash (or something), but I imagined it holding a spider-sized flashlight while it tried to pick the lock on the door.
When EJ was getting ready to leave for work, I asked him to stomp on the spider if it was still lurking on the porch. However, it was gone when he went out. Maybe it had crawled into a dark space to die…or to plot its revenge.
I had no problem killing this spider. I only let Shelob live because she hides in her lair. She does NOT crawl onto the porch and lurk near the door. My Non-Aggression with the Spider Kingdom is that I won’t invade their turf if they don’t evade mine. The porch is my turf.
Update: It is now evening, and there is another wolf spider lurking on the porch.
The Box
Yesterday EJ and I drove to TSC to buy some poultry feed, cat food, and dog food. The store had stock tanks filled with a variety of chicks. They were so adorably cute!!! It’s very difficult to resist taking one or two or twenty home with us, but we have iron willpower. After TSC, we did a little shopping at our local grocery store, and then went to the hardware store for something EJ needed.
After we had put away all our pet food and groceries and had eaten lunch, EJ did one thing or another out in the garage while did the laundry and hung them out on the clothesline to dry. While I was taking the dry clothes off the line, I happened to glance down at the ground and I saw a swarm of insects. I hunkered down and took a video.
Later we went down to the bottom of the driveway and moved the magic box. The previous owner of our house had built the magic box. We were told that he stored his garbage in the box to keep it safe from animals like bears until garbage pick-up day. The box is very sturdy and clean, not at all dirty or smelly. UPS and FedEx refuses to drive up our long steep driveway in the winter so they put our packages in the box instead. I call the box “the Magic Box” because sometimes I open the lid and magically find a package inside! 🙂 The box had been located at the entrance of the driveway in plain sight of anyone driving by. We’ve read that sometimes people steal UPS/FedEx packages left on porches and stuff. It has never happened to us, but we decided to remove any temptation and we moved it a little ways further up the driveway toward us, under some trees where it isn’t as easily seen from the road.
After we moved the Magic Box, we went into the garden to see if we could harvest any more herbs or veggies. I saw the ducks frozen in place and looking up at the sky, so we looked up too and saw three large birds circling overhead. We think they were vultures. The ducks are very aware of things in the sky. They look up when they see predators and they even notice airplanes.
Today it was back to work for EJ and to school for JJ.
Today I made myself walk down and up the driveway about six times for exercise–not all at once, but once or twice at a time throughout the day. I confess that I actually dislike exercise. When I’m not doing my chores around the house, I would much rather sit on the couch wrapped in a blanket on a chilly day, sipping hot coffee or tea with a cat or two on my lap and Danny at my feet, reading a book, or working on the computer, or crocheting. But every once in a while, I decide that I better work on exercise. I don’t like riding a stationary bike or lifting weights or anything. It’s boring. Walking up and down the driveway is much more fun, and I would be able to do it steadily if I didn’t always eventually get sidetracked by busyness, rainy days, sickness, injury, or just not feeling like doing it. Sometimes I think, “Yuck, I don’t feel like walking multiple times down and up the driveway,” but once I get started I really enjoy it. Getting started is the hardest.
There is some sort of dragonfly-like insect that seems to always hang around at a certain spot along the driveway. I don’t know what it is. It always seems to keep a few feet ahead of me until I get outside its territory. He is such a frequent companion that I thought maybe I should give him a name–like maybe Philip or something? Anyway, today I was thinking that I was just going to saunter down the driveway rather than try to do anything aerobic. Suddenly the dragonfly-like insect flew at me and chased me down the drive a bit. It’s never done that before. I thought, “Well, that’s one way to get me moving faster.”
My final walk down the driveway was about 7 p.m. I watched crows fly one by one across the driveway. A few of them perched on a dead tree, which I thought was picturesque, but before I could focus my camera, they flew off. That happens quite frequently. I walked quietly past the magic box, and saw a Northern Flicker on the ground. I also saw two rabbits in the grass. We often see rabbits there in the evening.
I really enjoy “Stargate Atlantis,” a science fiction series that aired from 2004 to 2009. Several days ago, their Facebook page shared the following segment from an episode. It made me laugh and think, and I’ve rewatched it several times:
I remember being asked to solve several similar ethical dilemmas in school years ago. The thing is, we always accepted the parameters given to us–we accepted that we had to choose one of two horrible options in a contrived situation. We never considered that in reality, there are often many options. What I liked about this Stargate Atlantis segment is that Rodney tried to get the others to choose between one or the other choice, both bad. However, his friends weren’t accepting the limited parameters. They were thinking outside the box, at the reality of the situation. They could think of many options, not just making choice between two bad scenarios.
