The Devastation of Knowledge

If you've never heard of a Hummingbird Moth, a.k.a. a Sphinx moth then you've missed a real gem of an insect. They actually move like hummingbirds. In fact, they look like miniature hummingbirds darting backward and forward, wings moving thousands of times per second!

My first encounter with these delightful creatures was in Santa Fe, New Mexico. We were eating at night at a beautiful restaurant, al fresco. Along each side of the flagstone pathway were multitudes of blooming flowers lit by the decorative street lights. Darting among the blooms were dozens of Hummingbird moths, long probisci extended happily drinking nectar. I was enchanted!

I was ecstatic when later that same month (June), I discovered accidentally that they are also native to Michigan. I had gone out at night to retrieve the forgotten mail with a flashlight, when I happened upon one at my honeysuckle vine. I immediately went out and purchased solar lights for all my flower gardens, so that I wouldn't miss seeing my little darlings...

That was several years ago, and I haven't seen any since then. Until two days ago... I saw a beautiful specimen in the middle of the day in the flower garden that I can view from my computer! I grabbed Mike's camera (yes, mine is still at the Nikon hospital with a bill of $295 to date) and ran outside to capture the little fella in action. Apparently, Michigan Hummingbird Moths aren't as friendly as New Mexico moths, as he zoomed off before I could even focus!

I waited around to see if he or she would return, but to no avail. But I started thinking...
I would research this perfect creature and find out it's favorite food sources and host plants. After all, I could attract more if I had more knowledge!

After only a few minutes of research, I was HORRIFIED to discover that I had fed 15 Hummingbird Moth larva to my chickens only the day before! They are TOMATO HORNWORMS!!! My nemesis in the garden, my enemy, my foe, my challenge to produce healthy uneaten tomatoes and foliage every year! In fact, I hate tomato worms so much that I pay my kids $1 for every worm they find and $2 for the tiny ones who haven't gotten big enough to really create damage! I always delight in the way my hens pounce on the fat writhing green worms, sometimes playing tug-o-war with another hen desperate for the tasty morsel.

What now! I was torn. How could I possibly love and hate with a passion the same creature (in a slightly different form)? Now my husband would think the solution very simple. Get over the moth, and keep killing the hornworms...end of story.

But it's not that easy! I really LOVE those moths! I can't just turn off the years of devotion and rapture like an emotional faucet. So, like I usually do, I began to try to figure out a way to "have my cake and eat it too". There must be a way to have my moths without hornworms in my garden...so I did some more research.

I discovered that besides tomatoes, the moths also prefer to lay their eggs on Datura, Deadly Nightshade, and a few other assorted noxious weeds. For about 10 seconds I thought about planting a separate garden of these specimens, but knew in my heart that the pets, children, and animals on my hobby farm were more valuable to me than chancing a poisoning with these weeds.

Plan B: Next year I ought to plant twice as many tomato plants than I need, so that half could be "donated" to the hungry caterpillars. I would go so far as to remove the worms on my garden specimens and relocate them to the extra plants. This might work, though the main problem being my husband, who after thinking I have lost my mind, would probably nix the whole project before it started.

My boss at least has some compassion for my dilemma. She has agreed to bring in a custom built terrarium- type acrylic box that I shall line with garden soil, (as the hummingbird Moth pupates underground), transplant a hornworm complete with fresh tomato fronds and wait patiently for my prize lepidoptra to make it's entrance!

What does my husband think about this whole situation, you ask? Well, I haven't actually told him what the pupa form of the Hummingbird moth is yet...If I did, do you think he would trust me to go into the garden to rid the world of hornworms without rescuing a few besides?

I Love My Job! I Pray it Lasts!

The Day My Life Changed...

This is a little clip that I put together with some of the photos I took at Casa Harului the day before I left Romania. I can't do justice to what I actually experienced that day, but I can allow God to keep moving me forward...

A Prescription For Melancholy

Bethlehem Christian Center, Hunedoara, Romania

Pics of How Conservationists Have Fun in Canada!

How Conservationists Have Fun in Canada, eh?

