I Love To Go A Gardening
Growing Our Life in Northern Michigan
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.
The Mystery of the Missing Cucumbers
At the beginning of summer, I was absolutely craving cucumbers so we bought a couple plants. All summer long, I have been waiting for cucumbers to ripen. When one ripened, I would carefully carry it into the kitchen, cut it into slices, sprinkle the slices with salt and pepper, and savor each delicious mouthful.
Every few days I’d walk out to the garden to see if any more had ripened. Sometimes I felt a bit confused because I thought there had been more growing than I found. I thought, “Huh. I must have miscounted.” I was just thinking this morning that I was very disappointed in the number of cucumbers we had this year.
Then I discovered that I have not been miscounting at all. I happened to glance out of our bedroom window this afternoon and saw the criminal mastermind and her two apprentices.
While I watched, the deer also ate our sunflower plant. Not a huge loss because there wasn’t even a flower on it yet, and there’s not enough time left this summer for there to be one, but still….I suppose that at least we can find the vulnerabilities in our garden and try to tighten up security for next year.
This is likely the same doe who warned me away from her fawns when I encountered them at Rabbit Meadow at the end of June. This is the clearest view I have had of the fawns. I love watching the deer…even if they steal from the garden.
While I was out in the garden this afternoon, I discovered a few more thieves. I had to laugh when I saw them. They think they are being so sneaky, but they are really quite bumbling and obvious.
Why is it that the “beneficial” critters are ugly and scary like Shelob, and the thieves are so adorable that I have to resist hugging them and giving them everything they want?
To Be Or Not To Be
I’m a member of a homestead group in which members share about their “little slice of heaven” and ask for and give advice. Last night someone (I can’t remember who) shared a photo of his leg where he (or she?) had been bitten by a spider. It looked like a large, nasty bruise. Another person shared a similar photo of a spider bite, which was taken after days of antibiotics because the bite had gotten infected. The likely suspect was a wolf spider, which they both believed had bit them at night as they lay in their beds. One of them said that he (or she) could see the marks of the spider’s fangs. EEEEEKKKKK! I lay in bed staring terrified into the darkness, and I began to have a dialogue with myself about the fate of Shelob, much like Gollum did when he debated with himself over whether to kill the “nasty hobbitses.”
People say that Wolf Spiders are nonaggressive, nonthreatening but Shelob’s very existence terrifies me. I hates them. I hates her.
Shelob is staying in her hole but can I trust her to remain there? What if she leaves and gets into the house, crawls onto the bed, and bites me! I can’t forget what the photos of the wolf spider bites looked like–or that one person said there were fang marks! Fangs! Like a vampire or a werewolf!
People say that wolf spiders are beneficial and eat “bad” insects. But exactly who determines which creepy-crawlies are “good” and which are “bad”? Shelob looks pretty villainous to me. What terrible things are out there that are worse than her so that she is good in comparison???
I decided in the dark of night that as soon as EJ left for work the next morning, I would kill Shelob. All I would have to do is pour a little toxic potion (like half a bottle) into the hole. Then she would be dead, and so (I hopefully assumed) would her egg sack be, and I wouldn’t have to fear her or her millions of children. EJ reminded me last night that Shelob will die soon anyway–in the autumn. He was trying to reassure me that I didn’t need to kill her, but I thought that “What did it matter if I killed her? All I would be doing is ending her life a little sooner.”
I felt like both Sam and Frodo arguing over Gollum’s fate. Gollum reminds me of Shelob. He even looks like a spider. Sometimes I am determined that Shelob should die, other times I think that now that I’ve seen her, for some reason, I pity her.
Despite my night-time decision to kill Shelob, when I went out to release the ducks and chickens from their coop this morning, I stopped at her lair. Shelob had done more repair work so that the entrance was built up like a chimney. And there was something white-ish lining the entrance. Is she using some sort of webbing to shore up the entrance so it doesn’t crumble? This is rather interesting. I have a unique opportunity to observe a creature in nature. Ok, so I will honor our Non-Agression Pact and let Shelob live. Today…today she lives.
