Around the Yard

Snappy Snapdragons



Dogwoods and redbuds in the forest below the house.



The birch tree. We planted this at least 20 years ago. The mother plant is over at my parents' farm; as a child I played among its branches. It's a huge tree; I think it is very old. This one in our yard is slow-growing.



Birch tree blossoms.



Purple Petunias playing in the yard.

Smashed!

No, not drunk.

More like EEEYOWWW!

I caught my four fingers of my right hand in the garage door this morning. It hit right across the top joint of the longest three fingers and caught the end of my poor pinky.

Thankfully, I can still type!

The Disappearing Book

Today I spent $20 on a book I already have. I couldn't find it when I went to look for it, so I bought a new copy from the local history museum.

Of course I came home and straightaway found my copy. I had been looking for a red jacket hard cover book and not a soft cover. I completely overlooked it.

The book I was missing is The Town of Fincastle, by Frances Niederer. It was first published in 1965 and last reissued in 2004 in paperback. It is the most current study of the town, as far as I know.

I have a collection of local history books which I often refer to in my work. I love to write history pieces for the newspaper. So I don't mind dropping $$$ for a local history book every now and again.

While I was there, I also bought Notable Women West of the Blue Ridge, 1850 - 1950. I am looking forward to reading that.

When I went to write this blog entry, I thought I would put the two Fincastle books together. Because really what I was going to do was offer the book to someone for the same price I paid, if they were so inclined. I was going to say, email me if you're interested.

Only now I can't find the books I brought home with me.

The Fincastle book is a slim volume; I can see where I might have put that down. But the other is a good-sized book. It's cover is bluish gray with ladies on the front. I should see it here someplace.

I have searched everywhere I think I have been since I came home, and I can't find either book. I know I brought them in the house and placed them on the kitchen counter but they aren't there now and I haven't the faintest idea where I've stashed them.

I am the only one at home right now.

If I am this bad at 44 years and 11 months old, I will be absolutely in a state of crisis when my birthday rolls around in June!

It is a very good thing I found the original book.

Thursday Thirteen

Today, from the woman who watches very little TV, I present, in no particular order:

My Favorite TV Themes!

1. Cagney & Lacey. This is one of my favorite shows, period, and when I hear that intro, it's time to sit down and spend an hour with my favorite gals.

2. Gilligan's Island. Who can resist this show? Stranded on an island, seven of the most mixed bag of folks you could imagine (in the 1960s) try to get along and get off their little piece of heave.

3. Green Acres. From the first tones, you know you're getting ready to watch two city slickers try to turn themselves into country folk. Always worth a laugh.

4. Xena: Warrior Princess. Another favorite show. Xena lost her way a bit toward the end but she remains in my mind as a staunch example of women who take only "yes" for an answer.

5. The Brady Bunch. I grew up with this show. I never missed it. They were the family I always wanted.

6. MASH. While this wasn't always "must see" TV for me, I enjoyed it and enjoy it even more in reruns. I love the theme but I especially like the theme lyrics, which you can read here.

7. Survivor: Whatever. I am ashamed to say that I have watched this show from its inception and continue to watch it today. It is the only reality show I watch, and I honestly don't know why I watch it. There is nothing appealing about it, and every year I say I'm not going to watch, but I do. When I hear those first jungle noises, I'm in front of the set.

8. Bewitched. I could never resist the magic in this show. Samantha wiggles her nose and poof, stuff happens. A great fantasy.

9. The Carol Burnette Show. I wish there were shows like this on today. Then maybe I'd watch something other than Survivor!

10. Charlie's Angels. More women taking names. I thought Kate Jackson was the greatest actress in the world, when I was 12.

11. Little House on the Prairie. I saw this in rerun as opposed to when it actually ran because we couldn't get the channel. I don't recall it appealing to me as a young person but as an adult I enjoy the wholesome nature of the program.

12. The Facts of Life. Ha. Jo used to crack me up all the time. She was the kid I could never be because I was a goody-goody.

13. The Partridge Family. I admit it. I was in love with Keith. I couldn't help myself. Besides, I was only 9.


Thursday Thirteen is played by lots of people; you can learn more about it here. My other Thursday Thirteens are here.

Something for Nothing

Monday my email inbox for the account I use for business pronounced itself "full." I could neither send nor receive email.

I called my provider to find out what was going on, as this had never happened before.

