Juneberry Thoughts

One of the advantages of living on the mountain
is the panorama that spreads out when we drive to the valleys.
Last month,
Bennett's Valley was spectacular
with hundreds of juneberry trees in blossom.  
Ameleanchor is known by a number of names:
shadbush,
serviceberry  two centuries ago
the berries were ripe
when the many wedding services were performed
by a circuit-riding preacher
About ten years ago
Den planted three plants
This year the conditions were perfect for fruiting.
Last week the berries were pink,
Wednesday they were darkening to a perfect ripeness,
and Thursday night the bear came.
Branch tips were stripped
by his bite-and pull method of eating
and a big branch was broken on the ground.
Friday morning
the grandgirls and I discovered the damage.
Anna was a bit sad that the bear damaged the tree,
but Lucy was thrilled that so many berries
were now within her reach.
She ate them indiscriminately
until she discovered that green ones are pretty bad.
The next hour
was spent consuming Hundreds Of Delicious Red Berries.
While Anna braved the tippy stones in the wall
to reach higher branches,
Lucy took Bop a fistful of berries,
which somehow became half a fistful of berries.
When Bop gratefully accepted the gift
and then immediately gave them back to her,
Lucy 's cheeks almost burst with enthusiasm.

This morning the girls are back home
and more branches are broken.
Luckily the weather is  perfect,
nice breeze,
relatively low humidity,
great for beating the bear to the remainder.
I gently bend the branches to reach the higher berries--
not too hard or I will break the remaining branches.
I pick the ripest maroon berries
and the darker reds
and listen to them ping into the bowl.
When I release the branch,
the remaining reds look riper than the pinks
and I wonder if perhaps I should pick them as well.
As I work, I think of spectrums--
the spectrum of juneberry ripeness,
the spectrum of branch brittleness,
the spectrum of house cleanliness,
the political spectrum,
the spectrum of attention given to children.
I think the middle is usually a good place to be.
Colson Blakeslee,
our first family physician,
advised "Everything in moderation."
I like that.
My house has dust bunnies
and the occasional dust possum
but the CDC wouldn't be interested.
I am easily swayed
by both Rebublicans
and Democrats.
I eat low-far cottage cheese and butter,
carrots and bacon.
I use store-bought pie crust
and homemade filling.

I think I'll go make a juneberry pie.

You're Welcome, Sweetie Pie!

 I had three goals for this summer.
1. Learn to ride a motorcycle.
I burned my leg 
and broke Den's brake handle 
on my first lesson.
2. Get my Movement Learning website working.
Sadly, 
when I had knowledgeable people here, 
the internet was down 
and/or the website wouldn't let me on. 
3. Be flexible.
This is the only goal that has been mostly successful.
Flexibility was especially important
as we wanted to be available
for whatever our son Paul
and his wife Kate
and the grandgirls,
Anna and Lucy,
needed to facilitate this summer's move to Taiwan.

Flexibility allowed us to make more memories with the grandgirls:
Drip sandcastles at Parker Dam.
Baby swallows named Wendy, John, Michael, and Peter...

Wendy, John, Michael, and Peter

guess who's into Peter Pan?
Bike shows with no training wheels
and scooters
and spinning tricycles.
(Advice:
Any time a used Razor bike product is for sale,
buy it.)
Woods walks that allow us to find puffballs
and blueberries
and round leaves
and sticks that look like the letter F.
On walks,
the grandgirls liked to pretend
that they were the girls in The Boxcar Children books.
I was always the little brother Benny.
Benny lisps
and they found that hilarious
even when the lisp sounded like Lucy.
Treks to the swimming hole
to float the current
and make mermaid pools
and rock stacks.
Daily trips to the raspberries,
abundant this year.
Lucy liked to be in charge of the bucket
and then put the berries in ziplock bags,
squish them up,
and take them to the freezer...
Anna liked to eat them.
Mountain backroad jeep rides
that allowed girls to have their heads above the windshield
with a kite flying behind.

Lucy and the jeep

On one jeep ride
a red fox,
Lucy's favorite animal,
crossed in front of us
and then stood in the woods,
peering out.
That night
as I prayed with her,
"Thank you, God,
for letting Lucy see a real fox,"
she piped up
"Thank you, God,
for letting me see a real fox!"
and then immediately became the voice of God:
"WELL, YOU'RE WELCOME, SWEETIE PIE!"

This morning at 12:30 AM
we left for the Pittsburgh Airport
to begin what Den called
The Big Jump.
Waiting at baggage check-in,
Anna and I put googly eye stickers on their luggage.
(Full disclosure:
I barely resisted putting them on airport signs.)
Goodbye hugs occurred at 4:00
with big-and-little tears
from six Shaffners
and Shelby-the-amazing-driver/friend.
For the many people
who have prayed for our adjustment
to our family's Great Adventure,
thank you.
Thank you.
THANK you.
Bless you.
We are at peace.
We confidently hand them off to their Asian family,
to grandparents Victor and Joy,
and to the hand of God.

