The Marsh Project Week #38

It is the day before Thanksgiving and I am on an afternoon hike; I have picked up the pre-cooked turkey dinner, the ingredients for the traditional green bean casserole with the fried onions that I have to have for Thanksgiving dinner (but don't make at any other time of the year), and my freezer is stocked with delicious frozen chocolate pies from the grocery store.  I am all about the low maintenance Thanksgiving dinner.

The water release from the dam has diminished, and the marsh trail is open again although it is muddy and it is obvious from the recently drowned vegetation how high the water had been in certain places.  Not much is going on; it's likely a bit too cold for snakes, although a pair of turtles are sitting on a log out in the pond; as I walk by on the boardwalk, which is littered with leaves, they slide back into the water.  A few variegated meadowhawk dragonflies land on the boardwalk and then fly away again; a bright orange question mark butterfly lands on some of the browning vegetation and opens its wings, sunning in the waning late afternoon light.

I walk down the boardwalk to the small blind, and am struck by the lighting amongst the cattails.  I pause for a minute.  I am thankful, grateful, full of awe, to be in this moment in this place as the early winter light strikes the cattails and shines through it. I take a photo, knowing that the results will be only a weak depiction of what I am seeing, but needing to document it anyway.  This is the day before Thanksgiving, after all, and it is a time to consider what we are thankful for.  I am thankful for many things but in this moment I am filled with gratitude for my mud-caked boots, for the winter sparrows chirping in the distance, for the osprey flying overhead carrying his own early Thanksgiving dinner of a fish, for the cold but fresh air, for the sunlight filtering through the cattails, for this moment of peace in a chaotic world.

Later, when I look at my pictures, I will see the light illuminating the individual strands of the cattail spike, along with tiny seeds that were not visible to my eyes on the trail.

As I continue on, I see some American coots on the water;  as I get closer, one flies away and then the others, equally startled by my presence, take off.  In the distance, I can see what could be gadwalls, but I can't be sure.  I leave the marsh behind and head into the wooded upland portion of the trail; here the sparrows are plentiful, and a pair of bright red Northern cardinals fly from branch to branch, evading a clean line of sight.  Just as I move to continue my walk, a beautiful white-throated sparrow alights on a branch and I get my photo.  A few months ago, the indigo and painted buntings were in the same tree, but now they are gone.  Winter is nearly here.

I look down and see some feathers on the ground; I wonder what goes on around this trail when people are not here. I hear rustling near the trail, and look up; what has to be the largest armadillo I have ever seen is rooting around in dead leaves.  As the armadillo moves on, a brown thrasher appears under a nearby tree and then flies off as I proceed towards the trailhead and my car; the preserve will be closing soon and it is time to get home; green bean casserole preparation awaits.

The Marsh Project Week #37

The dam is still releasing water at a stunning rate, so the trail to the marsh is still flooded.  I was out of town this past week, but was able to get to the nature preserve over the weekend; on Saturday morning, it was not to hike but to participate with the Son of Never Stops Eating in a trash cleanup, and then Saturday afternoon and Sunday morning I was able to get some hiking in.

The Son of Never Stops Eating was appalled at the amount of trash- especially glass bottles, beer cans, and fishing line- that we managed to pick up.  He kept asking me why people just couldn't put their trash where it belonged instead of tossing it on the ground or in the bushes, because didn't they realize that Mother Nature doesn't want their trash?

 As we were working with other groups to clean the area up, I came across another American white pelican that had suffered a fatal encounter with some fishing line.  When I showed this picture to people, several people felt that the answer to the problem was to stop allowing fishing.  That would probably solve the problem, but I'm not completely comfortable with that- the birds have great value to me, but fishing is also a valid recreational activity.  For some people, it's dinner.  For others, it's quality outdoor family time;  I remember how excited my kids were to catch their first fish.   I took a philosophy of environmental ethics class years ago and it just about broke my brain; what is the value of a pelican and is it worth cutting off access to another recreational activity that also has value?  I hope that there is an answer that allows for both; I just don't know what that answer is, especially when I see the damage firsthand to a bird species I love.

It was cool and cloudy Saturday and then Sunday it was just cold.  That didn't seem to bother some of the winter birds that have arrived; it's time once again to start working on the identification of the "Little Brown Birds" that are suddenly everywhere.  I'm starting to learn a few of them- there were plenty of white-throated sparrows near the entrance to the flooded marsh trail, and they were hopping on and off branches and then going to ground while I stood mostly helpless with my camera hoping that one would decide to hang out in clear view on a branch for a few minutes.  I finally met with success after several minutes of patient, quiet waiting.

The brown thrashers were also plentiful and lively, and hard to find as they moved around on the ground- but after more patient, quiet waiting I was able to get a fairly decent shot (as in, good enough for ID) of one.  The main theme for winter bird photography seems to be patient, quiet waiting- and good eyesight; unlike the herons and egrets, which are usually easy to find (except for those tricky green herons, which hide along the shoreline or amongst the lily pads) and photograph from a distance, these winter birds require a lot of work.

The dragonflies and butterflies were not in evidence this past weekend- except for one or two hardy variegated meadowhawks and some common buckeyes.  I'll be looking forward to seeing them again next spring.

The Marsh Project Week #36

I'm getting a little behind in my marsh project documentation, and some of it is my fault, but forces beyond my control are also playing a role- we've had a huge amount of rain, and the marsh area has been flooded and inaccessible.  Fortunately, I was able to access the trail for a short afternoon walk yesterday, and it was a mess- leaves and branches everywhere, and lots of mud.  I was really glad I was wearing my waterproof boots.

This area is located right below a large dam, and sometimes water is released from the dam at a rapid rate, and it attracts pelicans, cormorants, egrets and herons to feed on the fish.  The pelicans wait just past where the rapids of the water coming out of the outlet gates subside; they are entertaining to watch as they fish, bob on the water, and defend their fishing grounds from other birds.  However, the area is also popular with the two-legged fishermen.  Usually we can all co-exist together, but unfortunately sometimes challenges emerge- sometimes birds get entangled in the plastic fishing line, and they cannot always free themselves.

On Friday, a nature-loving friend of mine posted on his Facebook page that he had seen an American white pelican get entangled in line below the outlet gates, and the pelican had to be rescued by the local fire department.   I've cleaned up enough fishing line in the last few years to fill up several large trash bags, and I've developed a loathing for the stuff.  I wish I knew the magic formula for getting people to pick up their fishing line (and other trash) but I don't, and it seems so unfair to the birds who unwittingly get tangled up in fishing line and have to fight (sometimes unsuccessfully) to get free.  We can't fix all the world's problems, but picking up trash and fishing line is always a step in the right direction.

