What a marvelous Thanksgiving we have had. It started out with Leah flying to Winston Salem, Sunday a week ago. We picked her up after teaching our little four year olds in Sunday School, and took her out to lunch with a quick stop at Dillard's in "town." (That's what I call Greensboro when we go there to pick up people from the airport. We don't have a kitchen area in our Dillard's in W.S.)
We halfway put up a tree on Sunday night and celebrated Christmas with her on Monday night, since she is off to Singapore in 3 more days. We left bright and early on Wednesday morning headed for my sister, Linda's, in Jonesboro, GA. We had smooth sailing all the way to the Atlanta Airport to pick up Matthew around 3:30, and he only had a 5 minute curbside wait until we got there. How's that for timing? That was the end of our smooth sailing for 2 full hours. What should have taken only twenty minutes, turned into 2 hours of bumper to bumper creepy, crawly traffic, but that was OK, because we had our two children in the car and the front seaters were a captive audience.
We got to my sister's house around 5:30 and had a bountiful meal of Red, Hot and Blue ribs and pulled pork and chicken, along with all the side dishes coming from the local rib shack that Randy and the kids had somehow located. Needless to say, the house was a flurry of activity as we all began to prepare for the next day. Thanksgiving Day dawned bright and sunny, which is unusual. My mother used to tell me how GA had been in drought conditions for the good part of the year, and then I'd go home and it would inevitably rain. I remember as a child, sitting in the car at the Green Stamp trading store while it poured, thinking, "I will never live in GA when I am old, because it rains too much." My mother was inside trading in her green stamps she had collected and that I had licked and prepared for her, and when she got back in the car, I told her of my new decision. I don't think she believed me, but I know she eventually did, as we have never lived in GA since Randy and I married. Of course, now I would say that because of the traffic!
Getting back to Thanksgiving Day...my mother used to worry about my sisters and I not getting together after she was gone. No worries. We have a "sister's weekend" once a year and have been to places such as Asheville and Savannah, with Baton Rouge being the latest. Thanksgiving is our big day with all the families getting together to give thanks for all we have. This year's was the biggest of all. We had first and second and third cousins together for the first time since we were all kids and had those old timey reunions in South GA. I believe there was a total of 29 of us. Needless to say, everyone brought something and it was just too much, but it was also too good, so no one did too much complaining.
I guess what blessed Randy and I to pieces was that our children were under one roof again. The phone would ring and I knew it wasn't for me because everyone who called us on a consistent basis was right there. It was very comforting. I know now how my mother must have felt when she knew we were all tucked in our beds once again only a room away. Which brings to mind...HOME. Matthew and Leah always say, "It's nice to be home," when they get to Winston Salem. Randy and I think that is so funny, as we have only lived there for 2 years and they are only there a few days at a time when they visit. They each have their own rooms--Leah's is the same, I just painted her furniture black and added a new comforter along with granite tops on her dresser and desk, and Matthew's was all new, so there is not a drop of familiar in his downstairs room, but he especially always says, "It's nice to be HOME." I say the same thing when I go to GA. I said the same thing when we crossed over the GA line into FL as we headed south to Orlando on Saturday. We went to the church that I had worked at in Windermere for Sunday services, and I said it again as we pulled up and saw so many familiar faces. My dear friend, Gail, who had also worked at the church, and her husband David, had invited us for dinner on Saturday night, so we made a plan to rendezvous at the church for 11:00 services. We all sat on the same pew, along with Jared, a roommate and friend, and Pastor Chuck acknowledged these "two wonderful ladies" he had worked with for years and our families. It was great to be HOME.
