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| Summertime in the deep south Miss Jody's crepe myrtle is in full bloom in southern Mississippi |
47 degrees/clear skies/calm winds
Pentoga Road
About the time I think we have the most beautiful flowers possible, I see pictures from elsewhere and know that beauty surrounds us all, regardless of where we live.
Miss Jody has forgotten more about raising flowers than I'll ever know. The southern belle has a green thumb that stretches clear up to her elbow and beyond. Even when we were there in March, the yard was filled with beautiful springtime flowers. Now that the crepe myrtle is in full bloom, the beauty is ten-fold.
I could be become a real southerner if it weren't for the summertime heat and humidity. Well, there's that and I often have difficulty understanding their language. I know they're speaking 'Merican, but I'd have to take ESL night classes at the local community college to learn the dialect.
Mississippi Brother Garry says I talk way too fast, but honestly, a person could drive an eighteen wheeler through the spaces between his words during a conversation.
So we both have speech impediments and that's okay. We offset each other and together, make a near perfect combination.
I can tease Garry and he can tease me, but anyone else try and that person will have to go through one of us first.
All teasing aside, what a beautiful place southern Mississippi is, made even more beautiful by many of the people who live there.
Speaking of beautiful, Garry turned the handle to this pie server (below) from Ohi'a wood. The dead piece was sent to him by Eric, his son, who is stationed in Hawaii. Due to a fungus, the tree is becoming somewhat rare.
Look at that handle. Now that's real craftsmanship.
On the opposite end of the continent, my friend, Eileen, sent the following family picture from Maine. It's a rare day when she can get both Stef and Andrew together under one roof. Having recently finished multi year teaching stints in Lebanon, Stef and husband, Rob, are taking off for Romania this week to begin a new teaching assignment.
Andrew is living in Fairbanks, Alaska, and is home for a quick visit.
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| l to r - Stef, Rob, Eileen, Andrew, Uncle Bert |
I taught for many years with Eileen and Uncle Bert. Both Stef and Andrew are former students of mine. We found Rob wandering around on an empty street and adopted him into the family.
Closer to home, we spent much of Wednesday running errands in Iron Mountain. After purchasing a new tire for the Kia (to match the new one that replaced the tire that was destroyed by a deer collision last fall) we stopped in for a quick visit with Jeanne and Boyd and of course, great niece, Aria.
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| Come to Grandpa Year-old Aria has just learned to walk |
It's just the way I roll.
Home on Pentoga Road, we retired our the old American flag that has proudly flown for the past year and replaced it with a new one.
Strict believers in flag protocol, we folded the flag with honors and stored it away until we can take it to the local American Legion for a proper disposal.
Speaking of the flag and America, we drove up behind this truck yesterday. Sargie's dad was a decorated Marine, a veteran of Iwo Jima, and Mississippi Garry and Miss Jody's son, Eric, is a Colonel in the US Marines and a decorated war veteran. In this day of anti American sentiment, it's good to see a trucker who's not afraid to display his patriotism.
I spent the rest of Wednesday in the shop and received a long distance lesson from Garry on how to turn the bowl around on the lathe to finish and sand the backside.
That's why he's the older brother. He knows more than I do.
The two names I'd started on Tuesday were also carved and finished.
It's time to get this uploaded and go for my walk. I think I'm going to grind a few areas of rust on the the Kia today. All will require somewhat of a rebuild, fiberglass, resin, body putty, sanding, primer, and paint. I had a small auto body side business during my undergraduate college days. I hope I haven't forgotten everything over the past fifty years. Guess we'll see.
After all, a man's work is never done.
So are the tales from Pentoga Road...
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