I want to see the world, Carl!

Let me introduce you

Carl is the handsome red and black algae eater

Below him is a brown algae eater

In the clay skull

only the catfish's tail is visible

I don't know what the rest of him looks like

One morning we heard a clatter and splash

Carl tried to jump out of the aquarium

He didn't make it

went to the corner and sulked

My heart goes out to you, Carl

Try to bloom where you're planted

The water isn't any better 

on the other side of the glass.

2014 Red Convertible Travel Series

Bears and Bait

North Central Arkansas

Note the dark spot

upper center

About an inch down

there's a 2' ledge

black bears walk

to their winter den

not now

closer to winter

Cubs are born

while the mother

sleeps

such a deal

Bears trapped with donuts
and collared

Some Canadians
use popcorn bait

An Alaskan hunter

used Oreos

2013 Red Convertible Travel Series



Nature Creates

 A drop of ice water made a bear climbing the grain in our table.

 Love is everywhere.

A drop of coffee made a heart.

These pictures were NOT altered. I caught love and creativity in the act.

2013 Red Convertible Travel Series

Our Animal Kingdom: Madchen, Schatzie & Buckshot

Madchen (long A) and Schatzie paired for life.

Although not related, both are rescue cats from different years. 

They groom each other and snuggle to sleep.
At night, they take turns going out.

Buckshot

the unwanted addition
third wheel
different species

All he wants to do is play with them.

They want no part of it.

He says, "With my blanket in tow, I could go anywhere."

He gets excited when neighbor dogs

show up in our yard

and he doesn't like to have to "sit"

to be hooked to his long leash

 

He liked his blanky so much,

he nibbled it all gone

We found his "colon sweep"
 recycled in the yard.
He's just fine.

2013 Red Convertible Travel Series

Giraffe Family Portrait

Mom Giraffe wants a simple family portrait for the grandparents. "Line up."

"But Mom, he's touching me."

"Stop it! Line up. All of you. Stand still a neck-length apart!"

In a whisper, "Mom, there are two-footeds watching us."

"There are no such things. Say tall trees."

Click.

photo by Leroy & Alice Pataocka Fortner in South Africa

2013 Red Convertible Travel Series

Flower Lake Cyprus Knees

I love the knees weird shapes.
 A group of them will bind together

and become a tree.

2012 Red Convertible Travel Series

Hummingbird Help

The sun slipped behind the Mississippi River, but the mosquitoes didn't care, they work day and night, night and day, silently selecting and stinging whatever we expose, especially my ankles and elbows. What's with the bony bites? When they do make noise, we are the targets of their mini-blitz, and they are danged accurate.

We turned the lights on in the storage shed and heard flapping. Mosquitoes don't grow that big, thank God. Between two ceiling joists, a tiny bird flew in a small circle. Small bird. Small circle. Obviously not an eagle. If it had dropped down an inch, it could have flown out.

Could you talk 'down' a hummingbird? I went up on the stepladder for a closer view of the mini-fan in action. Wikipedia states their wings flap between 12-90 flaps per second. Dizzying. Everyone who stopped became engrossed in its 'circling without exit'. I was sure it would die of exhaustion. One friend suggested sugar water. It so happens, we had a feeder on the shelf. Our friend slowly moved a bucket to set the sugar water within five feet of the bird, and assured us it would 'smell' the sugar and come for a drink. It had been circling for at least an hour, it needed a boost.

When the outside world grew dark, it settled on a fine wire facing the wall about 6" below it's circling pattern. We have never seen a hummingbird at rest. A fine wire was the perfect size for its tiny feet to circle. I expected it to fall backward, or forward, around and around, like a top heavy Christmas ornament, but it's 1" beak pointed to 1 o'clock, and it's tail pointed to 7 creating perfect balance. Nature thought of everything. Our friend quietly moved more top shelf buckets to ease the feeder closer for breakfast.

Morning came, as it has a habit of doing. We rose early to see if our guest had flown away, or fallen off its perch. We didn't find it. I checked the feeder, but really, how much water can a hummingbird drink?

We are no longer needed to offer respite for you, Little Bird. We wish you well.