The first year I was in Winston Salem, I missed the love and acceptance of home, and I truly believe that is what makes home, HOME. You know the saying, "Home is where the heart is." Well, I have finally determined that LOVE is where the heart is most happy and that's where God wants us to feel at home...LOVE is His greatest gift (1 Corinthians 13.) I used to tell the Lord during those days of transition, "Well, Lord, if Windermere is the only place I will ever experience that kind of love, 'tis better to have been that loved and lost, than never to have been that loved at all.' (Sorry, Elizabeth, I took a little creative license there to make a point.) I had no idea at the time that He had some wonderful people that He had divinely set down at Brookberry Farm, and a couple of them asked me right off the bat to lead a women's Bible study. I think I've told you before that we started with 9, a year and a half ago, and are up to 23 now. It's amazing the love we have for each other. We are all ages, but we have a love connection that won't quit. The ladies just keep inviting their neighbors in, or they see how close we are and want to be a part. One lady moved into the neighborhood BECAUSE she was told by her realtor there was a Bible study. Every time we put the word out for a new study, we get well-wishes from those who can't attend due to work schedules. I love it and can't think of anywhere else I would rather be than at Brookberry Farm. It is home.
Monday, November 30, 2009
Sunday, November 22, 2009
Thankful to be Thankful
As you can see, I am on hiatus from writing about anything based on one particular topic lately. I have had a lot on my plate, but it's all fun stuff. First off, the Amos Cottage Pie sale is going to be coming to an end in approximately 18 hours. We sold an assortment of almost 600 pies, which included Moravian chicken, chicken with veggies, pumpkin, apple and pecan. Mrs. Pumpkin and her helpers baked them all. Leah flew in today from Orlando, and she will be helping me hand out pies at Mrs. Pumpkin's facility in about 9 hours. (It's 1:13 AM, and I decided to write for a few minutes.)
Another activity, and probably THE MOST FUN THING I've been a part of in a long time, took place last night. One of my new friends of 2 years here just turned 50. Her husband threw her a beautiful surprise party at Graylyn. (Google "Graylyn in Winston Salem.") I was asked to do the decorations, which was a privilege for me. It was especially rewarding because, the book I am feverishly gathering information for is tied to this specific estate. It is located across the street from Reynolda House, the "bungalow" of R. J. Reynolds, tobacco king. (Does Winston & Salem ring a bell?)
Back to Graylyn. Upon arrival, you are met by the valet and butler. It's just too cool...like something out of "The Great Gatsby." The reception was held in a beautifully dark-paneled study, with a toasty fire blazing at the far end of the room, and a pianist playing throughout the night at the opposite end. Candles and small vases of red roses and freesias were sprinkled everywhere throughout the room, giving it a most romantic quality. From this room, we entered the enclosed stone porch with arched windows, that looked out over the beautiful grounds. The tables were covered in white, with white china and silver utensils. What would complete the party decor better than a black napkin laid in the center with a rose bowl full of 14 partially opened red roses right up above the lip, 4 votives at each corner of the napkin that were small versions of the rose bowls, and pontif shaped black napkins sitting at the center of each plate. It was gloriously beautiful if I do say so myself. (I got the idea when we were guests at the PGA Spa down in West Palm Beach, compliments of Phillip Morris...is that ironic or what? Bernadette Peters was the entertainment of the night, but I thought it was the centerpieces. I couldn't take my eyes off of them!) Another friend and I walked the woods and pulled up still-green honeysuckle vines, stripped them, and placed them in the bowls to dry a few weeks ago. For those of you who want a beautiful effect, roll about 6 of them, all different lengths, around your hand and place them in the bowl. They give the roses a place to nestle and add interest to just a bowl of stems. Grape vine, or any vine works as far as I know.
I didn't have anything to do with the cake, which was out of this world, but it too, was a work of art. All in all, it was a most fun culmination of honoring a wonderful person. It's a wonderful thing to work in one's sweet spot!
