Passing Through

Last week, from Sunday through Wednesday, four young wild turkeys paraded across the meadow above the garden, down the wooded edges of the north ravine and out into the shady area at the west end of the property. There they pecked and meandered for some time before straggling up the south edge of the grassed-over lane and back into the hay of the upper meadow. When one of us stepped outside, the sound of the door opening and closing sent them into an awkward long-legged scramble for cover, no matter that they are already at a distance. 

Turkeys are common in the area and we often see them in various stages of growth; in the spring several hen turkeys usher  groups of youngsters about; only occasionally do we spot a mature tom.

Attempting to get photos of these visitors is a matter of using the zoom feature on my small camera, the results usually being a blurred rush of  fleeing forms.

The photos below are not of last week's group.

I am, perhaps unfairly, blaming the recent perambulations of the turkeys for the nasty little bites on my feet and ankles. Chiggers? Turkey mites? 

I should have remembered this isn't the season to stroll through the meadow without socks and a slathering of insect repellant!

During the winter of 2022 this small flock of guineas were frequent visitors. Guineas are noted for wandering habits. At the time we hadn't seen any in neighboring barnyards.

The guineas announced their presence with wittering conversations amongst themselves which always alerted our cats, who rushed to the windowsills to watch them stroll by.

During the course of the winter the group lost a few members, notably one of the two white ones. On their last appearance there were only five remaining. they faded away with no trace.

Raccoons are regular visitors, most often in late winter when food is scarce and in early summer when they are raising cubs. 

The raccoons pay little attention when we turn on the porch light.

The barn cats, Willis and Sally ignore them, often lounging a few feet away while the coons scrabble for leftover kibble.

If more than one raccoon appears on the porch there is often a scuffle, shoving, squealing.

Possums are likewise frequent visitors, unwelcome with their shuffling movements and their messy ways.

We haven't seen deer as often this summer as usual. that doesn't mean they haven't been around.

Usually there is a doe with twin fawns, once in awhile  young buck.

Deer have been known to invade the garden but their damage is minimal. They enjoy a nibble at green bean plants but are mostly content to enjoy the lush grass of the meadow.

This is [was?] Herman. Where ever we have lived feral toms have appeared. 

Herman was unique in that although he visited for nearly three years we could never approach him. His ramblings took him away for several days at a time, but until mid July he always reappeared.  His presence instigated what I call 'pissing wars' with Robert and Willis, both neutered, but inspired to retaliate when Herman anointed the front door or the steps--which he did with tiresome regularity.

He was a beautifully marked spotted tabby; I attempted to befriend him, coaxing, talking cajolingly, approaching slowly. His reaction was always to dart away, lurking behind a tub of flowers, eyes rolling warily. I thought of attempting to trap him, haul him to the vet clinic for neutering, but his demeanor was so offish I couldn't imagine him becoming less than feral.

It has been a month since his last visit; sadly, he is not missed. Our cats with outdoor privileges have settled down, there has been no more 'marking' of territory. 

During our second summer here a family of foxes had a den somewhere in the south ravine. The cubs were often brought to frolic in the shaded area around the small barn. One memorable morning I stepped to the bedroom window before sunrise to see the youngsters rolling and pouncing in the grass a few yards from the house. It has now been several years since we've seen a solitary fox crossing the meadow or trotting down the lane.

One winter a gimpy-legged skunk hobbled about in the snow near the barn. Although a waft of skunk perfume sometimes drifts in an open window at night I've not seen another on the property.

Last autumn grey squirrels were busy under the black walnut tree across from the garden, or gleaning acorns in the grove of trees near the small barn.

They seem scarce this summer. Jim suspects they may have become dinner for the pair of redtail hawks who hover over the yard. 

Scarcely a bluebird in residence this spring in spite of the messy hoard of them 2 years ago.

The sighting of any of these creatures can be random--we may not happen to be looking at the exact moment they ramble through. 

Visits from wildlife can bring challenges, some of them messy and annoying.

Sometimes I need to remind myself that most of them were here before we moved in and built a house!

 

An Unnecessary Quilt

After finishing two super-queen quilts in January it seemed a good time to do some sorting of fabric. Both large quilts were designed using yardage that had appeared in other quilts over the past decade. I don't do 'scrapy' in the sense of random; I select fabrics from my considerable 'stash'  that have common colorways and themes. 

In the sorting process I pressed and neatly folded fabrics I thought two quilter friends might enjoy. 