2011 Red Convertible Travel Series

Foot bath settlers sequel

At JB's suggestion I hung a green and white kitchen towel on the west end of the shelves for shade, and set a tiny, glass bowl of fresh water in the tub for Mama Wren. I wanted a picture, but they moved ever so slightly and it blurred. I'll paint a picture for your imagination.

The nest was four feet off the ground on a grey metal shelf. Our cats, Schatzie and Madchen, watched, or rather stalked, Mama flying in with food and out with trash. Keeping the cats in the house was challenging; they are slippery when dry, too. I moved everything they could use for a step or spring. When I heard Mama chirping loudly I came outside to see if she was talking to her babies or cussing the cats. Schatzie and Madchen pretended to be unconcerned, but I knew their brains were twisting for when-can-we-have-a-go-at-them? In nature's food chain, birds are free cat food. St. Frances of Assisi, the Patron Saint of animals to the rescue. Protect the birds from the house cats and all other predators. Please and thank you.

The cats were stressing Mama Wren. I couldn't decide if I should move the nest to a higher shelf or not? If she abandoned them, they would starve to death. I put my concern in God's hands and peeked in. Settled on her silent clutch she turned and looked at me but made no effort to leave. In my softest mothering voice I said, "I want to help you to a higher shelf." She kept her eyes on me and didn't fly away. Okay, here goes. Ever so gently I slid the tub off and set it on the top shelf. She stayed on the nest. Thank you One and all.

Not tall enough to see in from the ground, I stood on side-by-side gallon paint cans. The nest was disheveled. Oh no. She must be furious with me. Was I over-mothering? And the chicks aren't moving. Fervent prayers and pleas for them and my forgiveness did not ease my heart or mind.

July 20th three chicks were out of the nest scattered around the tub, as if they'd been tossed. Pitiful. A feather here and there they looked moth eaten. One was stuck under a long-handled spoon. The second was upside down in the corner. The third looked half-dead lying on its side. The question wasn't could they fly, could they live? Mothering. Decisions. Without touching them or the nest, I removed the spoon and water bowl that wasn't an immediate threat, but if they lived, they might stumble in and drown.

We didn't see the mother for two days. I was sick. When I could no longer stand not knowing, I mustered the courage to look in and found the nest even more of a mess. What is she doing? Through my tears I prayed, God, pleeeeaaassssse let them live.

Friday, the 22nd, Mama perched on the rim chirping loudly and with great urgency. Saturday afternoon, I saw a chick on the rim. It lifted off and glided to the back yard crash landing and chirping I did it! First flight. No manual. Wing flapping next lesson. The second chick hopped to the rim, saw me and jumped off crashing nearby and chirping, What did I do wrong? The third panicked and did a suicide jump to the concrete. It skittered away on wobbly feet chirping.

We kept the cats in the house two more days. None of the wrens returned. The nest that had been larger than an ostrich egg with a bay window to the inside of the tub was permanently evacuated. Mama had ripped it apart when her chicks were two weeks old. They had no choice but to go forward.

Today I took the tub down and dumped out the tattered, mess of a nest. The tub is scrubbed and back on the top shelf empty. Thank you God and St. Frances.

2011 Red Convertible Travel Series

Foot bath settlers

I live in the land of pretty feet. When I went outside to get my foot bath tub, it wasn't empty as I had expected. I removed a box of kitchen tools from a garage sale. The leaves I suspected had blown in, until I looked closer. Four tiny, yellow beaks pointed skyward with 1/4" mouths open: new life on the block!

At six this morning I peaked at our new family. Mama was home. She isn't very big, and she moved so fast I didn't get a good look at her. She needn't worry, we will not disturb her nest; I'll find something else to soak my feet in.

2011 Red Convertible Travel Series

Under the chestnut tree

Mother's Day came and went, but I didn't forget you, Mom. One of my favorite memories of you is in the belted, red nylon dress you sewed for yourself. It rustled when you moved. You were WOW!!! Movie star gorgeous. And you were ours.

Dressed down in cotton, you taught us Gardening 101. Remember how Jani screwed the onion sets into the freshly turned earth? They grew better than ours, didn't they. Thank goodness Grandpa came and helped pick and cut corn and can pears. He was great to have around for a broken leg, too; "Just don't tell Daddy I won't be home for a few days."

