I Write: What Carries Us

At our monthly Writing is Fun meetings we decide a prompt for writing for the next meeting. Length is set at 2 pages so we can read them at the meeting. There is quite a diversity of writing. Some are real life recollections, some fictional vignettes, and sometimes there's a poem. This is partially a real life recollection.

The prompt for June 2026: Transportation

What Carries Us – Carol Kagan

The steel mill built a town with rental houses for the workers; all the better to keep them close. When a house became vacant, the next name on the waiting list was called. Tommy Smith was next.

For Tommy Smith, who did not live near the mill, this was serendipitous as his old Studebaker’s ailments became too expensive to fix. It was tiring- the daily chore of finding someone on the same work shift to hitch a ride. And now, at his new home, he found his new form of transportation. On the road in front of Tony Dudowski’s house was Tony’s new Ford and in the yard there was his used bicycle with scabby rust spots, no front fender, and stuffing squeezing out of the seat. For sale - $2.

Tommy fixed up his new ride, sanding out the rust, painting the body a bright red, replacing the fender, taping up the seat, and adding a front basket. He couldn’t get the squeak out of the seat and was resigned to ignore it. Ready to go to work.

His daily commutes became a kinetic time clock for the neighborhood. At 6:15 a.m. he could be seen pedaling with heavy steel-toed shoes on the tiny pedals, a domed, gray metal lunchbox, and dented thermos full of hot coffee in the basket. On hot days there was an extra thermos with cold water. This was the Day Turn work shift- 7 a.m. to 3 p.m. At nearly 4:30 he could be seen sluggishly grinding the pedals, back hunched forward to the handlebars. The effort of his up and down pedaling produced a small tempo from the squeaky seat.

Then there was the 3 to 11 Shift. Few people saw him coming home near midnight, the large, glaring headlight bobbing up and down as he pedaled. And for Night Turn, when workers stepped in as 3 to 11 ended, it was the little red rear light that danced as he headed into work.

In the small shed behind the house there was a bicycle repair area. When opening the door, the smell of grease, oil, and cleaners drifted out. With lots of care, he got quite a few years out of that ride.

When Ordell, his wife, brought home a Sears-Roebuck catalog, a brand new bicycle model targeted at adults caught his eye. It had a larger, more comfortable seat, a chain guard cover, bigger pedals, and a back shelf over the rear fender. The dog-eared page was often checked until he finally saved up enough money to buy one.

The now faded-red bicycle was handed down to young Tommy Smith, age 12, ready to enjoy the freedom of exploration. He and his father repainted it a bright blue, removed the front basket, but couldn’t get the squeak out of the seat. Young Tommy was often found fixing a flat, oiling a chain, or carefully taping the seat. He liked to ride with his friends around the neighborhood and down the path along the creek, rolling his eyes as friends called out about his squeaky seat. He also used it to earn money to buy a car. The bicycle took him to the side of town where the managers and big shots of the mill lived with lawns to mow and driveways snow to shovel. At age 16 he started working behind the soda fountain at the G & G drugstore, still saving for that different ride. Soon enough that well used and cared for bicycle was up for sale again.

The price for the pale blue bicycle, still in fairly good condition, with a basket you could add on was now a whopping $10.

Who bought it? It was Carl.

Carl was the Umbrella Man whose claim to fame was fixing broken umbrellas but he fixed a lot of other things, too. He had no vehicle for transportation and had to hitch rides from town to town or walk long distances carrying his heavy tools.

The bicycle was in good condition and ready to work for him. After putting on the basket he fixed the squeaky seat.

Perched on the seat, Carl came around the small mill neighborhoods. Hanging from the front, the large basket was filled with tools of one sort or another. Suspended from both sides of the back shelf were two bulky leather saddlebags with large tarnished buckles. On the shelf was a tall metal basket filled with a variety of things – sometimes a jar of miscellaneous keys, a roll of rubber strips, a bundle of metal rods and wooden dowels, or some unidentifiable objects.