I was expecting not to see much wildlife on my hike, except perhaps for some gulf fritillary butterflies, some winter sparrows and some late fall dragonflies- the last few Eastern pondhawks, a few common green darners, and the variegated meadowhawks. What I wasn't expecting to see was a red saddlebags, hanging on.  Of course, it had chosen a perch with lighting not conducive to great nature photography, but I did my best.

I had another surprise waiting for me as I got closer to the end of the trail- a cottonmouth snake, curled up on a fallen tree trunk.  The striking thing about this snake was that it had different coloration than what I'm used to seeing.  I got several photos (from a respectful distance, as always) before it slithered off the log to go about its snakey business.

This morning, the outlet gates were being opened further, so the trail will be inaccessible again, but fortunately there are other trails to explore; the winter birds (the kinglets, the sparrows, the wrens) are coming; I can hear them tweeting in the branches, so we'll be playing hide and seek all winter.

The Son of Texting

Last weekend, the Son of Never Stops Eating reached yet another new developmental milestone.

If you're thinking that he went out on a date, you'd be wrong;  he bought himself a smartphone. He'd been insisting that he needed a smartphone so that he could text pictures of his Lego creations to his besties, and he finally decided that the need was urgent and compelling enough to part with some of his saved-up Lego cash to buy one. So after our usual Saturday breakfast, off to the store of the mobile devices we went.  I set some ground rules: if he lost it or damaged it, he was paying for the replacement.  No watching Simpsons You tube videos or playing with the phone during school. He was responsible for making sure it was charged at night.

Mom, he sighed, I know what to do.

As soon as we got home, we started entering phone numbers into the contacts list: me, the Dad of No, the Grandpa of No, The College Student.  I showed him how to text, and told him to practice by texting me.

Son: Hi Mom it's me!
Me: Hello!
Son: I love this phone Mom you rock.
Me: You are my favorite son!
Son: Did you put $20 on my card?

It appeared that he'd mastered texting along with the essential teenager survival skill of hitting your parents up for cash.

The next day, I got another text:

Mom I may have some thing in my ear can you clean it out for me when I get home please

Um, sure, ewwwww, but ok...….

Then I got a phone call from him at school.  Someone from the phone store had called him, he said, and wanted his zip code.  I was absolutely befuddled.  Why would someone from the phone store be calling him for our zip code?  And why was he answering his phone during school, when he was supposed to be focused on learning?  I'd told him that while he was in school he needed to put the phone away and not use it for anything.

One of his teachers got on the phone and explained to me that the phone had started ringing, so The Son of Never Stops Eating had answered it and then had gotten up and walked into the hallway. She'd followed him out and had stopped him from giving out any information.  Then he'd called me. He was worried.

That's weird, I said. I wonder who it was.  Probably someone telling him he had a credit card balance due on a fake credit card account, or asking if he wanted to buy a timeshare at Disneyworld, or the IRS telling him he owed them money and he needed to send it in right away on a gift card.  I was  certain it wasn't the phone store.  I couldn't think of any reason they'd be calling him.   We hadn't really talked about scams and solicitation phone calls yet.

OK, I told him.  Don't answer the phone if you don't know who it is.

Son: What did they want?
Me:  I don't know. Information.
Son: I don't have any information! I just have a hamster!
Me:  Well, don't give anyone anything over the phone, like your debit card number.
Son: (indignantly)I would NEVER give anyone my debit card number! That's stealing! They better not take my money!

After I told him not to answer the phone unless it was a number he knew, I realized that when he started applying for jobs, he might be getting legitimate calls from numbers he didn't know.  So the next challenge awaits: knowing when to answer the phone if you don't know the number, and setting up voice mail.

The Marsh Project Week #35

It's been awhile since I've updated my project; a weekend trip and then a unexpected ER visit followed by a few days of recuperation interrupted my nature exploration, as did flooding in the marsh due to what seemed like endless rain.  However, I'm back on track (hopefully) and sunshine this weekend meant that I could get the mud boots on, grab the camera, and make my way back out to my favorite trail and observation point.  One aspect of cooler weather I really enjoy: almost no mosquitoes. 

The marsh had changed- a lot.  When I'd been out there three weeks ago, the lily pads covering the marsh were looking a little wilty and brown around the edges, but they were still mostly green and they were still covering the water surface.  Either the cold spells we've had or the flooding or both had rendered them shrunken and brown.  The green herons are gone for the winter; I'll be looking forward to seeing them next summer.  In their place, the northern flickers have arrived. 

The dragonflies are mostly gone, with the exception of the common green darners, which were still plentiful and active, and the variegated meadowhawks, which seem to be the first to come and the last to leave every year.  Even the Eastern pondhawks, usually everywhere on this trail, were nowhere to be seen.  In sunlight, the variegated meadowhaws' metallic coloration glimmers, making them seem like winged jewels of early spring and late fall. 

The butterflies, however, are making a late fall appearance with the monarch migration coming through.  This past spring I'd seen almost no monarchs, so I was glad to see multiple monarchs in a wildflower patch at the entrance to the nature preserve, along with the Gulf fritillaries, variegated fritillaries, and common buckeyes.  I also observed a goatweed leafwing perched on a branch with its bright orange wings open; when its wings are closed, it can easily be mistaken for a leaf.  

Earlier yesterday, I'd gotten a hot tip from another fan of nature that the pelicans were out on the river.  The water flow had been cut off from the dam and no water was coming out of the outlet work gates, but when I arrived several American white pelicans were standing around (literally- the water appeared to be only a few inches deep).  I don't know if they were waiting for the water to start flowing out of the dam so that they could commence fishing, or what they were doing, but I'm always excited to see the pelicans.  After I finished my hike, I noticed that they'd all left. 

Finally, a really interesting find as I came off the trail- a very large green caterpillar- possibly a Polyphemus moth, but I am not sure as to ID.  

A Note from 2010

A few weeks ago I made a weekend trip to visit the Grandpa and Grandma of No.  The Grandma of No is now in an assisted living center, and the Grandpa of No is adjusting to being home alone.  When The Son of Never Stops Eating found out about my plans, he tried to finagle an invitation to accompany me on my journey.  He reminded me that it had been a long time since he'd been on an airplane and informed me that it was unfair that his sister had been on an airplane twice this year and he was still at ZERO flights.  I reminded him that he had school. He said he needed a break from school.