Last night,
Paul and Kate decided to let the girls stay up
so they would sleep more on the plane.
Ten o'clock found us in the garage
painting our pinkie nails
to remind us of each other.

Polished pinkies except for Foxy

Anna soon disappeared
into the house
to resume
her new-found friendship
with Calvin and Hobbes,
but Lucy hopped on the Razor trike
and spun around the driveway
in the dark,
admiring the stars.
I began to sing
the simple children's song
"God made the stars..."
when she took over
and bellowed
"Thank you God
for the stars
and the MOOOON
and Grammy
and BO-O-OP..."
I raised my hands
to the One who made the moon
and joined her in thankfulness
imagining God's response:
"Well, you're welcome,
Sweetie Pie!"

When someone else is driving
and you have no control,
be thankful for the company.
Throw your hands in the air
and enjoy the ride.
There is joy in the journey.

Paul, Kate, Anna, and Lucy  now live in Kaohsiung, Taiwan

May you find joy in your journey.

Denny and Sue

Pennywhistles, Painted Nails, and Prayers

Last night
we braved the icy roads
and took the jeep to State College
to see the Chieftains,
Ireland's premiere musicians,
in concert at Eisenhower Auditorium.
We arrived early to visit the grandgirls.
Den taught six-year-old Anna
how to play Kings,
a checker game he learned from his mom,
while I assisted three-year-old Lucy
in using silly putty
to make grapes
and grilled cheese sandwiches
for her sick stuffed animals.
Then Anna showed me Shelby's bucket of nail polish.
"Would you like to do my nails?" I asked.
Anna was thrilled.
"Wow! Yes!
I've never been allowed
to do the painting before!"
We sat down at the dining table
with paper towels
and a wide selection of polish.
"What color would you like, Grammy?"
"You choose for me."
Pale yellow and orange
alternated on the left hand,
plain with sparkly blue on the right.



I used to wear nail polish in my teens and twenties
as my mother had encouraged me
in the small habits of ladyhood,
but one day my friend Janet observed
"Your polish is always chipped.
Your nails are different lengths.
Why do you bother?"
She had a point.
From that day on,
I gave up polish.
Until yesterday.

I went to the Chieftains concert with flashy nails.
We sat at the edge of the first tier,
Den in his Aran fisherman's knit
and me in my green Donegal Irish sweater.
I leaned over the edge to see if anyone else had dressed thematically.
Two people in green.
Three guys in wool driving caps.
I then estimated the auditorium's seating capacity
and also had fun
with my green laser pointer
until Den encouraged me to put it away.
Then Paddy Moloney
carried in his pennywhistles and uilleann pipes
and Matt Molloy his flute.
There was a bodhran
and a guitarist
and two fiddles
and a harp
and a mandolin player.
There were Irish dancers
and a Scottish vocalist
and the Nittany Children's Choir
and a local step dance class
and Jaffa bagpipers 
and a family from Canada,
The Next Generation Leahy
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QXd_dSkScvg,
whose amazing dancers just kept getting tinier.

We closed our eyes
and we were back in Ireland
in Matt Molloy's pub in Westport.
We could almost smell the whiskey.

Irish instrumental music
is the happiest
and the saddest
in the world.
The bodhran thumps in your chest
and the vibrations hit your toes.
The pennywhistle wavers in your ear
and your eyes mist.
And not a word is spoken.
Perhaps music is interpreted in a different part of the brain,
having no interface with letters
or words.
It is a language all its own.
Our friend Barry said
that perhaps the Psalms
are the Irish music of the Bible.
Great joy
and lament.

During the night's final number,
audience members were encouraged to hold hands in a line
and dance their way through the aisles.
I dashed from the balcony to join them.
As we stomped enthusiastically across the stage,
the lady behind Den asked,
"Which one is your wife?"
"The one in the green sweater
and tan boots."
"She looks like a leprechaun."

Today I decided to start wearing nail polish again--
but only on my left little finger.
The polish will remind me
of Anna's first try at polishing
and of that pennywhistle night
of joy and lament.
When I notice my little fingernail
I will pray for my grandgirls,
for Anna
and for Lucy,
that they will live lives of much joy
and encounter grace in the sorrows.





P.S. Not to be outdone by her older sister,
Lucy
(with help from Shelby)
painted Den's toenails
bubblegum pink.

