ADDING ONTO MY GRATITUDE LIST, I will put shatters, and, of course, friends. Here on the Eastern Shore, we have several names for fallen pine needles. The Come Here’s call them pine straw. Then, in time, in an effort to be more “Shore-ified” as a friend of mine from Tangier calls it, they pick up the term shatts or shatters. If you are from “down the county,” like Northampton County, you call them shatts. If you are from Accomack County, you call them shatters. Now the trick is to learn what to call them where you live, because if you are from New Jersey, for example, and live in Accomack County, and call them shatts, you are still wrong. Oh, it is so hard to learn the local languages!
My first year teaching here, I taught on the fair island of Chincoteague every afternoon. It was a long drive up the road and across the cause way and series of bridges, but in the class room it was also a trip thru time. Many of the kids were 5th or 6th generation “Teagers” and spoke with a totally different accent than those on the mainland. Like the folks on Tangier, an island out in the Chesapeake Bay, their language still had a bit of the old English “brogue”… it was similar, but not quite the same. It took some learning to understand what a kid meant when he said he didn’t have any “brain” – but meant brown, or asked how to paint a “clide” – cloud. They went dine tine after school – that’s where the stores were. And pine straw on the island is called shatters. Boy, I could take a digression award for that paragraph!
Anyway, my friend, Pat, who should get paid by John Deere for advertising their products,
drove up to my house the other day in his tractor, pulling a little – or not so little – wagon behind it loaded with shatters which he dumped at the end of my turn-around.
To Eastern Shore men (and women) a load of shatters, especially nice clean shatters, is like a load of gold. Well, OK, that is stretching it, but you get my point. Pat does the town a great service by raking up the shatters that fall along the roads in town. We used to have a couple of EXCELLENT workers here in town that kept the place looking as beautiful as it could be, and one of their jobs was to sweep up the shatters from under the pine trees. I, as a conscientious citizen used to give them a place to dump said shatters – my front yard! 
I them hauled them around to various garden areas to mulch the azaleas, camellias and other acid loving plants. They made the town look nice (and BOY! Do we miss them!) and, I saved them from having to find a place to dump them. Shatters are good on asparagus and excellent for your strawberry plants. 
Punkin followed me around hiding in the leaves that are falling, and inspecting the mulching.
While carrying a load of shatters out back, I saw this huge fungus. The locals call this a chocolate pie fungus. I can’t imagine why!
While Pat was here delivering the shatters, he helped lift the Stand-uppity garden he made for me so I could slide bricks under the legs. During the heavy rains earlier this summer, 2 of the legs started to sink deep in the ground.
Now, it is closer to level again. See the cover? Did you ever wonder what they do with all those big campaign posters along the road? If you ask real nice, “they” will gladly dump them at your house when the election is over. All you have to do is find out who “they” are! The posters make great ground covers to kill the grass and weeds over the winter so the place is ready to plant in the spring. They also made a great cover for my Stand-uppity garden to keep it dry over the winter, and keep the planting mix clean.
Answering a question about the mini roses –
And 2 new fall azaleas.
Hope you enjoyed my language lesson!
My first year teaching here, I taught on the fair island of Chincoteague every afternoon. It was a long drive up the road and across the cause way and series of bridges, but in the class room it was also a trip thru time. Many of the kids were 5th or 6th generation “Teagers” and spoke with a totally different accent than those on the mainland. Like the folks on Tangier, an island out in the Chesapeake Bay, their language still had a bit of the old English “brogue”… it was similar, but not quite the same. It took some learning to understand what a kid meant when he said he didn’t have any “brain” – but meant brown, or asked how to paint a “clide” – cloud. They went dine tine after school – that’s where the stores were. And pine straw on the island is called shatters. Boy, I could take a digression award for that paragraph!
Anyway, my friend, Pat, who should get paid by John Deere for advertising their products,
drove up to my house the other day in his tractor, pulling a little – or not so little – wagon behind it loaded with shatters which he dumped at the end of my turn-around. To Eastern Shore men (and women) a load of shatters, especially nice clean shatters, is like a load of gold. Well, OK, that is stretching it, but you get my point. Pat does the town a great service by raking up the shatters that fall along the roads in town. We used to have a couple of EXCELLENT workers here in town that kept the place looking as beautiful as it could be, and one of their jobs was to sweep up the shatters from under the pine trees. I, as a conscientious citizen used to give them a place to dump said shatters – my front yard! I them hauled them around to various garden areas to mulch the azaleas, camellias and other acid loving plants. They made the town look nice (and BOY! Do we miss them!) and, I saved them from having to find a place to dump them. Shatters are good on asparagus and excellent for your strawberry plants. Punkin followed me around hiding in the leaves that are falling, and inspecting the mulching.While carrying a load of shatters out back, I saw this huge fungus. The locals call this a chocolate pie fungus. I can’t imagine why!
While Pat was here delivering the shatters, he helped lift the Stand-uppity garden he made for me so I could slide bricks under the legs. During the heavy rains earlier this summer, 2 of the legs started to sink deep in the ground.
Now, it is closer to level again. See the cover? Did you ever wonder what they do with all those big campaign posters along the road? If you ask real nice, “they” will gladly dump them at your house when the election is over. All you have to do is find out who “they” are! The posters make great ground covers to kill the grass and weeds over the winter so the place is ready to plant in the spring. They also made a great cover for my Stand-uppity garden to keep it dry over the winter, and keep the planting mix clean.Answering a question about the mini roses –
And 2 new fall azaleas.
Hope you enjoyed my language lesson!