I wonder if I would have been so eager to moved up North if I had known that there were very scary spiders up here. I wondered how far north a person would have to move before it became too cold for spiders to exist? Or does even the cold arctic have spiders–ferocious abominable snow spiders?
I decided that I would still have moved to Northern Michigan because this area is magical. There is so much to love–the forests, and lakes, and flowers, and deer, and turkeys, and rabbits, and much, much more. This morning I noticed dew-covered dandelions gone to seed, and grass covered with dew, and a pretty yellow flower. I enjoyed watching the rouen ducks splashing in their pool. (Click on photos to appreciate the detail.)
Every Eden has a snake, every superhero has his nemesis, and every Enchanted Forest has a giant spider. That’s just the way it is.
After EJ and JJ left for work this morning, I went out to the garage and found the orange extension cord. I snaked it through the little garage window and into the coop, and plugged in the Christmas lights. I have three strands of Christmas lights, but after making sure that they all worked, I kept only one plugged in–the one lighting the chicken side of the coop. The chickens laid only four eggs yesterday, so I wanted to see if they will lay more with extra light. They laid six eggs today, but I don’t know if it was the result of the lights.
The temperatures dropped low enough over night that I definitely needed a sweatshirt this morning. Brrrr. It warmed up some, but was still rather cool-ish. I liked it. It was absolutely perfect weather for mowing the lawn. When I mowed close to Shelob’s lair, I think the vibration of the mower and the grass bits blowing into her hole disturbed her because she poked her head out. “Don’t you dare come out. Don’t you dare,” I warned. She didn’t.
Our Non-aggression Pact seems to be holding for another day.
Please pray for the people experiencing Hurricane Harvey’s fury.
Non-Aggression Pact
I thought about Shelob, the monstrous spider, all day yesterday. I was born and raised and have lived in Michigan all my life, and never have I seen spiders as big as the ones I’ve found up here in Northern Michigan. The spiders downstate scared me, the large wolf spiders in the north are terrifying, and Shelob is so big that she is beyond horrifying.
Still, by late afternoon I had decided that maybe I wouldn’t kill Shelob because in the three summers we have lived here in the Enchanted Forest, I have not seen any sign whatsoever of Shelob or her relatives. I never suspected that she even existed until I flooded her home. It would indicate that she is not aggressive. In fact, I’m the one that invaded her space, not the other way around. So if she stays out of sight and doesn’t threaten my space, maybe we can co-exist. JJ stated, “So you are making a Nonaggression Pact with her.” Exactly.
But last night, I lay in bed with wide eyes, remembering…Not only did some of my family watch scary Saturday movies of monstrous giant spiders terrorizing a community, not only did giant villainous spiders attack innocent dwarves traveling through Enchanted Forests, but there was a period in which detective/crime shows all seemed to have episodes in which a Bad Guy would place or send a tarantula in a box to a victim he wanted to threaten. The tarantula always got out of the box, and it always sloooowly crawled across the bed toward the unsuspecting sleeping victim. It traumatized me for a lifetime. Last night in the dark I thought, “Oh, yikes, if I woke up to find Shelob sloooowly crawling across the bed toward me, I would freaking lose my mind.
This morning I told EJ that I really wasn’t sure if I could allow Shelob to live. EJ said, “Will it help to remember that cooler weather is coming and she will die soon?” Yeah, but her children will live on. I will never forget how she popped out of her hole and landed with a thud on the grass. Never. I’m still traumatized by Shelob. Every stick is a snake, every fluff of dog hair scurrying across the floor (Danny sheds a lot) is a spider, every hole is a lair, and everything I don’t see is something in hiding waiting to pounce.
