Summer has hit with a vengeance this year. The weather cannot seem to make up its mind. Either it's blisteringly hot and humid, or it's storming so badly that it turns the ditches into creeks and the creeks into rivers. The air conditioning in my office is not working properly, so we have been alternating between arctic temperatures that penguins would declare to be too cold, or we sit here and wilt like flowers in air that feels like it hasn't moved in 30 years.
Meanwhile, our local weatherman John Belsky is talking about how we're heading towards the worst winter ever. No one wants to hear that, Belsky. Keep it to yourself.
But along with the oppressive heat and the storms, all of the wonderful things about summer have arrived as well. Last night we were driving home at sunset, along the twisting hill roads that rise and fall and weave their way through the trees strong enough to survive the storms. The sky was full of swirling clouds whose undersides were lit with pink and gold. By the time we got home it was dusk, and the fireflies had started to come out. I love fireflies. Every year I look forward to the first night that I see them, and every year it's just as magical as it ever was.
Between the heat and the rain the nights have been thick and foggy here, and the fields are hazy and glittering by the time it reaches full dark. About that time the bats come out. Which is a good thing, because naturally this weather breeds mosquitos and horseflies and other undesireable biting things.
I love it all so much. The fog, the fireflies, the bats, the thick smell of honeysuckle in that humid heavy air, the frogs singing in the pond...I don't think I could ever leave it all behind for city life. It's become too much a part of my life by this point. As much as I dislike the heat, and as bad as the storms have become, I wouldn't give up our summers for anything.
Thursday, June 25, 2009
Tuesday, May 19, 2009
Etsy seller feature: Serenity Art
Being part of the Etsy community, I'd like to share some of the wonderful shops that can be found there. The seller I'm featuring today offers some really beautiful fairy prints and paintings, along with tarot readings and astrological charts. Her art is pure fantasy: whimsical, magical, full of imagination and beauty. If you're a lover of fairies, I highly recommend her shop!
Her shop is here: http://rhiannon228.etsy.com
You can also check out her blog here: http://serenityart.webs.com/apps/blog
Her blog is also fascinating, detailing how she works and showing her paintings as she works, adding details and changing features.
Her shop is here: http://rhiannon228.etsy.com
You can also check out her blog here: http://serenityart.webs.com/apps/blog
Her blog is also fascinating, detailing how she works and showing her paintings as she works, adding details and changing features.
Wednesday, May 6, 2009
Blood from a stone
Yesterday the Red Cross came to my place of employment for a blood drive. They come here a few times a year, and each year I think about donating and then never actually do it. I decided that this would be the time I finally would.
So I gathered up my rather small amount of courage, steeled myself against the idea of a GIANT NEEDLE going into my vein, and trotted down to the room they'd set up in. I passed the general screening and the iron test, so I went over to the row of cots and gave them my little info packet and collection of blood bags. The woman drawing blood took one look at my arm and told me she probably couldn't do anything with me. She smacked her fingers against my vein, made me squeeze a ball, pumped up the blood pressure cuff, and..nothing. My vein wouldn't rise. She tried the other arm, and..nothing. She called over another red cross person, who also tried to get my veins up. Nope. It wasn't working. Apparently my veins are so small that the giant needle would collapse them if they tried to use it on me. They shook their heads, told me they weren't comfortable even trying to get blood from me, and sent me on my way. So much for my good deed of the day.
Looking at my arms, I can't even see my veins through the skin. Last time I had blood drawn for a blood test, they had to stick me twice with the tiny butterfly needle before they could find the vein. I guess that should've been a clue that I wouldn't be the best candidate for giving blood.
Oh well. Now I know that any vampires looking for a late night snack will be sorely dissapointed if they try to suck my blood. Take that, Dracula. My tiny veins shall thwart your evil plot!
