Vicki Lane's Blog, page 3

First Snow

Monday morning . . .

The traditional barefoot walk to ensure good health for the year.

Which always make me wonder--would a broken bone count as ill health?  

I choose to think not.

 

This Place . . .

                                             ... has gone to the dogs!

62 Years--So Far, So Good

 Another anniversary rolls around. We have been so fortunate in our life together.

Josie's Art

 

Mellow Daze

 

But Which Leaf?

After mentioning in a previous post a character in a novel whose hair color was described as feuille morte (dead leaf), I began to wonder just which dead leaf. They do come in a variety of shades. 
 Further online investigation led me to a definition of brownish-orange or yellowish -brown. Or ochre or sienna.
Then I remembered another novel and another odd French name for a color--a woman was describing a silk ball gown in a killing merde d'oie. Aka goose shit green--a brownish-green. 
I thought that sounded fairly unattractive, but then I stumbled on a shade called caca de dauphin. Those French! The (probably apocryphal) story behind this name is that Marie Antoinette was holding the baby prince when he pooped all over her. Rather than being disgusted, the queen marveled at the color --yellow, as is common in young breast-fed babies--and ordered a dress of that exact color--which color, of course, became popular in court circles.
Until the Revolution.

 

Moonrise

 

It Starts Small

                                      

It begins with those mostly unregarded local offices--board of education, county clerk, board of elections, etc.And for many years it didn't seem to matter what party a candidate belonged to and things rocked along fairly smoothly.

But now that politics has been thoroughly weaponized on the state level (gerrymandering, for just one example) and not least of all on the national, I shouldn't have been surprised to see that the effort to suppress voting is right here in Madison County. Our Board of Elections --3 (R) 2(D) -- voted along party lines to cut the number of early voting sites from three to one. The vote was taken before citizen comments were heard. When they were heard, opposition was all too evident.

Ours is a very large rural county with one main highway that is often very congested when I-40 is closed--an event that happens all too often. For those wishing to vote early, this imposes a significant burden.

Since the vote was not unanimous, the decision will go to the state BOE. I encourage my MadCo friends to email your opinions to them and to the local BOE.

And a reminder to all to pay attention to those small local races when it comes election time.

Here are their email addresses:

elections.sboe@ncsbe.gov

madison.boe@madisoncountync.gov

The Old Hay Rake

                                          

For many years it's been just a nostalgic and photogenic piece of outmoded farm equipment, gently rusting away by our driveway. But there was a time--forty-some years ago, it was actually in use.

John and Pete and Molly (the mules) had mowed a small steep pasture and the next step was to rake the hay. It's an elegant process to watch as the curved rake drags along then gracefully lifts to discharge its harvest and slowly lowers to resume the work. 

If memory serves, my friend Eleanor (visiting from Tampa) and I were watching this bucolic ballet, fully caught up in the moment when the mules bolted--probably because one had stepped in a yellow jacket nest-- and took off at a gallop with John trying to pull them to a halt and, more importantly, trying not to fall off. We'd heard stories of fellas caught and rolled over and over in a runaway hay rake and they never ended well.

Fortunately, this ended quickly when the mules reached the fence at the edge of the field and stopped. But talk about adrenaline!

We went on to finish the hay and pile it into an old-timey haystack--an art in itself.

But I think that was the last time we used the hay rake. Too much excitement. 

Some years later we owned a farm in Tennessee where it was much flatter and John could make hay--with ease and with a tractor. The mules had become pasture ornaments--like the old hay rake.

 

Tick Bite--Lyme Disease?

After almost a month of no ticks on the dogs, I woke up Tuesday morning to discover a small tick, embedded in my thigh. Pulled it off and reminded myself to check for the dread bulls-eye rash that accompanies Lyme disease. By that evening, the red surrounding the bite had spread and after a hot shower, there seemed to be a white ring around the perimeter. Drat!
Checking out symptoms online, I found that the bulls-eye rash was not always consistent and that other symptoms included chills, fever, stiff neck, sore joints, poor balance, etc., etc.
Well, hell--I pretty much live with stiff neck, sore joints, and poor balance. I didn't have the chills and fever but, wanting to play it safe, called the clinic where I was on hold for half an hour after which I hung up and took myself there in person.
Only to find a locked door. And a sign saying they were closed till 2. 
At 2 I returned--knowing that as a walk-in I'd have a goodly wait. Not a problem as long as I have a book.
About 2 hours later the doctor told me I probably didn't have Lyme but as it was endemic in our county, he'd prescribe the meds anyway.
Better safe than sorry, says I, feeling a tad silly.