One less turtle

What a sad sight. I was on my way to meet friends for coffee on Friday morning and saw a bloody squished snapping turtle in the eastbound lane of Route 926 near New Bolton Center. I suppose the slow-moving creatures don't really have a chance against motorists -- although I could see the poor thing from quite a distance away. A friend pointed out, however, that the turtle's death probably saved the lives of the ducklings in a nearby pond!

Conflicting duties

I'm one of those "super-voters" you hear about: I vote in every election and always have. For one thing, it's nice to catch up with neighbors and friends and the patriotic folks who work at the polls. For another, it's a lovely walk to our polling place at the West Marlborough Township garage. At lunchtime on Tuesday I took a break from the computer (I'm editing a challenging book on epistemology, a branch of logic) and set off down the road. I was enjoying the vocal catbirds and the red-winged blackbirds and was just about to photograph a healthy clump of wild ginger on the road bank when my phone rang: Some delivery people were requesting my presence to unlock a door for them in 25 minutes.
I did some quick time-vs.-distance calculations (Do I return or keep going?), told them I'd do my best to be there, and then seriously picked up the pace. I hurriedly voted, barely stopping to chat (that alone should tell you how rushed I was), and then hustled back, keeping the delivery guys apprised with a series of text messages ("ETA 10 mins"). I was probably 20 minutes late, but they didn't seem to mind too much.

Way out

On Monday morning workers were paving the road that runs behind the Unionville post office and the Po-Mar-Lin fire hall as part of ongoing work on the new Unionville Park. While the paving was going on, post office patrons had to use the normally one-way driveway to both enter and exit the lot.
As I pulled in, I spotted a neighbor leaving the lot. She rolled down her window and told me that she was going the wrong way ONLY because the back driveway was closed. She said she felt obliged to explain herself because, as she put it, "I don't want you writing about me!"
Gosh. What a reputation I have!

What was the question?

In the Y parking lot today I saw a Mom unloading her kids from the car. One of them apparently posed a question to his Mom, and unfortunately I heard only her amused reply: "Well, a Wookie is from `Star Wars,' which came out in the Seventies, so in theory you're correct."
What might the child's question have been? Perhaps something like, "Mommy, are you older than a Wookie?"

Yum!

A celebration involving strawberries? I am THERE!
Marcia W. asked me to publicize the Presbyterian Church of Kennett Square's upcoming Strawberry Festival, which will be held from 6 to 9 p.m. Friday, June 6. She writes:
"Broad Street in front of the church will be closed as there will be an old-fashioned calliope playing, kids' games and strawberry shortcake and desserts.  Fresh strawberries will be for sale, too."
The church is celebrating its 150th anniversary this year, she said, and the first Strawberry Festival was held June 10, 1865.

Chuckwagon Breakfast

A few months ago, it would have been covered by snow and ice.
A few weeks ago, it would have been underwater.
But on Sunday morning the meadow at The Laurels was covered with grass -- and drying out in the bright sun.
That's where the Buck and Doe Trust had its annual Spring Fling brunch, which drew a crowd of hungry Unionville-ites, eager to eat, socialize and celebrate the work of the local conservation group.
The food was fantastic: pancakes, sausage, apple-cider doughnuts and strawberries and lots of coffee.
As always, it was great to watch all the dogs and kids running around, and this year it was a special treat to see the progress on the Hayes Clark and Mary Ann Pyle covered bridges, which are being restored. The roof of the Hayes Clark bridge is being redone, and the sunlight was filtering down on the guests.
We also got to meet some new Brandywine Conservancy staff members and heard a summary of the restoration work from contractor Frank Stroik.

Scottish for the Day

A Scottish terrier, wearing a plaid coat and a tam o'shanter, wasn't the first sign that we weren't in Unionville anymore: We spent Saturday in Fair Hill, Md., at the Colonial Highland Gathering (the Scottish Games, for short), where we were surrounded by kilts, Celtic tattoos and pipers from near and far.
In the vendors' area, you could buy clothing, jewelry, plaques, swords and shields emblazoned with your clan's tartan or emblem. Food vendors were offering Scottish meat pies, Scotch eggs, sausage rolls, real British chips, turkey legs and massive neon-colored snow-cones (I'm not sure how authentic those were).

Our first stop was the caber tossing competition, in which muscular men and women were required to lift the equivalent of a telephone pole (a top-heavy telephone pole to boot) and hurl it end-over-end, a nearly impossible feat. In a later competition, they had to toss a 56-pound weight over a horizontal pole 15 feet up. Backward. These were some of the least ergonomic moves I've ever seen. Some of the spectators were real fans: I heard one boy rattling off statistics about one of the burly competitors as if he were an American football celebrity.

As we walked through the fairgrounds, we started hearing the sound of bagpipe bands. The pipers and drummers took the competition quite seriously, with their scores carefully marked at each competition site. I enjoyed watching the drummers doing these cool little flourishes with their drumsticks between beats. One fellow was even practicing on a fence rail.
At the far end of the fairgrounds we saw a sheepdog demonstration, in which a very well trained Border Collie, Jip, herded five sheep around an enclosure, through a chute and into a pen. Her focus, efficiency and concentration were remarkable. Barely audible voice commands were all her master needed to get her to accomplish her tasks.

I think my favorite part of the day was people-watching. Most of the visitors wore some kind of plaid, either a kilt or T-shirt or dress or scarf. We saw two elderly nuns, in traditional brown habits, riding on a golf cart. Many of the girls and women were wearing headbands, either flowers or sparkly foil. One friend we ran into was wearing a kilt that he admitted wasn't quite his clan's, but close; leather gauntlets; a loose white shirt; and a black leather sporran (belt pouch) of distinctly non-Scottish origin: he told us he bought it years ago at Ozzfest.
There was a Highland dancing competition that unfortunately we didn't get to see. We only saw the girls practicing on little portable dance floors and heard the winners' names being announced for dances like "the reel" and "the Highland fling." We also wanted to see the "Entrance of the Haggis and Robert Burns' Address to the Haggis" (surely a highlight of the day) but there was so much going on that we missed it, too.
I was astonished at how many people attended. As we were leaving, we saw horse vans on Telegraph Road leaving the Fair Hill Training Center and the drivers looked surprised at all the costumed people crossing the road. Actually, there was such a crowd that the Border Collie would've come in handy.