The Spider

The spider is a wee creature yet she catcheth her weight in bugs.

A cobweb in the corner is better than Raid^TM in the air.

Problurbs 4: 5,6

Serious scientific studies have observed that orb weavers, e.g., capture approximately their own body weight in insects over a period of five days.

Journaling: Memphis to Texas PH **

Monday morning we started moving westward along I-40 which we followed to Little Rock.  There we veered southward and went into Hot Springs which we had visited two years ago.  This time, though, we went there to visit friends Dawn and Josh.  The four of us had dinner together, then Dawn took us on a driving tour of the area.

The next day we ventured into western Arkansas, stopping at such places as Pencil Bluff for shopping in a mineral store, eventually turning north at Y City.  Now there is originality.  It's where the road, you guessed it, Ys.  From there quickly onward to Ft. Smith, and thence into Oklahoma.  We are beginning to get the hang of living in a space about 8 x 14 feet, not counting the cab area.   Or are we?

We continued onward via I-40 which at this point follows the famous Route 66.  We stopped in Clinton to visit Route 66 Museum.  We arrived at Shawnee early in the evening and camped at Catfish Roundup, a very nice facility with restaurant on the grounds.  The price was right and the catfish was great.  Deep fried, of course.  What diet?

 Route 66 Museum, Clinton, Oklahoma. 
I owned a van like this one.  I wrote about it here.

The owners of the grounds had a large area populated by several deer, including Lucy, a very small doe, and some of her offspring.  She always throws twins and one set of buck twins was particularly magnificent.  Nice racks.  Lucy was quite the pet and JoAnn enjoyed handing her clumps of grass.  Cookie was jealous and showed himself somewhat.

Lucy, Cookie, and JoAnn

New Life

To offer something new amongst the recall, retreads, and retro things that have been appearing on String Too Short to Tie I present the pine blossom.

There is a lovely pine shrub in the front yard mound.  Each year it seems to cover a larger percentage of the allotted space though we do prune it in an attempt to keep it under control.

While the green of the long densely-massed needles is quite attractive, I like it best when it is in bloom, another of Spring's marvelous offerings.

I am well aware that living in a piney woods has its drawbacks.  Pine pollen all over everything is a major nuisance, and if one is allergic to the stuff it is beyond nuisance.  It is a dreaded and unwelcome intruder into that individual's life.

But we have little of it and I enjoy the beauty of the plant when it is in this stage of producing new life.

Blessings.

Groundsel

For years, I have seen the yellow fields in Springtime Indiana.  Being basically ignorant of botany and agriculture, I mistakenly assumed that the plants were mustard, and in some instances even imagined that they were literal rape (canola) crops.

Today I took the time to walk into a field and pluck a sample of this creature for closer study.  Imagine my surprise when at first look I saw not a blossom with four petals, but rather an aster-like cluster of flowers on each stalk.  To the interwebz!  A Purdue University site quickly made identification certain: Butterweed or Cressleaf Groundsel (Packera glabella formerly Senecio glabellus).

It’s everywhere!  It’s everywhere!

Look at that little dickens.  Would you look at that?

Journaling: Lexington to Memphis **

On the tenth (October) we bade farewell to our hosts and proceeded in a northwesterly direction to New Albany, Indiana for a visit with Mark and Patty.   Since we knew they would not yet be home when we arrived in town, (would I ever admit I took a wrong turn and wound up on a road to the top from which there was no turning around?) we drove up and over and down Floyds Knobs. a series of beautiful wooded hills overlooking the Ohio River and the cities of New Albany, Clarksville and Louisville.  The summit area is agricultural with truck farms, orchards, and vineyards.

During our visit Craig and Kim with their three girls, Elizabeth, Jennifer, and Anna arrived for the Harvest Homecoming festivities, an event which, I understand, Kim will not miss.  It was good to see them again, albeit briefly.

Upon leaving New Albany, we chose to drive to Memphis via the Kentucky Parkway system to the southwest.  We had never used this route before.  "Bucolic" is a word that springs to mind, but very scenic through the hill, the trees in fall foliage.  We stayed at a state park in the corner of Kentucky and found it to be a very pleasant camping experience.  We arrived in Collierville, Tennessee and found Doug, Joanie and Suzanne awaiting us.  We had a very pleasant visit.