It was a good try, kid.  Your time will come.

As I sat with my mom, one of the Alzheimer's caregivers came over and started talking with us- well, mostly to me. My mom doesn't have conversations anymore. The caregiver told me not to feel badly that Mom had no idea who I was, and I assured her that I hadn't expected her to- Mom hasn't known who I am for awhile now.  She doesn't know who anyone is.

She'll hold your hand while you walk, the caregiver told me.  Just touch her hand, and she'll grab yours.  She likes to hold hands.

So Mom and I walked for awhile around the assisted living center, holding hands.  When my daughter was born, I told another caregiver, Mom rocked her for hours while I rested.  She walked me through nursing, through changing a newborn's diaper (I was worried I'd hurt the baby; she seemed so fragile), through confounding bouts of newborn fussiness. The caregiver nodded.  I'm sure she'd heard stories just like that from other people. The assisted living center was full of Alzheimer's patients who had once held babies, cared for children, watched proudly at graduations, danced at weddings.  The place was full of stories that were lost to time and disease.  That daughter is now a college freshman, I told the woman. She's an adult just beginning to spread her wings, and the grandmother who rocked her to sleep at five days old has no memory of it.

Alzheimer's is a cruel disease.

And then I got back on the airplane and came home to the chaos of my own life.

A few days later I was feeling restless and decided to start decluttering the kitchen cabinet where we stash all the odds and ends.  Every now and then I go on this tear where I make a vow to remove five items a day from the house, the idea being that at the end of a year I will have effortlessly decluttered my life.  It hasn't worked out that way so far, but under the premise that next time I might get it right, I keep trying.  As I was going through old brochures, product guides for appliances I no longer own, numerous packages of address labels from charities (I have enough to last me the rest of my life) I'd stuck in there, I found a small notecard my mother had written back in 2010.  Her cursive was still even and flowing, the handwriting I remembered from my own childhood.  I saw no glimpse of what lay in wait just a few years away.  Maybe even then she was showing subtle signs; I don't remember.

"Sorry I've been so late in getting your "belated Easter basket" to you", she wrote, "so I am just sending you a check".  She mentions a recent bout of sinusitis that had started to clear up, and requested a permission slip as part of registering The College Student (who was then the Elementary School Student) for her church's Vacation Bible School that coming summer.  It seems like so long ago, that I had kids young enough to go to Vacation Bible School and that my mother could write a letter.  It was only eight years ago, but it might as well have been a century ago.

I wanted to write my mother back.  I wanted to tell her that the VBS student is now The College Student, and that she is in another state, adulting up, playing clarinet in a college marching band.  I wanted to tell her that the Son of Never Stops Eating is over six feet tall now, and desperately wants a job at a snow cone stand or a pet store. I wanted to tell her that I still make her peanut blossom cookies, and that when I'm not feeling well I curl up in the quilt she made me years ago and I feel like I'm getting a Mom hug.  I wanted to tell her that sometimes I walk out of Target, or the grocery store, and I can't remember where I parked my car, and although the Son of Never Stops Eating laughs at me, I wonder if it's a sign of worse things to come.  I wanted her to know that I miss her.

Maybe when she held my hand, some part of her brain still knew that I was someone who had been important to her.  Maybe not. Maybe we shouldn't wait to tell people what they mean to us. We don't know what eight years will bring.

The Marsh Project Week #35

The title of this blog post is really a misnomer; the marsh trail is flooded and I have no access to my favorite place, so I had to settle for exploring other trails, ones I don't hike as often. Last weekend I was temporarily out of commission with some nasty bug and it was really just the best thing to hang out on the sofa and read a lot of books while drinking ginger ale and munching on the occasional saltine cracker.  I seem to have recovered, but the trail is still flooded.

It was a hard week for multiple reasons, which I won't get into here; suffice it to say I badly needed some time out in nature just to breathe and see if I could find anything interesting or different.  Some people do yoga or drink wine; I go look for snakes and dragonflies.  As it happened, earlier this week was my lucky night: I was just about to leave the trail and head back to my car, and I saw a copperhead sliding in between the slats on this small bridge.  I think the Dad of No was a little worried that maybe I was too close, but that snake was not interested in me; it was getting chilly and I suspect it was interested in finding a warmer spot.

Then, on another hike, I found something else- not a snake, but three sora in one pond.  A sora is a very elusive bird; it likes to hide amongst reeds and vegetation and they generally make themselves scarce as soon as they suspect that you're getting close, so it usually takes some luck or some stealth or both to sneak up on one, or you need the kind of patience that lets you stake out a spot for a long time hoping a great bird will show up. I don't have that kind of patience; I'm always thinking that I might be missing out on something else while I'm sitting there looking at a pond with no birds in it.

Anyway, I was out wandering around and I happened to glance over at one of the ponds I was walking around and saw one sora, two sora, and then a third sora.  This was the first time I had ever seen more than one sora in the same place;  I'd gotten several sora sightings in this area, but I was never really sure if it was the same bird multiple times or multiple birds once- but now I know there are at least three sora in this area.

Since it's been so rainy and wet, mushrooms have started to pop up all over.  Most of them are the usual white caps with gills that pop up after rain storms, but a few have had some spectacular colors. This morning, while on a hike with a friend, I found one that looked like a glorious sunrise (or sunset);  the camera was reluctant to take a good photo in the early morning light so it's not the best picture, but it's one of the most beautiful mushrooms I think I've ever seen.

I'm starting to notice more deer out on my evening hikes, along with some wild turkeys.  A few nights ago I'm fairly sure I saw a coyote watching me from a distance half hidden in some tall grass, but he took off as soon as I turned my head in his direction.   Even though it's still warm, there are leaves on the ground and, every so often, a chill in the air.

The Marsh Project Week #34

The middle of September, and it's still warm- although some rainy weather caused a temporary dip in the temperatures.  I'm in a bit of a funk;  I'm still getting used to not having the College Student around, and I'm not finding a whole lot out on the trail. Whether it's the change of seasons or the rain, or a combination of both, I don't know for sure, but the painted buntings and indigo buntings and little blue herons and the anhinga seem to have vacated the neighborhood, and not a lot has moved in  yet to take their places.

I play a game called "How many green tree frogs can I find on the marsh?".  Even when nothing else seems to be stirring, I can usually find at least one green tree frog.  Once my eyes locate one, I can often find several all sitting on green leaves or stems.