Every time I’ve gone out to the duck pen, I’ve checked the hole and it is definitely as small as it was before I flooded it. I really don’t know how that HUGE spider can get out of that little hole to nab her prey. I found an old garden sign and I wrote Shelob’s name on it and stuck it in the ground hear her hole–mostly just for a laugh, but also so I won’t forget it’s there and accidentally walk too close. I meant to stick it closer to the hole, but it took all my courage to place it where I did.
I think Shelob’s life hangs by a thread. Our Non-aggression Pact has to be renewed daily.
Yesterday EJ said that he had the Suburban’s window open and he felt something go into his ear as he was driving home from work. After supper he got a Q-tip rubbed it in his ear and pulled out a ladybug. Ugh. That reminded me that when JJ went to his doctor last year, the doctor told him that in the other exam room they had just pulled out a spider that had crawled into a kid’s ear. Yikes!
Last night Michigan’s Upper Peninsula was so cold that they had frost. We didn’t get that cold last night, although it was definitely sweatshirt weather today. Areas in Northern Michigan could get frost tonight. We don’t seem to be in the bull’s-eye area, but that’s not saying that we couldn’t get it. I’m not sure what it would do to our garden. Most of our tomatoes are still green, the cabbage hasn’t formed heads yet, there’s baby zucchini and squash not big enough to pick, and I haven’t harvested all my herbs. I put a couple of things in the dehydrators today, and then one dehydrator quit working. I need more time to harvest before any frost hits.
I also began freezing some of the chicken eggs in case the chickens stop laying in the winter. I found only four chicken eggs today. I hope they aren’t slacking off already!
Please pray for the people in Texas as Hurricane Harvey moves in. I have a dear friend down there. I’m rather concerned about her.
Shelob’s Lair
When EJ got home from work yesterday, he opened our bedroom window. As soon as I saw that it was opened, I closed it again. Sometimes he grumbles a bit that I shut the windows at night. He would at least like to keep our bedroom window open. Last year we replaced three of our windows, but our bedroom has one of the two windows that need still replacing. The screens don’t fit tightly and there’s a small gap at the bottom. I close it because I don’t want insects crawling in at night. After reading that Wolf Spiders are active at night, and with a giant Wolf Spider’s lair just a few feet from our bedroom window, I feel completely justified in closing the window at night.
I have been suffering from residual fear since my encounter with the scary spider yesterday. Terror has coiled in my stomach and tensed all my muscles. If I see, hear, or feel anything unexpected–a clump of dirt, a wisp of pet hair drifting across the floor–I jump like a scared cat. Occasionally–like yesterday evening–I go through the house spraying spider spray anywhere I think might hide spiders.
I think spiders stir up deep fears, which may be why so many horror stories and fairy tales feature spiders. I remember the Saturday afternoon horror movies of my childhood in which a giant spider would terrorize a community. I never liked horror/monster movies and avoided them if I could, but I had older siblings who watched them. Enchanted Forests always have big scary spiders–like the spiders Bilbo and the dwarves became entangled with in The Hobbit. And there’s Shelob, the huge spider that almost killed Frodo in The Lord of the Rings:
“But still, she [Shelob] was there, who was there before Sauron, and before the first stone of Barad-dûr; and she served none but herself, drinking the blood of Elves and Men, bloated and grown fat with endless brooding on her feasts, weaving webs of shadow; for all living things were her food, and her vomit darkness.“—The Two Towers, Lord of the Rings
This morning when I walked out to the coop to release the ducks and chickens, I took a flashlight with me even though it was light enough not to need one. I swept its light back and forth in front of me, hoping to see and avoid the spider if she was out there. She was large enough for a person to trip over. She was large enough that a person could put a leash on her and take her for a walk if they wanted to, although I think only evil villains would want to. I shared her photo in the bug identification group at Facebook and a few people said she was beautiful. I think that only people who have gone over to the Dark Side would find such a monster beautiful. Their secret “real” names are probably something like “Maleficient,” “Cruella,” “Sauron,” or “The Wicked Witch of the West.”
