Trying to change the photo on this blog is impossible

 

Well I am frustreated with this blog and once again reminded why I switched to Facebookpostings.  It is faster, easier and nearly everyne I know is there and replies or comments

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Back lawn toward house  Summer atolsice June 20, 2025

I wanted to switch the header image to this one but after several attemps, I quit.  I don't have all day to sit here to try to get this to work.  

Catalpas best kept in memories not in the lawn

Catalpa blooms and leaves

 
Some things are better memories than living with and I have decided that the catalpa trees here are like that. I foolishly let them multiply.  Jerry warned me not to but oh no, I figured they would be dandy shade trees out back. Now 5 years later once again he was right and is shaking his head at me from the Beyond.  I wonder how often he thinks, :I tried to tell you, but you wouldn't listen."  

If trees can hear the catalpas must have heard me talking with Woody on Wednesday that they need to be cut down. He is the local guy who cuts down trees. The catalpas threw a tantrum over night with the storm and scattered their white flowers along with some of their tobacco leaves across the back lawn. I'd let some trees grow from seeds that came from the sole catalpa on the back hill it was nostalgia, I grew up on Catalpa St in New Ken, PA.

A couple years ago the landscaper mentioned that catalpa trees are rarely seen around here. I know why now, they

Catalpa on hill behind tthe pines.  

make a mess. Last winter I got disgusted from constantly picking up their tobies, that's what we called their long skinny seed pods. There were thousands and they were ugly over the snow. So I decided enough of that! They must like the back hill because they have multiplied and thrived. If the wind blew downhill maybe they could remain, but it doesn't. It always blows up hill toward the back lawn and house.

Woody had not seen catalpas and was interested in their flowers and leaves. He remarked on the size of the leaves and asked what the trees were good for. I had to admit, "nothing" far as I know. I did some online research and confirmed that.

So they are going to be taken down. No more mess from them, I have plenty to do with leaves falling. And still picking up the whirlybirds from the millions from the vintage maple . .

Tantrum results covering the
ground like snow

Then and now.....

An interesting process on Facebook (FB) is when it recalls a random photo sharred in the past on the day and invites you to update it with a photo of today.  It displays both with a "Then and Now"caption.  Earlier this month it posted  this photo I'd shared of Jerry, two coaches ago in 2014 as he was giving the once over likely in preparation for our departure to who knows where.  This was the Excursion which he said would be the last new one for awhile because he'd finally gotten a diesel.  Well, later in 2016 he'd easily  forget about that when he found the new tag axle 42.5 foot Allegiance.. He was a man of vehicles and over our 54 years together I'd learned that once he saw one he wanted it was going to happen.  He wa persistant.  No matter he'd expand the sjop on our property to make room for them and with the Allegiance he even raised the roof!  He'd do whatever it takes.  The Allegiance would be our last coach and while a castle on wheels, he wouldn't live to really enjoy it as long as planned.  

None of that explanation is needed on FB because I am in touch there with people from my life who stay in touch and who comment.  This was no different.  It's good to have the sharing of memories and validation by others.   Just to keep blogger going for me, I'm sharing here.  

June 2014 Jerry checking over the Excursion in our driveway

In response I posted the first photo from my tablet on that day but now in June 2025. Things are very different. No more coaches. Just me.

 2025  Bench off deck in back yard

I posted this on my page: FB flash from 2014. Two coaches ago, likely preparing to depart, Jerry engaged in his preferred pastime, inspecting and fine-tuning various items. Today, an empty bench in the backyard invites me to sit in solitude with memories. .

FB displays these 2 photos alongside with flourishes, I can't replicate that here on blogger. And just in remebrance, here's the Allegiance, I'd call her Ally. Yes I miss those days and that man, but life goes on and so do I. Not the same, different but on.