For several days I walk the trail, not finding anything of real interest except the green tree frogs, which are small and cute and look like little babies when they're curled up on the green vegetation, blending in.  I start to despair- will I ever find anything new or interesting, ever again? I remind myself that even a bad day in the field is better than a good day in the office (even though I've been to the office that day;  I still haven't figured out how to get paid for hiking).  Surely the birds and the snakes and the raccoons and the butterflies and the remaining common green darner dragonflies are still here, lurking around, waiting for the right moment to come back out.  I start to take it personally, even though other hikers assure me they haven't seen much, either.

Then- YES! It happens! As I walk back down the trail towards my car, consoling myself with the thought that I did find several green tree frogs, a hawk flies right above my head and lands on a branch right off the trail.  If I'm stealthy and lucky, I can get a good view of it- and possibly even a good photo.  The hawk is patient, or at least not skittish, and I get several photos.  When I get home I agonize over ID; it could be a juvenile red-tailed hawk, or a red-shouldered hawk, or something else entirely.  The Son of Never Stops Eating wanders over, looks at the photo, and says "Mom! You found the peregrine falcon!".  He's a huge fan of the peregrine falcon.

It turns out to be something else entirely- a first observation for me, a broad-winged hawk.  For the next couple of days, I see it flying from tree to tree in the same area, but I'm only able to get one more photo of it.

In the next few days, my luck changes for the better.  The common buckeye butterflies begin to appear- one at first, and then several.  I see a few Gulf fritillaries, hard to miss with their bright orange coloring.  Finally, on one evening hike, I find not one, but two snakes- a western ribbon snake, which scurries off into the grass two seconds after I get one photo, and a broad-banded water snake, which I spy swimming in a small pond as I stop to get a drink of water.  I observe an osprey with a fish in its claws, perched on a tree.  My nature funk seems to be, thankfully, resolving.

Seen on the trail: Armadillo, great blue heron, snowy egret, kingfisher, common buckeye, Gulf fritillary, variegated fritillary, queen, monarch, viceroy, common green darner, Eastern pondhawk, Northern cardinals, broad-winged hawk, green tree frogs, American bullfrog, one green heron (I think they're on their way out), Osprey, woodpecker (heard, not seen), red admiral butterfly, broad-banded water snake, western ribbon snake.

The Marsh Project Week #33

Starting Friday evening, the skies opened up and it rained, and it rained, and it rained, and then it rained some more, and it didn't really stop raining until Saturday evening.  Friday afternoon I came home from work, took a look at the weather forecast and the sky, and decided I had a few hours before the rain showed up- and an hour later, I was scurrying back towards my car, sopping wet and hoping that my phone and camera were not getting drenched inside my backpack.

Finally the rain stopped, and after receiving notification that the trails were once again open, I headed out this afternoon to see if anything would come out to enjoy the cooler weather.  The skies were still overcast and the trails were muddy, but phone and camera had both survived.  I wasn't the only one who was in the mood for a hike; I saw a few people and quite a bit of wildlife.  As I reached the boardwalk portion of the trail, some people coming the other way informed me that there was a heron standing very close to the boardwalk, and sure enough- not only was there a great blue heron, but an osprey landed momentarily on the top of a tree right near the boardwalk, then took off again.

The green tree frogs were out in force.  As usual, once I saw one, I saw several, including one that popped out at me as I walked slowly down the boardwalk.  Usually these little frogs pick green stems or leaves to rest on, and they blend in so well you can walk by several and not see anything unless you are purposefully looking- but this frog picked a contrasting background.

I also saw this very large spider.  Honestly, I am not really a spider person- I respect the role they play in the ecosystem, but I've walked into many a web on the trail and had the occasional unsuspecting spider end up crawling around in my hair or on the back of my shirt as a result of my unintentional web destruction.  Spider ID is not something I've mastered, but I'm guessing that this big spider might be a kind of wolf spider.   Unlike the tree frog, the spider blended in very well to its surroundings, and if I'd been walking quickly I would have walked right by it without realizing it was even there.

The rain had also brought the mushrooms out- the log these fungi were growing out of was surrounded by poison ivy, and while I admire spiders even though they're not my favorite, I've had too many bad run-ins with the PI- so I took the best photo I could get from a respectful distance. It seems to be an unwritten rule somewhere that the really good fungi must be surrounded by a impenetrable wall of poison ivy.

As I left the large blind and headed back towards the trailhead and my car, I heard a rustling to my left.  When I turned and looked, I saw three raccoons- two on the ground and one about six feet up in a tree. All three raccoons turned and watched me watching them.  After a minute or so, the raccoon in the tree resumed climbing upward, and the raccoons on the ground scampered away.

Seen on the trails: green heron, great blue heron, snowy egret, great egret, belted kingfisher, osprey,  yellow-crowned night heron, scissor-tailed flycatcher, wild turkey, Eastern phoebe, red bellied woodpecker, downy woodpecker, common green darner, common whitetail, monarch butterfly, Gulf fritillary, variegated fritillary, American snout, green tree frog, wolf spider, gilled mushrooms, horned passalus beetle, armadillo, raccoon.

The Marsh Project Week #32

It's Labor Day weekend and it's cooling off! It was threatening rain in the morning with overcast skies, so it was slightly humid on my hike earlier this morning- but several times a cool breeze blew through, and when that happened I stood there, enjoying the cooler air and that ever so faint whiff of autumn.  The weather forecast for the next several days doesn't go near 100 degrees, and I'm happy about that.  

I had hoped to see some snakes on my hike; as I started down the trail, a couple coming the other direction said they had seen a diamondback water snake and had photos to prove it, but the only snake I saw was what I think was likely a cottonmouth, moving through the water at a distance on one of the ponds along the boardwalk.  I attempted a photo but got nothing but so-far-away- it-looks-like-a-snake-but-probably-impossible-to-commit-to-ID.  The green tree frogs were out, however, hiding in plain sight by blending in on green stems and leaves at the marsh wildlife blind. 

The number and variety of dragonflies is decreasing- the Eastern pondhawks are still out, as are the common whitetails and the common green darners.  The slaty skimmers and great blue skimmers are hanging on, but I'm definitely seeing fewer of them than I was a few weeks ago.  Several days ago the common green darners were out in force, not only flying around but settling and hanging from branches in one small area on the trail.  Today, however, almost none of them wanted to take a break long enough for a photograph.  