I decided to call the spider Shelob. I didn’t see any movement in the grass this morning. After I let the ducks and chickens out of the coop, I went over to look at the hole of Shelob’s lair. I seem to have developed some sort of a horrified attraction to it. In fact, I am now watching apprehensively for holes–any and all holes–on our property. There is a fist-sized hole at the base of one of the rock dams I built along the driveway. I’m staying well away from it. If a little finger-sized hole can contain a spider as large as Shelob, can you imagine what could lurk in a fist-sized hole?
I have gone out to look at the hole to Shelob’s lair several times throughout the day. I can see the indentation where the hole had flooded and caved in, but it’s filling in, and the hole itself is growing smaller and smaller, back to what it was before I flooded it yesterday. I’m sure that Shelob has returned home and is repairing her lair.
This presents me with a moral dilemma: Do I kill Shelob or let her live?
I have no reluctance about killing spiders. In fact, yesterday I moved the bird bath from near the big rocks over to the flower garden near the house. After I moved it, I found a tiny Black Widow spider on it. I went right into the house, grabbed JJ’s handheld bug zapper racket, and killed it without any hesitation. I had always read that Michigan had Black Widows, but I never saw one until we moved north. I never suspected Michigan had tarantula-sized spiders either until we moved north. I would think we’d have fewer scary insects in the colder north, not more.
I don’t why I feel hesitant about killing Shelob. I can’t believe I’m not going right out there and immediately spraying her lair with my death spray. She is huge, ugly, and scary like a tarantula. Knowing she exists is terrifying. Spiders have millions of babies. Knowing she will reproduce others of her kind is absolutely horrifying.
But it’s always been my policy, that if a spider (or other creepy crawly) is in my territory–which includes my body, personal space, and house–then it will die. I’ve always left them alone if they were in their own territory, which is outside and not on or near me, and if they are not a poisonous, venomous threat. In the three summers that we’ve lived in Northern Michigan, I’ve never seen any sign of a spider that size, including after I noticed the hole. So maybe I shouldn’t kill her. I probably shouldn’t have given the spider a name because it makes her seem more personable so it feels as if I would be murdering E.T. or something. Or maybe every hero needs an arch-enemy.
What do you think? Feel free to share your reasons for your decision as well.
Dr. Frankenstein’s Monster
Yesterday was very humid–I think it might have been the hottest day this summer. A storm moved in about 8 p.m. It was a little early, but I went out to put the poultry to bed before the storm got too bad. The chickens all went into the coop themselves when it began to storm so all I had to do was shut their little door. The ducks stayed out in the rain until I herded them into the coop. They might not mind the rain, but I didn’t want to be out in pouring rain.
The storm cooled everything down so that the temperatures today were in the 60s. It felt more like late September than late August! That doesn’t bother me–I prefer jeans and sweatshirt weather. It rained a little bit at around 10 a.m., but other than that we just had dark dramatic clouds lumbering across the sky through much of the day. They made the day dimmer than what we experienced during the eclipse.
This morning I went outside to work on the injured wire deer. With it laying on the table, I felt a bit like Dr. Frankenstein putting together his monster. I successfully put the deer together although I had some pieces left over. I think they were merely part of a stand to hold the leaping deer up, but I suspect some of the pieces were missing because I couldn’t make sense of any of them. None of them logically fit together. Oh, well.
After I got the deer fixed up, I released it into the wild. It happily leaped off into the Enchanted Forest. I felt very satisfied.
Putting together the pieces of the deer this morning made me feel a bit like Dr. Frankenstein. But then this afternoon I saw Frankenstein’s monster for real. It scared me so much that I trembled and I almost had a heart attack.
You know how in the scary movies, someone hears a strange noise or sees something weird and he/she walks toward it to investigate? And you, the watcher, knowing that it’s a terrible monster or serial killer lurking in the shadows, want to shout a warning: “Don’t! Danger! Run!”