It seemed that whenever he was around for the week, boxes of broken items would appear on doorsteps or at the end of a sidewalk.

Carl could be found sitting on the ground, cross-legged fiddling with things from a box. You could see him rifling through the objects in his baskets, grabbing a screwdriver, or disappearing on his bike to bring back something that would let him fix whatever he was working on.

Whether it was a repaired doll chair, a restrung bow, or a small tin construction crane, he would leave it on the doorstep and not ask for payment.

Often we would see a neighbor running after him to offer payment. He did not refuse the offering.

In a town where the mill set the rhythm and the shifts ruled the days; the bicycle became its own kind of witness. It carried a father to work, a boy through halcyon days, and finally a tinker who believed nothing was too small to mend. By the time Carl began pedaling it around the towns and streets, the old bike had lived more lives than most people ever know.

                                 

 

In the end, the old bike showed that when something is cared for, even the simplest, human‑powered machine can shoulder years of work, wonder, and wandering.

Summer Watering Guide

 

Summer Watering Guide for Franklin County Gardens

Franklin County enters Summer 2026 under a Drought Warning, and we need to consider our watering practices. A Drought Warning means that water supplies are stressed and conservation measures are needed to manage our limited resources. We are running behind seasonal norms for rainfall and gardeners should expect soils to dry more quickly and plants to show stress sooner than in an average year.

A garden drinks in many different ways, and understanding those needs is the difference between plants that merely survive and plants that truly flourish.

💧 Watering Basics for Flower Gardens, Vegetable Beds, and Lawns

Healthy gardens depend on steady, deep watering—just enough to keep roots growing downward, not so much soil stays soggy. Most flowers and vegetables need about 1 inch of water per week, whether it comes from rain or your hose. Lawns need roughly the same amount, though cool‑season grasses can tolerate brief dry spells.

🌼 Flower & Vegetable Gardens

• Water deeply, not lightly. Aim for soaking the top 6–8 inches of soil. Shallow sprinkling encourages weak, surface‑level roots.
• 
  Morning is best. Early watering reduces evaporation and gives foliage time to dry, lowering disease risk.
• Check soil before watering. If the top 2 inches are dry and crumbly, it’s time.
• Mulch helps. A 2–3 inch layer of mulch slows evaporation and keeps soil evenly moist. Keep mulch away from the stem.

🌱 Lawns

• Water early in the day to reduce evaporation and fungal issues.
• Infrequent, deep watering (once or twice a week) is better than daily sprinkling.
• Let grass grow a bit taller during hot, dry periods—longer blades shade the soil and conserve moisture.

🌧️ Using a Rain Gauge

A simple rain gauge is one of the most useful tools a gardener can own.

• Place it in an open area away from trees or buildings.
• Check weekly totals—if rainfall is less than 1 inch, plan to irrigate.
• For vegetable gardens, keep a small notebook or phone log to track rainfall and watering patterns.

💦

Using a Bubbler to Water at Ground Level

A hose‑end bubbler (sometimes called a “watering wand bubbler” or “gentle‑flow bubbler”) is one of the easiest ways to deliver slow, deep moisture right where plants need it: at the soil surface, not the leaves.

Soft, low‑pressure flow. Bubblers release water in a quiet, gurgling stream that won’t splash soil onto leaves or erode mulch.

• Perfect for flowers, vegetables, and young shrubs. The slow soak encourages deep root growth and reduces runoff.
• Excellent for drought care. Place the bubbler at the base of the plant, let it run for several minutes, then move it to the next plant.
• Tree watering made easier. Instead of spraying the trunk, set the bubbler in a wide ring beyond the canopy dripline and let it seep into the full root zone.
• Water early in the day. You’ll lose less to evaporation and help keep foliage dry.

A bubbler turns watering into a calm, controlled process—especially helpful during dry spells when every drop counts.

🌳 Don’t Forget the Trees

Trees—especially young or newly planted ones—need special attention during low rainfall or drought. Their roots extend well beyond the canopy, so watering only at the trunk won’t help.