Oh, said the kind fellow on the other end of the phone, your mailbox was full (huh?) but now it's not. And I've increased your mailbox size.

Is that going to cost me? I asked, being a little tight in the wallet these days.

Oh no, said the fellow. And did you know we can double your Internet speed? Let me hand you over to a sales person.

Yay. A little something for nothing. Although I wondered why, if my mailbox could have been expanded, it simply wasn't expanded without my having to ask, not to mention experiencing the risk of missing important communication from an editor.

The higher speed - double the rate I have now - could be had for a measly $5 more a month, the chipper sales lady told me.

Do I need a new modem box or something for that?

Oh no. Just pay the $5 extra each month and zap! You have a faster connection.

Why can't you just give me that, I asked. I'm already paying you $90 a month for telephone and Internet services. I've been a customer for 25 years. Can't you cut me a deal?

Oh no, says the sales clerk. I certainly can't do that.

And I can't give you $5 more a month for something so nebulous, my dear.

Dibbas

When I was growing up in the late 1960s and early 1970s, we did not have computers or video games or even that much TV to take up our time.

My mother worked full time and I spent my early days with my grandmother. She was still raising two boys herself, an uncle who is five years older than I and another uncle who is a year younger than I (and born on my first birthday). My brother came along three years later, so Grandma had a house full.

We spent idyllic days playing outside as much as possible. As soon as the weather warmed we were out the door. We played tag, rode tricycles and bicycles around in circles, and forced dolls and army men to interact.

I spent an enormous amount of time surveying the yard looking for four leaf clovers. I also made lots of necklaces out of the clover flowers, which I presented to my mother in the evenings when she came to pick us up.

In late spring, the maple trees would shed their seeds. These rained down from the treetops in a shower, fluttering to the ground as the wind shook the leaves.



I would stand among them as they fell, enchanted. The seeds would spin around as if they were propellers.

And because they looked like propellers, they required a sound when I scooped them up and tossed them in the air to watch them fall again.

Dibba-dibba-dibba-dibba-dibba-dibba! I cried as nature's toy fled from my hand and into the sky. (I have never been very good at making car noises, gun shot noises, and similar things that boys seem to excel at.)

Soon these tiny seeds became known, at least to me, as dibba-dibbas.

I was reminded of this last Thursday. I was in Salem visiting my aunt, who was in from Georgia. As I left, the wind kicked up and a torrent of maple seeds from across the street flew straight into me.

"Dibba dibbas!" I exclaimed aloud, after which I was grateful no one was standing outside. My mind filled with instant memories of Grandma's house and the side yard where the maple trees provided shade and entertainment.

Proving, I think, that childhood never really leaves us. It simply lays there, awaiting a prompt.

The War Is Over

Over the weekend, Buchanan held a Civil War re-enactment.



The Blue and Gray were in full force all over the tiny community.



Saturday we went to see what was happening. We missed most of the parade.



Down on the ball field, they held a mock battle, complete with cannons and lots of smelly smoke.



The soldiers charged one another and hit their swords together with mighty clangs.



Meanwhile, the rebs took shots at the Union men as they marched down the field.



I couldn't tell you who won this little battle.



I am pretty sure I know who won the real war, though.

Over the Fence

Thursday, William Fleming battled LBHS in a round of baseball.

We went to watch the nephew at shortstop.



During the first inning it looked like Fleming came to play and LB stayed home, but my alma mater picked up the pace when they went to bat.



The game ended early because of the slaughter rule.



The nephew hit a home run, above, early in the 4th inning.

We were thrilled!

Rain

Books: Water for Elephants

Water for Elephants
By Sara Gruen
Copyright 2006
350 pages

This is one of the better books I have read recently. This story takes on aging, the circus, love, man v. man, man v. animals, man v. self.

It is an epic story. Ninety-three year old Jacob sees a circus setting up across the street from his nursing home and he begins to remember the 1930s and the time he joined the circus.

He falls in love, falls in hate and eventually finds himself in this simply wonderful book. Marlena is the object of his desire, but she is married to August. August becomes Jacob's boss when the young man joins the circus to escape the pain of his parents' unexpected death in a car wreck.

Fortunately for Jacob, he was one test away from becoming a veterinarian, so he is immediately useful to the traveling carnival.

The circus is described as dog-eat-dog but the author so skillfully weaves in the details that you never notice you're getting a history lesson as you read.

I don't want to give away any more of the plot, so I will simply urge you to read this book.