I took my lines of now vintage Moda fabrics from the stacks in the drawers, smoothed and admired them, put them neatly away again.

The final sorting involved true 'scraps,' partially sewn units, and some surplus blocks for other projects long since completed.

Some of these 'leftovers' were from a quilt started years ago in an attempt to replicate blocks pieced by my g-grandmother. During our years in WY I salvaged the best of g-grandmother Eliza's hand-stitched blocks from a worn quilt, hand-quilted them onto a soft muslin backing and had several professionally framed. 

For her quilt, Eliza used pieces cut from worn shirts and aprons.

Inspired by this I gathered cotton shirts from the local charity shop and began the rather tedious process of cutting them into appropriately sized pieces.

The project was interrupted by our retirement move to Kentucky and lay abandoned through several house renovations and finally the construction of our present house.

It was during the winter of covid lockdown that I resurrected the completed blocks and constructed a quilt using the quilt-as-you-go method. 

Daughter G. admired the finished quilt and it went to live at her house.

Fast forward to the past January when my rummaging turned up four completed quilt blocks and a neat assortment of already cut to size components.

I was struck with the notion to do something with the bits and pieces, even to the point of gathering a few more charity shop shirts. 

Halfway through this salvage project I was 'over' it--asking myself why--with a collection of beautiful new fabrics--was I committing hours to a quilt that was going to be rather random and  gaudy.

Having determined that I wouldn't buy any new fabric to finish the thing, I sliced up a beige sheet for the sashing and a dark blue one for borders. 

It was machine quilted by the woman who does all my 'everyday' quilts. I bound it, folded it and dumped it unceremoniously on a stack of winter bedding in the guest room.

Several weeks later when J. had a respiratory flu, he was shivering one evening and I brought up the 'shirt-tail' quilt.

J. who almost never comments on my quilting projects, was intrigued by the patterns I had achieved with salvaged materials.

So, there it is. Its the sort of quilt one might consign to a cabin, summer camp or camper [none of which we now own] or throw over a porch chair or bench. 

I noted that in the decade or more since I started the first quilt the quality of used cotton shirts has declined.

Here is the one that I began in 2009 and [finally] finished in 2021..

A close-up of my rather cobbled quilt-as-you-go effort. 

Below are the links to the original vintage blocks and my efforts to replicate them; I've attached them to this post mostly so that I can find them if I want to look back at my efforts.

The woman who does my utility quilting is happy to accept fabric scraps, leftover finished blocks, even components of blocks that have been cut to size but not used. Several of her clients pounce on these, adding them to their own projects.

I ruthlessly gathered up such as had been too long on my cupboard shelf and they have gone away for someone else to utilize.

https://wwwmorningsminion.blogspot.com/2009/08/salvaged-treasures.html

https://wwwmorningsminion.blogspot.com/2021/03/a-project-too-long-in-doing-done.html

 

Long Hot Summer

Every summer I complain that July is my least favorite month of the year; this has been true of July's relentless heat in every location where we've lived.

July as experienced in our 12 Wyoming years at least offered cool nights even though daytime temps often moved into 3 digits F.

Hot and too dry has been the pattern of July 2025 as recorded each day on my calendar. 

Jim continued to labor in the garden, waging a battle with loops of electric fencing meant to deter the raccoons who were determined to munch on sweet corn.

These efforts cost him dearly--dehydration and several hours in the local hospital's ER while 3 bags of fluids were dripped into him. He followed this with a bout of respiratory flu. 

It took nearly a week for the virus to hit me and I still have an annoying scratchy cough.

Enough about that unpleasant experience!

My outdoor activities have been mostly limited to taking out kitchen scraps, watering the container flowers ranged around the front porch, emptying cat litter. 

Sewing and reading have occupied me indoors.

Weather, gardens, flu, the tedium of long hot days, all faded from importance when we learned that a dear friend had died as the result of an accident.

It has been a July that we won't remember with pleasure. 

August now, and a few days when temps were 'only' in the 80's F. 

Resident hummingbirds are consuming more than a quart of sugar syrup per day.

Tomato harvest is ongoing; cantaloupe/muskmelons are ripening all at once;

There are 9 huge ones ranged on the kitchen counters!

We plod along, doing what comes to hand, grateful for air conditioning in the vehicles and in the house.

We hope for rain to ease the drought, cooling breezes to refresh us both physically and spiritually. 

 Trampled cornstalks and barricades of electric fence.

The corn salvaged from the raccoons has been delicious.

A glut of pole beans needed picking while we under the influence of the flu. 

