do these traps work?

I was always intriqued by these plants that eat stuff like flies. Here's the impulse buy for Joel's birthday. His photo on left. Notice the far left trap. Five days later, my pic of the leaf/trap blackened. Has it caught something? Does it kills the food and then digests it and itself as well? One noble sacrifice? What happens if they all catch a fly at the same time? Or is the black trap suffering a venus virus?

Memory day and bikes

The Russian iris beside a soft focus candle at one end of the table. Stephanie and Joel at the other, discovering their birthday gift of a bike rack. Their gifts to each other involved bike gear, too.

Menu at their request--Mom's chicken corn soup from scratch (not the chicken's) and a new entry from the Miller tradition-- short cake with ice cream and strawberries and milk. A big hit.

Philosophy--what direction will volunteerism in church take with some women not employed and others over-employed.

Local details--are strawberries usually ready by Joel's birthday (the 22nd) or by Steph's (the 26th)?

New being--Brutus the dog, Ryan and Sarah's. Then, the men played boccie and the women walked to Red Lane and all went to bed happy.

Memorial Day to me is memory day--memory of the sweet spots in life and memory that organized civic and national life, including war, if it is an absolute allegiance, is one sorry god. iris pic by Joel.

wisdom by the generation

Like mother, like daughter. Thirty years separate Dorcas' receiving an MSW and Sarah's. They were virtually the same age when they received them.

If we take the mother-daughter line back another generation, I don't know that the number 30 would yield anything, but it would result in Grandma Miller who did lay social work as manager of the Fresh Air program in Garrett County for a good 30 years.

photo by Joel.

the grad

Just minutes after the morning ceremony, where Bill Cosby spoke, here's Sarah and Ryan looking at some of the first picutres.

Two of Cosby's tidbits of humorous wisdom. 1. Don't go forward; you don't know which way is forward. 2. Don't follow your dreams; for four years you haven't been sleeping right so your dreams don't exist. Or, something like that.

May 22 double celebration

In the Philadelphia subway system the sign says May 22. That's a big day for both Joel and Sarah--his birthday and her graduation day from Temple University where she was awarded a master's degree in social work.

Here we are waiting for for the 15th street train at 6:20 p.m. From there it was the 30th street station where ten of us ate at Cosi's.

With us all day were the Schrocks, Ryan's parents and sister Carmen and Grandma Lichty.

anniversary 29

The wrong picture for the right couple. It's late. We're tired. So let's make this photo so funny it's memorable.

Ill-placed components--1. three pink roses, gorgeous, but placed too high; 2. new shoes, not exactly anniversary gift but bought on the day, the 19th, and off to side; 3. cards, okay; 4. box of Wolfgang candy, corny, but part of the deal.

Our smiles--perfect and natural. Yeah, actually, this is the photo that says it all and says it right. We couldn't have done a more noble, more right, more beautiful thing 29 years ago.

(The remote is in my right hand.)

mulch to dogwood

The dogwood stands in far right shade, hardly visible. But the pic shows at least how the bed is extended from the outhouse door to the Della dogwood.

What is it with mulch?

sea of mulch

Yesterday the landscape crew finished the work. Our house floats on an island in a sea of mulch.

More than mulch: they added a spirea and a hydrangea.

Decision almost final--no sheep this summer. But I'm open to another animal.

haunted by teen years

This pic came in the mail yesterday. All these chickens of 1958-59 came home to roost last fall when the Conestoga Valley class of 1962 met for its 45th reunion. I went to CV from first grade through 10th. Then I transferred to Lancaster Mennonite. This was the first time I met with them.

I don't have a clue about most of these people. In 9th grade I was clueless about a lot of things. My maturity with girls had reached the stage that I wanted the school to burn down so that I could carry out Carolyn (I'm not sure if that's her name) and have an excuse to hold her. Wiled away many a boring geometry class planning those details of rescue.

My Monterey buddies are here--top 3rd from left, Dick Mellinger, now Dr. and head of something at Ephrata Hospital. His dad and mom still live in Monterey and dad travels around in an electric cart (previous blog). Red shirt, 3rd from right, next to top row, Gerald Reeser. He and I made a go-cart on his farm. Top far right is Fred Albright (I think was a prime mover at Lancaster Labs in the old days). Our paths crossed only in 9th and 10th grades. Far left top, pink shirt, Jack Brubaker, author of the best book on the history of the Susquehanna River and weekly columnist for the New Era. My cousin, Lois (Martin) Greene, center, black sleeveless, was a welcome friend especially in the early grades.

