Same windsock. Same beautiful weather. Bright little plane coming in from the east with a mailbag, to pick up a mailbag filled with postcards–over five hundred of them–addressed the last time we all gathered here on this sunny county airport in Middlefield, Ohio to commemorate the centennial of the transcontinental postal air mail service in 1920. Air mail service had existed along the east coast prior to this but Cleveland was the western terminus until 1918. Planning for the next great leap across the plains and prairies and mountains–mountains!–all the way to the west coast–San Francisco, specifically–culminated in the actual historic flight in 1920. From Middlefield the mailbags would be transported to Bryan, Ohio, county seat of Williams County, population 8545, elevation 710’ –give or take–(downhill already) and, thence, onward to the equally flat , wide open state of Indiana. This procedure would be repeated again and again across what must have been, in 1920, without what we would today consider essential instrumentation, quite a challenge.
By-the-bye, did you know that Rocket J. Squirrel (AKA Rocky the Flying Squirrel) was a graduate of the famed Cedar Yourpantz Flying School? Not Bullwinkle.
Anyway, the whole shebang–postcards from across the country, in mailbags collected at every stop–will wind up in San Francisco, where they will receive an official commemorative cancellation and wing off to their intended destinations.
As before, there were people from all over the place there to watch all of this–Scouts (not Boy Scouts or GirlScouts, just Scouts), antique plane fanciers of all sorts (one gentleman told me that he and his wife had been to every state except Alaska to see air shows and/or doll museums & shows. Nice they could combine their interests like that; probably a scheduling challenge though. He likely had the advantage this year, being outside–not too many indoor airshows.).
There were a couple of Model A’s there as well–not, strictly speaking, on the same timeline, since it did not officially roll off the assembly line until 1927–their “ooo-gah” horns added to the ambiance of the whole proceeding. There was also a U.S. Army craft–might have been a restoration of some sort; my knowledge of vintage aircraft doesn’t extend much past Wilbur, Orville, bi-planes and Eddie Rickenbacker. My favorite observer at the event was a ”belt-and-suspenders” guy who said that he collected earth-moving equipment–not a casual sort of enterprise, I’d guess; no tabletop displays for him!
Not so many picnickers this time…well, it was the middle of a workday.
Our feature palindrome of the day : Dammit, I’m mad! (One of my favorites)
Latest on the Porch Kitties : IBM, aka ‘Bad Mamma” and Sonny/Sunny are still here on a regular basis for the free lunch–actually it’s breakfast because I try to not leave food out overnight to attract the wild things–and Lily from next door is a regular, but there seem to be fewer traveling salesman types or territorial bullies since the spay and/or neuter event.
Everybody seems happy enough for the moment but I’ll have to begin thinking about getting the Kitty Kondos up onto the porch soon. Bob the Landscaper Dude tells me that the acorns falling are large, fat and early, boding for a winter to remember. The Old Farmer doesn’t have much to say on the subject.
Indoors, we had a bit of a kerfuffle recently. I’m sitting at the dining room table doing something inconsequential, when Scotchie shot up the attic steps. There were noises and down she came again with a tiny mouse clamped in her jaws. Must have been practically an infant mouse, otherwise why would it be dumb enough to try taking up residence in a house with five cats. Anyway, Scotchie made short work of him while I was still getting it through my head what was happening. She didn’t chew or anything, just dropped the evidence on the carpet and left. Evidently not her preferred flavor of Mus musculus. I got the dustpan, scooped him up and gave him a pitch into the backyard. Don’t know if he was dead but if he wasn’t, he should have sense enough to not come back. Maybe the intrusion was endorsement of Bob’s winter prediction; critters start scouting for winter digs right about now. I’ll start looking for “No Vacancy” signs to be posted around. Do you suppose they’re on Facebook?
I do not want to jinx us, but it is notable that we have not had any visitations from (bats) lately. Maybe the bat box out on the garage is offering the desired alternative. Fingers crossed.