• Water in a wide ring at and beyond the dripline.
• Apply water slowly so it soaks deeply into the root zone.
• Mature trees may need a deep watering every 2–4 weeks during extended dry periods.

💡 KNOW HOW: Measuring How Much Water

If you’re watering with a sprinkler, you can place a straight‑sided container, such as a coffee can, within the spray pattern. The depth of water collected shows how much is reaching the soil over a given period. This method helps you understand whether your sprinkler is delivering enough moisture to penetrate the root zone.

To make sure your trees are getting the right amount of water during dry periods, it helps to measure how much you’re actually applying. One easy way is to check your hose’s flow rate using a five‑gallon bucket. Set the hose in the bucket and time how long it takes to fill. If it fills in five minutes, your hose is delivering about one gallon per minute, which lets you estimate how long you need to run it to reach your target volume for a deep soak.

Some gardeners prefer tools designed for slow, steady watering. Slow‑release watering bags and drip rings apply water gradually and directly to the root area, which is especially helpful for newly planted trees that need consistent moisture to establish.

As a general guideline, newly planted trees benefit from about ten gallons of water per week applied slowly enough to soak deeply. Larger, established trees may need more, and a common rule of thumb is to provide roughly twenty gallons of water per inch of trunk diameter measured at breast height. No matter the method, applying water slowly helps it soak into the soil rather than running off, and a layer of mulch around the base helps the soil retain moisture and keeps roots cooler during hot weather.

☀️ IT'S THE GROWING SEASON 🌿 

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I Write - The House That Wakes Early

At our monthly Writing is Fun meetings we decide a prompt for writing for the next meeting. Length is set at 2 pages so we can read them at the meeting. There is quite a diversity of writing. Some are real life recollections, some fictional vignettes, and sometimes there's a poem. This is a combination of real life and a bit of made-up story.

The prompt for April 2026 was "House."

I Write: The House That Wakes Early

 

The birdhouse out front keeps its own time; time that runs on light instead of numbers. It’s a house that wakes before the earth turns to release the sun above South Mountain, long before I wake.

One morning, before “Betty Carol” tea consciousness, my at‑home workday started early. Working at home was never restful  - looking at the computer and rifling through files drained energy. I stumbled through dim rooms, goosebumps on my arms, following a cool breeze to the office. At the doorway I paused, still half‑asleep. It was so quiet; and then I heard it.

 

ch REE   ch REE   ch REE 

 

Alone in a quiet pocket of the approaching day, the notes were loud, crisp, and as sweet as the taste of a fresh apple- repeating a call-and-response to itself.

 

ch REE   ch REE   ch REE 

 

A tiny bird perched on the birdhouse, singing into the pre-dawn, blue-grey light. Later I learned it was a Carolina Wren—most likely a male, most certainly an early riser.

For a moment I imagined the birdhouse near my bedroom window. It would be the most pleasant way to start a day.

 

 

Spring arrived, and while working I began watching the house where he sang. It sits atop a wooden pole; a host of yellow daffodils huddled at its base. One day the wren pushed his head into the opening, tail cocked upright, inspecting. Soon he and a partner began to build a nest, carrying twigs, tufts of green moss, and thin strands of grass. Then, for days, it was still.

Another early morning workday I heard the song again. He sat perched on the tiny roof, flicking his tail as the song bounced into the dawn air.

 

ch REE   ch REE   ch REE 

 

I avoided my work, listening - ch REE  ch REE   ch REE  - and watching as the day opened gently – the dawning colors unfurling upward like opening flower petals- a faint blue to pale yellow, a small drift of pink and peach clouds, orange that burst into yellow as the sun crested the mountain. Then I started my workday.

 

As the day went on I saw the wren coming and going, carrying small morsels in its beak, wings fluttering as it dipped its head inside. A few days later both birds began to bring food back home.