The only teacher I had is Mr. Wengenroth, tie and hands on knees, seated, 3rd from right. He gave me my first organ lesson and picked me to play piano with the senior bass who sang "On the Road to Mandelay," from South Pacific. The rest is a blur.
I had a very good time, connecting to people who had and have a geographic linkage to me.
Oh, me--since this is probably too small to read--top row, 5th from right.

Maryland pick up

"Attacks and counterattacks swept across Miller's cornfield and fighting swirled around the Dunker Church." That's a sentence from wikipedia's entry on Antietam, which was the bloodiest battle in the Civil War, it adds. Antietam is close to this MacDonalds in Maryland. Twenty-three thousand soldiers were killed here on Sept. 17, 1862. And they weren't shoving in line to get a hamburger.

This is exit 9A of Interstate 70, just east of the 81/70 intersection close to Hagerstown.

One single death brought me here last Monday--Rachel's. I came here to pick up Evelyn Brown, a retired colleague of the Yoders in the work at Seventh Avenue Mennonite Church. She had come from Charleston, S.C.

The Maryland state flag salutes the power of the mega-hamburger joint. We're all looking for some authentication, I guess.

the team

Another look at the team pulling those wheels. They look like Percherons to me. Belgiums are similar but tan. I think Percherons are the largest draft horse. The grandfather of the youth driving the team was killed by a horse kick. You have to watch the kick, but horses are vegetarians and will never eat you.

three more wheels

Now the wheels. Reminds me of going down the snowy hill on sleds hooked together, or of pulling a wagon behind a go-cart.



The main thing is--the wheel has been invented. If you are wondering where the tires fell off--well, I'll have to tell you about the Amish genius for avoiding flat tires.

funereal detour

Out of the blue, Dorcas' sister, Rachel Yoder, died suddenly, on Ascension Day. Rachel and Monroe lived in New York. On their way to Grantsville, Maryland, she took sick and died in a Harrisburg hospital.

On Wednesday the funeral was held at the Maple Glen Mennonite Church, Grantsville, and the burial was in this cemetery beside the church.

For over forty years their church was Seventh Avenue Mennonite Church. A good two dozen members and friends of that neighborhood and church and others from the Bronx attended.

wheels of Monterey

While I made rhubarb punch, this team of Percherons passed by the window, pulling a set of wheels. This is early hay. Some neighbors made hay a week ago in April.



As soon as the team pulls the equipment around the corner we'll see the wheels. And have a sip of punch.

rhubard source

Here's the rhubarb au naturel .

My mother planted this--25 years ago would be a total guess but the best I could do to guess when.

Intriguing that the leaves are toxic. I learned from my neighbor to pull the stem you want and it disconnects from the roots. I used to cut them.

Today I made rhubarb punch to take to the funeral.

rhubard cook off

The great rhubard cook off. And the winner is. I think that's clear, isn't it. I mean, wouldn't you rather have the viscous, sticky, adhesive, glutenous glup loaded with nutritous prunes and tapioca? That was from an Apple Creek, Ohio, recipe from the Mennonite Community cookbook.

Steph is holding her fresh-out-of-the-oven entry, rhubarb crisp from the Central Market cookbook. The close-up reveals rolled oats and on the left a piece of rhubarb. Thanks, Steph! That's the one we three (Joel's the third) chowed down on with relish after barbecued chicken from Bird in Hand's Rotary.

I can't figure out where my entry went south. Dorcas is in Grantsville helping prepare for Rachel's funeral. Photos by Joel (t) and Stephanie (b), straight up, untouched and uncropped, no flash. The rhubarb is from the orchard at the east tip of the property.

sister-in-law dies

My sister-in-law, Rachel, Dorcas's next oldest sister, passed away last evening at 9:25 p.m. in the Harrisburg (Pa.) Hospital, as Monroe her husband (in photo) and Dorcas and I and the hospital chaplain attended around the bed.

There was not a clearly defined moment of the final heartbeat, but Nurse Craig quietly informed Monroe as life signs exited the stage one by one. Dorcas put her hand on her forehead as life was slipping away and prayed one of the psalms.

The chaplain offered that we hold hands circling the bed as she (the African-American chaplain in jeans) prayed.

At Monterey we all loved her and called her Aunt Rachel as the children grew up. A vibrant, faithful, creative center of energy, even as her physical limitations increased, here she is at Joel's wedding reception last November. Photo by Lois Maust.

God rest her.