SPRING IS IN THE AIR

SPRING!!!

Spring is my favorite time of the year. All the way from Northern Florida to New England. South Florida, of course, barely has a noticeable change to spring. Spring in northern Florida starts about mid-February with the beginnings of sprouting of new life through leave buds on the trees. It gives a plethora of shades of green. Next come the azaleas…white, salmon, pink, reds, magentas. This year was a bit of a disappointment, however, as some sort of bug got to most of the plants in the area, chewing up the budding flowers. Then, there are the white wild flowering dogwood hither, thither and yon in various woods and forests.

Garden and plant shows start popping up bringing all kinds of native plants and flowers. Time to buy neat stuff for one’s own yard. The geraniums which sat for a large part of the winter in my dining room could now be moved out to the back porch. Although late February still brings potential killing frost, the flowers can spend more time out of doors.

The stag horn ferns which have been housed in the work shop can now be brought out to hang gracefully in the yard. We have three…two of them are more than thirty years old. They are really big and very heavy. It takes two of us and a wheelbarrow to move them from their winter quarters to their summer trees. Since the leaves are usually just budding on the live oaks that form their shaded umbrella, they sometimes get a bit sunburned. But within a week or two, they are growing once again.

Now, the beginning of May, the amaryllis has had one flower with four blossoms, the first in four years. And our Easter lilies, although slightly confused and late are now giving us many the bloom. We planted two last year. They multiply greatly. This year there are about a dozen plants, each with several buds and several of them with blooms.

The vegetables are heading toward hitting full stride. Cukes and summer squash have already been enjoyed. The tomatoes will start in a week or two. However, we have hit the road and will miss the first few.

This year we are having an added bonus; we are going north and will enjoy seeing the natural progression of the beauty of the early return to life.

Heading north, we left while it was still dark. I slept most of the way out of Florida, through most of Georgia and well into South Carolina. I did not start paying attention to the progression of spring as we danced our quick step via North I-95 until well into North Carolina. Traveling at the speed limit of 70, it is difficult to identify the varieties of beautiful wild flowers. There were lots of reds and pinks with a smithering of white. Purple. Various shades of blue. There were places that reminded me of a giant gorgeous quilt with reds/pinks in the middle surrounded by blue. Thank you Lady Bird and all who followed for your foresight in America’s beautification.

While we were on I-95, there was not much exciting to see as we moved into Virginia. At Fredericksburg, we veered to US 17, eventually to I-66 and finally to I-81. The floral landscape changed to clumps of daisies. Most were small clumps, but beautiful nonetheless. In the northern part of Virginia, we started seeing bright yellow flowers—sometimes the grouping were the size of nosegays; sometimes covering the entire side of a hill. Again, without the ability to stop, I could not identify them. But a hillside painted completely in yellow with the green accents of the leaves was indeed a sight to behold. God’s artistry is beyond any words I can put down. Flowery trees began to appear here and there, eventually more here than there. Most of the flowers were white, reminding me of the snow covering they may have seen earlier in the year. We don’t see much snow in Florida (did have it a couple of mornings this year, however.)

We spent the night in Winchester, Virginia. Leaving before the sun came up, I was able to photograph portions of the sun rise, before it became completely engulfed in cloud cover.

I started noticing spring life once again passing into southern Pennsylvania where the tidy farms of the Pennsylvania Dutch. New life here came in the form young animals. Calves mostly.

The unidentified yellow flowers reappeared, first in very tiny groups, then larger sets, but not in the abundance previously seen in Virginia. As we progressed north into the mountains, the spring budding of the trees was most noticeably abundant. They were in the early throes of their new spring wardrobe. I had not realized before the colors available in these early budding season. As we went by the towns of Frackville, Hazelton, and Wilkes Barre, I noticed that buds as well as later fall foliage come in many colors…dots of orange, splashes of red, a blush of coral, lymon green (a pale yellowish green—kind the color of Mountain Dew), and a large sprinkling of russet. There were few conifers which would have produced a much more varied shade of green. The russet buds were so dominant, that the far off hills and valleys had a tannish-beige look rather than green. White flowering trees popped into place from time to time.

We stopped for breakfast in the town of Frackville, a small old mining town. The parking lot had two pink cherry trees in full bloom. Great spotches of color.

On the west side of the interstate was a good sized tree farm near Hazelton. Most of the trees were in the early stages of budding. Their flowering trees, however, presented a rainbow of shades from white to various pinks--pale pink to hot pink and magenta—and reds. God is such a wonderful artist. It was awesome!