It made me think about how many times we accept the parameters that people give us, we think we are trapped in the box they put us in. One scenario I pondered was being told that our two choices are 1. submitting to an abusive spouse or boyfriend or 2. being told–and believing–that if we walk away from abuse we are unloving, unforgiving, and disobeying God. The reality is that that is a parameter/box that we don’t have to accept. It’s not Biblical. God sets us free from the wicked. He tells us not to associate with the wicked. We aren’t disobeying Him if we don’t accept abuse.
Thinking about accepting the parameters that others force upon us reminded me of a very powerful episode of a cartoon called Recess. In this episode, an abusive teacher put a 4th grader in a box drawn with chalk on the pavement as punishment. He felt imprisoned by it until he realized that he didn’t have to stay within the parameters that someone else forced him into. I think part of recovery involves learning that a box is just lines on the pavement and we don’t have to stay there.
It is a good reminder.
Morning Scolding
We had been hearing for several days that a strong magnetic storm had hit the earth, meaning that the Northern Lights could be seen far to the south. The first two days thick clouds hid the stars so we had no chance of seeing anything, but last night the sky was clear, so EJ and I went out to look for the Northern Lights. We live on a hill surrounded by forest, so often we can’t see the Lights if they are lower toward the horizon. So last night about 10 p.m., EJ drove us around to more level ground. We had gone out a bit too late because the moon was rising it’s light was washing out the stars. We finally went to a ball park which is on the shore of a large lake not to far from home.
We had just taken a few steps away from the suburban when the spotlight from a police car on the road was directed toward us. We have heard reports from Northern Light watchers at Facebook that they are sometimes asked by police why they are stopped along lonely roads or in parks in the night, so I rather expected it. Sure enough, the police car turned into the parking lot of the ball field. We explained that we were out looking for the Northern Lights, which were supposed to be very strong. The officer said that they had reports of a drunk guy wandering along the roads and he wondered if we had seen him. We said we hadn’t seen him, but we would keep an eye out. After the officer left, we walked to the shore, but we didn’t see any Lights. Bummer.
This morning I slept in.
During the week, I set my alarm at 6 a.m. so I spent time with EJ before he goes to work. As soon as I wake up, I divided up a can of food between the four cats and take the rest of it out to Annie, our outside cat. Then I go out to the duck pen, fill their pool and water buckets, and go into the coop to open the ducks’ and the chickens’ little doors.
During the weekend, I don’t have to wake up at 6 a.m., especially when the sun rises later. However, the animals still expect me to keep to my morning routine. This morning the cats tried to wake both EJ and I by jumping on us. EJ got out of bed sooner, but it took the cats until 7 a.m. to wake me up. As soon as I got up, the cats all followed me around letting me know that they were hungry and I could hear Annie yowling from inside the garage. So I dished out their food and gave it to them, and then went out to the duck pen to fill the pool and water buckets. While I worked, I could hear the ducks complaining and the chickens crowing and clucking. They were all up and ready to be released.
Sheesh. It’s pretty bad when the animals all scold me for trying to get a little extra sleep!
At night the cats try just as hard to get us into bed at the “proper” time as they try to get us up in the morning. It’s rather funny.
Today I redesigned my “business” Facebook page. I’ve struggled to find a focus for the page. It needed something more than just occasional postings about the new items I have for sell at Teric’s Treasures. I finally decided to change from my store name to my blog name. I’ll share my posts there and my store listings. Blog readers can interact with me at FB if they want. That could be fun. I figured out how to share a link to my Facebook page. It’s listed at the right of the screen.
I also figured out how to add customer reviews to my blog. That took hours of trying to figure it out, but I finally got it set up under the Teric’s Treasures link under the name of my blog. I also have links to my Teric’s Treasure blog page and to my Etsy store. Pretty cool. I have only one review listed at my blog so far–but it’s a start! Not everyone gives reviews, and some either review the items at Etsy or tell me privately that they liked my items.
Tomorrow EJ and I have to go to the farm store for pet food. Then we will probably do a few projects to get ready for winter.
Cloud Sculptures
Today we finally had sunny skies. Well, we had mostly sunny skies. Ok, we actually had patches of sun and blue peeking through clouds. But it didn’t rain.
It rained off and on through the rest of the week. I didn’t mind, although I really, really dislike walking through the muddy straw on my way to the coop. The straw makes the mud spongy and I feel as if I’m going to disappear into quicksand.
A few days ago, I picked up a couple feathers that the ducks had discarded and I put them near Shelob’s lair. I wanted to see what she would do. The next day I saw that she had glued them around the entrance to her tunnel. She is such an interesting critter, although the sight of her still fills me with terror. Good thing I don’t ever see more of her than a quick flicker of movement as she vanishes into her lair.