I have to admit, I was a little nervous about being the driver for a bunch of conservationist/scientists over the Canadian border for the day...I wasn't nervous about the people, it's those guards at the border crossing that creep me out! The last time I went, I thought I'd never see my native land again. In fact, Mike offered to pull over so I could kiss the sweet American soil when we finally crossed back over! But that's another story...(scary, I'm starting to sound like my husband - "just another Harper story!")

Anyway, Wednesday ended up being one of the finest days since being home from Romania! I got paid to visit beaches, Point Pelee, toured nature areas and marshes, learned about some fascinating new ideas using native plants, wildflowers and pits and mounds, and some sustainable farming techniques. I saw lots of wildlife, got to shoot Shelby's camera (mine's at Nikon's repair facilities...sniff), and overall had a jolly good time!

I especially liked the power of being the designated driver! I never worried about getting left behind, I always sat in front, and I got to drive a Tahoe! Oh, and the best part, I got paid to do all this!

Falling Off Trains and Other Stories My Friends Find Amusing!

Note: Actually these trains are at the station in Samaria, not Deva. These are shots I took when Carolyn and I went to the Botanical Gardens and rode the train back to Hunedoara. My train in Deva was a bit more modern...


Oh, and here is one of the eerie reflection self portraits. I enjoyed myself so much that I shot more in Helsinki!


Not many people back in Hunedoara know much about what happened after I left the Center on Thursday morning, June 18, 2009 at 5:30 in the morning. In fact, no one, save Liviu even saw me after Wednesday. I do need to give Liviu his due credit for really taking care of me that last morning, but that is another story for another time; perhaps when I write about the people I grew to love in such a short time in Romania...

This is the rest of the story... the amusing-if-you-can-laugh-at-yourself part of the story! Now on the train, not at first realizing that Liviu wasn't behind me with my larger bag; instead a stranger is following me with it, I find my seat and he helps me hoist my bags onto the racks above the spacious compartment. As I looked out the huge window, I see Liviu waving goodbye. I waved back as the train pulled away mouthing the words, "Thank you", hoping he could read lips!

As I settled myself, preparing to make the most of the 6 hour train ride, I realized that I had tears silently streaming down my face (ok, this isn't the funny part, yet!). I didn't want to leave, I wasn't ready. There was so much more for me to see, to do, to learn, to help with...

What is funny is how after the second hour, I was wishing that I had let Pastor Corneliu book me in a sleeping compartment, as I could barely keep my eyes open. Soon however, the fatigue passed and I started noticing the people around me. I had a man across the table from me and no one next to either of us...yet.

The only odd thing about the man was that he began pulling beers out of his satchel at about 9:30 in the morning and put away 3 in no time. I'm not certain if this is a cultural difference or if the man had a drinking problem. I have to admit, it was so hard not to stare at him at lunch time as he sliced slabs of sausage and cheeses to lay on thick wedges of home baked bread. It was as if our table became this deli station and the way he cut the sausage made me sure he would end up with a part of his thumb in it! After a couple of more beers, he was sound asleep, leaving me to the fun and first stage of boredom busters; self portrait taking in the reflective black panel above. It was really kind of fun! After all, I am usually behind the camera.

They turned out a little eerie, but fun!

I'm going to skip right over the annoying 2 women who ended up sharing the adjoining seats for the second half of the trip. The only thing I will say, is that if I ever have the urge to give myself a complete manicure and pedicure in a public place, the experience of watching a complete stranger do this completely turned my stomach, especially when it involved the previously mentioned deli counter!

I actually managed well for an English-speaking woman in a completely Romanian-speaking train. Even when the conductor came to check the tickets, no language was needed. And when it was, the nice man across from me, after hearing me numerous times repeat,"Nu înţeleg, vorbesc engleza " I don't understand, I speak English, helped out. At one point, the conductor came back to me and asked for something, I have no idea what, but the man interceded for me and the conductor went on his way! I still have no idea, what was said!

The important communication like, "Bucharest?" were managed with similar answers but different inflections! Da, Bucharest - yes, (this is) Bucharest! Of course this was my mostly silent, beer appreciating fellow passenger. He helped me get my bags down and headed off on his way. Thankfully the aisles were wide, as I had a giant, though not too heavy suitcase (although we really should check with Liviu and the 2 men who helped me with it on this fact!) on wheels, a slightly smaller suitcase on wheels, and 2 carry-ons.