In Scranton, we made a sharp turn east. Soon we entered New York State. Here there were many more evergreens. The trees were post-budding, but had not yet reached the full maturity of their early foliage growth. Several varieties of pines. Cedar. Fir. The evergreens were taller than most of the hardwoods, with their heads rising above their neighboring siblings, providing various shades of green—lime to dark forest.

Although not as prolific as they were in Virginia, the unknown yellow flowers popped up here and there. They are beautiful, nonetheless.

We starting see dandelions with their yellow smiling faces. I am probably one of very few people who think they are a great sign of spring and very pretty. I really like to look at a field filled with these blossoming yellow “weeds.” We saw several yellow fields with a variety of both of these flowers with their green leaves framing their faces. In Florida, there is a variety of dandelions, but they are flatter and not quite so pretty. As we continued on our way, we began to see some that had already turned to their fluffy down that would soon carry the seeds for another year.

We passed several wetland areas and found that the bull rushes and cattails still carried their winter tans and browns. Yet, we could see new green growth shooting up among the old. Green goes so well with brown. It reminds me of mint chocolate chip ice cream

Once we crossed the Connecticut line, zillions of flowering bushes and trees presented themselves…cherry blossoms, apple blossoms, forsythia, azaleas, and so many more. The Japanese maples wore their burgundy coats with grace and beauty.

I thought that we apparently had missed most of the daffodils and tulips, but I did find a few here and there. Generally speaking, however, they were past peak.

When we first arrived, the lilacs were beginning to show their buds..several shades of lilac and lavender, and of course, white. By the time we left, the lilacs were almost gone, but the lillies-of-the -valley were beginning to show their heads. And, the bridle wreath was budding. Memorial Day is the usual standard for that bush to be at its peak. That would have been just about right given the time frame.

Heading back to Florida—in just the wee short period of time since we left—the landscape had changed from the buds of new life to almost a full maturity of the leaves on the trees. We stopped at the West Virginia welcome center to find the bearded iris in full bloom...yellow, blues, white.

Landing back in our yard, we discovered the crepe myrtles were in bud. We have several in our yard—mostly white with one lone hot pink bush. Two of the white bushes were given to us serveral years ago. This is the first year we have had any flowers on them. This was due to the diligence of Steve’s fertilizing and watering. The crepe myrtle bushes downtown, however, were in full swing with their various shades of pinks, lavenders and reds.

I may have to add lyrics to “These Are a Few of My Favorite Things” from time to time. Today, in addition to all the flora already mentioned, I would have to include fluffy pure bright white clouds floating in a sea of azure in the sky they call home.

“For the beauty of the earth; for the glory of the skies…Lord of all to thee we raise, this our hymn of grateful praise!!!”

6/6/11

Tale of Woe

My Tale of Woe

Let me tell you my tale of woe. My computer was dying a slow death. I took it to the computer doctor, who made it better for a short time. Then, the death rattle started once again. I had the use of another computer, but it was very old and did not allow me to move into my blog. I finally broke down and bought a new computer…well, actually two…a little netbook and a new desktop. I am on the road at the moment using the little netbook. I do not have internet connection yet. With my old computer, I was stuck in the 90’s and still had dial-up. I have discovered, much to my chagrin, that new computers do not allow dial-up any more. I have also discovered that in my rural Florida setting, I have almost no choices as with what my server can be. But I soon will be getting the necessary stuff to begin to function in the Two Thousand teens. Don’tcha love it!

6/6/11

Boat Parade and Parties

My postings are back!!


Madiera Beach Boat Parade and Party

Florida’s Christmas celebrations are soooo different than those in northern climes. Many towns have street parades, oft at night. But many of the coastal or bay front towns have an additional parade…a parade of boats from tiny dinghies to mammoth yachts highly decorated with lights, dancing Santas (some in red shorts, Hawaiian shirt and surf board--hohoho), trees--some dancing, more lights and an assortment of “red-nosed” animals. Yes, of course, we have Rudolph the Red-nosed reindeer. But then, there are the red-nosed turtles, flamingoes, dolphins and various and sundry other lesser known red-nosed creatures. I am sure they all must have names, but I will leave it to the reader’s imagination to name these critters. I personally like the alliteration found in Rudolph, the Red-Nosed Reindeer. Can’t get that alliterative sound with these other animals.