Suzanne and Cookie get acquainted.

2√2b²

Fair Exchange

Verily he shall do the dishes whose spouse prepareth the meal. 
--Duderonomy 3:17

Conversations with Random People: Thirteen

I was riding the bike westward on Jefferson Street, homeward bound.  As I approached Green Street, I saw a woman hastening toward me on the sidewalk.  She raised a hand and I stopped, put my foot on the curb.  "My God," she exclaimed, "are you still alive?"

I've had this happen before, but this time I was ready.  "Shouldn't I be?"

She did not answer the question but blathered on, "You were my math teacher in junior high!"

"Yep," I averred.  "Forty years ago, no, forty-five years ago."

"The lady you married, Mrs. S.  I had her for PE.  Whatever happened to her?"

"She died seventeen years ago.  Cancer.  Two years of treatment, but. . ." I let the thought trail off.

"Sorry.  Sometimes the treatments are as bad as the disease.  I love this house!"  We were standing in front of a house which is on the market.

"I am just crazy about that pool," she told me.

"Salt-water pool," I told her.

"I know.  If I had this place I'd be skinny dipping in there every night."

Thanks, Lady, for putting that image into my head.  Note that there are no quotation marks around that.

"My wife loves it, too.  I told her we could buy it, but then we would have to move."

"Wait,"  the lady said.  "This house was built in 2009.  You just said your wife died seventeen years ago."

"Right, and right.  I have remarried."

A look of disbelief flashed momentarily across her face as she held up her left hand displaying three fingers.  "Three wives?  You have been married three times?"

"Three wives," I replied, holding up three fingers myself.

Well, we talked on for some time, looking over the figurative railing at the waters of time that had flowed under the bridge lo, those many years ago.  Then I said, "I have to ask your name."

"No problem."  She told me the name by which I knew her long ago.

"Sure, I remember that little girl."

Anyway, a few more pleasantries, she made as if to leave, offered me her hand, which I took briefly.  "Can I call you David?" she asked.

"Of course.  You don't have to call me 'Mister,"'

"Can I call you Dave?"

"No."

"Well, then."  The woman turned and walked away, not giving me the opportunity to explain that it was nothing personal.  It is just that I am not Dave.

2√2b²

Journaling BBE **

BBE: Before Blogging Era, or at any rate years before I undertook to maintain a blog.
BBBH:  Beloved Beautiful Better Half; referred to her BBE as "JoAnn."

In the summer of 2003, BBBH and I scoured much of Central Indiana looking for a used motorhome. This resulted in the purchase of a 24-foot unit, seven years old but with only 17,000 miles of use.

October arrived and we had yet to test this thing on a really significant trip.  So we loaded up and headed out.  Though I did not have a blog I did have some interest in keeping family and friends advised of our whereabouts and adventures, should we have any.  I chose to send periodic emails via the expediency of using friends' computers along the way, or stopping at local libraries to post messages.  As it turned out this resulted in a journal which we have kept for the memories.

As there has been an inspiration dry-spell here at STSTT, I thought to share some of that very first RV journey.  The two asterisks following the title of the posts will alert you to the fact that the story is old news from our younger days.  There is some editing for brevity. Choose to read if you wish.

On October 8 our RV headed south and east to Lexington, Kentucky where we had a most enjoyable visit with Carl and Bernardine.  We parked our rig right next to theirs on a horse farm directly across the road from Keeneland Race Park.  Carl's fascination with horses is life-long and legendary-- at least in the family.  

The Horseman, Keeneland in background.

When Air Force One was parked on the tarmac directly to the right of our vehicle the only thing between us and the plane was a bobwarr fence and a quarter mile of space.  And probably a bunch of unseen rifle-toting secret servicemen.  We didn't venture over to the fence.  Along the motorcade route, it appeared that every police officer in the Commonwealth of Kentucky was on duty.

That is Air Force One above JoAnn's head