I sat at the large blind for awhile, enjoying the cool breeze that was coming through, and listening to the rustling amongst the lily pads.  Whatever was under there did not feel inclined to show itself.  The common green darners were flying around, and I could hear birds chirping in the vegetation, but no butterflies, birds, turtles, snakes, or mammals wanted to show themselves today.  A few days ago I sat and watched a red eared slider climb on top of one of the lily pads, but it did not stick around after I moved to attempt a photo and made too much noise.  

I didn't see much on this hike, but every time I go out I try to look for at least one thing that is new and different, and on this adventure a small orangish-red fungus growing on a dead tree trunk off the boardwalk caught my eye. I couldn't reach it to verify my thought that it probably had pores underneath instead of gills, or to get any other photos or identifying information.  My rosegill fungus from a few weeks ago has almost disintegrated away.  

I did hear (and briefly spot) a few woodpeckers.  Other trail sightings: Eastern tiger swallowtail, Dion skipper, monarch, Eastern giant swallowtail, red admiral, common green darner, common whitetail, blue dasher, Eastern pondhawk, variegated frittilary, wood duck, great blue heron, Summer tanager, nine-banded Armadillo, common wood nymph, sad underwing moth, green heron, little blue heron, sora, cottonmouth, little green tree frog, American bullfrog, great egret. 

What's Next

When the College Student was small, she was one of these super energetic kids who would finish an activity and, while the adults were all thinking that we were ready for a rest and maybe a restorative cup of tea, she'd ask, because she was full of energy and curiosity, ready and raring to go do another fun activity, "What's next?". For awhile the Grandpa of No even took to calling her "Ms. What's Next?".

Since the College Student has gone off to school, I've noticed certain things around the house: we have more food than usual; we are using slightly less gasoline in the cars; and I seem to have more free time.  Don't get me wrong; I'm not complaining about that.  I do have birds to find, books to read, naps to take, and a house to declutter (someday).  I do have a list of incomplete crafty attempts, like the scrapbook I started when the College Student was the Kindergartner (and never finished- in the scrapbook, she is still a kindergartner), and a crochet blanket that might be 75% complete (I may or may not have forgotten how to make the granny squares that comprise the blanket).

But with one kid off to college and another one in 10th grade, I'm starting to wonder, "What's next?".  Retirement, eventually, but that's still some time away.  I have college-related payments to make for the next seven semesters, so I won't be traveling the world any time soon, or making any big purchases.  I am definitely aware that the Dad of No and I need to start doing some serious work on The Son of Never Stops Eating's transition plan in preparation for the day he ages out of public school and we will need to confront the reality of parenting an adult child with special needs in a society that doesn't want to recognize that this is actually a real thing. But for the first time in my adult life, there doesn't seem to be a concrete next step.  I graduated from college, found employment, got married, had two babies, and was ballet-soccer-softball-band Mom.  Now that the hands-on intensive Mom stage of life is coming to an end and I'm transitioning into more of a advisory role, I'm just not sure what exactly is next.

Part of my unease is probably due to the fact that I will shortly be turning the big 4-9, and that I'm watching the slow and painful continual descent of my own mother into the dark abyss of Alzheimer's.  I have this idea in my head that if there are things I want to do, that now would be a good time to start doing them. It's just that I was so busy doing the graduation-get a job-get married-buy a house- have babies-chase after toddlers-ballet-soccer-softball-band mom-watch them become teenagers-oh my God, they grew up! that I didn't spend that much time thinking about what's next because I honestly didn't think that "What's next?" was going to happen any time soon.

I suspect that I am not the only one asking myself this question- I've recently had conversations with friends who have recently become empty nesters or almost empty nesters that make me think I am not alone in this sense of feeling a little lost at the moment.  I'm still in the "I keep expecting the College Student to walk in the door at any minute, asking to use the car to go to Starbucks" part of adapting to having an adult child away at school.  

I know that I will figure it out, eventually.  Perhaps after I get caught up with the figurative pile of books I've been meaning to read but didn't because of ballet-soccer-softball-band, or get reacquainted with the granny square, or finally get around to culling the five thousand photos I have of broad banded water snakes and great blue herons.  For now, I'm going to take a deep breath, start making a list of projects that need doing, and see where the journey goes from here.

The Marsh Project Week #31

So a few weeks were skipped.  One week I was preparing to deliver the College Student to her new abode, the second week I was on the road, and the third week I was recovering from the first two weeks and trying to get a handle on the now-realized fact that I'm down to one resident teenager.  The house is definitely much quieter, it seems to be staying just a little cleaner, and the rapid consumption of groceries seems to have slowed down just enough to be noticeable.

It's transition time at our house, and apparently it's transition time out at the marsh as well, because once I returned from my multi-state driving adventure and hit the trails, I discovered that even though it is still hot outside, there's been a shift in what I'm observing and what I'm not seeing anymore.  I'm honestly ready for the heat to subside, and for fall to start heading my direction, so while it seems that some of my favorite dragonflies have moved on, I'm looking forward to see what September brings. I've been fortunate enough to see one visitor traveling through on its own road trip, the yellow warbler.  They apparently like to hide among the lily pads on the marsh, and if you sit quietly you may see one flying from stem to stem.

I am noticing a lot of common green darner dragonflies.  I seem to observe these beautiful green and blue dragonflies more at the beginning and ending of summer and not so much in the middle.  Waiting for one to settle is usually an exercise in futility; once they get going, they don't stop. Every now and then, however, I'll be walking down the trail and I'll see one hanging from a tree branch.  Since I returned, I haven't seen any of the other darners I usually see on this trail- the swamp darners and the regal darners have made themselves scarce.

The butterflies, however, are starting to pick up just a wee bit.  On the trail this week, I've noticed several monarch butterflies, along with one viceroy trying to trick me into thinking it was a monarch with its similar orange and black coloring. I still haven't seen many common buckeyes, which is usually a fairly common butterfly, but this has not been a good year (or maybe they just all went to a different trail!). The Eastern tiger swallowtails are out flying around; I saw three on my last hike- although none of them wanted to be still long enough to be photographed. I'm excited about the monarchs; it didn't seem like we had a good spring for monarchs but maybe this fall will be better.

On one hike this week, I noticed something a little different- a large mushroom growing out of a dead tree trunk.  It was hard to get a great photo of it, but I was able to see and photograph enough of the underside gills for iNaturalist to suggest that this might be a rosegill mushroom.  I didn't take the mushroom cap to do a spore print, so I may never know an exact ID.  The cap was bigger than my hand.