Or, rather, most of the time I don’t see more than a flicker of Shelob. This afternoon as I refilled water buckets and gathered eggs, I creeped over to the fence and looked over it to see if I could see her. It’s hard to spot her because she blends in with the earth, but I thought I might have seen her, so I carefully took out my camera, zoomed way in, and….CLICK. My goodness she is big, and scary looking, and terrifying! But she’s also rather interesting…as long as she keeps away from me. But it’s not her fault that I sneak up on her and get scared, so I don’t blame her. She does vanish quickly when she sees me. She’s keeping our Non-Aggression Pact very well.
The really awesome thing about the rainy days is that the clouds were dramatically beautiful. Because of the Great Lakes, Michigan has a lot of cloudy days. People who move here from other states sometimes think Michigan is too cloudy and gloomy. But I love the clouds. I think they look like beautiful cloud sculptures. I’m glad that I live in a place where I have an unhindered view of the sky.
The only slightly negative thing about clouds is that they block our view of celestial events. This week there was a strong solar storm so there were awesome Northern Lights–or so I heard. We didn’t get to see them because of the clouds. Oh, well.
In-between downpours the other day, I moved the leaping wire deer over to the hill on the other side of the driveway. EJ has a pile of junk he is going to discard in the dumpster at work. I found something that that I used as a stand to hold up the deer. My guys laugh at me because I keep moving the two wire deer around the property.
The days are getting chillier now. I’ve been feeling quite comfortable in sweatshirts and jackets.
I successfully fulfilled my first international order–to a friend in Australia. She ordered two pair of dragon gloves, which she says she loves. Yay!
I’m excited about working on my next project. I want to make a beautiful feathery swan shawl. I found a pattern that might work in an out-of-print crochet book. I was able to find the book in places like Amazon, but it cost more than $50. I finally found a copy at e-bay for about half the price, but the listing had expired. So I contacted the seller and asked that if she ever relisted the book to please let me know because I wanted to buy it. She responded that she would immediately relist the book so I could buy it, which I did! Yay! I thanked her for relisting it for me. Now I just have to wait for my order of yarn to arrive. If it works as I envision it, it will be magical.
I spent much of the day working on the Teric’s Treasures page of this blog. Now if you click on a photo of an item, it will take you right to the item at Etsy. I still want to tweak a few things, but I got most of it done.
I have friends in the path of Hurricane Irma, and also friends who live in states with terrible wildfires. They are in my constant prayers. I also continue to pray for people affected by Harvey. My friend told me that the grocery shelves are still quite bare and it’s not easy to find gas.
Magical Mist
All throughout today–and even through the evening–the rain poured, then stopped, poured, then stopped, as if someone was repeatedly turning a faucet on and off. When it rained, it rained hard. At times patches of blue briefly appeared through holes in the clouds before the rains came again. During the sunny moments, I dashed outside to look for a rainbow. I never did spot one although people on Facebook shared the rainbows they saw.
We often see fog? mist? clouds? rising from the hill across the road from us. EJ always says it’s a cloud being born. It’s really very beautiful. During one of my dashes outside to look for a rainbow, I saw the fog rising from our own Enchanted Forest. It was beautiful. I felt as if I were part of something magical.
Here is a video I took of the magical sight. It’s short because I wanted to make sure I also had time to take photos:
After I took a few photos, I could a second video. You can see it here: Magical Mist.
In between downpours, I took a treat of vegetable scraps out for the ducks and chickens. When I opened the garage door, I startled a flock of mourning doves that were in the back yard. I think there were something liked 20-30 of them–the most I’ve ever seen. I kept hoping they would come back so I could photo them, but they didn’t. Bummer.
The day was chilly. Definitely sweatshirt weather. The poultry pens became flooded. The ducks didn’t seem to mind the flooding, of course, but the chickens don’t care for it. The wet straw feels spongy when I walk on it, and my work shoes sucked into the mud. I really dislike the feeling.
Shelob made her hole small again to shelter herself from the pouring rain.
The sky was beautiful with dramatic clouds throughout the day. Here are some:
All the chickens were in the coop when I went to put them to bed–except for Sassy, who was outside for one last look around before he joined the others. He is such a good rooster. While I was shutting the chickens’ little door, the ducks came waddling in. I didn’t have to herd them tonight. The Christmas lights cast a warm glow over the snug coop. After everyone was safely in, and their doors shut, I said “Goodnight,” turned off their lights, and left them to go to sleep.