5 stars (which is as high as I go)

Books: Born to Be

Become Who You Were Born to Be
By Brian Souza
Copyright 2007
Audiobook read by Don Leslie
Unabridged

This book is about finding your "gift" and in essence doing what you love. If you're bored, tired, frustrated, etc., the hypothesis is it's because you haven't found your gift.

This book doesn't really tell you how to go about finding out what that your gift is, but it strongly urges you to do so.

"Just as musicians must make music, poets must write, and artists must paint, we all have a unique gift designed for a specific vocation that will bring both meaning and purpose to our lives," says the book jacket.

This purports to be a blueprint towards doing that but apparently I need a better blueprint. There were many examples of folks who made good - little biographies that were quite interesting about people who overcame terrific odds to go on to find their gifts and become great citizens.

The book cites the website, http://borntobe.com multiple times. Unfortunately I wasn't too impressed when the site so I can't recommend it. It doesn't look like it has been updated since 2006.

2.5 stars for the interesting biographies

Thursday Thirteen: Weeds

1. During our gardening last week, I ran across the plant below. I have no idea what it is. I couldn't find it in my field guide:



2. This plant spit at you when you messed with it. Spores or seeds flew at you if you disturbed the plant. And they hit hard.

3. I caught a few spores or seeds in the face the first time I bothered the plant.

4. The seeds/spores were sticky. One stuck to my forehead.

5. They also left residue on my glasses.

6. I thought this was a great species self-preservation method. The plant doesn't really care if it lives, but its offspring have a chance to actually leave the area and make a better life.

7. My husband is always on the offensive against weeds.

8. He has set up a sprayer he uses on the tractor. It's on a cart and he rides around spraying the fence lines and anything else he considers a weed.

9. He always sprays around the timbers we have setting off my rose bed in the front yard.



10. Those roses stay very sickly and I keep telling him it's his weed killer.

11. After I left home last Saturday so he could mow, unbenownst to me, he got out his sprayer.

12. He sprayed around the perimeter of our very small garden.

13. We had just planted many tender and young plants. He didn't realize the overspray was getting on them. They are all dead or in the throes of dying.

The weeds are thriving.

I am still not an official Thursday Thirteen participant, but you can learn more about it here. My other Thursday Thirteens are here. One day I will figure out how to play properly.

Earth Day

I chose the above image for Earth Day because I think is symbolizes many things: the heavens, the earth, mankind (the balloon). Basically, this is the universe, isn't it?

For this celebration of the planet, I thought I might recount the "green" things I do, but really I don't believe I do that much.

Here is what I do. I:

combine trips in my car so I don't waste gas running back and forth for single items.

drive a car that gets about 28 mpg which I don't think is good but it is certainly better than my husband's pick up truck.

use a deodorant stone, which I think saves resources because it lasts a long time (no need for plastic for more!).

recycle paper, plastic, tin.

have a little compost pile and a small garden.

use those new CFL light bulbs in most of my lights and turn off the lights when I'm not in a room.

don't buy a lot of "sitty around" items because they create clutter, not to mention the resources it takes to make them.

take clothes to Goodwill or a similar place. If they're not good enough for that, I turn them into rags.

take timed showers to preserve water.

buy organic and/or locally grown when I can.

Mostly I try to love the world around me with all my heart and soul, even the parts of it I don't care for. I try to look at life with the eyes of a child.

Some days I fail miserably at it, but I think it's worthwhile to attempt it every once in a while.

Have a good Earth Day. Be kind to her. She's the only one we have.

Full Circle

Saturday dawned beautiful, and by 8:30 a.m. husband and I were in the yard. We weeded. We weeded more. We raked up leaves left over from last year. We put down mulch.

We planted flowers. We planted tomatoes, peppers and various other things. It really is a bit early for some of those but we went forth anyhow.

I also trimmed my roses and sprayed them.

By noon I was whupped. I'd been stooped over and on my knees for a very long time. Husband decided he had to mow the yard, which meant I couldn't be outside anymore because of my allergies.

So I went to visit the great aunt. She was asleep when I arrived at the assisted living center, and I gently shook her awake. We chatted some but she usually is not overly talkative when I go in and wake her.

It was quite warm there and I suppose because of my labors earlier, I was rather tired. I actually fell asleep!

My great aunt did not notice.

She fell asleep too. I woke her again to take my leave.

Visiting my great aunt, who is 88 years old, always makes me think about my mortality. I want to ask her how she feels about being old and facing death but I never do.