P.P.S.  Want to hear the Chieftains?
Click below.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=u7pDiO52xSs

How I Spent My Summer Vacation: June

A partial list:

10. Cooking hot dogs over a campfire.
Relish.
Mustard.
Good conversations.

9. Teaching Vacation Bible School.
Alice based the week
on GT and the Halo Express scripture memory.
Love GT!

8. Visiting Goodwill.
It borders on addiction.

7. Looking at the roadsides.
Elderberries are currently blooming.
There was a dead porcupine
along 322 east of Rockton
and I had a "Get Well" balloon in the car,
so I tied it to his front leg
and took a picture for Luke,
bless his heart,
who tolerates my humor.
A car pulled over,
perhaps thinking I had car trouble,
then, thankfully, left.
More cars were coming
(busy road for the middle of the afternoon)
so I left,
only to see a car slam on its brakes
in my rear-view mirror.
I did a u-turn
and retrieved the balloon.
Warped humor should not cause accidents.

6. Went to a mountain picnic and took a dessert.
A dessert that people liked.
A dessert that people requested the recipe for.
Den was shocked.
We circled the day on the calendar.

5. Eating Calliari's bread
spread with real butter
and Palumbo's hot chicken spread.
What Primanti Bros is to Pittsburgh,
that combo could be for DuBois.
Hometown food.

4. Visiting local state parks with the grandgirls.
If you're interested,
Bald Eagle State Park's water is warm and a bit dirty,
Parker Dam's water is clean and COLD,
and Black Moshannon's water is cool
and full of tannic acid from vegetation--
thus the name BLACK Moshannon.

3. Reading children's books
and then writing reviews for a company in D.C.
The good news is: free books!
The bad news is: I've thrown some of them away.
If I can't recommend them,
why pass them on?

2. Watching 24 every Monday night
and Doc Martin on Thursdays on PBS.

1. Looking for things
that are creature-like
in public places.
For the past two years,
I've carried stick-on googly eyes in my purse
(a Luke suggestion).
The most recent find is below.
Ten points if you can identify its DuBois location.

How did you spend your June?

Hello

Juneberry Thoughts

One of the advantages of living on the mountain
is the panoramas that spread out when we drive to the valleys.
Last month
Bennetts Valley was spectacular
with hundreds of juneberry trees in blossom.  
Amelanchior is known by a number of names:
saskatoon
is the native name
and was a major ingredient in pemmican,
shadbush
because it flowers when shad spawns,
serviceberry
because two centuries ago
the berries were ripe
when the many wedding services were performed
by the circuit-riding preacher.
  
About ten years ago
Den planted our three bushes,
and this year the conditions were perfect for fruiting.
Last week
the berries were pink,
Wednesday
they were darkening to a perfect ripeness...
and Thursday night the bear came.
Branch tips were stripped
by his bite-and-pull method of eating
and a big branch was broken on the ground.
Friday morning
the grandgirls and I discovered the damage.
Anna was a bit sad
that the bear damaged the bush,
but Lucy was thrilled
that so many berries
were now within her reach.
She ate them indiscriminately
until she discovered
that green ones were not good.
The next hour
was spent devouring
Hundreds of Delicious Berries.
Crevasses in the stones in the wall
became temporary bowls.
While Anna braved
the wiggly stones in the wall
to reach higher branches,
Lucy took Bop a fistful of berries,
which somehow became
half a fistful of berries.
Bop graciously accepted the gift
and then immediately gave it back to her,
Lucy 's cheeks almost burst with enthusiasm.

This morning the girls are back home
and more branches are broken.
Luckily the weather is perfect:
nice breeze,
relatively low humidity,
great for beating the bear to the remainder of the fruit.
I gently bend the branches
to reach the higher berries--
not too hard
or I will break the remaining branches.
I pick the ripest maroon berries
and the darker reds
and listen to them ping into the bowl.
When I release the branch,
the remaining reds look riper than the pinks
and I wonder if perhaps I should pick them as well.
As I work, I think of spectrums--
the spectrum of juneberry ripeness
with greens not ready and some purples overripe,
and the spectrum of branch brittleness
as I want branches to bend but not break.
In the spectrum of house cleanliness,
our house has dust bunnies
and the occasional dust possum
but the Center for Disease Control hasn't visited yet.
In the political spectrum,
I am easily swayed
by both Rebublicans
and Democrats.
Then there is the spectrum of attention given to children....
I think that the middle is usually a good place to be.
Colson Blakeslee,
our first family physician,
advised "Everything in moderation."
I like that.
I eat low-fat cottage cheese and butter,
carrots and bacon.
I use store-bought pie crust
and homemade filling.

I think I'll go make a juneberry pie.

Seedy deliciousness

Anna and Lucy juneberrying

The "bowl" isn't empty yet

Saturday's task