Monday Rain
Yesterday EJ and I spent the day doing a bunch of odd jobs in the kitchen. I can’t really remember everything we did, but it took all day. I cleaned each item as I put it back where it belonged, EJ put cabinet trim back up and rehung shelves, and he painted and installed the switch plates, which we think adds splashes of color to the kitchen. We hung our awesome “Michigan Home” art that was created by Michigan in Metal, as well as two pictures of two impressionist pictures of an outdoor cafe. I put our collection of baskets on top of the cabinets. I also moved our succulent plants into the corner of the kitchen. They just seemed to fit there. I grew the two large cacti from tiny little nubs that I got from Walmart years ago. I bought the aloe plant last Spring.
We totally love the new look of our kitchen. EJ and I both agree that photos do not adequately capture the true color of the yellow. You can see below that the yellow looks different in the different photos.
I told EJ that every time I walk into the kitchen, I get a warm feeling of contentment and happiness. It’s a similar feeling of coming home after a long trip away, or like a warm fire and a hot cup of cocoa after a cold snowy day outside, or walking into a house and smelling the fragrance of homemade bread, or spending a rainy day sipping tea and reading books. Those emotions are what our kitchen makes me feel.
It rained for most of the day. We had steady rain punctuated by heavy downpours, lightning, and rumbles of thunder. The thrumming of the rain on the roof made us all drowsy. We had a quiet day, and only felt motivated enough to do a few tasks when the rain moved off. I washed the ceiling fan blades in the kitchen, while EJ installed new headlights in the Buggy and also dismantled the porch light, cleaned its lenses, painted the housing, and reinstalled it. When EJ first took the porch light down, he found a black widow spider in it. I never saw any downstate, but I’ve seen a couple black widows near the front porch since we’ve moved here, so it didn’t surprise me. EJ killed it after I photographed it because their venom is dangerous to humans. They aren’t good spiders to keep around.
In between bands of rain this morning, I took the ducks and chickens a treat of watermelon, which they love. The ducks were all dirty because they had fun playing in the mud puddles which were created by the heavy rain.
The Rouen ducks are beginning to moult a bit. Rouen ducks look like mallards (they share a common ancestry), and females have bands of blue on their wings. I’ve been finding some of the feathers on the ground. The feathers are actually very beautiful and I can’t keep myself from collecting them. When I hold them in the sunlight, they shimmer with luminous colors that seem to change when seen from different angles..
When I took the ducks and chickens their watermelon treat this morning, I paused at Shelob’s lair, as I often do. The lair is located just a few feet from the gate into the poultry pen. Although Shelob scares me, she also fascinates me. I was amazed to see that she had made her entrance much, much smaller–no doubt because of the heavy rain. After the rain stopped, she enlarged the hole again. I think that’s pretty amazing.
Shelob isn’t the only insect that is busy. Yesterday evening EJ and I strolled down the driveway. We came across several groups of ants working busily. We could see them carrying grains of sand out of their holes. Apparently, they also are working on home improvement.
A Burst of Sunbeam Glow
EJ was able to get Friday off as a vacation day! He spent the day painting primer on the kitchen walls while I did a bunch of odd jobs: laundry, mowing the lawn, reconfiguring the Christmas lights in the chicken coop, and so on. At the end of the day, we decided we ought to bring the house plants inside because the temperatures were supposed to plunge into the 30s. I keep the houseplants on the deck all summer and bring them in when it gets cold in the autumn. I think this is the earliest date I’ve ever brought them in.
When we first moved into our new house, our living room was an awful overpowering blue so at the first opportunity, I painted it a soft creamy buttery color. I also painted the bedrooms various light neutral colors. We also enjoy variety so none of our rooms are the same color. We wanted to paint the kitchen and bathrooms our first months in Northern Michigan, but I had to stop painting because we had to make repeated trips downstate to move more of our possessions and we also had to fix the severely eroding driveway.
Our kitchen was red when we moved in–well, actually until yesterday when EJ covered the red with primer. I didn’t like the red kitchen at first, but it kind of grew on me over time so it was tolerable. EJ never got liked the red color. Our old house downstate was very dark with narrow windows and lots of shady trees that didn’t let in much sunshine so we both really wanted to paint the kitchen a bright cheerful yellow.
Colors have a strong emotional affect on me. In fact, there has been studies into how colors affect moods and behavior; it is called color psychology. I’ve gone to doctor’s offices that were painted in blue or gray and those colors made me feel cold and anxious. I do not like cool colors; I love warm colors, the colors of autumn. My favorite color is yellow, but I do not like a pale yellow–like a banana peel or lemon sort of yellow. Pale yellow feels cold to me, like the sun without warmth. My favorite yellow is very vibrant and warm–more southwestern or Tuscany. Whenever I see my favorite yellow, I feel an extra burst of happiness.