I can hear you pounding out the Twelve Street Rag with runt pig, Petey, grunting along. Another time we sat by the radio trying to figure out which of the twin pianos you were playing. Seamless! Beautiful! Are you playing for heavenly choirs now?

You reached out to others rather than wait for them to come to you. "Be a friend to have one." you explained. Going the extra mile wasn't enough, you went several when you taught school to special needs students. Patience. You have more than the average. I say "have" knowing you still do.

We loved when you read to us, especially on the blanket under our front yard chestnut tree. Jani and I had you all to ourselves and looked forward to the latest Kitchen Klatter story. Nibbling quarter jam sandwiches and sipping kool-aid we learned about Abner, the bull snake, that lived in the strawberry patch. The farmer was glad because Abner kept the thieving rats away. Since we had an oats bin, Jani and I decided snakes were our friends.

We hunted high and low for our "Abner." Calling didn't bring him, either. Walking home from school the next spring we saw a wavy snake track across the gravel road. We ran home. Out of breath, we jumped up and down talking all over each other to tell you, "Abner's here!"

For several years "Abner" tracks were seen on the road in about the same place. Our protection ended the day he didn't make it across. Truck tracks got him. We mourned our good friend.

Just so you know, Mother, we don't go looking for snakes, but we aren't afraid of them thanks to you under the chestnut tree. Could you find out if he's there?

Love you,

2011 Red Convertible Travel Series

Me and my shadow ready to roll!

My itchy foot steps on the rail at the Batesville City Center. Where does it go? Where does it come from? Now and then I hear the whistle. Does it take passengers?

When we were kids, we took our peanut butter and jelly sandwiches to the depot in Wahoo and boarded the train for our May school outing. The "Cookie-Pusher" earned its name poking along slow enough for us to explore the countryside. The engine puffed thick black smoke past our window and in it. Stinky. Imaginations ran high. We were Tom and Huck exploring Nebraska by rail. Forget the raft, our water is underground. We had a secret view of the world gravel road travelers didn't. And we had all day to make the trip.

I jumped. "Did you see that?" A lone rabbit zipped along side momentarily.
Sister stretched her neck. "Where?" It was gone.
Mother pointed out, "That's a plum bush." The air smelled flowery. "Jam in the fall," she reminded with a glint in her eye.
Jani leaned over excited, "What bird is that? The one with the yellow?"
Mom stretched to see, "A Meadowlark. Nebraska's state bird."
I pointed out, "There are wild wild violets same as those we picked for our May baskets."
"Girls," Mom called. "There's an elderberry plant. Remember the jelly?"
We nooded remembering how much we loved it. The plant's spread head was green with the beginnings of tiny bursts of flowers. It had all summer to produce berries. We'd wait. Mom's warm-from-the-oven bread, fresh butter and jelly would make our day.

Mom said, "There will always be something new to see and somebody new to visit with."
Really? Jani and I were pretty sure the world ended at the Kansas line. We didn't know anyone beyond it. But the travel bug was tickling us looking for a place to burrow in.
"Where can we go next?" Jani asked.
Mom sighed and smiled wistfully. Living on the farm, our lives were owned by the livestock, crops and weather with a very small window of opportunity in August. Only twice in our childhood did everything workout so we could leave home for a few days. We'd all make up for it in the years to come.

Wahoo is slightly hilly. The approach to the Czech community of Prague is hilly with deep ravines. The train screeched to a stop scrunching cars together. We scrambled to get out and look around.

One wide main street with businesses on either side was it. The restaurant/bar advertised kolaches, roast pork, sauerkraut and dumplings on Sunday. Wow! People eat out on Sunday. "It's Grandpa and Grandma's for us," Jani piped up, "Is that eating out?"

We were running off energy when the round, black-hatted conductor called, "All aboard."
Mom whispered, "Take seats on the other side." We dashed on ahead.
Something didn't feel right. I stated, "There's no place to turn around."
Mom smiled, "You're right. The train has to backup."
"We're going backwards to Wahoo?" Jani puzzled with a frown.
A couple of hours later we were back in Wahoo happy and sleepy from the rock and rhythm of seeing where we'd been. It was a very good day.