Lastly, our ladies' Bible study group is making armchair pouches for one of our area nursing homes. We are making 70 of them. Sounds very simple, doesn't it? One of our ladies is very talented when it comes to sewing and designing just about anything with fabric. She designed and orchestrated a plan for all of us to meet at the clubhouse across the street after our last Bible study. We hoped to have them completed in a day or so. She had the large conference room so organized, you would think it was Santa's workshop. We all busily applied ourselves to our individual tasks and by the end of the day, I believe we had completed ONE. Here we are two days later and we are only half through. Each one takes an hour and a half, but they don't show seams! Needless to say, those of us who take the path of least resistance are being stretched beyond our limits, but it has all proved to be fun and we've all learned something to boot...and that's that WE ARE ALL DIFFERENT, but we can CHOOSE to be committed to a good cause and complete it with excellence.
Ran just woke up and came looking for me. (I've told him he should do that as long as I've got these cough spells going on. I could be passed out somewhere in the house for all he knew, gasping for breath.) I'm at the end of this, I hope, and this is the first time he's ever gotten up. Here's the analogy that comes to mind: you can teach an old dog new tricks, BUT they may be a little delayed the older the dog. It's very cold here and rainy. My feet are a block of ice, so I am going to go and warm them on his warm legs while he is still in a groggy state. He's very kind like that. I hope you all are rested for the new day and are blessed to pieces with happy, unexpected surprises.
(Bo, I would love for you to make some comments on your history and Graylyn, if you will.) AS MANY AS YOU WANT. I can't think of anything more interesting.
Another activity, and probably THE MOST FUN THING I've been a part of in a long time, took place last night. One of my new friends of 2 years here just turned 50. Her husband threw her a beautiful surprise party at Graylyn. (Google "Graylyn in Winston Salem.") I was asked to do the decorations, which was a privilege for me. It was especially rewarding because, the book I am feverishly gathering information for is tied to this specific estate. It is located across the street from Reynolda House, the "bungalow" of R. J. Reynolds, tobacco king. (Does Winston & Salem ring a bell?)
Back to Graylyn. Upon arrival, you are met by the valet and butler. It's just too cool...like something out of "The Great Gatsby." The reception was held in a beautifully dark-paneled study, with a toasty fire blazing at the far end of the room, and a pianist playing throughout the night at the opposite end. Candles and small vases of red roses and freesias were sprinkled everywhere throughout the room, giving it a most romantic quality. From this room, we entered the enclosed stone porch with arched windows, that looked out over the beautiful grounds. The tables were covered in white, with white china and silver utensils. What would complete the party decor better than a black napkin laid in the center with a rose bowl full of 14 partially opened red roses right up above the lip, 4 votives at each corner of the napkin that were small versions of the rose bowls, and pontif shaped black napkins sitting at the center of each plate. It was gloriously beautiful if I do say so myself. (I got the idea when we were guests at the PGA Spa down in West Palm Beach, compliments of Phillip Morris...is that ironic or what? Bernadette Peters was the entertainment of the night, but I thought it was the centerpieces. I couldn't take my eyes off of them!) Another friend and I walked the woods and pulled up still-green honeysuckle vines, stripped them, and placed them in the bowls to dry a few weeks ago. For those of you who want a beautiful effect, roll about 6 of them, all different lengths, around your hand and place them in the bowl. They give the roses a place to nestle and add interest to just a bowl of stems. Grape vine, or any vine works as far as I know.
I didn't have anything to do with the cake, which was out of this world, but it too, was a work of art. All in all, it was a most fun culmination of honoring a wonderful person. It's a wonderful thing to work in one's sweet spot!
Lastly, our ladies' Bible study group is making armchair pouches for one of our area nursing homes. We are making 70 of them. Sounds very simple, doesn't it? One of our ladies is very talented when it comes to sewing and designing just about anything with fabric. She designed and orchestrated a plan for all of us to meet at the clubhouse across the street after our last Bible study. We hoped to have them completed in a day or so. She had the large conference room so organized, you would think it was Santa's workshop. We all busily applied ourselves to our individual tasks and by the end of the day, I believe we had completed ONE. Here we are two days later and we are only half through. Each one takes an hour and a half, but they don't show seams! Needless to say, those of us who take the path of least resistance are being stretched beyond our limits, but it has all proved to be fun and we've all learned something to boot...and that's that WE ARE ALL DIFFERENT, but we can CHOOSE to be committed to a good cause and complete it with excellence.