One of our favorite annual traditions at this time of the year is the party at Rick’s. Rick is a really great guy with a big heart and lots of hospitality. His home is on the beautiful Boca Ciega Bay (a smaller bay just north of Tampa Bay). Originally, the waterfront was surrounded by small cottage-type houses, many framed or block. Because it is on the water’s edge, much of the area has been bought by folks who tore down the old charming bungalows and built huge multi-story houses. There are several surrounded Rick’s place. His place, however, is still a block bungalow built over the course of a couple or three decades…remnants of earlier architecture.

We arrived early enough to watch dophins playing in the beautiful bay.

Rick has a philosophy about the color of his house. Go to the paint store, buy whatever has been returned by someone else. And paint the wall that color. If one gallon is not enough, buy as many gallons as one might need to complete a wall. If the colors are not the same…no problem…just mix them all together..and paint the wall that color. Thus, the exterior of his home has one wall facing the bay (the east wall) that is sort of pinkish. One wall is greenish (I think that is the north wall). Since there are a couple of ells, the walls switch color. The west wall which faces the road is various shades of blue. This wall is painted in a wavy shore motif.

The interior walls have the same criteria. Buy whatever, mix it, paint with it. One bathroom is kind of an apple red on the walls, plum ceiling and a turquoise shag rug. One of his many friends actually found a curtain with those exact colors and ties the room together.

Rick is the bass player in the 97th String Band--we like to believe world famous--a group that plays music from the ‘60’s—that is the 1860’s. There music is music that would have been heard during the Civil War. Great music!

Anyway, back to the annual tradition. Rick opens his house and heart on the waterfront on the day of the boat parade scheduled for the town of Madiera Beach.

He provides soda, ice and some beer. A few years ago, all these items were put in his canoe which was near the house. The canoe has since been retired. He now uses real coolers.

Anyone/everyone is welcome…neighbors, students (he is a retired teachers), other teachers, railroad enthusiasts (he likes trains), friends, friends of friends, and friends of friends’ friends and probably their friends. Of course, any Civil War reenactor who is inclined to attend is welcome. This group forms the largest part of the population. Often there are people floating through his house and yard that he does not really know. It is a great family event. Children of all ages are welcomed (as long as their parents, uncles or grandparents watch over them).

He never worries about food, as he provides none of it. The criterion for this party is to bring something…anything from store-boughten chicken to home made chili. Greek salad, the most amazing meatloaf (made with spinach, bacon, cheese, tomato sauce), store-bought sweets, home made cookies and cake, appetizers—including dips, crackers, chips, hummus. Some years lots of pasta dishes show up (none this year),

Although the boat parade arrives in front of his dock somewhere between 7:15 and 8:00 pm, people start arriving about five-ish. There is a constant revolving of goodies on the table. Those who arrive early eat early, then eat later, then eat later as new foods replace early taste treats.

Everyone who wants or needs a chair brings his/her own. There is some liquor, but no one every seems to get drunk. This year Deb had a burner going heating hot cider. There was spiced rum for those who wanted it “leaded.” The bottle was not gone at the end of the evening, although the hot cider was.

Several guests are musicians. Flutes, penny whistles, guitars, (sometimes) Rick’s bass, brogans, and various other small instruments abound. Singing of traditional Christmas songs for anyone who wants to join in.

Those of us who are veterans of this celebration know that the more noise, the better. Whistles. Air Horns. Cow Bells (this is my contribution), Yelling and Hooting. Whatever can make noise—the louder, the better. And, of course, Ray and his half –scale Civil War cannon! BOOOOM! BANG! BOOOOOOOOOOOM!

As each boat goes by with their beautiful decorations, the crowd gets nosier. One year as Ray shot the cannon (black powder, but no ball or shell) one of the participants on the boat going by actually ducked (probably this has happened more than once). Ray shoots as many rounds as he can get out of his cannon. He even shoots at the Sheriff’s boats (try that one in Massachusetts!).

Most years there are thirty or forty boats—some commercial, some privately owned. One boat that always had dropped anchor opposite Rick’s dock is the local party. This is one of those huge paddle boats that one sees at places like the Mississippi River. (I think, that although there are many parties happening in the neighborhood, ours is the loudest; and, no doubt the most fun). But, apparently, the economy or perhaps the poor weather forecast changed the face of the parade. The party boat did not show. And the number of boats in the parade was definitely scaled back.

This did not in any way curve our enthusiasm.

The boats pass north to south and then some of them pass by one more time as they are docked north of Rick’s.