It wasn't an easy task, but we worked together to harvest them and next day to prepare them for canning. Yield: 9] 1 1/2  pt jars, 12] pints and one that refused to seal.

There have no doubt been more beans ripening--I have refused to go near them!

On Sunday afternoon I processed 4 1/2 qts of tomatoes--not even a full canner load.

 My enthusiasm for the garden and for 'putting up' food is lacking this year.

Coneflowers near the clematis fence.

Coneflowers have overtaken the planting along the south/east retaining wall.

Somewhere amongst them are the Knock-Out roses.

Achillea sprawling outside the greenhouse. It is appealing at every stage of bloom.

Monarda, 'Jacob Kline' another invader in the back yard bed.

One plant of clary sage. I'm hoping to gather seeds for another crop.

It is a biennial, so there is a waiting year for the blossoms.

I have lost all but one of my mature rosemary plants. I repotted them last fall as I usually do. I can only guess that the potting mix used wasn't compatible.

Today I moved in 14 seed-grown rosemarys. 

Germination was greater than usual; I lost 4 or 5 after the first transplanting, but put these into a soil mix that I hope will see them growing on. 

Willis and I gardened along the west retaining wall on Sunday when it was overcast and cooler. 

I pruned clematis, yanked out weeds, clipped back the dry stalks of foxglove.

So much wants done!

Maybe as cooler weather moves in I'll find the energy to tackle at least some of it.

 

My Kind of Shopping

 

We have been missing our former neighbors, the Titus and Lillian Beachy family; missed not only for the produce market and discount food store, but for themselves as individuals.

When the local Beachy congregation found it necessary to divide, this family was one of several who 'drew lots' that required relocating. [This is beyond my understanding.]

New ownership of the local venue didn't work out and we've had updates as to the Beachy's plans for a store in their new location.

We had no idea of the scope of their fresh start!

The new location is nearly an hour away, no popping in for a bag of sugar or a brick of cheese to finish a recipe.

The new store opened last week and we had word of that yesterday. 

We notified G. and M. that we were headed there and they decided to make the trip also--a shorter back road distance from their home.

The new venue, named 'The Village Cache' was a surprise both in scale, layout and stock.

We were among the earliest customers of the day--the smiles of greeting were wonderful to see.

We spent several hours--and a considerable bit of money--shopping and familiarizing ourselves with the new store.

Deli counter where custom sandwiches are ordered and served.

The head of one aisle with the case for bulk meats and cheeses in the background.

I appreciate the many hours dedicated to weighing, measuring, packaging and labeling bulk spices and baking supplies, all arranged on labeled shelves.

The front view of the store [Gina's photo] that is Gina and neighbor T. standing in front.

[photo credit, Gina]

A view into the beautifully arranged commercial kitchen. This area is off-limits to customers, but since we were early arrivals Lillian invited me in for a tour.

At their old venue all the weighing and packaging of bulk goods had to be done in the farmhouse kitchen for reasons of cleanliness. 

Lillian and her daughters are delighted with the comparative ease of accomplishing this in the airy space with polished counters and fine lighting. 

As the business grows, bread and other baked goods will be for sale daily.

[photo credit, Gina]

We were ordering sandwiches to go--J. usually responds well to the command 'smile'--I prefer to duck photo ops.

The Beachys have had limited time to devote to a personal veg garden this year, so J. picked a dozen or more of his fresh cucumbers to present to them. In turn, we were each given a free soft ice cream!

I encourage local thrift-minded shoppers to made the trip to The Village Cache.

Those bakers who make bread and other goodies will be pleased with the large selection of flours, grains and various pantry staples.

Flour can be purchased by the 50# sack [my choice] or in lesser amounts.

There are gluten-free options.

We have always kept a well-stocked pantry. It has made sense for us considering the fluctuations of income that have been part of J. being self-employed.

Yesterday's hefty purchases made the rearrangement of our pantry a priority--a task over which I'd been procrastinating!

Our freezer is full, pantry shelves are stocked, the garden is producing more than we can consume. 

We are eating well!

Lillian asked that I post an image of the notices on the front door.

Several attempts with camera and phone didn't yield a photo without glare, but you can get the idea.

Thimble-Kitten is Now A Cat!

Thimble-kitten arrived in our lives on August 16, 2024; rescued from the parking lot of a local convenience store by our son, she was nearly starved, dirty, infested with fleas and lice. 

Howard gave her the first of several baths, provided a month's worth of kitten food.

