Whatever happens to strike my fancy, but surely some sort of fiber content.
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| Like The Queen Whatever happens to strike my fancy, but surely some sort of fiber content. |
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0 Comments:Subscribe to Post Comments [Atom] Wednesday, April 21, 2004 What is it about changing weather that is so exciting? The wind shifts south and moist heat begins to flow across the land and you are ready to pull off your clothes and dance outside. Another shift and clouds are blown away by a brisk north breeze and the body wants to leap. The past week has pumped through so many weather cycles my heartbeat has doubled. One week ago it was utterly pouring down rain - sheets, buckets and torrents of the stuff limited one's view to about 25 feet. Then clear skies flowed in, with Caribbean blue skies and baby green leaves that seemed to have fallen instead of raindrops onto trees only yesterday skeleton-like in their winter bark coats. The weekend brought hot winds from the south, drying out the ground as if it were July, followed by somnolent heat that sent the Darlings over the edge of the boat for a scream inducing April swim. And now it is raining again, April's medicine, settling the pollen that was putting us all to sleep. All this Weather coincides with Mars' opposition to Pluto - Power and aggression against transformation and obsession. Lawsee - and my library board meets today. What do the stars hold for that? Can a group have a horoscope? Hmmmm. It would be Libra, I suppose, because the board began meeting in October of some dimly remembered historical epoch - at least, I hope it would be Libra with its insistence upon balance, fairness and evenhandedness. Obviously it's not a Scorpio board or it would be able to generate more cash. Well, my house is certainly being transformed, and I am obsessed with Maryland Sheep & Wool - as well as finishing my projects, all of which are a joy and none of which are even close to completion. Of course, with hats, knit from the brim up, that last bit of rapid decreasing at the top of the crown always surprises me with how swiftly it comes to closure. Catches me off guard before my natural dislike of completion can kick in. WARNING Sweet Mushy Stuff I Hadn't Planned To Write AboutHa! So. I am very much a multi-tasker here on the web, especially from home, where we have C R E A K I N G dial-up access. So while I wait for a page ( or several pages) to load I come back here and type away on my blog entry. I just read about Annie's darling who did things with the car when other things, which might be construed as Her Fault, went wrong. It brought back one of the sweetest memories I have. Not such a long-ago memory either - but a scene from February of 1994. We'd had a week of hard frozen ice storms that kept everybody home without power. Then, in true Virginia Weather style, the following Monday the temperatures shot up to the high 60's. I had been in town at a meeting and was coming home in the early evening dark, taking the back roads to cut off 15 miles, singing along with the oldies radio station and jaunty with windows rolled down. 8 miles from home I rounded a curve in the road where there is forest on the south side and hit a patch of black ice. Wham! I was careening. There was a moment when I had to decide - go into that tree or into that field and I had the wit to choose the field. I never have claimed to be anything but a moderate, bordering on indifferent, driver, so this feat was, in fact, a triumph. The field, 3 inches of cold mud over 12" of frozen ground, was not 500 yards from a House With Lights On and, though I ruined my favorite shoes, I had no real difficulty getting there, knocking on the door and asking to use the phone. In a small rural county, everybody assumes he knows everybody and nobody is bothered by an unexpected summons after dark. A call home was answered with anxious queries about my state of alrightness and a swift promise of rescue. The stupid husband of the house spent the waiting time by ribbing me about women drivers, cementing my dislike of him, but when those two pair of broad shoulders, both of them 20 feet wide, wedged through the front door, and those four arms wrapped around me, I can tell you, nothing was ever so beautiful, so comforting and so smugly dismissive of Mr Stereotype. Whisked home, I was urged to take a hot bath (my first line of defense in any stressful situation) while the Darlings drove back up the road and got my car out of the field. I tell you - there is nothing in the world as good as Good Guys. And though that moron husband-with-phone still laughs at me whenever we happen to see each other, he also doesn't read, so our paths rarely cross. In fact, I so dismissed him from my repertoire of faces remembered, that I am always caught off guard when we do meet and he starts making fun of my driving. My answer is usually a blank look, a shrug and a pivot, so as to move in a different direction. And the UPS man told me he knew that patch of road, too, and had run into the same field that same week. I add only that neither of the D‘s has ever commented on the incident. Yes. I think it's a good story too. Alice Starmore is a little closer to being finished. The house is worse than you ever imagined - but also better. My how my kitchen gleams. posted by Bess | 7:06 AM |
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