After the last boat re-passes us, the traditional aerobic “Twelve Days of Christmas” is rendered. All are invited into the “circle” to enjoy this bit of crazy fun. There are always some who do not want to look like fools and stand off in the corner, but it is their loss. Thirty or forty people singing (mostly off key) and jumping and flailing to the song is something to behold. The early part of the song is fairly easy, but when we get into the higher numbers, not everyone is doing the same thing. Some are doing the twelve drummers drumming while others have gotten down to lords a-leaping. A beautiful mish-mosh of great fun and laughter. Kids. Adults. Slim and trim folks. Some of us who are more portly. Usually, by the time we finish our sides hurt from the laughter generated.

The party tends to break up around nine o’clock or so. No one ever goes away unhappy. Rick is a most unlikely party host. But, in the long haul, his style is great!

http://the97th.com/

Memaw Goes Home

Sorry folks...the computer has been down and out for a very long time.

The only real estate transaction in which I have been a party that produced a friendship was when we purchased our current home. We bought from it Don and Mary. Memaw, Mary’s mom, lived with them. The backdoor neighbors were Uncle Bob and Miss Peggy. Miss Peggy and Memaw are sisters. As a Yankee, the southern term for grandma was strange to me. But, everybody called her Memaw including the local Pastor (the Pastor of her Church).

Our lives and Don and Mary’s lives (mostly Don’s) quickly intertwined. Don is a general contractor, and Steve often worked for him--mostly painting. This last summer, since a general contractor’s work became almost non existent in Florida, Don went to work for the Census Bureau. We were in the same unit working for the same supervisor. We have been to each other’s houses. So, as I mentioned, this real estate transaction produced new friends for us.

Memaw and Miss Peggy were southern belles, born and raised in Georgia, both now living in Florida. They both love the Lord and worship him through their local Southern Baptist Church.

When we bought our home, it had an above ground swimming pool which the ladies thoroughly enjoyed. We had agreed to leave the pool available for the ladies while we were “up north” doing our summer kettle corn circuit.

Recently, Memaw went to be with our Lord. She was in her eighties and had been having lots of physical problems. Don called the night before her funeral and told us of her final moments. I know the loss of a loved one is serious, but Don had me giggling. It seems that Memaw liked her “dip.” She had just put a dip in. (For you Yankee folks, that’s a bit of snuff between the lips). Memaw had a really good sense of humor and laughed a lot. So, she would have appreciated the remarks of the Preacher about her dip and the fact that her daughter had placed a box of her favorite brand in her hands in the casket. If she could, she would have LOL. It seems as though she recently “confessed” to the Preacher that her dip was one of her vices.

It turns out that Memaw had another vice. In her younger days, she won many trophies ballroom dancing. Traditional Southern Baptists often frown upon dancing.

The “sermon/eulogy” used the scripture (Luke 11) of the story of the sisters Martha and Mary….Memaw being more of the Martha type and Miss Peggy more of the Mary type. At one time, Jesus praised Mary for her choice in sitting at his feet while Martha fretted over many things (including the fact that Mary was not helping in the kitchen).  Jesus said Mary chose the better. 

But, both sisters loved Jesus and both sisters loved him. We cannot forget that it was Martha who ran to meet him when their brother had died and said that she believed when Jesus said that he was the “resurrection and the life…He that believed in me though he were dead, yet shall he live and he that lived and believeth in me shall never die!” so, both sisters loved Jesus and showed it in her own special way.

Now, you might wonder why I mentioned the swimming pool earlier. Well, it seems the Martha-style Memaw and the Mary-style Miss Peggy got in the pool one special day. They had done it hundreds of times. For some reason, the rivets on the pool (which was now five or six years old) decided to give way that day. The Pastor told the story of the two in the pool and the floundering, yelling and screaming that went on as Uncle Bob and probably Don had to come to their rescue. Water was pouring out at the break, causing waves and a very slippery and probably dangerous situation for the ladies. However, by the description, it sounded like a scene from the Three Stooges. Most of the people in the church—knowing Memaw--were laughing heartily as the story continued.

Who knew that my swimming pool would become a part of an eulogy for a wonderful person.!

Don called up north a few days later up and said, “Your pool is dead!!!” Then, he gave us the details. It was funnier this time. It could not be fixed and eventually most of it went to the dump. And, no one was badly hurt (although I know there had to be some interesting bruises).

Her service was, indeed, a celebration of her life.

God has given us a wonderful gift in laughter and a sense of humor. I am sure Memaw is keeping them on their toes in heaven.

You are in our hearts, Memaw!