I did ask her what she thought about during the day. "I sleep," she said, implying that she doesn't think about anything. "But in my dreams, I rake leaves and put down mulch. I plant the garden and I cut my irises."

Life comes at you full circle sometimes. Go live it!

Six Words

Colleen at Loose Leaf Notes tagged me for a meme to write a six word memoir.

I had to give this some thought. Any one who has read my work knows I can be wordy at times. I have it down to an art. Six words seemed nigh impossible.

After turning it around in my brain, I likened this exercise to writing my epitaph for my tombstone.

I finally came up with this:

Uses words to better the world.

Explaining it takes away the point, I suppose, but explain I shall do anyway.

When I write for the newspaper I see it as an educational endeavor, mostly. I hope that readers take away *something* from what I write. Maybe it's knowledge about the local government's shenanigans. Maybe folks take away a chuckle or a smile from a column. Maybe someone has an idea so far removed from what I might think about that I would be surprised.

Maybe what I write will be moving and/or informative enough to spur someone to action, if that action is only a letter to the editor. When that happens, I feel honored to have been able to have helped.

Sometimes I am successful. Sometimes there are letters about the things of which I write. Occasionally the letters are critical of me, as if I, the messenger, in someway did something wrong by making note of an event. (Those can be hard.)

In January I learned from a non-profit that an article I wrote had a good benefit. They attributed to my work the sum of $17,000 in donations for their fuel assistance program. I had written an article about their low funds and how many people couldn't afford the higher cost of oil during the winter.

It made my heart swell with joy to learn that I had been so honored - honored to be allowed to write something that touched so many. I actually came home and cried about it.

This is what I always hope to do. I hope to make a difference. And that's what those six words mean.

I tag Becky at Peevish Pen, my friend at Roanoke RnR and Jeff, who hasn't been writing enough lately though I understand why, for this meme, along with anyone else who cares to take it on.

And multiple thanks to Colleen for giving me something to think about today!

Men!

So Thursday night my husband comes home around 5:45 p.m.

He is covered with dirt and smells like motor oil (he says it is hydraulic fluid). His boots are caked. He has been working on a septic tank at one place and then messing with tractors down at the shed prior to deciding it was time to eat.

The clothes come off in the garage and go straight to the washing machine.

He goes straight to the shower and I put dinner on the table.

He eats and watches the news. At 6:30 p.m., just 45 minutes after he'd come in, he says he is going to the garage "for a minute."

The garage is right next to the kitchen and is part of the house.

I clean up the dishes and note he is outside. Then I see he is cleaning his motorcycle.

Then he starts doing something with the weed eater. Not actually using it, just fiddling with it.

Two hours later, he comes back inside. He smells like motor oil and has dirt streaked down his leg and on his white T-shirt.

The clothes come off and he goes straight to the shower. Again. For the second time.

He attracts dirt like PigPen.

Spring

Thursday Thirteen: Eclectic

1. Yesterday was another good day, with an afternoon spent taking photos and being myself.

2. Any day when I can be myself is a good day.

3. I should be myself everyday but I'm not sure I am.

4. Some days I think I am somebody else, but never anybody famous or anything. Just a little... not me.

5. However, I am not Catwoman, although according to this fun little test I should be. This came from Sweetfluttersbys3 website.

6. I think it said I was Catwoman was because I said I would be dressed in leather.

7. I have no idea what a sweetfluttersbys is. Maybe a cookie?

7. We need rain again. I am still taking timed showers and I will until we get at least 24 inches over and above normal.

8. I think I will be waiting a long time for an untimed shower.

9. I shot the photo below with my Canon camera but I did not take the picture. Can you guess what I mean?


10. Two weekends ago I attended the Body, Mind Soul event at the Salem Civic Center.

11. I never wrote about it until now because I couldn't decide what I thought of it. It cost $8.

12. A lot of alternative healing people were there and I took many business cards for future reference. My friend and I had reflexology on our feet. I can't say it did much for me.

13. I still don't know what I think about the event, which is why I'm not writing any more.

What the Camera Catches

I didn't see the worm until I uploaded the photos.

Just My Luck

It's just like me to love kissing you
when our lips meeting pays nothing
except delight and shivers.

It's just like me to think a walk
in the meadow by the brook
is worth more than money.

It's just my luck to work with words,
finding their lure seductive
though nouns do not pay the bills.