We painted our kitchen in a warm yellow color. It is called “sunbeam glow.” It’s not easy to know how a color will actually look on a wall, but as soon as we began paint, we both exclaimed in delight. This color is just right. Every time I look at it, I feel a burst of happiness. The kitchen feels like a very happy place.
We kept red accents, which is just right without being too much. We have pretty curtains picked out but until we can buy them, we hung up some red crocheted curtains that I had made years ago for our old house. They are pretty, but they were made for smaller diameter windows and they are much too short. They are better than the white curtains that were in the windows before, and they are better than no curtains at all. EJ painted a few switch plates various colors so we could see what they looked like, and then we decided that we liked the red best so he is going to paint the rest of them. We put most of our pictures back up, and we got a lot of stuff put away, but the kitchen is rather chaotic still. We will finish up tomorrow. We are too tired tonight.
I tried to take photos, but none of the photos captures the happy, warm color of Sunbeam Glow. Most of the photos make the color look much, much too lemon yellowy. This photo probably is the closest to the true color.
We aren’t the only ones working on our home. Shelob also has been making a few improvements. We noticed that she installed a duck feather to camouflage the entrance to her lair. She can peek through the feather without being seen. She also reinforced her entrance with straw. Sometimes I wonder just how intelligent critters really are.
F(r)oggy Memories
Today arrived with blue skies and sunshine after two days of heavy morning fog. I like fog. It wraps everything with mystery. But sunshine is nice too.
The temperatures have been getting cooler–during both the day and the night. We are wearing sweatshirts and sweaters more often, and a couple nights we put granny’s quilt on the bed for extra warmth. I love autumn but it feels as if September nudged August aside. I began to wonder if autumn always takes me by surprise and I just always think it’s early, but I just read an article at FB from The Detroit Free Press that said “While it feels a little early to be talking about fall colors, heavier precipitation during the summer months points to an earlier-than-usual peak season.” The article predicted that by October 8th the whole state of Michigan will be past its peak. Wow. That really is much earlier than usual.
The days are noticeably darker at both ends. I’m putting the chickens and ducks to bed before 8:30 pm now, and the mornings remain dark until about 7 a.m. I read that one of the factors that cause poultry to stop laying eggs is a decrease in light, so I’m going outside when it’s still dark in the mornings and turning on the Christmas lights in the coop. I read that it’s not a good idea to do this all year around because poultry need a rest period or their lives are shortened. So I won’t try to get them to lay all winter. I just think August is too soon for them to stop laying. I’m don’t think it’s too much to expect for them to lay eggs through September.
Tuesday morning was very foggy. Seconds after EJ left the house to go to work, I heard him call out to me, “Hurry! Get your camera!” I immediately grabbed my camera, slipped on my slip-on shoes, and rushed out. EJ pointed to a toad by the porch. It was an unusual tan color. Usually the toads we see are a darker muddier brown. I took some photos, and later searched the internet in order to discover its identity. I learned that Michigan has eleven species of frogs but only two species of toads–the Eastern American Toad and the Fowler’s toad. The first is a dark muddy brown and the second is a light tan. The toad EJ pointed out is a Fowler’s Toad. In attempting to identify it, I found a wildlife site in which I can enter observations about when and where I see things like toads. I entered my data because I think it’s fun and interesting. I have seen several Fowler’s Toads hanging about in various places this week. I like toads. They are good for gardens.
Seeing the toad on a foggy morning stirred memories of a childhood vacation. Actually, since only my parents, my younger sister, and I had been on that vacation (our older siblings having moved out by then), it must have been when I was in my late teens. We stayed at a campground on the coast of Lake Michigan. Steep stairs led from the campground to the beach and from the beach we could see a pretty lighthouse. The lighthouse didn’t seem to be very far away–maybe a mile or two–so I suggested that we walk to it the next morning. I’ve always loved walking in beautiful places, even as a child. My family thought that was a splendid idea!
The next morning we eagerly set off down the beach. It was extremely foggy–so foggy that there were no landmarks to tell us where we were or how much progress we had made. It was very surreal. The only noises we could hear was the muted sounds of our own voices, the gentle murmur of the waves of Lake Michigan washing the shore, and the deep warning of the foghorn sounding from the lighthouse. It all added to the sense of magic, mystery, and adventure. It was beautiful.