By the time we got her to a vet appointment four days later, Thimble, though still thin had  found her place in our home and had begun to assert her considerable personality.

The vet judged that Thimble was between 8 and 10 weeks old, placing her birth during the month of June.

During these past weeks I've been telling her she is no longer a 'kitten' but a 'cat!'

Thimble is the naughtiest, most imaginative feline we've met in our decades of sharing our home with cats. 

She carries her toys [a collection of green milk bottle caps] around like a puppy, bounces them down the stairs, waits for me to retrieve them from under shelves, from behind the piano, where ever they have landed. If we forget to pick up the lids and stow them in a drawer at bedtime, as soon as lights go out the 'toys' are located and clattered about the house.

Thimble is a rummager, an investigator, an acrobat, a too willing helper in every task.

The other cats do not enjoy her companionship; she chases, pounces, stalks. Rosie is her particular focus of torment and runs squalling while Thimble fixes her with a beady eye before launching herself in Rosie's direction. 

Thimble's midnight antics often mean that she has to be sequestered in the sunroom for the remainder of the night. 

And yet, particularly when she has created an uproar, sent objects flying from countertop or desk, splashed in the water bowl, there's that little whiskery face, those big eyes gazing at me; and so I scoop her up, let her clamber to my shoulder and purr in my ear. I tell her its a good thing that I love her!

First bath.

Anything to be noticed!

A moment of repose.

Any container must be tried on for size--the bucket of newspapers saved for fire starters.

Thimble never forgets that Howard rescued her, gave her a chance at life. 

She makes it plain they have a bond.

Fearless!

Why shouldn't I make music?

The face of innocence. 

A wastebasket full of fabric scraps, emptied on the floor.

This basket is the best fit.

A cushioned colander.

A box--for me!

Thimble enjoys quilts.

Enjoying the cat tower. 

A friend of Howard wanted to rehome a cat condo/tower. It is a cumbersome thing, the posts wound with thin rope which Thimble has mostly unwound. I didn't feel we needed it, but it provides endless exercise and amusement for this kitten turned cat. 

She is a performer, a show-off, an entertainer.

We may not have needed a kitten, but I can't now imagine life without Thimble!

 

Garden Notes

I was outside by 8:30 to see how yesterday's transplants were faring. The nasturtiums in the right-hand corner were growing in a large pot on the back porch; nasturtiums don't appreciate being moved from where they are seeded, however I think with a little coddling these may survive. The thyme set in along the left edge spent the winter in pots lodged by the greenhouse; they came originally from the plant/produce auction and were passed along by son-in-law Matt. I had a large clump of thyme [provenance unknown at this point] that was stuffed in a planter, root-bound. I was quite ruthless with this, pulling it apart into several divisions. Heavy spring rains have yellowed plants that were sitting about in tight quarters; I think that having room to spread and grow will see them shortly reviving to a healthier green.

Hyssop which has been in a pot, a clump of dianthus hoicked out of the older raised bed, basket flowers started from seed this spring and more than ready for transplanting.

The Flying Pig was an anniversary gift from friends almost a dozen years ago. She is now standing watch over a dwarf nandina which Jim helped me relocate. The shrub was set in the rather disappointing back garden effort, hidden by a militant proliferation of monarda and lemon balm. 

J. noticed me heaving dirt about and took over. 

I am always impressed by the ability of a male to wield a shovel or garden fork with an efficiency that I can't manage.

This area outside the greenhouse door has been a 'catch-all' spot for self-seeding catnip, various mints escaped from pots, the achillea seedlings that I rescued from the turf surrounding the bed by the front steps. If my plans come to pass, the achillea will be moved to the strip that is meant to be worked up where the sunflowers are now growing. That being so, I will allow the various mints to run rampant along the wall.

 Achillea has a tendency to flop, but I've never seen a dwarf variety. 

Pale coneflower started from seed during the spring of the wildflower experiment. 

Two hours of moderate garden work, coming in at 10:30--shirt soaked and clinging unpleasantly.

I changed from the skin out; brewed a jug of lemonade to extend the daily jug of iced tea. A nearly noon meal concocted when J. returned from an errand; cats and their litter boxes tended. 

It is overcast now. There are so many outside tasks that want done: cutting away the rain-damaged leaves from the clematis vines, pruning the roses now that bloom is past and time for pesty bugs to appear. Weeding--always more weeding!

I will likely make garden rounds again in the evening--these lengthy twilight hours moving toward the solstice are lovely for lingering outside.

For now, I think I'll move downstairs to my long-neglected sewing.