My story is something like that.
For weeks I’ve been seeing a hole in the ground not far from the gate to the duck pen. I’ve been wondering what lived in it. A snake? A spider? A cicada? An unusual insect? Nothing? Whatever it was–if it was anything–it had to be relatively small because the hole was just the diameter of my finger. Nothing to worry about.
This afternoon when I went out to gather eggs and refill water buckets, I noticed the hole again and my curiosity overcame me.
Someone should have been there to warn: “Don’t! Danger! Run!”
I had the garden hose in my hand and, standing a couple feet away just to be safe, I directed the stream of water at the hole. The hole filled and crumbled into a bigger hole, and water began to geyser up into the air.
Suddenly, up popped a body…a very large ugly body. It was the largest, ugliest spider I had ever seen. It made the large wolf spiders I’ve seen look small and cute. (Not really–wolf spiders will never be cute.) I just about had heart failure. I began to tremble and felt like fainting, vomiting, and pooping my pants all at the same time. I ran into the house for the spider spray–and my camera.
As I walked through the garage, I was filled with indecision: The spider was outside, not in the house. Maybe I shouldn’t spray it. What if an animal I liked–wild or domesticated–ate its toxic dead body and died? I left the bottle of spray in the garage and went outside.
When the spider had popped out of the hole, it had landed on its back. When I got back outside, I saw it turn itself over. It was ALIIIIIVE!
YIKES!
It began to crawl towards the house. That does it! I took a photo of it and then ran into the garage and grabbed the bottle of spray.
When I got back outside, it was gone! I fearfully looked around, but it had disappeared! Vanished! The only thing worse than a spider I see is one that I know is there but can’t find!
YIKES!
I went up to our bedroom window and sprayed. Then I ran inside the house to the bedroom window, and sprayed again from the inside. Then I shut and locked the window.
Enchanted Forests always have wonderful, magical things it them. But they also always have evil giant spiders in them. Always.
When I told my horror story to my guys, they laughed at me. They are no comfort–no comfort at all. I texted my friend, who recommended that we burn our house down and start over from scratch. She totally gets it.
I’m trying to find the identity of the spider so I know just how much more terrified of it to be. Is it going to shoot venom at me? Or wrap me in its web and hang me from the trees? (Where is Bilbo’s “sting” when I need it?). Will it latch onto my head and suck out my brains?
I’m asking a bug identification group at Facebook if they know what it is. I’ll post what it is when I find out. Some guesses are a Burrowing Wolf Spider or a Carolina Wolf Spider. I read that the Carolina Wolf Spider is “the largest ‘wolf spider’ in North America. Females reach 22-35 millimeters in body length. Their leg span is greater still. This spider may hunt actively at night, or wait in ambush at the mouth of its burrow, where it hides during the day. Adult males may wander indoors during mating season.”
About wolf spiders, in general, I read:
Wolf spiders or lycosids are fairly common predators that feed on large insects and other spiders. They are not known to be aggressive, but they will bite in self-defense if handled roughly. Their venom is not particularly dangerous.
Most lycosids do not construct snares (webs) but hunt their prey on the move like wolves do (hence their common name). Some live in burrows in the ground and ambush their prey as it crawls past the opening of the burrow. Wolf spiders are usually a shock to people who are unfamiliar with them because of their large size and some have mistaken them for an escaped pet tarantula. Others are concerned that they might be the brown recluse spider which is not known to occur in Michigan. Most wolf spiders hunt at night but occasionally they can be found during the day. Female wolf spiders carry their young on their backs for a considerable time after they hatch. Wolf spiders normally enter the house near ground level and are normally encountered in basements, crawlspaces, and breezeways. These spiders occur in very low numbers, and usually homeowners encounter only one or two of them.