We walked and walked and walked. We got tired, but we still walked and walked and walked. The fog blinded us, and the sound of the foghorn seemed to grow no closer. Our energy seeped away, but still we walked. What we didn’t realize until later was that hidden between our campground and the lighthouse was a bay that curved inward, so what looked like a short morning walk was actually more like a ten-mile hike. Everyone started out the morning exclaiming “What a good idea we had to walk to the lighthouse!” but they ended up refusing to look at me and grumbling, “What a terrible idea you had, TJ!” The next day we all groaned with the sore muscles that crippled us. But I’m still glad we went on the walk. It was awesome!
Halfway through the walk to the lighthouse, I had to go pee. Really badly. There were no bathrooms nearby that we could see, but I merely stepped away into the thick fog until it wrapped me in privacy. When I finished, I looked up and saw the hugest frog ever sitting in the sand. I was amazed! I hurried back to my still-at-that-time-speaking-to-me family, and told them excitedly, “There is a GIANT frog over there!” I tried to lead them back to where I had seen it, but I couldn’t find it. It had vanished in the mysterious fog.
In the years since then, I have sometimes wondered if I really did see a frog that big. Maybe, in the fog, I had just imagined it? I mean, no one else in my family had seen it, I’ve never heard of anyone describing such a large frog, and it’s hard to believe that I actually did see a giant frog on the shores of Lake Michigan. Yet…how could I imagine a frog that I couldn’t imagine would be so big? This week when I was reading information about toads/frogs in the hope of identifying the ones in our Enchanted Forest, I read on the Michigan Department of Natural Resources site that bullfrogs can become as large as 8 inches. I got out my measuring tape and stretched it to 8 inches. Yup. That could have been the size of the frog I saw so long ago. I learned that the range of bullfrogs is statewide, but their numbers have been reduced due to over-harvesting for “frog legs” and now they are rare over much of state. That might be why I’ve never heard of anyone else seeing such a huge frog. Did you know that bullfrogs can eat small birds???
Tuesday when JJ returned from his college classes, he pulled me outside to show me the millipede that was in our driveway near our front porch. We stood and marveled over it. We weren’t sure at first that it was alive, but then we saw it move. It had curled up to protect itself. It was the largest millipede any of us have ever seen. It was rather beautiful. I have a sort of love/hate relationship with insects–or rather a tolerance/hate relationship with them. Spiders and ticks are closer to the “hate” side. I do not like any insect in my personal space, but I can appreciate how interesting they can be.
As JJ and I admired the millipede, I thought about how glad I am that all three of us always enjoy the beauty and wonder of small common things. Actually, we see nothing common in common things. It makes me think of a favorite poem by Elizabeth Barrett Browning:
Earth’s crammed with heaven,
And every common bush afire with God;
But only he who sees, takes off his shoes,
The rest sit round it and pluck blackberries,
And daub their natural faces unaware.
Throughout this week, I have been enjoying the Monarch Butterflies and Hummingbirds visiting the white butterfly bush near the big bush. Several times I tried to grow a butterfly bush in our garden downstate, but I was unsuccessful. Our property downstate was mostly shady so we had trouble growing flowery plants. There were two butterefly bushes already growing at our house here in Northern Michigan when we moved in, one white and one purple. I love it. There were so many things that we loved already in place at our new house–like four lilac bushes of (instead of one) and several climbing roses.
Yesterday evening just after dark, we heard a terrible caterwauling. Coyotes! EJ and I went outside to double-check that the coop was shut up tight and that Annie our cat was safely in the garage. The coyotes sounded as if they were just inside the forest.
Monday is Labor Day so EJ has it off. He is hoping to take tomorrow off as a vacation day so he can have a four-day weekend. We don’t yet know if he has it off, but if he does, we would like to get projects done–like finally painting the kitchen.
I Was There
I like witnessing and being a part of history. I remember my Mom making us kids watch President Nixon’s resignation speech years ago. She made us watch it because “it is history.” I was too young at the time to appreciate it, but now I can say that I watched his speech at the time it aired. I remember when the first man walked on the moon. I remember the first color TV I saw and what I watched that day. I remember the shock when President Reagan was shot. I was watching TV as the space shuttle Challenger exploded. I remember where I was and what I was doing when New York’s twin towers fell on 9-11. I made a point of watching Prince William and Kate’s wedding on TV because “it is history.” Although I live too far north to have seen the recent eclipse, I watched it on-line and listened to friends’ firsthand descriptions because “it is history.”
As JJ was growing up, I also sometimes would tell him to remember this or that event because “it is history.” What happens today is tomorrow’s history–whether in the world or in our own lives. I think teachers make a mistake when they teach history as a bunch of dates and events, wars and laws that students are expected to regurgitate. This view of history makes it boring. History is actually the personal stories of people–how events affected them, how they dealt with it, how one thing caused another. Maybe teaching JJ about what history really is about is why he loves history so much. (JJ walked in while I was reading this paragraph to EJ and he agreed, passionately listing the reasons he loved history. We ended up having a family conversation about our love of history.)
