Grandchildren's visit

It is an almost annual event. Our Amy and Gregg's children summer visit to Nana and Pap's house for a week or so from their home near Cincinnati. They love it here; it has always been their hangout. They can run through the woods, play in the basement, work on projects, and Nana usually takes them shopping.

What's in it for us? We get to enjoy being with them. There are usually activities and projects we have planned for them, and they have their list of things to do. Their visits are fun and gratifying. It is also tiring and occasionally stressful if there are youthful behavior "issues" or sibling arguments. But each time, there are moments that they and we will always remember.


At the American Queen at the Ohio River Landing

Their dogs are part of the visitation package. Maggie (labradoodle) and Zoe (American Mastiff) take up residence with our two old english sheepdogs, Gabbie and Tess. They behaved well together. Nearly 10 days together improved the pack dynamics which had a few rough edges in past visits. It was great to see them romping through the woods together.


Catrina with Zoe and Maggie


Illegal parking - community service for Zoe


Maggie was here.....doing her puppy thing.

This year the fun included endless swimming and games in the pool. We watched several favorite movies, including Second Hand Lions, Sea Biscuit, Secret Garden, and the Narnia Chronicles. Connor and Pap played tennis (including a 6-1 rout by Connor) and a little golf. Pap managed to dodge the retail activity, but Nana treated the youths to two or more shopping trips.


Emily and Catrina show off their wardrobe additions.

We also perform an important grandparenting function - what I call coaching. We encourage, suggest, and even scold when necessary on topics such as values, faith, behavior, family time, wise use of money, the dangers of drugs and alcohol, and more. The challenge is to be stealthy about planting seeds on these topics, so we get the point across without being too "preachy" about it.

We always eat dinner together which also means they are eating with each other. The latter often is not possible with their activities and schedules at home. One dinnertime tradition is that each of us tells their favorite activity of the day. The kids mention one good thing that they observed about each other that day. The youths ("utes," if you have seen My Cousin Vinny) helped plan dinner menus. We enjoyed a Hawaiian night and an Italian night.


Nana and the "utes" grilling on Hawaii Night

Suddenly, after the anticipation and excitement of their being here......they are gone. The house is eerily quiet. It is bittersweet - sad goodbyes mingled with relief that we can get back to our normal routines.

It was a success complete with fond memories. Connor and Nana finished their coffee table project Emily grew noticeably in her ability to go with the flow with her siblings. Catrina's swimming skills improved markedly. All three were much more patient with each other. And their Mom and Dad enjoyed their Hilton Head vacation.


Connor, Emily,Catrina, and Nana with the finished table project.

The Wind

July 1, 2013. One year plus one day after the derechio, a devastating storm system which knocked out power for days to millions of people from Indiana to Maryland. It was a warm humid evening. There were a few green dots on weather radar but nothing to warrant concern - no watches or warnings. Yet the sky darkened, a breeze kicked up, and soon there was a heavy rain shower. The rain intensified; water soon overflowed the downspout. Thunder rolled, putting the dogs on edge.

I looked at the phone app radar and saw the culprit: the ugly red signature of a strong but very localized thunderstorm. The TV radar showed only a small green speck. Soon the wind was gusting wildly, whipping leafy tree tops back and forth. This usually means trouble. I saw the rain blow sideways, literally - first one way, then the other. The house shook. I briefly thought of moving all of us to the basement. Then the winds abated, and the storm moved on.

I walked outside with the dogs to look for obvious signs of damage. I saw only one large branch protruding from a hemlock tree. But the "branch" was the end of a one foot diameter cherry tree that fell from the woods into the hemlock. There was more bad news as we surveyed the nearby woods the next day - three areas where large trees fell. One clearing with planting area was an impenetrable jumble of twisted tree trunks and leaves. Three large trees had toppled into one another.

Our chainsaws would be busy for the next week. As we cautiously walked the dogs around this tree mess, a brown mass caught my attention. A closer look revealed a sizable hive of honeybees in a ruptured tree trunk. We called Todd, an MD who keeps bees, and Mike, the county bee inspector, to check the hive and attempt to remove them. Mike arrives first and animatedly educates us bee novices as he dons the white suit and gathers gear to inspect the hive. Bees are critical to our national food supply as they pollinate fruit-bearing plants and trees. He approaches the hive in his white bee suit and exclaims "Hello, girls!" Most bees are female, we learn. He is definitely in his element.

Soon Todd arrives. Together they examine the remains of the hive like crime scene investigators. Most of the honey is gone, "robbed out" by other bees in the area in two days since the tree fell. They look for the queen but do not find it. With the queen, they could easily move the bees into boxes for a win/win/win outcome. The bees survive, the bee guys add to their working bee population, and we are relieved of the swirling mass of anxious bees. Todd finally manages to move most of the survivor bees with a queen bee from his own bees. Mike collects the empty honey comb for wax. We are pleased to be rid of the bees, so we can start cleaning up the fallen trees.

It was another encounter with mother nature in Bittersweet Woods.

There's a snake in your mailbox

We have our share of snakes in Bittersweet Woods. Most are friendly; several are regulars. There is the milk snake that lives in the brick enclosure behind our newspaper box. A couple of summers ago, we found this note by the porch:

There was this photo captured by the mail delivery person who was concerned that the said reptile might be a copperhead. We were greatly relieved when my son-in-law Gregg correctly identified it as a milksnake.