At one time three major railroads crossed in Wahoo. No more. Tracks both directions from our local Museum were taken up stranding a lone, yellow caboose. Makes me sad. It would rather be riding the rails, me too. The first weekend in December, Wahoo celebrates Christmas on the Prairie. The Museum, machine shed, an old log house, church, school, mini-post office, the caboose and station are open for touring. Cookies, punch and coffee are served in the Museum. The caboose is cold. When I hosted it, I looked the part in my borrowed full-length fur coat and hat. Traipsing home in the snow was enough to remind me I was glad to live in today.

When my girls were little, they were not allowed to ride the Cookie Pusher, some new rule. We did the next best thing: climb on the ends of the caboose and pretend we were traveling across the praire to the ocean. Mike and Jenna and I walked the track bed, picked up trash, and worked our imaginations on the caboose. Ryker and Aja and I walked the rail-less track bed so they could climb up the loose dirt sides and slide down. Caboose imaginings followed.

I long for a train ride. Have toothbrush will travel.

2011 Red Convertible Travel Series

Mooshing Bernie

Bernie was between trips to Chicago for treatment. We had to have a Pearl Girls party. Kim was at work and Sandi was otherwise occupied, but they were there in spirit. Di and I held up our end. Chris called from NYC with well wishes.

Bernie said she'd eat anything healthy. No problem. I fixed a fresh sweet potato and green bean soup, tomato slices with capers, and limeade from fresh squeezed limes.

Earlier in the day Kim left a wrapped present for her: a pin/pendant "Tree of Life" representing the huge oak trees on her farm. We could almost hear the wind in it. Hugging a tree is good medicine.

Bernie explained the mix of medicine and holistic treatment in Chicago. They treat the whole person on all levels. God bless them. There's more to cancer treatment than chemo and radiation.

She admired an oblong print on my wall: pots of colorful impatients lined up on steps. It was natural to offer it to her. She protested. I insisted claiming Indian thinking: if someone admires something I have, I should give it to them. Except for my man. She giggled and accepted my picture.

We didn't need to give her presents, but there is the urge to give her something to smile about, even though she stays upbeat. We're in this with her, and would move heaven and earth to free her of it. That's what friends do.

For dessert I fanned slices of Braeburn apples. Under the fresh mint leaf is chopped Braeburn apple with chopped almonds, cinnamon and a splash of almond milk. Yum.

Until next time, Pearl Girls, Bon Appetite!

2010 Red Convertible Travel Series

Memory Malfunction

Just a minute, I'll be right back.

Who said elephant's never forget?

Leroy & Alice Patocka-Fortner took this picture in Africa. Leroy said he's seen an elephant 11'11" tall. That's a lot of elephant!

2009 Red Convertible Travel Series

Signs of Spring

in our corner of the world. Flushing out the season, Krysia grew narcissus bulbs in a bowl of rocks. Garden books replaced winter books of polar bears and snowy Alps. The summer picture of her and Schatzie is a constant.

Hardy red, yellow and white tulips come up in our landscaping. A high school science project inspired me to cross-pollinate my grandmother's tulips. Pollen from a red tulip was tapped onto a knife and sprinkled into the center of white tulips. The next spring they boasted red stripes. It took three seasons for the red to fade out. White remained white and red remained red.

Krysia liked tea and scones for her birthday. Tomorrow I will enjoy them in my mind remembering her.

2009 Red Convertible Travel Series

Ladybug Bushouse

In our absence ladybugs moved in to stay, play and propagate in our rarely visited Mississippi motorhome. They don't leave an odor; they are just everywhere and inside things, as if they studied building ships in bottles. I'd sweep up a few and more would drop. They're stuck to the ceiling, in drawers, on everything, and between screens I can't vacuum. We think they're responsible for the clogging the sink.

I found three vacuums to cleanup the deceased. The handheld dirt devil inhaled and exhaled through the cloth bag rearranging the dust. No collecting bag inside. One upright electric broom wasn't worth a push, the other sounds pneumatic, asthmatic. There isn't one good suck between them. In my trunk is the mother of all suckers, my Kirby, and I can't get to it. It has rained nonstop since Wed.

We adjust. Madchen and Schatze have new scenery and spaces to explore. They lie on the foot of the bed watching the space heater turn red and fade out. JB reads "Ripley's Believe It Or Not." I'm into a mystery. We are soothed by the rain on the roof and nap. No TV. Simple snack meals of sliced veggies, apples and leftover KFC. A pair of beagle coon dogs whoop mournfully. Peaceful. This is country.