Big events are history, but so are small ones that seem not worth noticing. I often think of Laura Ingalls Wilder’s stories. At the time she lived them, they were common little events and tasks that everyone knew about and knew how to do and which weren’t worth writing about. However, she preserved those boring little things and they became fascinating glimpses of past life to future generations.
I like hearing older people talk about their early lives. We once visited an older couple from our church. We sat on the large porch of their old farmhouse sipping lemonade on a summer afternoon and the husband told us stories of what it was like in the early days of automobiles. Whenever they drove the short distance into town in their Model A, he said, their tires kept blowing out and they had to keep stopping every few miles to patch them up. It was during the Depression and no one had money to buy new tires so they had to make do with what they had.
EJ talks now and then about the Beecher Tornado in Flint, Michigan. It was an F5 tornado which occurred on Monday, June 8, 1953. It remained on the ground for 27 miles. Wikipedia says that “It ranks as one of the top ten single deadliest tornadoes in United States history. The tornado was one of eight tornadoes that touched down the same day in eastern lower Michigan and northwest Ohio.” There were 116 fatalities, 844 injuries, and almost 350 houses destroyed. EJ’s grandmother was one of the injured; she spent six weeks in the hospital recovering from her injuries. His mother was babysitting some children at their (the children’s) house. They all survived but the house next door was blown away as if it had never existed. The whole family was killed. EJ’s father was coming home from work when he saw a flock of strange birds flapping their wings as they circled in the sky–only to realize with horror that they weren’t birds at all, but the roofs of houses picked up by the tornado. The Beecher Tornado is not only part of EJ’s family history, it is also part of the city’s history, as well as part of Michigan’s history. A few years ago people started recording the stories of Beecher Tornado survivors because they were getting old and many had died. One survivor was 17 at the time the tornado hit. Sixty years later and the memories are still fresh. “I remember it as if it was yesterday. It’s like it was burned into my memory,” she said. “A tragedy of a tornado, you never forget. I’m 77 and I never forget.”
Even though it happened years before EJ was born, the Beecher Tornado has affected him through his parents and grandmother. He loves watching weather as much as I do, but he is very careful about preparing for serious storms. Through EJ, the Beecher Tornado has become part of my history, and it has been passed down to JJ as well.
I write my blog about common events in my life because of people like Laura Ingalls Wilder, the old man we attended church with, and EJ’s family. Someday maybe the boring events of my life might give glimpses into the past to future generations. In fact, I have a friend who lives in a large city who already finds my way of life interesting because it is so different from hers. If nothing else, I can remind myself of the events of my life when I am older.
For me, Hurricane Harvey falls into the same category: a historical event, a personal history that I witnessed and (in a secondhand way) became involved in. I can say, “I remember where I was, and what was happening, and what I did, and what I felt at the time of Hurricane Harvey. It affected me because my friends were there.”
So I spent the morning writing about my friends’ experience with Harvey–and through them, my own experience. I started out intending to write it for this blog. I think it’s a historical story, an exciting story, and an inspiring story of danger and courage that others would find interesting. I wanted to write it down while the details were fresh because memories tend to quickly fade.
Halfway through, I found myself actually writing for my own benefit and for the benefit of my friends–so we and they could add it to our personal histories that we could pass down to our children and grandchildren, who might someday find it as fascinating as I do EJ’s family history of the Beecher Tornado. I added personal details in my friend’s own words before they were deleted or forgotten…because it’s history.
I finished and, tired and not thinking, I clicked “published.”
And then I gasped and removed the post from public view as quickly as I could. I had asked my friend if I could share her photos (she said yes), but I hadn’t yet asked if I could share other things. I had meant to let her read it first. I didn’t want to risk sharing anything that would make her feel uncomfortable, even though I think her texts during Harvey were powerful, interesting, courageous, inspiring, and filled with humor and faith. If she gives me permission, I will share our Harvey story. If she doesn’t, I will keep it a private post so only we, they, and those we personally decide to share it with can access it.
Sorry.
The Face of My Friend
I have a friend in Texas who lives along the Gulf of Mexico and was unable to evacuate before Hurricane Harvey hit. She said that Harvey came in as a tropical storm and the worse that he was supposed to get is a Category 1. They get Cat 1 storms all the time–they aren’t that bad. My friends have ALWAYS left when hurricanes are worse and evacuations have been ordered because they feel that their home is not worth their lives. However, this storm quickly went from Cat 1 to Cat 4. By the time evacuations were ordered, it was already too late for them to get to safety. Also, her husband was called in to work when Harvey was a Cat 1 and now he can’t leave to get back to his wife so they are separated. Her town is now completely surrounded by water and more rain is expected. In fact, Harvey is expected to go back out into the Gulf–where he could gain strength–before heading back into land.