 

After dinner, just before the earth turned to hide the sun behind Cove Mountain to the west, I walked through the gardens. As I slowly approached the birdhouse I could hear faint, breathy peeping — the tiny, uncertain voices of chicks only a day or two old. I knew the parents fed them from sunrise to sunset, but never after. Mama wren would fold her wings and settle in for the night, and Papa would settle in the maple branches nearby.

 

I had begun to rise early each morning to hear his morning song. The song seemed stronger, more confident, and definitely louder, singing out like he owns the yard.

 

ch REE   ch REE   ch REE 

 

  

During my workdays I would glance out the window and see nature’s other entertainment. Squirrels rushed around, tails flipping, digging in the garden bed. A chipmunk about to fill his cheeks with bird seed. Morning walkers and joggers out early and a neighbor walking her dog. Although the daffodils were gone they were replaced by bright orange tulips.

 

And there was a day when the commotion inside the nest was so loud I could hear it. A fluffy head peeked out of the birdhouse, ducked forward, and brought a little round body with caramel colored loose feathers up into the hole. It fell forward with small wings spread and landed softly. With a slight waddle it moved behind a line of hostas at the back of the garden. Three more fledglings followed it.

 

When I went for a fresh cup of tea, I noticed I was more relaxed than when my workday started later. By moving the birdhouse I would only gain a song—if I was awake for it. And I understood I would lose something quieter: the slow unfurling of the seasons as the earth tilts toward the sun. In Spring bringing up the daffodils and the wrens back to their little house just as surely as it turns to lift the sun over the mountain each morning.

*   *   *   *   *

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Spring Bulb Care

 

For many gardeners, the hope planted in past autumns is now realized in the colorful show of spring blooms.

From the first pop of snowdrops to the fade of the last flower, spring bulbs radiate dazzling whites, brilliant yellows, vibrant reds, and lots of colors in between.

University of Illinois (https://web.extension.illinois.edu/gpe/case5/c5facts1.html) describes a bulb as "a promise of a plant to come. These 'packaged plants' each have a complete miniature plant inside along with its food." The bulb is a food storage unit and inside is a miniature plant complete with leaves, stem, and a small flower bud.

Like all perennials they need care and feeding. Here’s what to do and when.

While blooming, mark their spot with a plant stake noting type and color. (Plant stakes are 10/$1 at the Dollar Store. https://www.dollartree.com/garden-collection-plastic-plant-labels-10ct-packs/213330). This will help when you later divide the flowerless bulbs.

After blooming, cut the faded bloom stems near the bottom. Leave the green foliage. It will send energy and nutrients below ground to the bulb. When the plant goes dormant over winter, the bulb will continue to store the energy until spring when warmer weather urges it to regrow and flower.

Leave the green foliage. It will send energy and nutrients below ground to the bulb. When the plant goes dormant over winter, the bulb will continue to store the energy until spring when warmer weather urges it to regrow and flower.

Once the foliage has turned yellow or brown and died back, cut the plant down to 1”. If you need to divide the bulbs, be sure to have them marked.

Penn State Chester County Master Gardeners (https://extension.psu.edu/programs/master-gardener/counties/chester/how-to-gardening-brochures/bulbs-corms-rhizomes-and-tubers) note that “signs that bulbs need to be divided are overcrowding, multiple stems, and declining flowers.”

Spring flowering plants are best divided and replanted in the fall. If you need to divide them in the spring, you may replant them immediately or store them.

When digging to divide, be careful not to cut or damage the bulb. Dig down and around to get a large clump. Gently brush or wash off the soil to expose the small bulblets. Carefully remove the bulblets from the mother plant, then replant them separately with the tips facing up. They are small now but space them out saving the need to divide again in the next year or two.

If you chose to divide the bulbs and store them instead of replanting immediately, remove all the soil, lay them out individually, discarding any damaged or diseased bulbs. Let them air dry away from sunlight for several days then store in a net or mesh bag. Then store in a mesh bag or some dry peat moss or vermiculite. Keep them in a ventilated in a cool, dark spot and check periodically during the summer, to make sure they are not rotting or drying out. Replant the following fall.