I suspect 99.9% of the ladybugs are deceased. The few remaining tickle my neck walking the rim of my collar, light on the cat's noses, and crawl up JB's fingers encouraging us to be light hearted.

If ladybugs are good luck, we ought to have bushels.

2009 Red Convertible Travel Series

Airlifting Apples

The kids are back in school. There's a cool undercurrent in the air. Crickets and locusts are sounding off. Summer is fading. Our neighbors shared their sauce and pie apples. I intend to make handpies of puff pastry filled with apples.

Working in my front office I noticed a couple of fallen apples in my yard and a squirrel trying to lift one up the tree backwards. A foot off the ground he lost his grip. After several tries he gave up. A bit of apple flavor must have touched his tongue because he stopped, picked up the apple and ate half of it. Half is a lot easier to hoist.

Apple halves lay in my yard one day and are gone the next. Did he haul them up the tree, or bury them? I won't know until spring. I'm just glad I got my apples before the squirrel did.

2008 Red Convertible Travel Series

MAY 2008 MEMORIAL DAY

Each flag represents a fallen veteran from our community, Leonard and George included. Leonard shook his fist when he said, "Freedom is worth fighting for." He should know. He was drafted before WWII and came back when it was over: 4 years, 2 months and 27 days total.

My grandparents called Memorial Day Decoration Day, which it was until 1971 when Congress declared Memorial Day a national holiday. Decoration Day was declared May 30, 1868 to commemorate the sacrifices of Civil War Soldiers.

We decorate our graves with fresh peonies, if we have them. Cool weather can keep the buds from opening and makes the ants work harder. In nature everything has a purpose/job.

My ancestors came from Sweden and England to make a better life. Leonard's came from Moravia. They traveled by covered wagon, broke sod and built barns with pegs not nails. Their dead were buried in unmarked graves along the trails.

As I decorate and contemplate where family "rests," my late husband, Leonard, my parents, grandparents and Aunt Bobbe lived a total of 463 years. Methuselah lived more than 900 years. We are living longer than our ancestors. Do you want to live to be 100, or 150? If I could be assured I would look as good as I did at thirty and feel even better, I might. But what would we do with 40 or more years of retirement? Would we get everything done? Can we afford it?

Contemplate this: It's your 150th birthday. All your descendants come for the party, and the Fire Department, really. Don't worry about accommodations for sleeping, they won't. The problems will be parking, having enough food and toilet paper, and the neighbors. Better invite them too. And have a Happy Birthday!

I hope you have a pleasant and safe Memorial Day.

2008 Red Convertible Travel Series

Mother's Day and Creeping Clocks

Happy Mother's Day to all who mother. It is sunny, windy and cold here in Nebraska. The windchill is thirty degrees. An old-wives tale says not to plant garden before May 15th.

Spring is showing off its colors. A profusion of fuchsia flowers explodes from the neighbor's redbud tree. Beside our front door our flowering crab is covered in white blooms sweet-scenting each inhale.

A couple of weeks ago we opened windows for the first time this year and heard cries for mulch from neglected landscaping. I moaned; inside work wasn't done. To do a "bag count," I had "to walk" the yard. Pre-school Aja saw me and came to help. I said it could be 100. She said, "I can do it." There isn't anything she thinks she can't do. After Simons' Lawn Service power-raked, she stomped over, "Did you know somebody was mowing your yard? Why didn't you ask me? I would have done it."

Menard's had a cypress mulch sale. I loaded my 4-door buick several times. Forty-two was the most a yard-man loaded and didn't obstruct a mirror. Great job. My car smelled like a Florida swamp.

For a minimum of handling, I unloaded the bags where I wanted them placed. To my surprise the neighbors offered to help. One took a small shovel to remove the weeds. I ripped the bags and the other one spread it -- twenty-eight bags worth. Their parents were shocked. You see, Aja is four and Ryker is six. What great neighbors.

Landscaped plants happily "tucked in," I am back working in the house with occasional weeding visits to the yard. Tomatoes won't be planted until next weekend. When we had a warm spell I shopped to update my phlox garden. The clerk frowned and said, "Creeping clocks?"