June 2017 Ally in her house here, Jerry at the door

First harvest and reward after gardening

 

Yesterday, after a steamy afternoon of work in the garden, a perfect cooldown, vodka and tonic. Haven't had this since last summer. Our air quality is messy from the Canadian wildfires. Using a vintage stirrer, remember when these were common with a drink? I have a saved collection and some really vintage from my late Uncle. I am stuck with a DNA that keeps things! Who knew they would disappear in favor of throw away stirrers that resemble big plastic toothpicks. I resisted the temptation of picking up more plants today at Home Depot. That was tough but I told myself, "quit browsing, go get the rabbit repellant spray you came for and get gone." Sometimes I talk sense to me. Maybe it was reinforced because I just finished planting the ones I picked up Friday from Bauer's.

Speaking of firsts, harvested the fisst of my rhubarb crop. It is doing well this year, a vintage from the Cass' original owners builders of this home, who planted it way back when? It was years before the 20 years ago when we bought this place. So good to have things that last and require little work except for pulling to use and dusting with a sack of manure in fall.. I made this into rhubarb sauce that I eat by the random spoonful. While some over sweeten their rhubarb, to my taste, I keep mine on the sour tangy side. I even like to chew on a raw stalk with some salt. When Jerry was alive I used to make strawberry rhubarb pie for him. He would not eat rhubarb as I do but liked that pie combination.

Out they go, I've been slow

 

Finally tossing these vintage tubes that were once upon a time used for tvs.  .  Last year I found them downstairs in Jerry's cellar workshop.  They belonged to my Uncle Carl in PA.  When he passed and we had to fully clear his home before I turned it over for the estate sale, Jerry took many things that Uncle Carl had squirreled away.  He brought them back here 5o MN.  Most went a few years ago when the online auction company cleared out the shop for me.  But some remained, these among the relics.   Stashed downstairs.  

Although I found these late last year, I posted on my FB hoping, I guess, that someone might want them.  There's my DNA, Teofil's granddaughter,  "you keep this, good stuff, you no have to feed them, someday you gonna want them, be glad you gave them then, you see"  and Carl's niece. I hate to just toss stuff but yet I know it is nerely stuff,  I have no use for it,  No one does.  

 I spotted this note from 1959, that Uncle Carl wrote on 1 box with tubes,  he was meticulous.   Anyway I had tossed another misc, brown bag of these, I set these boxed back on a shelf.  How I wish I could ask Jerry why he saved them,  especially because back then he cautioned me about not keeping things when we cleared Carl 's home.  The same happened a few years before when we cleared out Aunt Jinx home.

Pussy Willows

 I have always been fond of Pussy Willows. It's my Polish DNA.   I remember them being all around the creek beds when I was growing up in PA.   They are not common around here but several years ago a friend found and cut some for me from a hike in her northern area.  A Polish legend tells the tale

I posted this sketch and poem on my Facebook today.

Of tiny kittens, oh so frail.

Along the river's edge they chased.

With butterflies, they played and raced.

They came too close to the river's side,

And, thus, fell in. Their mother cried.

What could she do but weep and moan?

Her babies' fate were yet unknown.

The willows, by the river, knew

Just what it was that they must do.

They swept their graceful branches down

Into the waters, all around.

To reach the kittens was their goal;

A rescue mission, heart and soul.

The kittens grasped the branches tight.

The willows saved them from their plight.

Each springtime since, the story goes,

Willow branches now wear clothes.

Tiny fur like buds are sprung

Where little kittens once had clung.

And that's the legend, so they claim,

How Pussy Willows Got Their Name!

- Laura, 2016

{ Art by Anastasia Varnavskaya, special thanks to Louise, her FB Butterfly Cottage }

February weather improves

 

Feb 24 back yard towards shop

Yesterday, February 24 was our second decent "balmy" day in a row with sunshine.  Nearly all the snow has melted, so quickly from the vast whiteness that covered everything including the roof to only a few hills and mounds where it was shoveled.  I watched the water pouring out of the downspouts off the roof yesterday and today, thinking how easily amused I am.  Especially after such a long siege of sub zero and single digit temps that we've endured January and early February. I guess that is the blessing of living in  four seasons as they change, there is always something to ponder.  Yes I like change of seasons, I just wish the 4th season, aka winter here, was not so blasted long.  

