Finally, it cooled off—and rained

                                                       Well, it didn't rain THAT much.

          Last weekend, the rain that stormed through while I read the state and local papers provided both a respite from the near-drought and a reason not to finish my project of cleaning and grooming the corner iris bed. I’d begun working early the day before, bending, clipping, tossing detritus into Mom’s discarded shredder-cum-yard waste container.

          With an early lunch meeting in town, I had to stop, shower, and dress. An Aleve would (ahem) eventually alleviate the soreness. After the meal, I drove a short, back way to Home Depot for landscape materials. I hauled down a huge bag of potting soil. But I waited for an assistant to load the marble rocks and bags of pea gravel I wanted for the south yard.

          But then, I needed a few things from the dollar store, so I stopped. I took only a yellow basket with me, but halfway through the store, I picked up a second one and filled them both. I left with five bags of merchandise on one arm and a bag of cat food in my other hand—by this time, it was early afternoon—and I suddenly felt old. I felt like I walked like an old person—for the first time in my newly-82 years. At the car, unloading my arms and hand, I talked severely to myself. “You ARE old!”

         Obviously, I said that in a weak moment, tired from the early yard chore, dressed too warmly for that time of day, not to mention the oppressive humidity. After a longer-than-usual nap, I recovered both my strength and my positive attitude. So, I moved on as we all must do at certain times.

        The next morning, I arose early to water the roses, but the sky looked bluer than usual. Weather sources said 100% chance of rain, and a map showed a storm moving our way from the west. Sure enough, thunder pealed and eventually, the rains came.

        The rain was no flood--an inch deep in my garden wagon--but it helped. After it stopped, I finished the iris bed and de-grassed part of the sidewalk--until ants appeared from under a paver.

           I had one more responsibility before that day ended: baking a pear cobbler for Ebenezer UMC’s Fifth-Sunday potluck, a new church activity. I intended to use a 9x13 dish, so I lifted three packages of al-ready-stewed pears sans sugar and cinnamon from the freezer and set them to thaw. Before the storm that morning, I had “run” to Harvest Foods for a pie crust to make decorative strips.

           After an unrestful nap, it was time to begin. Using a recipe I found online and printed out, I substituted for fresh ginger, half as much of the ground spice. For the lemon zest, I substituted twice as much lemon juice as called for—both suggestions from online.

                In my ignorance of this church's potluck "doings," when I signed up for "dessert," I figured it would be the only dessert, so I'd better make as large a dish as I could. I filled a 9x13 Pyrex dish to the brim, added the cut strips of pie crust, Voila! Enough for all two dozen or so folks. I took whipped topping, too.

          But when I got there, I saw 2 store-bought pies, two homemade cakes, cookies, candy. . . I'd forgotten that when "potluck" is mentioned in a United Methodist Church, it usually means each family brings at least 3 dishes. True this day!

          Three of us took small helpings--to sample some of all, of course. I took the rest ofit home where it sat in the fridge for a day or three. Finally, I filled 8 coffee cups (not mugs) packed down, topped with (ahem) topping, and placed them in the freezer before covering with plastic wrap.

          I'll know next time.

Birds, birds, birds! And other wild (and tame) life

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 I’ve enjoyed watching the wildlife around Couchwood lately. A rabbit has taken up abode somewhere on the south side—maybe in one of the neighbor’s yards, but it frolics in my yard, too. One afternoon, it ran hither and yon—“hither” being in what-we-used-to-call the "tennis court," and “yon,” into the lower hedge row. This is the third sighting of the animal. Better one rabbit than a hill full of black cats, like last year.

Hummingbirds have found the feeder hanging outside the dining-room window. One little thing seemed to be eating from the bottom of the feeder. It flew and lit on a beautyberry limb--the first time I’d seen one actually light--returned to the unusual place and sipped before flying, its white tail feathers fanning out.

And the robins! I wonder how many families of robins nest in the trees in the south yard. One day, I looked out and seven birds lined the rim of the birdbath. All had speckled breasts: they were juveniles. One bathed, the others perched and occasionally sipped. Another fluttered around the others, pecked at one like in a game of tag. Or “king of the hill.” They reminded me of a bunch of boys vying for position, staking out their territory. Soon, a blue jay called and flew in. None of the robins moved. Then a hummingbird flew by, and soon a wasp circled the bunch. Gradually, all dispersed.

And then there’s the neighbor’s dog. The worst thing (for me) Corey could have done was build a pen for it outside. Apparently, the mutt doesn’t like it, because last weekend while I sat outside, it yapped continually.

I hope you enjoy the cooler weather. I certainly do.