So I gathered up my rather small amount of courage, steeled myself against the idea of a GIANT NEEDLE going into my vein, and trotted down to the room they'd set up in. I passed the general screening and the iron test, so I went over to the row of cots and gave them my little info packet and collection of blood bags. The woman drawing blood took one look at my arm and told me she probably couldn't do anything with me. She smacked her fingers against my vein, made me squeeze a ball, pumped up the blood pressure cuff, and..nothing. My vein wouldn't rise. She tried the other arm, and..nothing. She called over another red cross person, who also tried to get my veins up. Nope. It wasn't working. Apparently my veins are so small that the giant needle would collapse them if they tried to use it on me. They shook their heads, told me they weren't comfortable even trying to get blood from me, and sent me on my way. So much for my good deed of the day.
Looking at my arms, I can't even see my veins through the skin. Last time I had blood drawn for a blood test, they had to stick me twice with the tiny butterfly needle before they could find the vein. I guess that should've been a clue that I wouldn't be the best candidate for giving blood.
Oh well. Now I know that any vampires looking for a late night snack will be sorely dissapointed if they try to suck my blood. Take that, Dracula. My tiny veins shall thwart your evil plot!
Friday, April 24, 2009
A murder of crows
Being out in the country, it is of course entirely natural and expected to see all sorts of critters roaming the area. There's a groundhog that lives in our back yard, and a fox that I see all the time down the road. Deer are everywhere, of course, and the usual suspects like racoons, possums, and so many rabbits that it's not uncommon to see about a dozen of them in the yard.
Then you've got the scaled, slithering, hopping and crawling things like frogs, toads, turtles, snakes, and skinks. We have an ample supply of bugs, too..which leads, naturally, to bats. Lots of bats. I like to sit on the porch in summer when dusk is just starting to fall and watch the bats swoop and dart overhead. That's perhaps my favorite thing in summer. The thick, heady, heavy nights where the fields burn with millions of fireflies, the air smells of honeysuckle and cut grass, and the bats turn into leather-winged acrobats just overhead. If one ignores the mosquitos, it's perfect.
But lately we have had an influx of crows. We have a small flock of chickens, and one day as I watched them scratch and peck in the front yard I realized that one of them was not, in fact, a chicken. It was a crow, mixed in with the flock just as comfy as could be, as though it belonged.
I don't mind crows. But the sheer number of them lately is a tad disturbing. Especially as they're everywhere. They sit low in the trees by the roadside and swoop out as cars pass by. I've so far avoided hitting one, but I've come pretty close. They gather on the wild grape vine we have and cackle at each other like a bunch of gossips. They apparently have infiltrated the chickens. Some mornings when I go outside there are so many in the trees that I feel like I'm stuck in some sort of Hitchcock movie. So far they haven't been a bother, but as all of those black beady eyes turn towards me and they shift and mutter on their perches, I can't help but feel as though they're plotting something.
But then, I'm probably just paranoid after the Thrush went after me the other week. Maybe all of these crows are hitmen hired by the thrush, and they're just waiting for me to accept them as a normal part of the landscape.
If anyone sees a report on the news about a woman in kentucky getting pecked to death by crows, inform the police that a thrush was behind it all.
Then you've got the scaled, slithering, hopping and crawling things like frogs, toads, turtles, snakes, and skinks. We have an ample supply of bugs, too..which leads, naturally, to bats. Lots of bats. I like to sit on the porch in summer when dusk is just starting to fall and watch the bats swoop and dart overhead. That's perhaps my favorite thing in summer. The thick, heady, heavy nights where the fields burn with millions of fireflies, the air smells of honeysuckle and cut grass, and the bats turn into leather-winged acrobats just overhead. If one ignores the mosquitos, it's perfect.
But lately we have had an influx of crows. We have a small flock of chickens, and one day as I watched them scratch and peck in the front yard I realized that one of them was not, in fact, a chicken. It was a crow, mixed in with the flock just as comfy as could be, as though it belonged.