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I Write: Tiny Tears

At our monthly Writing is Fun meetings we decide a prompt for writing for the next meeting. Length is set at 2 pages so we can read them at the meeting. There is quite a diversity of writing. Some are real life recollections, some fictional vignettes, and sometimes there's a poem. This is a real life recollection.

The prompt for September 2025 was - You inherit a mystery box from a long lost relative. What do you hope to find in it?

With all the spam phone calls nowadays I don’t answer the phone unless the caller-ID has a name. The voice mail on my phone is from Robert King, an attorney, asking me to call him and leaving a number.

Mr. King tells me it was difficult to find me as he only had my maiden name and a very old address. I learn that my Aunt Alice has left me something in her will. Alice and my mother had more than a falling-out when I was quite young. My mother never talked about it, but I learned from others that during a visit to Alice’s house an argument escalated, and my mother quickly swept me away home. They never reconciled.

Confirming my current address, Mr. King will send the inheritance to me. Before I can ask “how much” he needs to take another call.

A few weeks later I receive a notice to go to the post office to sign for a delivery that won’t fit in the mailbox, and I guess it isn’t a check.

The clerk hands over a box wrapped in brown paper. It is not very heavy, and the mystery box now has my interest; however, I wait until I get home to open my inheritance from Aunt Alice.

The box is on the table, and I resist shaking it. Upon opening I find wads and wads of tissue paper surrounded by bubble-wrap. I carefully unpeel the packing and there is a catch in my throat. I pull out a chair and sit down.

Slowly I reach in, and I lift it through clouds of tissue paper. Although I hadn’t seen it for – oh, how many years! – I recognize it immediately. Carefully I hold her up and she is exactly the same as when I last saw her - my Tiny Tears doll.

Tiny Tears doll before she was well-loved

There was a note enclosed.

Dearest Carol,

I know how much you love her, and I have taken care of her for you for a long time. Whenever I see her I miss you. I tried to make up with your mom, but it hasn’t worked out. I miss her so much, and I am sad that we haven’t made up yet.

I hope I can get this to you someday soon. I wish that your mom and I can be sisters again.

With lots of love, Aunt Alice 

Tiny Tears dolls had special features that other dolls did not. Yes, others had lullaby eyes that slowly closed when you tipped them down to hold in your arms or tuck into a little bed. But she also was able to take a bottle, blow a bubble pipe, and easily stand up to soap and water in the bathtub. She did not have strange nylon hair, but the top of her head was molded to include a tiny bit of hair painted light brown. The most amazing thing about Tiny Tears were the tiny tears she could cry after you fed her water then gently squeezed her stomach.

She arrived as a gift with a full layette- dressed in a onesie, with a pair of crocheted pink socks, a bottle, a bubble pipe, a washcloth, ivory soap, an extra diaper – well, she also wet herself from all that water, and, of course, Kleenex tissues for when she cried. Her body was made of rubber, and her arms and legs could raise up and down.

She was my special “lovey” and listened quietly to all my stories – some sad like when our dog, Dusty, had to be put down and others happy like a trip to the Enchanted Forest. Every night she was by my pillow as I held her tiny hand. There were times when I was hurt or sad and cried. Most often I couldn’t find the baby bottle that fit perfectly in her mouth, but she was still with me.

Over the years, as with many of us, her body deteriorated. The rubber wore out at her left elbow and right knee from being bent too much without a good joint. Band-Aids held her together, often having to be replaced, especially if they got wet. No doll hospital could provide a replacement for these and eventually she lost the bottom part of the left arm and right leg when the Band-Aids could no longer hold them. Her hair thinned as the light brown paint wore off. But I loved and needed her still. I took her almost everywhere.

And so, on the day my Mother quickly took me from my aunt’s house, she was left behind. When I asked to get her back, at first my Mother was angry but then she would cry. I stopped asking.

And here she was. Tiny tears escaped my eyes. Even in her well loved condition she was welcomed back to my heart.