I looked at my creeping clocks garden and saw, you guessed it, a clock. It is completely surrounded by lavender phlox close to the ground. From 12 to 2 a shrub obstructs lunch and nap time. However, I think I'll get rid of the shrub; winter split it from a ball to a bowl.
The daffodils at 4 did their bit and have stepped back. 5 has an unusual gift that doesn't show up every year. I love its name: fritalari aliagris (phonetic spelling). Tickles the tongue, doesn't it. One to two-inch tulip-shaped checkerboard flowers hang from a short stem. This year the checks were maroon and cream.
Tulips and daffodils do their thing at 10. A pair of deep pink and one yellow tulip stand guard over break time. Large rocks and pebbles hold down the center. A few wild purple violets have popped up here and there painting happy reminders of childhood May baskets.

To Mother's everywhere: May you find the joy in little things; May you know your place is important in the larger scheme of life. God Bless.

2008 Red Convertible Travel Series

EASTER 2008

This week we cycled out of winter into spring and an early Easter. The weather is still March: warm one day, rain or snow the next. Mom would say Mother Nature is cleaning out her weather closet.

Crocuses that peaked through my front garden during the week are closed tight today--to stay warm, I suppose. Saying we had the last of last winter's something makes winter seem further behind us. It was a corker. Today is gloomy and cold. For lunch we had the last pieces of winter's gingerbread warmed and with a scoop of vanilla bean ice cream. I love the aroma. It feels substantial, insulating. We won't make it again until fall. When the weather warms we hunger for cucumbers, lighter meals, Greek olives and pasta dishes.

Tomorrow is Easter, Christians day to celebrate the Risen Christ. Imagine finding his tomb empty. Would you be afraid to tell anyone? Would you question your sanity? I saw them put him in. What would you do?

At Easter we acknowledge and celebrate God's gift of salvation for us. Read John 3:16. Whether you make a pilgrimage to a sacred place such as Knock, Ireland, southeast of Castlebar, or Mount St. Michel, France, or the Coptic Church in Cairo, Egypt, the Holy Land, your local church, or spend time with nature, I pray you open your heart and accept the unconditional love God has for you. Feel His love flow around, in and through you cleansing every cell, erasing doubt, fear, and mistakes.

If you don't already know the Lord, I suggest you contemplate Him. Invite Him into your world. Ask for His help. No problem is bigger than the Lord, and He wants the best for you. You won't find a better friend.

2008 Red Convertible Travel Series

Tracks, Cracks and Facts

It’s a fact gravity causes things to fall down not up. Rocks and a bolt fell and bounced into our windshield. We have the nicks and cracks to prove it. Last night the windshield was playground for something with four muddy feet. No, there wasn’t anything to eat in the car. The raccoon walked up the windshield and slid down, what fun!

It’s a fact Hoov’s a darn good cook. He cut a deer back strap into thin slices, dipped each in a wash of egg and water, dredged each in a mix of flour, seasoned salt, black pepper, leaf thyme, granulated garlic, and fried them in hot oil. Delicious. A smidge of Dietz & Watson’s Wasabi Mustard added a flash of fire reminding me of homegrown horseradish Mom caught me eating by the tablespoon full when I was a kid. My sister wouldn’t eat it at all. She said, “It smells like dirty jeans.”

Inside we microwaved mashed potatoes, their favorite green bean casserole, cornbread and oyster stuffing. Skipper brought his famous bean and ham hock soup. The radio station played Christmas music. Coyotes howled in the distance. We stood around the enclosed barrel stove in heavy cloths enjoying our feast. Wildlife watched and waited to dine on our leftovers after we went to bed.

Life in the deep woods: one afternoon a bobcat strolled through camp; a hunter videoed a brown bear not far from us, possibly on its way over the levee to visit the beehives; a pair of eagles return each year to nest; and every time we see a cardinal we make a secret wish.

Deer, turkey and wild hog are hunted. The trapper’s lament: nothing walked the road. The rack on the back of my Bravada once held a 250-pound tusked boar handcuffed cross-legged and bungee corded to the rack. That wasn’t the best part. I thought it was dead, and leaned close to have my picture taken. It wasn’t! Woofed! And I leaped away! That’s a fact!!!

Copyright 2005 Red Convertible Travel Series