Ran just woke up and came looking for me. (I've told him he should do that as long as I've got these cough spells going on. I could be passed out somewhere in the house for all he knew, gasping for breath.) I'm at the end of this, I hope, and this is the first time he's ever gotten up. Here's the analogy that comes to mind: you can teach an old dog new tricks, BUT they may be a little delayed the older the dog. It's very cold here and rainy. My feet are a block of ice, so I am going to go and warm them on his warm legs while he is still in a groggy state. He's very kind like that. I hope you all are rested for the new day and are blessed to pieces with happy, unexpected surprises.
(Bo, I would love for you to make some comments on your history and Graylyn, if you will.) AS MANY AS YOU WANT. I can't think of anything more interesting.
Tuesday, November 17, 2009
A Happy Skippy Jumpy Sort of Day
WARNING: THIS BLOG CONTAINS GRAPHIC LANGUAGE. NOT FOR THE FAINT_HEARTED. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK. (If you're reading this you probably know me well, so that's not for you, but it is for those of you from other countries who just happen by, other than Larry in Cameroon.)
To explain the title, when Leah was a little girl and was just exceptionally happy, we described her as having a "happy, skippy, jumpy day," because that's what she did. I am having a "happy, skippy, jumpy day," because that is what I am doing. I went with a good attitude to the "cough" specialist today, as ready as I'd ever be (or so I thought) to have the procedure done where they put a monitor down my throat and have me drink sips of saline water...sounds like torture to me, then they monitor my throat muscles and swallowing. (I can't even imagine passing the first swallow at this point.) Eventually they go to applesauce and do the same. Hmmm. As she was explaining all this, I figured I'd better interrupt and tell her that I had just the day before finished my antibiotic and steroids, and still had a remnant of a cough. (I thought about coughing for good measure, but decided against it at the last minute. Too many swine flu scares going on around here, and I didn't want her health to feel compromised and have her start concentrating on herself instead of me.)She left the decision to proceed up to me. You know what I chose. REPRIEVE! WE decided it was best I wait until my cough is the normal allergic cough. I am so happy. Our friend/co-worker, Michael is here, and he's already mentioned "pictures, U TUBE" you know, guy things like that, and now he can U TUBE away, because there will be NOTHING TO SEE. (They were placing a monitor down my nose and throat for about 18 hours to monitor what makes me cough, etc. It was and will, eventually, stick out of my nose overnight...but not TONIGHT!)
I also got a phone call around 10 and it was my one of my pastor/bosses from Windermere. They were in staff meeting and thinking about me! I felt like I had my own children's TV show with the magic mirror...you know, where the host/hostess says, "And I see..." and makes up a slew of names hoping one will hit home out in TV land, except this time it was a telephone, and I was saying in my head, "And I hear Chuck, Rachel, Troy..." It was great hearing their voices and knowing that some things don't ever change. They were as rowdy as usual, and that's a good thing. It sure kept work from being boring back in the day. (By the way, if Chuck Carter ever calls you and asks if you know what day this is, have ready, "Yes, it's the first day of the rest of my life." He'll laugh his head off and you win! A BIG SHOUT OUT to Troy who is, I'm sure, enjoying THE BLOG. Well, I believe he said he was "reading" it, or something akin to that. "Following" maybe.
Since today is catch up day, I have something else that will make those of you who know me well, laugh...and this is the laugh... I am the treasurer of our Amos Cottage Guild (which fundraises to help children with emotional disorders. I've talked about it before. Google it. Mr. Google explains it far better than I ever could.)It's a wonderful cause and I am thankful to be a part of it. I am being stretched to pieces because we all know my brain is not comfortable in the number's world, but Randy has taken me under his wing, and we are a TEAM. We're right in the middle of a huge pie sale/fundraiser...baked by Mrs. Pumpkin, herself, and to date we have sold over 570 pies just in time for Thanksgiving company. Leah arrives after church on Sunday, just in time to help her mom hand out pies on Monday. I love how that works. She is the one you want on your team when the rubber hits the road. We will put up a Christmas tree while she is here and celebrate Christmas early since she is off to Singapore with Universal Studios for 4 months, in early December.