I started to hurry, remembering that the train barely waited more than just a few minutes before leaving at each stop. This was my fatal error...

As I balanced the weight of the larger suitcase behind me, and lifted the smaller case in front of me, I stepped onto the first narrow metal step and watched unbelieving as my foot slipped and I pitched forward into the arms of a man waiting to board the train. Then I realized that I wasn't crushed by the giant suitcase behind me either. As I gushed "thank you" over and over in Romanian, my rescuer untangled himself from me and my luggage after assuring me that it was no problem (in Romanian, of course) and boarded the train. The man above me, my rescuer from the surety of being crushed beneath my behemoth case, carried it down the steps and handed the handle back to me. "mulţumesc " I said again and he replied, "I'm afraid I don't speak the language." in a very nice Irish accent... Oh, English! I exclaimed, "Thank you so much!" I said stupidly, "Oh, you're Irish! My husband and daughter just got back from Northern Ireland." After assuring him that someone was meeting me, we went our separate ways.

The funny thing is, that he sat only 2 seats away on the train. I could have communicated for at least part of the 6 hours if I'd only known! But those who know me probably thought it was good practice for me to be quiet for such a span!

Unexpected Struggles

Home no longer fits... it isn't a place where I belong. I can for the first time understand how we as Christians are not suppose to feel at home in this world. Our home is being prepared for us while we wait here and bring along as many people who are willing to join us.

It is unsettling, not feeling comfortable or at ease in a place you've called home for 8 years. I look around our property with new eyes and wonder how much longer must I live here? Don't worry, although I look forward to heaven as my true home, my yearning is to be back in a place where priorities are set; surviving vs. living. My experiences and the things I saw in Romania have changed my view of my life here.

We as Americans are spoiled. We have so much and whine at the smallest price increase in gasoline. We wail at how bad the economy is, how we can't eat out as much, how we can't afford vacations, that we are losing homes we could not afford to live in in the first place, or the things we "need". We are greedy and self centered. We block out the images we might come across on late night t.v. as too far away for us to worry about. I am speaking of myself first.

Did you know that in Hunedoara, Romania the weather is very much like here in Michigan; very cold, sometimes bitter winters, hot summers, and everything in between. It's like we say here,"If you don't like the weather, wait 5 minutes, it will change". The Bethlehem Christian Center in Hunedoara is located in an area where people don't have hot water or heat in the winters. There is no air conditioning in the homes or in the cars. Most do not own cars. Most everyone has a garden; not as a hobby, mind you, but for the food it produces to keep the family fed. The unemployment rate is over 10%.

I look over 2 of the 18 acres we have and marvel at the waste of time, energy, and gasoline we use mowing it into a neat trim green expanse...they don't mow in Romania. That was one of the first things that struck me. They don't mow, yet they have these fantastic old-world gardens with grape arbors shading beautiful patios surrounded by cherry trees, roses, and fruits and vegetables. It's so funny reading about the new trend in edible landscaping here in the states, when it has always been a part of life and provision and so beautiful...over there.

I look out at my fat horses, grazing happily, yet useless. They do not work, they are not ridden frequently. They are grazing pets, happily unaware of the waste of money it costs to provide for their care and health. I love those mares. They are sweet- tempered gentle animals. But I can no longer accept the cost as worthy. There are so many opportunities we could use the money for to help others. They will go up for sale today. As much as I love seeing them, grooming them, and occasionally riding them - as much as it will break my heart to see them go, my new eyes and conscience cannot be at peace without it. I pray I will not go back seeing things the way I did. I pray God will keep my eyes open, my head full of new ideas, and my heart softened for people whom I've met and for those I have not...

Some of the Things I Miss...

Slow Living
Old World Architecture





The Children at the Center...

I Am The Crippled Man....

I was listening to the words of the song, "Tears of the Saints" and it really hit me, as an American how tied down or crippled I am with the materialism that surrounds me and clings to almost every area of my life.

When I was at the House of Grace, Casa Harului, I remember feeling as if the kids here had taken me under their wings. They offered their friendship, they translated for me, and shared their hopes and dreams for the future. I didn't want to leave. I still sense how unencumbered they were with their wheelchairs and disabilities, and how burdened and weighed down I am by mine...

These young adults reached out their hands and picked up a crippled man....me.