Seen on the trail: Common green darner, common whitetail, Eastern pondhawk, slaty skimmer, widow skimmer, monarch, viceroy, Eastern tiger swallowtail, black swallowtail, Eastern giant swallowtail, cloudless sulfur, red admiral, green heron, great blue heron, snowy egret, little blue heron, northern cardinal, Carolina chickadee, yellow warbler, hummingbird (it was moving too fast for a more specific ID), scissortailed flycatcher, Eastern phoebe, green tree frog, broad-banded water snake, rough green snake, armadillo, raccoon, one very cool large mushroom (rosegill?).

Kindness

The Mom of No has just returned from a multi-state road trip, the purpose of which was to deliver The College Student to her new place of residence.  I was fine until I hit the state line of my own home state, and then I had to pull over, go in the visitor center, and have a little weepy time in the restroom.  I haven't really heard from The College Student since I left her all on her own in a strange state, but I can see that she's bought pizza and Insomnia cookies. I'm therefore assuming all is well, or at least nothing has gone epically wrong.

The long drive home alone gave me some time to do some deep thinking, and one of the things I thought about was kindness.  Our local school district had a huge "Kindness Convocation" right before I left, and that was the beginning of my pondering on the subject.  Not having been involved in any way with this Kindness Convocation, I can only assume that the objective was to make students be kinder to each other.  I hope it does.  Having sat through similar events as a bullied kid, I am dubious about the long-term effectiveness, but if it brings about positive results then it was time well spent.

It has become popular to talk about kindness as the solution to all our worldly woes.  If we would just be kinder to each other, then all the other issues we're grappling with would evaporate- or at least be mitigated to a bearable level.   I think if we could all manage to be kinder to each other then it would lead to some monumental changes, because we would begin understanding how our actions or inactions truly impact other people in negative ways, and we would begin to think about our society differently- in a sense of we are all connected, instead of a "I have mine, and I only care about you as long as it doesn't require significant effort on my part" sense.

The problem is that we're expecting our youth to be kind- but we're not doing a very good job, as adults, of modeling that behavior ourselves.  It's definitely a "do as I say, but not as I do" proposition.  (Warning: Political references cometh!). A few weeks ago, I was part of a discussion thread on Facebook and the antics of The Orange Man came up.  A community leader, who shall not be named, said something to the effect of "I don't like his language, but I like what he's doing for the economy, so I'm willing to overlook that".

His language?  I think the problem goes deeper than that (if you disagree, the Mom of No is probably not the blog for you)- but apparently bullying language is actually OK as long as you are getting desirable results. When adults talk to kids about bullying; the attempted message is usually "Bullying is never OK"; but as adults, the message we send out is that some bullying is OK.  Go on almost any public Facebook page, and it's not hard to find examples of people being very unkind- and when they get called out on it; the response is essentially "you're just a fragile little snowflake, I'm just giving my opinion, and you can't handle it, so it's your problem, not mine".

As adults, we can be horrible to each other- but we expect our kids to be kind to each other. We tell kids it's more important to be kind than to be smart (although I have yet to see anything about it's more important to be kind than to be a good athlete), so be kind, don't bully, include everyone, and then we don't. The message we give out by our own actions is be kind, unless you disagree with my politics, or are of a different religion, or you don't parent the way I do, or don't speak my language, or aren't of my skin color or ethnicity, or are of a different economic status- then really, kindness is optional.

As the parent of a special needs child, I wonder just what form this kindness will take- is it going to be the sort of kindness that ends up with my child being included in activities with his typical peers, without adult facilitation?  Will it lead to that kind of peer-initiated organic inclusion that every special needs parent dreams of, or will it be more of the "kindness" I'm used to- where people are just nice enough to be "kind", but not enough so that it requires effort on their part to invite him into their circle and be a true part of his life.  Will it be kindness in a patronizing way, or kindness in an authentic way?

Recently a neighboring city was conducting a hearing about bringing in mass transit, which would be of great benefit to people with disabilities and senior citizens who no longer drive.  I received an e-mail regarding the meeting which contained excerpts of comments from people who were opposed to spending city money on mass transit: "Charities and churches should be taking care of the disabled people, it isn't our responsibility; those of us who are not disabled or old don't need it, who cares about them?".  Often, we are not a kind society- we are a selfish one.  Our kids see this.  If we really want to raise children who are kind, we need to take it further than a Kindness Convocation; we need to live it.

The Marsh Project Week #30

I had to skip a week due to work travel and other commitments, but who's counting, right?  The lack of rain is becoming more and more apparent on the trail; large ponds along the boardwalk are either completely dry or quickly drying up, and the vegetation is getting browner and crispier.  Late summer is here; the Son of Never Stops Eating has a week and a half of vacation left before school resumes, and The College Student is packing her stuff up in preparation for The Big Move.  This has been an odd summer in that the butterflies never really showed up although it ended up being a good season for dragonflies.  We will still have several weeks of heat, but I'm ready for some cooler weather.

No matter how hot it gets, in the late afternoon I usually hear at least one armadillo rustling around in the ground cover.  They seem to stick to the shaded areas on the trail, just like your intrepid nature observer.  Sometimes if you're really quiet, you can sneak almost right up on them before they notice that you are there.

The marsh seems to be full of green herons.  They are small birds, so they're not always visible amongst all the green (or not so green) vegetation, but every now and then one will fly up, startled by something, or poke its head up.  Soon enough, like the little blue herons, the scissor-tailed flycatchers, the painted buntings, and the indigo buntings (and college students all over America), they will be migrating on, so I'm enjoying these gorgeous little herons while I still have the chance.

For the last four weeks I've been seeing these stunning neon skimmer dragonflies at the same spot.  The bright color just pops out at you (which is probably how they got their common name). This morning, I was fortunate enough to come across one who was willing to pose for a few photos before flying off.  Sometimes if you wait a few minutes, a dragonfly will come back to its perch, but this neon skimmer went elsewhere.

One of my favorite finds this week was this cottonmouth snake, nearly immersed in this small shaded stream.  I love the way the tree canopy is reflected in the water.