Wind Power—Old and New

De Immigrant

De Immigrant: By Donation


10th Avenue and 1st Street
Fulton, Illinois.

(815) 589-4545

Stairways lead up into the windmill. Access to the windmill can also be reached by walkways on the top of the dike. The windmill is partially handicap accessible.

May (Weekends Only)
Saturday: 10:00am – 5:00pm, Sunday: 1:00pm-5:00pm

Memorial Day thru August 31:
Monday through Saturday: 10:00am – 5:00pm, Sunday 1:00pm-5:00pm

September 1 thru 1st weekend in October:
Monday through Friday: 10:00am-3:00pm, Saturday: 10:00am-5:00pm, Sunday: 1:00pm – 5:00pm

Remaining Weekends in October:
Saturday: 10:00am - 5:00pm, Sunday: 1:00pm - 5:00pm

Windmills have been around to harness power for various reasons for centuries. Until the twentieth century, they looked very much the same—probably the same style Don Quitote saw in his quest. New windmills (called turbines) generally are used to harness power to produce electricity. But the concept is the same—turn wind into useful energy. Here in Florida, we are not likely to see very many. The major alternative source of power is solar.

In New York state and throughout the Midwestern states of Nebraska, Wyoming, Iowa and Minnesota, however, we have seen hundreds of the new modern style. Wind “farms” have become popular in many parts of the country for several reasons. It is “green”—good for the environment and highly profitable. Companies pay farmers to use their land to put up the big three-pronged propeller. The farmer can still use his land for growing crops, cattle or for whatever he used his land before the wind turbines. A wind farm is a group of wind turbines—from a handful to several hundred--in the same location used for production of electric power. Each turbine is interconnected with a power collection system and communications network. Electrical current in the form of a medium voltage is forwarded to a substation, converted into higher voltage through a transformer which then sends it through a high voltage transmission system.

These farms are great, but do not hold the character and romanticism of the type we remember of yesteryear. Holland is the place that comes to mind when we think of these marvelous miracles, although they have been used in America as well.

In the town of Fulton, Illinois, the large Dutch population ordered a windmill which they call de Immigrant. Built and pre-assembled in the Netherlands, it is located on the Mississippi River—on a flood dike high above the River. Dutch masons and craftsman came with the windmill to assemble it. Dedicated in 2000.

The Dutch used various windmills for different jobs. Paint mills where various items were ground (including some insects) to produce various colors. Other mills were used to grind peanuts and linseed to process the oils from them to be used in all kinds of jobs in daily life.


When we were there, two millers and an apprentice were working. The apprentice was a lad of about eleven to thirteen. He did everything the millers did. All are volunteers.

This particular windmill produced energy to grind grains—corn, various types of wheat, rye and buckwheat—a whole montage of grains. One miller showed samples of various grains ground. Also, the same grain can be ground into different consistencies or fineness. No preservatives. It needs to be used moderately soon or refrigerated.

Even though it was almost closing time, we had a comprehensive tour. Steve and Rich went to the very top of the windmill in the company of the second miller and the apprentice. The millers only allowed two folks at a time on this venture at a time. There were two other women, who wanted to go to the top, as well. Apparently, this extra portion of the tour is rare, but a miller will guide one or two people to the top if the time is close to the end of the day. (Rich has been up to the top at least twice). Since I seemed to be the odd-man-out, I sacrificed my chance, but maybe another time. The entire windmill (with a few exceptions) is made of wood…many kinds. The exceptions, of course, are the canvas on the sails, the grinding stones, iron for the brakes and tie down areas and a couple of other minor odds and ends.

The miller explained the grinding process in detail. He also gave a great deal of detail about the way the grinding stones work, how they keep the windmill from moving if they are not there (it has what seems like a simple braking system, but it felt much more complicated after the miller explained its dynamics) and the way the wind turns the sails.

Mid summer is not the time for tulips, but the edge of the property on the ridge above the River there were massive amounts of beautiful black-eyed Susans. On a dreary day, such as it was on the day we visited, it brought its own brand of sunshine.

One could do a dash-through in a few minutes or take time to listen to the millers. They are well versed in their knowledge of the history, operation, building and detail of the windmill. A thoroughly educational and entertaining time.

Across the street is a store/gift shop which sells various Dutch style decorations, crafts and the grain ground at the windmill.

This experience was a lot of fun.

http://www.cityoffulton.us/index.php?option=com_mtree&task=viewlink&link_id=5&Itemid=94

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Wind_power

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Wind_farms