Yeah, they look like tarantulas. They are freaking terrifying! And who, seriously, “handles” a huge ugly wolf spider, roughly or not????
YIKES!
Eclipse 2017 – Northern Michigan
Today was THE day. The BIG day. The day that the solar eclipse traveled across the USA.
We weren’t anywhere near the full path in Northern Michigan, but we were supposed to be able to see about 75% of it. At first very cloudy skies were forecasted–like 80-90% cloud cover–but as the day neared, the forecast changed. I don’t know if technically we had partly cloudy skies or partly sunny skies, or mostly sunny–and I didn’t risk looking at the sky so I don’t actually know how many clouds we had–but I know we had far fewer clouds than originally forecast.
I had learned that a person could see the eclipse using a colander. The sun shining through the colander on a white piece of paper would act sort of like a pinhole viewer. EJ told me where I could find a couple old colanders in the garage, so I went searching for them and found them. I got some white paper from Ms. Pennyweather, which is what we call our secretary (the desk, not the person). I set the colander and paper up in the sun on the deck. The light from the holes blinked off and on, dim then bright, as clouds moved across the sky. I watched and watched the light from the colander, but I never did see any sign of the eclipse. I did think the pattern of light through the colander was interesting.
I know many people were concerned that the eclipse might damage the eyes of their animals, and if they were concerned, there was certainly no harm in keeping their pets inside. However, I have lived through the 1979 eclipse and many other partial eclipses, and I never even heard a rumor that the eclipse could hurt animals. I would think that it would be big news if it did because there would be hundreds (or thousands) of blind wildlife crashing about. So I wasn’t worried about my animals. On hot and humid days like today, I keep the coop doors open for air circulation. I thought that shutting my birds up in a stifling coop would cause them more suffering than damage from the eclipse. I did go check on the ducks and chickens a couple of times to see if the eclipse would make them act strangely, but I saw no change in their behavior.
I’ve seen awesome photos of the eclipse that other Michiganders took, but I didn’t want to risk ruining my camera by trying to get a photo of it. EJ actually got a photo with his phone through a welding lens at work. However, the only thing that I, myself, noticed was the light getting dimmer for a bit–but no more than it usually does on a cloudy day in Michigan. We get a lot of cloudy days because of the Great Lakes.
Although I saw little signs of the eclipse, I did watch it on NASA’s live stream on Facebook. I set my laptop near the window so I could hear it through the open window while I sat out on the deck. However, during the full eclipse in other areas, I came inside to watch it…and to cool off.
It was awesome to watch the beautiful eclipse and I was almost envious of those who actually got to experience it. I say “almost envious” because I wasn’t seriously envious. Sometimes I’m in the right place to view celestial events, and sometimes I am not–that’s just the way it is. I’m glad all those people got to experience it. And although I often see memes at Facebook that say, “I’m glad I grew up in a world without technology,” the truth is that without technology, I would not have been able to experience even secondhand the awesome eclipse. I was just glad for technology that allowed me to see it on-line.
I have always loved to witness “historic events” and the eclipse certainly was historic. Even though I didn’t get to witness the eclipse firsthand, I can tell stories to my someday grandchildren of what I know of the event–my own memories as well as the stories my friend who lives in Oregon in the path of the eclipse shared. For several months she has been posting on Facebook information about the eclipse–such as that campgrounds and motels were booked solid for months, that authorities were warning residents to stock up on gas and necessities because of the expected thousands expected to flood into the area, that there were people from all over the world visiting the area, and there were miles-long traffic jams. It was very interesting.
Speaking of historic eclipses, today I came across a video on Facebook of Walter Cronkite, the CBS news anchor who I grew up watching, reporting on the last solar eclipse in 1979. It was fun to see it:
A Michigan weather Facebook page just shared that 2024 is going to be an even better eclipse show for those of us in Michigan than this year’s because the majority of Michigan will see 90-98% of totality. That’s cool and something to look forward to!
