from the porches

katie

Late yesterday afternoon my neice, Lyla, and her husband, David, and their two year old son, Lucas, were broadsided by a truck.  David's car was totaled and David and Lucas had cuts and bruises.  Lyla, who was eight months pregnant was hospitalized.  They suspected a broken foot, but the major issue was the decision to do a c-section and take the baby a month early.

Katie Temple was removed from the womb, weighing 5 lbs. 14 oz.  I've spoken to Sherry and she says the baby is doing well, and will remain in the hospital until the doctor feels she can go home.  So this post is dedicated to Katie Temple, who will have quite a story to tell about her birth for years to come.

    

Welcome Katie Temple.  I look forward to meeting you. 

                                         Your great Aunt Merry

capturing the cat

      

Aww!  What a cute little kitten.  This is Punky as a kitten, the very same cat I've been trying to capture for months to take to the vet.

      

We've come so far with Punky.  I am now able to rub him when he decides he wants me to; but NO ONE on God's green earth can pick him up without a cat fight.

Well, this morning Punky had to be caught because we think he has a urinary tract infection.  I'm having my floors cleaned this morning and Clay and Clay's friend, Nate, volunteered to catch the cat.  "I'll pay ten dollars extra if you catch him,"  I told the guys.

Their eyes lit up and they blurted,  "We'll do it!  No problem."  That's when I suggested they use a blanket to throw over him because Punky will rip you to shreds if you don't.

Then the chase began.  One guy stood at one end of a couch and shooed Punky toward the other end, blanket ready to throw.  All Punky did was zip across the living room and hide under the other couch.  Meanwhile, I've got the cat carrier ready, door opened, awaiting it's prey.

      

Then the time had arrived.  Punky zipped out, Nate tossed the blanket over him and the stuffing of a cat in the carrier became the only goal.  Clay tried to pick Punky up by the scruff of the neck and literally, all you could see where flailing little cat arms with sharp razors whipping in the air.

All you could hear were screams and hollers from two grown men, but in the end Punky was captured and escorted to Hilltop Animal Hospital in Alachua. 

      

These are some of Nate's wounds.

      

It seems some people will do anything to make a buck. . . uhh. . . ten bucks.

      

Thanks, Clay and Nate.  I'll be buying heavy work gloves for the next time.  And yes, the guys have had their tetanus shots.

 

a break

This morning I caught a break from the morning storms and heavy showers.  Today is Thursday and that has come to mean golf.  Yes, indeed.  My friends and I were able to get in 9 holes of golf without a single drop of rain.  Then the skies broke loose and once again we're getting a soaking.

Here are a couple of pictures for you.

      

                                                       Bricks

        

                                          A limestone wall

      

And a blue building in downtown Fort White, (a little fuzzy, so when the sun shines again I'll stand on the street corner and retake this picture.)

Maybe we'll get sun tomorrow.

biding time

It seems like all I've been doing lately is biding my time until my twin, Sherry, and her family arrive on Saturday.  That's not exactly true because I'm busy puttering around here and there all the time. I say,  "Why clean everyday when I can clean on only one day...with the help of a young woman I hire to do the floors?"  It makes perfect sense to me. 

It has rained hard and steady for three days in a row, with forecasts for rain for several more days.  I can't take beautiful pictures in the gloomy days, so I'll show you things I've taken pictures of while I'm biding my time.

      

                                                 Wood?  Just wood?

Alright.  How about odd rainbow things.

       

       

And finally, a picture of raindrops on the sun roof of my car.

      

I figure if I look hard enough I will find something to photograph.  Hey, at least the temperature these days is a whopping 76 degrees.  You can't beat that for a Florida summer day.

  

old houses

       

There's something about old houses that intrigue me.

      

I especially enjoy trying to see through the windows to see if I can get a feel for the people who once lived in them.

       

I am curious as to why these old houses are abandoned.  Was there a foreclosure on them?  Did the single dweller pass on without family heirs?

      

Were the children of these homes not willing to do the upkeep?  Or were they just too sad to tear down remembrances of their lives?

The next picture shows an old house I photographed in Archer, Florida on our ride back from Gainesville on Sunday.

      

      

Speak to me old house.

pamela

      

This morning I visited my friend, Pamela.  Pamela's children grew up playing with Merry Jennifer and Clay. Even though we live about twelve miles apart, each of our lives have become so busy with work and family and other things, that we rarely see Pamela and Philip.

Visiting Pamela is always a treat.  Her homestead is wild, yet tame in areas.

       

      

I walk cautiously when I'm at Pamela's because Pamela respects all wild critters, whether it's frogs, birds, lizards or snakes.  Often these critters make themselves at home on the porches.

       

                Collections of natural objects fill crooks and crannies.

      

                                            Onion plants air out on a chair.

      

                 Tomatoes ripen among crystals of various shapes and sizes.

      

Pamela personifies the term Mother Earth.  Their family are vegetarian so all the vegetables are grown on their place.

      

As we walked around her yard this morning, I heard bullfrogs croaking in the fern beside this pond.

      

Philip cuts trees for a living and has just recently gone back to work after a terrible accident when a tree jack-knifed and broke several bones in his body.  "Good Morning, Philip."

      

In this photo Pamela and I are sitting at the pool area looking toward their bedroom, a screened-in gazebo.  They both love the night sounds and have slept on mattresses in this gazebo for years.

                

Solar powered icycles collect energy during the day and emit a soft glow at night.

     

After an hour long visit I brought Pamela back to my house so she could see my flowers.  It was the first time in my life I have given Pamel flowers to take home instead of her bringing me flowers.

      

Thanks, Pamela for a wonderful visit and a time to reflect on where we started, both with very young children and both relatively new to the area, and thanks for a chance to feel blessed for all that we have.