The good thing is that my friends lives at the highest point in the town so she’s not yet flooded and her neighborhood is one of the few in town who still has power. However, with more rain expected I’m so very worried about her. I tell her to check in with me often so I know she’s ok. God is actually taking care of her in amazing ways. For example, a utility worker stopped by today and told her that her neighbors on either side of her lost power–but she never did. Her husband’s company ran out of food for the employees because Harvey is staying around longer than most hurricanes. However, a grocery store is sending in food for them, even though most grocery stores have closed because of the storm.
I was thinking this afternoon that when there is a disaster–like Hurricane Harvey–our hearts genuinely have compassion for all the people who are suffering such calamity. However, the scope of devastation and the suffering of people can become overwhelming so we almost grow numb to it–too many faceless strangers suffering too much. But the anguish and anxiety becomes much sharper when a loved one is suffering in the midst of it all. It’s like no one else matters in the whole universe except the safety and well-being of my friend. But, then, somehow, that anguish broadens to include everyone who is experiencing the suffering. It’s like the people whose towns are surrounded by water, the people trapped on their roofs waiting for rescue, the people who whose houses are destroyed…each one is no longer a nameless stranger. They each could be my friend–it could be her with a flooded house sitting on her roof hoping to be rescued. So in a way everyone IS her–everyone is wearing her face. Instead of being numbed by the magnitude of suffering, I find myself anguished about everyone as if they were my friend. I don’t know if that makes sense, and I don’t know if I’m putting into words exactly what I mean.
In Michigan, we had beautiful sunny skies yesterday and a brief period of rain today.
Yesterday, we had the doe and her two fawns appear to nibble at our garden. Later the flock of turkeys came over the hill and meandered along the edge of the forest to the back yard and disappeared into the trees. I could tell when the duck saw the turkeys because they all went to the fence and watched them.
Several times when I went into the back yard, I noticed Shelob sitting at the entrance of her lair. As soon as she saw me–when I was about 6 (maybe 10) feet away–she would zip back into her hole. I thought, “Good, good. She is keeping her part of our pact. She is keeping out of my way. So far, we are co-existing.”
I went into our bedroom a little later on Saturday and looked out the window at the ducks. I suddenly decided to use my camera to zoom in on Shelob. She was sitting at the entrance to her hole again. So I called to EJ, handed him the binoculars we keep handy so we can better see wildlife, and told him to look. He was amazed at how big she was. I said, “I told you she was huge!” He decided to go outside to get a look at her. I remained in our bedroom and started videoing. I had to zoom in very far which makes it difficult to keep the camera still–every movement is magnified. I kept videoing until Shelob saw EJ and zipped into her hole. She sure is fast!
This morning EJ and I went to Goodwill because I needed to buy a belt. One the way, EJ took a detour down a road to a boat launch at one of the lakes. We drove past a huge field of sunflowers. EJ estimated that that particular field was about 80 acres and he said that there is another sunflower field close by that is 100 acres. It was stunning to see so many sunflowers. I’ve never before seen so many.
As EJ drove along, I saw a hawk (or something similar) on the telephone line. It was intently looking down. I pointed it out to EJ. Suddenly, the hawk dropped straight down onto it’s lunch. It was quite a sight.
We had fun at Goodwill. It’s one of our favorite low-cost things to do. We had fun. I was able to buy a couple belts, and we found a few other things. I found a hoodie with the city name on it. I’m always looking for shirts with names of Northern Michigan attractions and towns…because I’m now a “local” and proud of it. It’s very frustrating when we find mostly shirts from downstate–like MSU or or schools/towns from where we used to live. EJ said that if we want Northern Michigan shirts, we need to buy them downstate.
After Goodwill, we went grocery shopping at the store near us. One of the employees (he might be a manager) said he heard that JJ was coming back to work there. I verified that JJ was. He said he was really glad. JJ starts his fall college classes tomorrow morning and returns to work at the grocery store soon.
It’s kind of interesting when we go to our little local grocery store because we are not merely customers. We have a special status because JJ works there and we are his parents. The store employees always greet us very warmly.
When we got back home and had eaten lunch, EJ went out to work on the Buggy while I washed dishes and laundry. We took time out to play our two-hole putt-putt course.
I Love To Go A Gardening 