Seen on the trails:  Scissor-tailed flycatcher, painted buntings, green herons, little blue heron, Northern cardinal, osprey, anhinga, Eastern phoebe, Carolina wren, cottonmouth, green tree frog, regal darner, royal river cruiser, widow skimmer, wandering glider, great blue skimmer, slaty skimmer, queen butterfly, Eastern giant swallowtail, common buckeye butterfly, common raccoon, armadillos

On Your 18th Birthday

About this time 18 years ago I was standing in my kitchen, massively pregnant in the August heat, feeling some odd twinges and pains and thinking that something was about to get started.  I was right- those odd twinges and pains were the onset of labor, and the beginning of what has been an awesome (and sometimes exhausting) adventure. 

That baby turns 18 tomorrow, and I'm honestly torn between feelings of "Thank God, now you're an adult, you can go buy your own underwear", and "Oh crap, there's a lot I've forgotten to tell you about life, don't hate me!", and "Does this mean I'm old?".  I know I'm getting up there; when I hang out with my besties we talk about menopause and college costs and aging parents and in a few days the Grandpa of No will be moving my mom into assisted living, and I'm starting to realize that retirement is more than a glimmer on the horizon and sometimes that right knee gets a little achy and now I need reading glasses so yeah, I'm no spring chicken and now I have my very own...gulp...adult daughter.  Oh boy. Hot flash! Hot flash!

So I feel like I should give some deep, philosophical advice to start off the College Student's adult years just right, and the best I can come up with is the sage advice in the following paragraphs. 

Dear newly minted adult: I know you can do it.  You're a smart kid (OK, grownup). You are responsible. I've seen you take ownership of your mistakes, and you work to correct them.  You have some idea of where you want to end up in five years, which is, quite honestly, more than I had figured out at your age.  You can be something of a procrastinator, and you don't always like to ask for help. Start asking when you need it- I'm paying some bank in student service fees; I want you to take advantage of every resource on campus you possibly can. 

Things aren't always going to end up the way you planned or intended. You'll probably get your heart broken at least once (whoever he is, he doesn't deserve you anyway).  You'll have a great job interview, only to find out someone else was offered the position (whoever that company is, they don't deserve you either.).  You'll lose a friend, or two.  You might end up living somewhere you hadn't expected, which isn't necessarily a bad thing.  You will have setbacks both minor and major.  You will have times of mourning in your life; you will know grief.  

However, you will also have adventures! You'll have days where you wake up, ready to get up and go.  You'll get jobs you didn't expect to get, find friends in unexpected ways, travel to places you never expected to see, learn things you never expected to learn.  One day you'll wake up by the beach, or in a tent in a forest, and the sun will be rising in the cool early morning air, and you'll think to yourself, I am so glad to be alive!  You may start your own family one day, and in one of those early morning feedings you'll look down at a soft downy infant head and think that, no matter how tired you are at that moment, this is where you are meant to be right now. You may find a passion or a cause that makes you feel like you are changing the world, or at least your small part of it.   

It won't happen all at once.  Five years from now, or ten years, or even twenty, or even thirty- you'll look up and realize that all those minutes in the days added up to something and you never even realized it was happening.  You'll look around and think, I had no idea it was going to happen so fast. 

Grownup stuff is not always easy, so ask for advice when you're not sure. Don't forget to vote.  Save your money. Show up when you say you will, and do what you say you are going to do.  Keep learning stuff. Read lots of books.  Be judicious about what you post on social media.  Don't sign any contracts without reading them first and being sure that you understand what you are agreeing to.  Remember that sometimes it is better to say no.  Avoid the urge to start comparing yourself to other people;  do your own thing and don't feel like you need to compete with anyone. Call your mother (texting is okay too).

So here it comes, whether you feel ready for it or not...welcome to adulthood. Happy 18th birthday, kid.

Are We Ready?

At the Household of No, we are less than two weeks away from The Departure. The Teenager, who is now The College Student, is starting to get her things together for Residence Hall move-in day.  I'm waiting for August 1, when I will be sending a large payment to an institution of higher education.  The Son of Never Stops Eating is no doubt in late-stage development with his evil plans for the takeover of The College Student's real estate. I've explained to him that although I know he covets that space, it's spoken for; however, he is an optimistic thinker with a strong desire for a personal Lego Studio.

I thought maybe I was ready for all this to happen, but a few weeks ago The College Student announced that she and two of her besties were planning a road trip, and she wanted to know if it was okay with us. They had even drawn out a detailed itinerary and a list of expenses; any one of them would probably make a fine project manager in a few years.

Ummm, sure, I said.  It sounds like fun.  What my Mom Brain was saying (ok, screaming) was "No! I don't want you to go! Stay here where I can see you! There are crazy people out there!". My imagination started to work overtime on all the "What could possibly go wrong" scenarios at which it excels, particularly when the offspring are involved. It occurred to me that in less than a month she was going to be several hundred miles away from home doing whatever she wanted whenever she wanted to do it, and I wouldn't even know, unless funding was requested at some point from the Bank of Mom.  I was prepared for people to say "What? Are you crazy?" or tell me that I was being an irresponsible parent, but no one did.  Mostly people said "Wow, that sounds like fun!" or "I went on a road trip after my senior year of high school and we had a great time!".  One of my friends did ask me, "Are you nervous about this?".

Yes. Yes, I was. I was very nervous.  I couldn't even write about it because I was afraid that I'd say "I know everything will be fine!" and then two hours later I'd find out that everything was not fine.  However, all three returned home safe, if a bit tired.  As far as I know, there were no unmanageable disasters, encounters with law enforcement agencies, visits to the emergency room, or calls to insurance companies.

While the three besties were on their road trip, the Son of Never Stops Eating and the Dad of No were on a weekend trip because the Son of Never Stops Eating had a swim meet.  This meant that I was home by myself.  This almost never happens; someone besides me is always here.  When I got home from work on Friday night, the house was quiet.  The family mutt was laying on the daybed in the sunroom, sulking.  She looked up at me with a disdainful expression that said "Oh, it's just you, the not-treat-giving human", put her head back down, and sighed.

It was really quiet in the house.  It occurred to me that this kind of thing might start happening more often.  I enjoyed the quiet but it was also a little lonely, especially since the dog was giving me the cold shoulder even when I opened the cheese drawer just to see if that would lure her over to my side. I kept expecting a "Mom!" or a "MOM!" or a "MOOOMMMMMMM!" but it was just me, one sulky dog, and one anti-social hamster.