It's all good. Word for the blog for the day: BLISS! I know you know what it means...a peaceful happy, skippy, jumpy, state of mind and being. May all your days contain it.
To explain the title, when Leah was a little girl and was just exceptionally happy, we described her as having a "happy, skippy, jumpy day," because that's what she did. I am having a "happy, skippy, jumpy day," because that is what I am doing. I went with a good attitude to the "cough" specialist today, as ready as I'd ever be (or so I thought) to have the procedure done where they put a monitor down my throat and have me drink sips of saline water...sounds like torture to me, then they monitor my throat muscles and swallowing. (I can't even imagine passing the first swallow at this point.) Eventually they go to applesauce and do the same. Hmmm. As she was explaining all this, I figured I'd better interrupt and tell her that I had just the day before finished my antibiotic and steroids, and still had a remnant of a cough. (I thought about coughing for good measure, but decided against it at the last minute. Too many swine flu scares going on around here, and I didn't want her health to feel compromised and have her start concentrating on herself instead of me.)She left the decision to proceed up to me. You know what I chose. REPRIEVE! WE decided it was best I wait until my cough is the normal allergic cough. I am so happy. Our friend/co-worker, Michael is here, and he's already mentioned "pictures, U TUBE" you know, guy things like that, and now he can U TUBE away, because there will be NOTHING TO SEE. (They were placing a monitor down my nose and throat for about 18 hours to monitor what makes me cough, etc. It was and will, eventually, stick out of my nose overnight...but not TONIGHT!)
I also got a phone call around 10 and it was my one of my pastor/bosses from Windermere. They were in staff meeting and thinking about me! I felt like I had my own children's TV show with the magic mirror...you know, where the host/hostess says, "And I see..." and makes up a slew of names hoping one will hit home out in TV land, except this time it was a telephone, and I was saying in my head, "And I hear Chuck, Rachel, Troy..." It was great hearing their voices and knowing that some things don't ever change. They were as rowdy as usual, and that's a good thing. It sure kept work from being boring back in the day. (By the way, if Chuck Carter ever calls you and asks if you know what day this is, have ready, "Yes, it's the first day of the rest of my life." He'll laugh his head off and you win! A BIG SHOUT OUT to Troy who is, I'm sure, enjoying THE BLOG. Well, I believe he said he was "reading" it, or something akin to that. "Following" maybe.
Since today is catch up day, I have something else that will make those of you who know me well, laugh...and this is the laugh... I am the treasurer of our Amos Cottage Guild (which fundraises to help children with emotional disorders. I've talked about it before. Google it. Mr. Google explains it far better than I ever could.)It's a wonderful cause and I am thankful to be a part of it. I am being stretched to pieces because we all know my brain is not comfortable in the number's world, but Randy has taken me under his wing, and we are a TEAM. We're right in the middle of a huge pie sale/fundraiser...baked by Mrs. Pumpkin, herself, and to date we have sold over 570 pies just in time for Thanksgiving company. Leah arrives after church on Sunday, just in time to help her mom hand out pies on Monday. I love how that works. She is the one you want on your team when the rubber hits the road. We will put up a Christmas tree while she is here and celebrate Christmas early since she is off to Singapore with Universal Studios for 4 months, in early December.
It's all good. Word for the blog for the day: BLISS! I know you know what it means...a peaceful happy, skippy, jumpy, state of mind and being. May all your days contain it.