          And in the sweetness of friendship

           Let there be laughter, and sharing of pleasures.

           And let there be no purpose in friendship

           Save the deepening of the spirit.

                            .Kahil Gibran

                                    

fireworks

      

                                FIREWORKS!  YEA!  Thanks, Sam.

      

The Fourth of July was jammed pack with fun.  Merry Jennifer, Sam, Oliver, and Maddie arrived at 11:00 A.M.  Then off to the pool we went.  Back for lunch, followed by nap time. 

      

Mom came over for a couple of hours and caught us up on her recent trip to Tennessee for two reunions.  I was flabbergasted by the constant chatter about who she saw and whose kid belonged to whom.  I couldn't keep all those people straight in my mind, but Mom certainly did.  Pretty good for an 85 year old.

      

Mostly during the afternoon we rocked on the front porch and talked.  Then the kids went swimming again about 5:00 P.M., followed by dinner which consisted of burgers, potato salad and silver queen corn.  And I must not forget the rainbow sprinkled cookies.

      

Baths were next on the agenda, followed by fireworks.  Actually, sparklers.

      

      

Only the bravest of us would hold the sparklers.  The rest of us just flinched and enjoyed them.

      

      

I hope your Fourth of July was as good as ours.

      

fourth of july-09

I want to wish everyone a happy and safe Fourth of July holiday. 

      

Yesterday Truett and I were shopping for our Fourth of July cookout later today.  We bought the usual food: hamburgers, buns, potato salad, cookies, cold drinks, etc.  However, the one item we could not find at Winn-Dixie was home-grown silver queen corn.

      

Truett knew just the right place to purchase this corn. . .at an elderly man's garden on the outskirts of High Springs, yet still in the city limits.  The man goes by the name of R.J.

      

Mr. R.J. has been selling his fresh vegetables for twenty-five years or more at all the neighboring farmers' markets.

      

Truett bought firewood from him in the late spring to burn in our fire pit.  But the one unique thing about Mr. R.J.'s small business is that it operates on the honor system.

       

I'm touched by the faith and trust Mr. R.J. has in people. 

      

All we had to do was bag up our corn, roll our $3.00 into a tube, and poke it in the hole in the mailbox.

      

As we drove out of the driveway, I felt proud to be supporting the free enterprise system America values.

Have a great day!

thursday golf

       

Yesterday my friends, Brenda and Lucille and I went golfing at Quail Heights in Lake City.  I was picked up at 7:30 and we were on the tee at 8:15.  Early.  Early.  Early.  That's what you have to do if you live in Florida to beat the heat and high humidity. 

We sprayed down with OFF, climbed in our golf carts, and were off. 

      

I told Lucille I didn't bring my Nikon so I wouldn't be distracted, but then I slipped out my little Canon PowerShot.  Not that taking photos on the golf course hinders my swings. . .I hinder my swings.

       

If you play golf, you understand this little story. Swing!  I hate golf.  Swing!  I hate golf.  Then you swing and the ball soars through the air down the fairway and you exclaim, "I LOVE GOLF!"

      

We all had our good swings and good putts, but most of all we had good fun.

        

Only a couple of times did I say,  "Wait.  Let me get this picture."

      

You can clearly see I was pretty far away from the heron; but I couldn't hold us up with another golf cart stuffed with two elderly men right on our bumper.

      

By eleven o'clock we were hot, sweaty and I was downright exhausted since that's about the most exercise I've gotten since the last time I played golf nine months ago.

Did I tell you I love golf?  I do. Especially with friends who don't keep score, wild animals, and golf carts.  We've vowed to go again next Thursday. 

    

 

the cicada

This morning as I got in my car to head to the bank and post office, I was startled by a cicada planted on my car windshield. The thing was over two and one-half inches long.

      

  "Shoo!"  I said and flapped my hands at it.  But it stayed there with just his antennae waving back and forth, obviously trying to figure out what that monumental thing was doing in front of him.

      

"Well, then.  Have it your way, but I must tell you that we're going to the bank."  And I took off toward town with Mr. Green hanging on for dear life.

 

Then I picked up speed. 

      

"Hang on!"  I hollered.  Check out those anatennae flying behind him in the wind.  "Whee!"  I thought I heard him say.

Truett was with me so I told him to remove the cicada while I was in the bank.  "Not doing it,"  he said.  "All I have to do is swish the wipers once and our problem is solved."

"NO!  You can't do that!"

"Then you'll have to get him off yourself."  Truett answered.

      

So after my banking was done I took the banking slip and tried to slide it under Mr. Green.  I didn't know this before today, but these guys have something akin to suction cups on the bottoms of their feet.  He would not slide.  "Cheeeeeee!"  it hissed.

      

So instead I flicked my wrist and flipped him down between the windshield wipers and car hood.  "Now I've done it,"  I moaned.  So on to the Post Office we went, with me talking about how we could get Mr. Green back to the windshield instead of the hole he was in.

"Well,"  Truett said.  "You'll have to dig him out of there."

"But I may kill him.  We can't just kill him."  I said. 

"Stop worrying about that blankety-blank bug,"  Truett quipped.  Then Truett took heart and said he would get him out when we arrived home.  I was driving my husband crazy.

      

So what does Truett do?  He grabs Mr. Green by an antenna and pulls.  "Oops!"  I heard him murmer.  "I just pulled an antenna off."

"Darn it, Truett.  Why didn't you just pick up his body?"  But I promptly shut my mouth when I saw my husband glaring at me.

      

      

"Done!"  Truett said and flicked the cicada to the ground. . .

      

      

. . .safe and sound, minus one-half of an antenna. 

Do you think Mr. Green learned a lesson today?  I certainly hope so or I'm afraid it will be the windshield wipers next time.