Patty the Pengoosatross

My wife left me [Steve] today. Though we live in the U.S. of A., she is headed for Argentina. She muttered something about the gauchos and walked out the door.

In truth, she is on a sojourn, not a rebellious abandonment. My wife, I call her Patty because that is what her parents always called her, was born in Argentina. She is returning to her place of birth, back to the old pampas stomping grounds.

Penguins trek back to their place of birth, too. Remember March of the Penguins
Every March, through an inborn instinct, the little penguins would start asking questions, like “Where am I from, Daddy? What is my purpose in life?” Of course, the answer to the second question was, “You have no purpose.” For the first question, though, the parents and aunts and uncles and next-door neighbors had an answer: “Here, let me show you.” So they all packed their fresh tuxedos and woolen mittens and took a long walk. They walked all month. This is what is known as The March of the Penguins.

You may think I have gone off track from the story. No. The point is that Patty is just like the penguin. Except for the nice suit. And except she is going in November instead of March.

Patty is also like the goose. How could this be? Because she is flying, not walking. Geese are forever migrating, always flying in that “V” formation. When the weather in the north gets cold, they fly south. By the time they get to their destination, it is so hot that they turn around and go back north.

Patty and her family, from various parts of the U.S. of A., will meet in Miami before their flight to Buenos Aires. Does this mean that Patty is like the flamingo? Well, she does love wearing pink. However, if she stands on one leg she tends to tip over. Thus, after due consideration, I have to conclude that Patty is not like the flamingo.

Patty will be going with her dad and her three brothers on this hiatus. Only Patty was born in Argentina, and thus only she is on this birthplace-sojourn thing. However, the family lived there for many years during the children’s formative years. Thus the inner child of all four siblings lives in Argentina. The inner child of Patty’s dad lives in Colorado, but a big part of his heart still lives in Argentina.

Patty’s mom has passed on to Heaven, but she will be so utterly close in heart and spirit, that she is truly traveling with them. Thus, the whole family will be sojourning to a very significant time in their lives, a place and time with so many memories that this beautiful family shares in such deep ways.

This will be an incredibly fantastic trip. First is the fact that the family will be on this adventure together. Secondly, the sites will be strikingly beautiful. Thirdly, they will be visiting with old friends who the sibs haven't seen in 37 years! (Dad visited them just 28 years ago, so it's just not going to be the same for him.)

One very beautiful place they will be is Patagonia, way down at the bottom of South America. It's further south than Australia or even New Zealand. For a few days they will be staying in Ushuaia. This is the southernmost city in the world! Now that’s really down under, mate.

In Patagonia they will see albatrosses. These birds have the longest wingspan among all birds! They soar gracefully through the sky as majestic as something — well, something very majestic. Is Patty like the albatross? You betcha. The emotions from the depth of her soul, from her inner child in fact, will be soaring like the albatross as she surveys the beauty all around her.

And guess who else lives in Patagonia. The penguins! Coincidence? I don’t think so.

So, to sum up, Patty is like the penguin. She is like the goose. And she is like the albatross. She is very much like the Pengoosatross.

Mother and the bird

I have never met anyone who had more presence of mind than my mother. If I had to pick one person to be at my side in an emergency, I’d pick her.

One scorching Sunday night, she was playing the piano for our church service. Building lacked air conditioning, so we had opened every possible door and window to catch whatever breeze might appear, including the big double doors at the main entrance.

While we were singing, a large black bird swooped in. It flew strafing runs over the congregation. We ducked and bobbed to escape the bird. The lady next to me was very afraid of birds. When the bird swooped right over our heads, she screamed and dove under the pew in front of us. She wasn't the only one taking shelter.

In spite of the commotion, Mother continued to play and the songleader tried to lead. After some minutes, the bird landed on the block at the bass end of the keyboard. Her left hand whipped out from the keyboard and grabbed the bird. She did not miss a note.

The bird was not amused and cawed loudly. It kept right on cawing and she kept right on playing. The songleader had stopped trying to lead singing. His mouth silently opened and closed right in time to the bird’s cries. He looked rather like a bird himself, like a baby bird opening its mouth for food.

While still continuing to play and hold on to the bird, Mother looked around for someone to take away the bird. Everyone was frozen. For a long moment, the only sounds were the bird’s cries and the piano.

Finally, a man came down the center aisle from the back of the church and took the bird. Mother continued playing, but no human uttered a sound. The only sounds were the bird, the piano and the man’s footsteps.

We heard it cry, “CAAAAW, CAAAAW, CAAAAW, CAAAAW, CAAAAW, CAA–”, then silence. Mother's rescuer had twisted off the bird's head.

He walked back into the church and sat down as if nothing had happened. She continued to play, but no one said a word for some time.

Then the entire congregation burst out laughing and cheering.

Even years later, people would retell the story. Most of them ended by saying, “Who else could catch a bird on the piano and not miss a note”

Rhubarb leaf bird bath

I play with wet concrete and a rhubarb leaf.

Last summer, our Bible study group made rhubarb leaf bird baths. The basic idea was to take a rhubarb or other large leaf (hollyhock leaves would probably work, too), press it into a dome of concrete and make an impression.

Marilyn (front), Iris and I (back) mold our concrete into our leaves. Note the concrete bucket next to Marilyn.

Everyone else made theirs into a bowl as they were supposed to. I don't know how it happened, but mine turned out flat.

Six concrete blobs in a row. Note how rounded they are. All of them except mine (at the far end).

Once the shapes were made, we painted them. I went for a naturalistic look and carefully painted in the major rhubarb leaf veins. Others were more impressionistic. Once painted, we sealed them.

I didn't quite know what to do with my flattened leaf. It doesn’t hold water, so it was worthless as a bird bath. Then I remembered how butterflies need to warm themselves. OK, so I intended to make a bird bath, but ended up with a butterfly warmer. I can deal with it. But I didn't know where to put this warming stand.

I said something about my dilemma to Hubby's father. He said that he had found a bird bath stand without a bowl. It was too nice to get rid of, but he had no use for it. I certainly had a use for it.

Now my rhubarb leaf butterfly warmer stands on top of a bird bath pedestal. Ironic, isn’t it?

Having a father-in-law who shares my taste for turning trash to treasure is a pleasure.

The finished product awaits butterflies’ arrival.

iHanna's Creative Space has more complete instructions on making a rhubarb leaf bird bath.