Occasionally we find evidence that it still resides in the same place - snakeskin sheds, comments from our housesitter ("it was looking out at me from the mailbox"). One day this summer, I glanced at the patio and there it was crawling underneath the gas grill. I went out for a photo shoot. But that guy was not happy. It abruptly coiled up and was all business when it saw me. I quickly stepped back and gave it some room.

Then there is our resident black rat snake. It is about 4 feet long and occasionally appears out of nowhere, usually spread out languidly in the grass or staring at us when we open a storage shed where it sometimes hangs out. It is so laid back - I never have seen it get agitated in our presence. "Blackie" and I usually have a nice chat; I do most of the talking. It looks at me blankly, as if to say "really!" to anything I say.

Blackie recently appeared on our pool deck one morning. It's long black form was draped along the deck against the house. I thought it was a branch or something else - until it moved. Timing was not good. Family members had just arrived for a swim, including Joe, Judy, along with Luke and Johanna and their four kids. I thought they might freak out and was envisioning having to pick up and relocate Blackie.

I kneeled down and explained the situation to it: "Blackie, you really need to get off this deck. Humanoids - some youthful - are here; they may frighten you. And neither of us wants the stress of my having to move you out of the way. I mean, you and I are friends, but picking up snakes is stressful for me. You wouldn't like it either. So, you need to get your black rat butt out of here, OK?" Blank stare. I hoped the message got through.

I took a picture then went to greet the guests. I explained the snake presence. Fortunately, they were excited to see it and not at all skittish about having a snake around. They rushed out to the deck for a sighting. Blackie had moved on from the deck into the mulch. It was the best outcome. They were able to see it, and it kept moving and was soon out of sight.

We'll see Blackie around again, along with other critters, pets, and people in Bittersweet Woods.

The Fledgling

It is a sunny, clear afternoon in early June. There is definite bird activity in the magnolia near our back patio. As I walk back from the woods, two robins in obvious distress chatter and flit from branch to branch above me. A few white patches of bird excrement on the patio prompt me to move out of range. Wonder what their problem is.

A few minutes later in the house, a small dark figure on the patio catches my attention. I look closer to see it is a fledgling bird lying motionless under the magnolia tree. Oh! - synapses slowly fire and connect the proverbial dots - that must have been what the birds were fussing about. Darn, I can feel the bird parents' anguish over the apparent loss of the fledgling lying on the bare pavement.

I tell Suzanne about the mini-drama of nature unfolding with the birds. We observe a few bird deaths from time to time - sometimes from confused fliers who crash into one particular window, apparently thinking it is open space. A few minutes later, I look out, and the patio is empty. The fledgling thought dead is alive and gone. I survey the bushes and yard; can't see it anywhere. Good news. The fledgling lives. The parents are still around but quiet now.

Half an hour later, the drama takes a different turn. We see a kitten walk by the patio door past where the fledgling was observed. Suzanne says "look at that cute little kitty." Then we look at each other and exclaim together: "the bird!" I rush outside and shoo away the kitten. We never saw the kitten or the little bird again.

Another little drama plays out in Bittersweet Woods, with a presumed happy ending.

It smells like summer

Most seasons lack characteristic smells in Bittersweet Woods. But in mid May and early June, pleasant fragrances waft over sections of the trail. It always comes as an unexpected surprise, though it is predictable each year. Coincidentally, two of the scents all come from blooms on invasive plants.

In late may, I notice the subtle odor of rose blooms from multifloral rose bushes. They are thick in parts of the woods. Each year we dig out or pull up hundreds of these plants. Multiflora rose is a quick-spreading invasive plant introduced in the 1930's with good intentions as a natural pasture fence. They have since become an invasive nightmare in eastern US pastures, woods, and trails. But the scent is wonderful when the flowers bloom.


Next in late May is the unsmistakable smell of honeysucklebblooms. These are those pleasant fragrances to me. They bring back pleasant memories of years past hiking in the woods. If you pinch the base of the bloom, you can force out a drip of the nectar and place it on your tongue. It is awesome - I use that overused word
for things that truly inspire awe to me.


The last fragrance was a newly discovered one for me. Yesterday I kept noticing a jasmine-like fragrance. I also saw some spent blooms from privet bushes along the trail. But I did not connect the two. Until...I smelled one of the flowers. A very pleasant and distinctive scent. Privet is considered invasive, I guess. But in our woods, they are in shaded areas and do not spread much.

There are other smells of the seasons, for sure. But these stand out to me in Bittersweet Woods. They signal that the "lazy, hazy, crazy days of summer" (Nat King Cole song from 1963 release) have arrived. Enjoy each day while you can.

Snowfall

We hadn't seen a decent snowfall for 2 years. The forecast called for 2-4 inches of snow. That often is a false alarm. My expectations were low and my emotions were mixed. Bittersweet Woods are beautiful when there is snow. But we have a large driveway to shovel.

We awoke on Saturday about 5 am as is our custom. It was white outside. Daylight revealed an incredible filigreed wonderland. The snow was wet but it stuck to every single tiny branch of trees and bushes.



The dogs loved it, Tess especially, and they romped around in the new snow. The snow made it easier for the dogs to see wildlife. Tess took off after deer several times while the snow was on the ground. Gabbie stays behind and observes, the scolds Tess when she inevitably returns to the hike.


Thankfully our neighbor Dan plowed our driveway. A week later, most of the snow is predictably, in our latitude, melted. But the north-facing hills still have the blanket of white, a beautiful reminder of nature at work in Bittersweet Woods.