I'm honestly not sure if the College Student thinks she's ready or not; if anything, I'd guess that she's excited and nervous at the same time, which is how I would probably feel about moving to a new state to go to college, knowing that you don't really know anyone there (yet).  I want to think I'm ready for all this to happen, but I'm not.  I keep thinking of all these things that we still need to do, or that I need to tell her.  As the towels and the sheets for the dorm room bed and the other college paraphernalia start piling up in the sunroom in preparation to be packed in the car, and I watch the tuition and the meal plan and the student fees and the residence hall fees and the textbook charges being posted to her university bill, my Mom Brain keeps saying 'Not yet! I wasn't planning on this happening so fast! I need some do-overs on some things!".

Is she ready? Probably.  Am I ready? No. Is it going to happen anyway? Yes, it is. It will be an adventure into the great unknown.  Thirteen days and counting.  Ready or not, here we go.

The Marsh Project Week #29

My project was complicated this week by extreme heat.  Evidently something called a "heat dome" settled upon my area, and the temperature went up well past the "boiling water" stage.  People were trying to bake things in their cars to see what would happen.  It was hot.  It was really, really hot. I avoided the trail for a few days because it was so hot, and then I just had to get out there- not for a long time, just a brief foray into the woods to see what the critters were up to.  The dragonflies were flying around just fine; I could hear birds but for the most part they seemed to be laying low. 

Here are some hot tips for you: if you are thinking about going out into nature, and it's not just hot but HOT HOT HOT- (1) think twice and then think again before venturing on the trails; (2) bring plenty of water (3) wet down some bandannas, put them in little plastic bags, store them in the refrigerator overnight, and before going outside, put them in a little cooler along with more water. When you put one of those chilled bandannas around your neck or your head, it feels so good. I took one out of the cooler and put it in my backpack; when I took it out 30 minutes later, it was still wet but not cold.  It still felt good. 

Despite the heat, I did have several great sightings, including a common five-lined skink climbing up a tree. I had heard something rustling around in the dead leaves on the ground, and just as I was thinking it must not have been anything, I saw the skink start climbing.  If I had looked away, I would have missed it:

I thought that I would see no snakes, but as I was observing a dragonfly flying around a branch and waiting to see if it would settle, I looked down and found this cottonmouth cooling off in the stream. 

 

Finally, my walking paid off, because I got to see a dragonfly I don't see very often: a swift river cruiser.  It was almost time to go back to the parking lot, and as often happens, the good finds start right before the park closing time.  

The "heat dome" seems to have backed off a bit; tomorrow, the weather forecast is for somewhat lower temperatures- meaning just hot, not bake your skin off when you step outside hot. 

Seen on the trails: Yellow-crowned night heron, painted bunting, Carolina chickadee, great blue heron, green heron, little blue heron, great egret, scissor-tailed flycatcher, Western kingbird, Carolina wren, great blue skimmer, Eastern pondhawk, regal darner, swamp darner, slaty skimmer, neon skimmer, widow skimmer, Eastern ringtail, swift river cruiser, cobra clubtail, black saddlebags, queen butterfly, several raccoons. 

Fun With Learning About Money

Recently, I got the Son of Never Stops Eating a debit card.  I figured it was time for him to start learning how to manage his money on a debit card, since no one carries cash anymore, and it would be a useful life skill.  Before we actually acquired the plastic rectangle, I sat down with him and explained that just because you have a debit card, that doesn't necessarily mean you have enough money to buy your heart's desires, like a large banana snow cone or a Simpsons Lego Set.

Mom, I know what to do, he told me, rolling his eyes. I know the rules. If I don't have any money in my account, I can't buy anything. And I won't lose it. And I won't give it to my sister or anyone else except you because you're my mom.

OK. It appeared that we had the basics down.

So we went and set up the account. Then we had to wait for the debit card to arrive, and the waiting was excruciating.  I hadn't thought he'd be that excited about having a debit card, but apparently I'd misjudged the situation because he was really looking forward to it, which made me start to wonder if he'd really understood the whole "just because you have a debit card, that doesn't mean you actually have money" thing.

After it arrived, I quickly realized that I hadn't completely thought this process through. For one thing, he now wanted to know the balance on his debit card every time we left the house. Since he doesn't have a smartphone, he couldn't check it on his mobile device. Mental note: maybe it's time to get him a phone that does more than call and text.

Then we went to church and heard a sermon about God and love and how we need to love other people. I wasn't really sure if The Son of Never Stops Eating was listening or not; at one point he had leaned over and told me that Marge Simpson gets cranky because the other people in the Simpsons family don't like to go to church, especially Homer, and Homer sleeps a lot in church just like the Grandpa of No, and that he wanted to be sure that I noticed that he was not being like Bart; he was actually being good and not playing tricks on the other churchgoers or plotting evil deeds.

We needed to buy hamster bedding, so after church we went over to the pet store.  I had put some money on the debit card, so I told the Son of Never Stops Eating that he could practice using his debit card by buying the hamster bedding. All of a sudden he was worried about how much it would cost; apparently once the money left my account and went into his it became a much more valuable commodity.

Don't worry, I told him.  You have enough to buy the bedding.

So we picked out the bedding, and proceeded to the checkout line, and the sweet cashier rang it up and then asked him if he'd like to donate money to homeless pets.  He hadn't anticipated that question so he looked a bit confused as to what to do next.

You don't have to donate, I told him. It's okay if you don't. They ask everyone that question.

But Mom, he said, God wants us to help other people and love other people and animals too.

So then I felt like a horrible person, because I always say no when cashiers ask me if I want to donate to charity, and also because I'd spent the last hour assuming that he was thinking about the Simpsons and what Lego kit he was going to buy next when apparently he'd actually been paying attention to the sermon.  Then the Son of Never Stops Eating found out the minimum donation was $2, and that was going to seriously cut into his remaining funds.  He looked stricken.  The cashier then offered a compromise: he could round up to the next whole dollar amount, so he was still helping homeless pets, but he didn't have to spend all his money.

When we got back in the car, I emphasized that he didn't have to donate every time someone asked him if he wanted to, although he could if he wanted- but he needed to be sure that he had enough money to buy what he needed to buy.  I know, I know, he said; you aren't made of money. Maybe your boss should pay you more and then you'd have more money. I laughed at that.  If only it were that easy.

But Mom, don't you want me to help homeless pets? he asked. They're so cute! and then a few minutes later, Do I have enough money on my debit card to go buy a snow cone?

So we are going to keep working on this debit card skill.  I know he'll get it eventually; he's motivated.  I'm just wondering how much money I'll be indirectly donating to homeless pets.