Tuesday, July 15, 2014

Historical garden


Blooming history

Our trip to Virginia for a wedding included a morning visit to Colonial Williamsburg. In a walk through the historical area, a lush flower and vegetable garden lured us in for a closer look.

The relatively small area was the Colonial Nursery, an interpretive and sales site that featured 18th-century garden plantings, botanical histories, historically accurate plants and practices. For sale were reproduction gardening tools and seeds for plants that would have been found in a cross section of 18th century colonial gardens.

Caught reading
One of the volunteers plied me with information, including the observation that she would like to have a gardener working in her garden the same work week of the gifted gardening expert working in the nursery eight hours a day, five days a week.
Wesley Greene and Don McKelvey, garden historians (Photo from Colonial Williamsburg history here)
The nursery is the first historical garden I have ever visited. I look forward to more.

Sunday, July 13, 2014

Colonoscopy time





Linda in lovely pre-op attire
Tuesday, June 8, I finally had the colonoscopy that had been previously scheduled for June 2011. My April 11, 2011, hemorrhagic stroke canceled that and any other appointments for more than a month.

But early last Tuesday Husband Walter and I walked out of the waiting room, following the nurse who would be in charge of the pre-op routine for my colonoscopy.

Pooh--colonoscopy mascot?
“Your bed is right over here,” Nurse Pam said. 

The cartoon characters adorning the wall startled me. “Winnie the POOH and friends. That’s appropriate,” I blurted. After the prep I had endured the day and night before, my emphasis on “Pooh” was definitely warranted.

Pooh and pals

Winnie the Pooh and friends frolicked at my bedside. Then I was out. The next thing I knew Hubby was leaning over me in recovery, assuring me that all was well with my gastro plumbing.

All wasn’t okay, though. My next conscious action was an attempt to clear my throat. Swallowing, hacking, coughing—all futile; all causing throat pain. Attempting to talk hurt and my voice was almost non-existent.

I had gone in that morning fine. I woke up with unusually copious sinus drainage and a sore aching throat. I was sure someone had crammed hoses down my throat after I was “relaxed,” medical speak for knocked out. But no, the anesthesia had been administered via the IV.

I spent several days limiting myself to liquids and soft foods, starting a round of antibiotics and decongestants, and limiting contact with most of humankind. Friday, however, I abandoned caution and returned to eating salad and Hubby’s homemade pizza. It was an almost pain-free gustatory delight. I’m on the way back!

And hats off to my personal Pizza Man!


Friday, July 11, 2014

Turtle time




"Hello!" (Photo by Walter Skupien)
Husband Walter discovered this not-quite-grown box turtle in our yard recently. It was about three and a half inches long, a lot smaller than a couple other turtles sharing our address.

Resident box turtle (Photo by Walter Skupien)
Hubby thought the youngster might be offspring of two turtles doing a turtle tango outside our kitchen window one spring morning in late April.
Spring romance (Photo by Walter Skupien)

A Georgia Museum of Natural History article on box turtle natural history here said that mating can occur anytime between March and November. Mom usually lays 4-5 eggs in a flask-shaped nest in a sandy or loamy location that is open and elevated.

The article also said that eggs hatch in about 70-80 days, usually September through October. The hatchlings may overwinter in the nest.

Those facts eliminate the theory that Junior was the result of the amorous turtles’ 2014 spring fling. He still could be their offspring from an earlier season.

Junior: “Ewwww. I’m out of here!” (Photo by Walter Skupien)


What we do know for sure is that Junior is a survivor. Hatchlings are usually 1 inch to 1.3 inches long, just the size to make a tasty snack for raccoons, snakes and all sorts of other predators that have adapted to small-town living in our neighborhood.

And, according to the museum’s Internet article, it will be 5 to 10 years before Junior becomes interested in reptilian romance.



Best wishes on continued survival, Junior. 


Thank you to Husband Walter for photos.