Monday, November 16, 2009
Catch Up
Hello, everyone,
Sorry I've been away for awhile. I have had the most horrible cough for 6 weeks now. I have been to specialists in regard to my chronic "allergy" cough, and it turned into what was finally identified as "the croup," only 10 days ago. I've been on every medication you can imagine (penicillin & steroids included; not happy but I seem to be on the road to recovery finally); been poked and prodded, and have two more tests in the next two days; one which involves having a tube inserted down my throat for 24 hours to monitor my cough. I am not looking forward to that one, but I will be a trooper, because doctors are our friends...doctors are our friends...doctors are our friends...
I'm getting ready to start chronicling the writing of the book on Brookberry Farm. God has placed so many wonderful people in my path, I can't let one person or situation be overlooked. SO...stay tuned!
Debbie
Sorry I've been away for awhile. I have had the most horrible cough for 6 weeks now. I have been to specialists in regard to my chronic "allergy" cough, and it turned into what was finally identified as "the croup," only 10 days ago. I've been on every medication you can imagine (penicillin & steroids included; not happy but I seem to be on the road to recovery finally); been poked and prodded, and have two more tests in the next two days; one which involves having a tube inserted down my throat for 24 hours to monitor my cough. I am not looking forward to that one, but I will be a trooper, because doctors are our friends...doctors are our friends...doctors are our friends...
I'm getting ready to start chronicling the writing of the book on Brookberry Farm. God has placed so many wonderful people in my path, I can't let one person or situation be overlooked. SO...stay tuned!
Debbie
Sunday, November 1, 2009
Before I continue on with the "goose saga," I need to let you know you never,ever call the geese, "Canadian geese." They are called "Canada geese." You may as well learn the correct term, because one never knows where the little buggers will turn up. (My sister Scarlette and her husband Dave, have their own stories about how to get them off your lake. I have made a little reference to it already, but will not tell you where, as I do not want to incriminate them.) :)
Since I had a short hiatus with no geese flying in except for the one, my heart began to melt toward the others. I felt maybe I had been a little too hard on them, especially the lazy ones. I feel sorry for lazy people! I pictured myself getting out there and putting them through a goose boot camp, but I don't believe they are trainable. They start running from me as soon as I slam the door now. I think I am at least something to contend with these days in the realm of Geesedom.
To get back to the story, the death of the goose took all the vim and vigor out of me for awhile, and just when I thought I was going to renew my quest to rid the yard of geese, I looked out and saw something moving near the pond. I got the binoculars and there, to my utter disbelief, was another goose...a lame one this time, from the way it just stayed in the same place. I wouldn't let Mollie go in the backyard, and ended up calling the goose people again. They recommended I call a rescue group, which I did, and I got a recording. I left my name and number and explained the situation, and waited...and waited...and waited. Someone finally called me back about 2 1/2 days later and listened with great sensitivity. She told me someone would be out to pick it up soon to minister to its needs. No one showed up. The goose seemed to become a lot more restless on day four, and I began to think this might be the last ditch effort to defeat death before it left this life. Just the thought of having Randy to dispose of the goose made me sick. I didn't want to start a goose graveyard in my yard, and I didn't want to just put it in the trashcan. How insensitive would that be? I thought about a burial at pond (as opposed to at sea) but I didn't want the feathers to block the fish's airways, and then I'd be responsible for their demise to boot.
I finally got a phone call on the morning of day five, bright and early, and heard the voice on the other side apologizing for not getting back to me sooner. There had been a mix-up as to who was on call. I told her that I thought it was too late, and made my way to the the window. I couldn't see anything where the goose once sat, so I told her I'd go look. I was a little fearful thinking about what if it had hobbled into the overgrowth next door and was suddenly going to have one last burst of energy to peck me in the eye...so I sent Randy. (I asked him to wear glasses, because his mind doesn't work like mine, and he wasn't seeing the big picture, but he wouldn't, and I couldn't risk him changing his mind if I told him of my concern, because then I would have to do it after all. I committed right then, that if he got hurt, I would be both his eyes for the rest of his life with no complaining.)He came back unscathed and with a negative report. The goose had flown the coup, or Mother Nature had once again taken care of one of its own. No tell-tale goose feathers or parts were found. Meditation: Everyone just needs to take time to "recoup" sometimes. It's good for the soul and may just be the best thing you ever did, or not, but you won't know til you try.