Feb 14 heavy snow 

 

We haven't had many heavy snow doses but not as nice as last year when it felt like springtime in December. And we have had a couple of awful; freezing glazes that made it treacherous.  Though  streets and roads were cleared quickly the freezes seemed to happen while I was in Saturday evening mass and I was very careful skating to my car afterwards.  One Sunday when I switched from Saturday eve vigil  to have the Knights Annual Belgian Waffle breakfast, some nice man appeared out  of nowhere and helped me across the street.  A secret angel. 

The snows we have had like this last dump came down  for hours sometimes through the day.  I have saved money on snow plowing, only a couple times this year with the last for this coating that is now melted.  Mostly I was able to use the leaf blower to remove the snow dust from the driveway and walk.  hen too, good friend Gary showed up  a couple of times to clear it, saying he was bored.  Truthfully I think he just is being a good person, looking out for me, don't know what I'd do without them (he and Judy) to rely on here when I need something.  Though I do not pester them, I refuse to do that.  ,

It does become boring and tedious but I keep busy inside.  And this is the time of year I have the annual task of gathering the information to take to the accountant for tax preparation.  Still waiting on the last 1099's from my Investment accounts.  They are perpetually late, I was hoping for this week but likely going to be March.  Well nothing I can do about that, can't file the taxes without those statements.  

Before the snow came and covered everything it was so strange to see the lawns brown.  Around here it is either green or white covered.  But now with the melting although it is too soon for greenery I almost see a few blades here and there of green through the brown lawn.  .  I was able to dump some asparagus spear ends, eggshells and banana peel down the side hill this afternoon.  It ids my own landfill area where I pile leaves and other similar debris.  Sure will be some excellent compost among those trees from all that green trash.  

January

    

 I saw this today on a friend's FB post and thought it worth copying and keeping here.   

 Patricia Highsmith                The Price of Salt    

January.   It was all things.   And it was one thing, like a solid door. Its cold sealed the city in a gray capsule. J  anuary was moments, and January was a year.   January rained the moments down, and froze them in her memory.   Every human action seemed to yield a magic. January was a two-faced month, jangling like jester's bells, crackling like snow crust, pure as any beginning, grim as an old man, mysteriously familiar yet unknown, like a word one can almost but not quite define.

iWe continue here in arctic cold,  single digits overnight and maybe up to 20 degrees for an hour or so mid afternoons, if the sunshines.  No snow,which is  fine with me because it saves me $$.  I don't have to pay for plowing my driveway.  Still some mounds of snow remain in small patches, they are frozen ice mii hills.  Talking with a friend yesterdzy znd we agreed, " well  we just have to endure."  That's similar to living as a widow, we endure, we carry on, we survive.  

Today is Thursday, January 8.  But it took me until nearly 10:15 AMto realize that.  For some reason I woke up sure it was Friday and so began my day.  Since I do not eat meeat on Fridays I got a few shrimp out of the freezer to thaw for dinner, intending on making some pasta in garlick sauce with lemon , capers, and the shrimp.  I was astonished to figure out it is only Thursday but that is going to be my dinner anyway since the shrimp are thawing.  How did I lose a day?  There's a term for losing track of time, "time blindness", and in it's extremes it could be problematic.  Mostly if I lose track of time it's while I continue doing something like reading, going through photos, gardening, whatever that has me so engrossed that time flew by.  And it's later than I thought.   But never before have I lost a day!  Then again I was so happy that I gained an entire day back!  Oh it's these simple things that keep me going.  

I should be downstairs finishing up putting away the last of the Christmas decor but here I am at laptop, sharing my thoughts.  Tomorrow is another day, I tell me. And no one contradicts me, nor does anyone ask me what I'm doing now.   

PS  I cannot figure out why this post is not just plain text but outlined in white??? I'm tired of trying to fix it so here it goes.