(Don’tcha love walkers with wheels and seats? And if you have never had to use one, there is your bit of gratitude for the day!) My philosophy is to always look for the bright spot and not dwell in the shadows – unless the sun is too hot and it is 90 degrees!
Now, I have a love/hate relationship with snow. I think it is beautiful, magical… but I live in the South – not the DEEP South, but in Virginia, and on the coast. Snow is rare. OK, maybe not rare, ummm, well, we can go for several years with no snow at all, or we can get a serious snow storm and a couple feet! But, that is rare! As I read his letter, I looked out the window and then at the thermometer – the sun is shining, it is in the low 60s. Heaven must be about this temperature.
The red mums look faded, but the yellow ones are still bright and cheerful.
The true frost reporter is the impatiens. 
They are still nice as is the Strobilanthes. The fall camellias are really turning on. It is one reason why I stay here. I can’t imagine not having camellias pretty much all winter. 
This is Ice Angel. The bees are busy getting their last bit of pollen before the cold temps knock them out again.
The daisies by Buddha were filled with busy bees and butterflies.
See the fall azalea? This azalea is next to the Beauty Berry Bush.
The Adirondacks are still out, I will have a sit in one of them later –
might even eat lunch out there. While everyone else had frost yesterday, I had a heavy dew. Pretty isn’t it? Even weeds can be pretty in the frost. 
This one was pretty just with the sunlight and dew. In case you think I am making too much of the sunlight – we had a solid 6 days of rain last week and over the week-end, temps in the 50s to barely 60, and over 3 inches of rain. The sun is very welcome! One other result of all the rain, however, is a plethora of mushrooms. 
I found this little family while cleaning out my ground level birdbath. Note the violets are in bloom again! The stone is from my back yard in the Poconos. We have no stones here - they are all imports!
I am grateful for my little companion, Punkin, who accompanies me on my photo shoots (and everything else outside!)
I am grateful for all of you who read my blog – for those of you who comment on the blog as well as those of you who email or phone me. You know this blog is a labor of love – (this post took 3 hours) - love to be shared. And I am grateful for those of you who call (or email) when you haven’t seen or heard from me… and especially for those of you who answer your phones when I have fallen and can’t get back up. It is humiliating to have to call someone when you are sprawled out on the ground, but then I am reminded of my gratitude for my telephone service… and my chiropractor who has been putting things back together (and keeping me out of the wheelchair most of the time) for over 20 years. Thank you Susan!
ready to go up to prepare the wires on the building for connection. I got off a few shots from the ground,
then climbed the steps which another volunteer had fixed and attached to the building (Thanks Pat Morrison, Station Master) and prepared to get a closer shot of the guy clipping the wires. First shot taken, he looked down at me and called me by name! “Hey, how are you?” he asked. So we spoke a few more words to each other as my brain furiously worked to recognize any of the face – and there was not much of that I could see as it was in shadow, he was wearing sunglasses, a hard hat, and I had a feeling that I taught him YEARS ago…
I strained to see the name on his jacket, but I could not see it for the bucket and his gear. He reminded me that I had taught him his freshman year in high school and he mentioned another student… my mind went racing back – what was that, 20 years ago? 25? I have lost track of who and when as well as names. I guess that happens if you teach long enough. So when I thought he was not looking, I quietly asked his boss what his name was. Virgil! It was Virgil! I taught only one kid named Virgil, and I will never forget him, but that was a few years ago. Sadly I do not remember any of his art work, but I do remember his personality. Here on the shore, Virgil was what people call “a mess.” Now if you are from away, just hang on tight. Being called “a mess,” especially when accompanied with a smile and a loving tone of voice is a compliment. It denotes someone who has a great sense of humor, is guaranteed to make you smile just by walking in the room, is probably trustworthy, and a lot of fun. He is the kind of kid that is just plain lovable without even trying to be. It is funny how kids expect you to remember them even after 30 years, they’ve grown a beard, lost their hair, gained 100 lbs, have grandchildren… not that that describes Virgil – just sayin’… they expect you to remember them even if they were only in the 2nd grade when you had them. I have no idea if Virgil has any hair or not – he was wearing a hardhat. He does have a beard – and it was a very bright sunny day, I think I was the only one who did not have sunglasses on. I have never gotten the hang of taking a picture thru sunglasses… anyway, Virgil got us all connected. 
Well, not by himself, of course, he had a delightful crew working with him. Truly, they were a nice bunch of guys. And today, we have electricity! But the best part of all, when he finally had his feet on the ground, I got the BEST hug I have had in a long while. In fact, I got several hugs. Maybe he was as happy to see me as I was to see him!
the bear resides in Maine, the home of this chippie,
another favorite animal of mine. We don't have bears or chippie around here. This sunflower is from my neighbor Dorothy Perrucci (Onley Images) who said it was a real gift
because they did not plant it. She also sent this sunset picture.
Don't you love sunsets? I think this is Lake Gaston?
that come up each year in this spot. 
Another neighbor spotted this fungus on my Buddha stump. 
The bright red only lasted one day. 
Tho I have seen them recently, this picture is from last winter. 
They are not that rare, but they have to be kept behind fences since the public doesn't seem to understand they are wild and apparently can't read the Please DO NOT FEED the ponies signs. Ponies, like many wild animals, can become moochers, and are not afraid of humans, especially humans with snacks. The sad part of this story is then folks who then come along and think they can pet the ponies because the ponies are coming to their cars and they often get bitten when they do not feed them. The hand comes out... the pony opens his mouth... One year I saw a father try to put his kid on a pony's back while Mom took the picture. The kid got tossed and kicked in the head. Of course, it was the pony's fault - sue the park. 
Sorry the shot isn't better - it was thru the plexiglas.