Just when I was ready to declare defeat, the Calvary rushed in, devoid of uniforms, but definitely with a weapon in hand. Our developer had bought a Goose Gun. There must be a better name. It looks like a cap pistol, and once it's shot, there is a delay and then a loud shotgun blast with a spark. Well, that scared the living daylights out of them and sent them on the fly like there was no tomorrow. They circled around a few times, squawking, with their irritation evident, only to land on the other side of the neighborhood on one of the other two ponds. This has gone on the whole summer, and I am happy to say it is working for the most part. I quickly volunteered our yard as a place to shoot from and got to see their reaction firsthand. After about the third day, they began to fly about 60 feet away from the 50 foot pop that emanates once the gun is fired, but they did stop flying in regularly, and that's all I really wanted--a reprieve.
We made it into fall co-existing. They had old home week in the yard this early spring though, when they couldn't shoot the gun, because it was the geese's molting time again. Since they cannot fly during this time (Remember it looks like someone has plucked them to pieces and there are feathers everywhere? Bo made reference to it and the coyotes in an earlier "comment" post.)they were left alone. I thought that was VERY thoughtful of the developers. I had to resort to yelling from the porch again and sending Mollie out on the wild geese chases. She hadn't forgotten what she was supposed to do, but I had a time trying to get her to see the "Guard Goose" who stands guard and squawks directions from a lone position away from the others. He acts tougher than his cohorts and is the LAST to go into the water. He is also the one who stretches himself out and raises up out of the water screaming a death threat to Mollie every time. She just watches in wonder from the shore and then starts sniffing poo piles. (There's one for every flock, by the way, and others play "follow the leader" once the leader starts.)
What once claimed hours of my time, has now become an innocuous pastime I'm happy to say. The ducks have taken the geese's place on the pond and shore, even though I hear them flying overhead sometimes. The ducks just don't seem to be as messy, but stay-tuned, there may be a "Duck Saga" in the works and I don't even know it. Before I close this particular blog, I want to point out a few more meditations in regard to the geese:
1. They either choose their mates wisely or else they have a lot of patience; both are virtues that we should all emulate.
2. They cooperate when it gets down to planning and implementing a trip. (Migration)
Everyone knows what they are to do and they do it with excellence.
3. They are sensitive to life and death.
4. Some of them, just like us, don't know when it's time to GO. These lazy geese have worn out their welcome. I hope it does not hold true: once lazy, always lazy.
5. They seem to have a great sense of balance to their days, and rarely appear to be just wasting time. Eating declines the closer they get to flight time. They know better than to pack all that heavy baggage.
All lessons we could each learn that would make our lives easier and more enjoyable.
Since I had a short hiatus with no geese flying in except for the one, my heart began to melt toward the others. I felt maybe I had been a little too hard on them, especially the lazy ones. I feel sorry for lazy people! I pictured myself getting out there and putting them through a goose boot camp, but I don't believe they are trainable. They start running from me as soon as I slam the door now. I think I am at least something to contend with these days in the realm of Geesedom.
To get back to the story, the death of the goose took all the vim and vigor out of me for awhile, and just when I thought I was going to renew my quest to rid the yard of geese, I looked out and saw something moving near the pond. I got the binoculars and there, to my utter disbelief, was another goose...a lame one this time, from the way it just stayed in the same place. I wouldn't let Mollie go in the backyard, and ended up calling the goose people again. They recommended I call a rescue group, which I did, and I got a recording. I left my name and number and explained the situation, and waited...and waited...and waited. Someone finally called me back about 2 1/2 days later and listened with great sensitivity. She told me someone would be out to pick it up soon to minister to its needs. No one showed up. The goose seemed to become a lot more restless on day four, and I began to think this might be the last ditch effort to defeat death before it left this life. Just the thought of having Randy to dispose of the goose made me sick. I didn't want to start a goose graveyard in my yard, and I didn't want to just put it in the trashcan. How insensitive would that be? I thought about a burial at pond (as opposed to at sea) but I didn't want the feathers to block the fish's airways, and then I'd be responsible for their demise to boot.
I finally got a phone call on the morning of day five, bright and early, and heard the voice on the other side apologizing for not getting back to me sooner. There had been a mix-up as to who was on call. I told her that I thought it was too late, and made my way to the the window. I couldn't see anything where the goose once sat, so I told her I'd go look. I was a little fearful thinking about what if it had hobbled into the overgrowth next door and was suddenly going to have one last burst of energy to peck me in the eye...so I sent Randy. (I asked him to wear glasses, because his mind doesn't work like mine, and he wasn't seeing the big picture, but he wouldn't, and I couldn't risk him changing his mind if I told him of my concern, because then I would have to do it after all. I committed right then, that if he got hurt, I would be both his eyes for the rest of his life with no complaining.)He came back unscathed and with a negative report. The goose had flown the coup, or Mother Nature had once again taken care of one of its own. No tell-tale goose feathers or parts were found. Meditation: Everyone just needs to take time to "recoup" sometimes. It's good for the soul and may just be the best thing you ever did, or not, but you won't know til you try.
Just when I was ready to declare defeat, the Calvary rushed in, devoid of uniforms, but definitely with a weapon in hand. Our developer had bought a Goose Gun. There must be a better name. It looks like a cap pistol, and once it's shot, there is a delay and then a loud shotgun blast with a spark. Well, that scared the living daylights out of them and sent them on the fly like there was no tomorrow. They circled around a few times, squawking, with their irritation evident, only to land on the other side of the neighborhood on one of the other two ponds. This has gone on the whole summer, and I am happy to say it is working for the most part. I quickly volunteered our yard as a place to shoot from and got to see their reaction firsthand. After about the third day, they began to fly about 60 feet away from the 50 foot pop that emanates once the gun is fired, but they did stop flying in regularly, and that's all I really wanted--a reprieve.
We made it into fall co-existing. They had old home week in the yard this early spring though, when they couldn't shoot the gun, because it was the geese's molting time again. Since they cannot fly during this time (Remember it looks like someone has plucked them to pieces and there are feathers everywhere? Bo made reference to it and the coyotes in an earlier "comment" post.)they were left alone. I thought that was VERY thoughtful of the developers. I had to resort to yelling from the porch again and sending Mollie out on the wild geese chases. She hadn't forgotten what she was supposed to do, but I had a time trying to get her to see the "Guard Goose" who stands guard and squawks directions from a lone position away from the others. He acts tougher than his cohorts and is the LAST to go into the water. He is also the one who stretches himself out and raises up out of the water screaming a death threat to Mollie every time. She just watches in wonder from the shore and then starts sniffing poo piles. (There's one for every flock, by the way, and others play "follow the leader" once the leader starts.)
What once claimed hours of my time, has now become an innocuous pastime I'm happy to say. The ducks have taken the geese's place on the pond and shore, even though I hear them flying overhead sometimes. The ducks just don't seem to be as messy, but stay-tuned, there may be a "Duck Saga" in the works and I don't even know it. Before I close this particular blog, I want to point out a few more meditations in regard to the geese:
1. They either choose their mates wisely or else they have a lot of patience; both are virtues that we should all emulate.
2. They cooperate when it gets down to planning and implementing a trip. (Migration)
Everyone knows what they are to do and they do it with excellence.
3. They are sensitive to life and death.
4. Some of them, just like us, don't know when it's time to GO. These lazy geese have worn out their welcome. I hope it does not hold true: once lazy, always lazy.
5. They seem to have a great sense of balance to their days, and rarely appear to be just wasting time. Eating declines the closer they get to flight time. They know better than to pack all that heavy baggage.
All lessons we could each learn that would make our lives easier and more enjoyable.
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