I don't mind crows. But the sheer number of them lately is a tad disturbing. Especially as they're everywhere. They sit low in the trees by the roadside and swoop out as cars pass by. I've so far avoided hitting one, but I've come pretty close. They gather on the wild grape vine we have and cackle at each other like a bunch of gossips. They apparently have infiltrated the chickens. Some mornings when I go outside there are so many in the trees that I feel like I'm stuck in some sort of Hitchcock movie. So far they haven't been a bother, but as all of those black beady eyes turn towards me and they shift and mutter on their perches, I can't help but feel as though they're plotting something.
But then, I'm probably just paranoid after the Thrush went after me the other week. Maybe all of these crows are hitmen hired by the thrush, and they're just waiting for me to accept them as a normal part of the landscape.
If anyone sees a report on the news about a woman in kentucky getting pecked to death by crows, inform the police that a thrush was behind it all.
Thursday, April 23, 2009
Watch out for that tree..
Yesterday afternoon on my way home from the gym, I passed a rather unusual sight. I live on one of the hills that make up a rather deep valley. To get home, I have to drive a winding, curvy road that twists and turns and has sudden drop-offs that are, for the most part, protected by guardrail. It's a difficult road to drive if you don't know how to handle it, and a lot of people do not know how to handle it.
The first curve of the hill road is one of the worst. It's a sharp, sudden one, wrapping around a jut of rock that has always, to me, resembled a dinosaur head poking out of the hillside. The outer edge of the curve butts against a gravel driveway. As I came up on the curve, I noticed that our sheriff and several other officers were parked in the gravel driveway. Then I saw why. Suspended about 6 feet off the ground was a little red ford taurus. It was stuck firmly in a tree.
It would seem that the drive of the taurus took the curve too quickly, lost control, went airborne across the driveway and went off the side of the hill. Except there happened to be some trees in the way, which stopped the car from going over the side completely. There was no sign of the driver, so I'm assuming they're probably in a hospital somewhere. The sheriff and other officers were all standing around, looking at the car in the tree, obviously trying to figure out how in the holy heck they'd get it out of there.
They must have figured it out because it was gone by this morning.
I really need to remember to carry my camera with me. This particular road has been the source of many, many accidents caused by people who drive it too fast, or don't pay enough attention. Being a rural road, it is of course not uncommon to find escaped livestock wandering across it, or get stuck behind a farmer on a tractor. One of the oddest sights was a local riding a cooler that had somehow been converted into a scooter. But anyone who drives that road on a daily basis learns to look out for the unexpected. I have seen cars upside down in the ditches, cars gone sideways off a curve, cars rolled into trees, cars stuck in the creek at its bottom. Had I remembered my camera, I could now have a coffee table book full of the stupid accidents on this road. Just last week someone flipped their Blazer going too fast down the hill. It's a road you have to treat with respect, because you never know what's around the next loop or bend.
Were it not such a liability, I think they should have left the taurus stuck in the trees as a warning to everyone else. Maybe seeing that would slow people down a little, make them realize that whatever their destination is, and how much of a hurry they're in, it's not worth that much.
The first curve of the hill road is one of the worst. It's a sharp, sudden one, wrapping around a jut of rock that has always, to me, resembled a dinosaur head poking out of the hillside. The outer edge of the curve butts against a gravel driveway. As I came up on the curve, I noticed that our sheriff and several other officers were parked in the gravel driveway. Then I saw why. Suspended about 6 feet off the ground was a little red ford taurus. It was stuck firmly in a tree.
It would seem that the drive of the taurus took the curve too quickly, lost control, went airborne across the driveway and went off the side of the hill. Except there happened to be some trees in the way, which stopped the car from going over the side completely. There was no sign of the driver, so I'm assuming they're probably in a hospital somewhere. The sheriff and other officers were all standing around, looking at the car in the tree, obviously trying to figure out how in the holy heck they'd get it out of there.
They must have figured it out because it was gone by this morning.
I really need to remember to carry my camera with me. This particular road has been the source of many, many accidents caused by people who drive it too fast, or don't pay enough attention. Being a rural road, it is of course not uncommon to find escaped livestock wandering across it, or get stuck behind a farmer on a tractor. One of the oddest sights was a local riding a cooler that had somehow been converted into a scooter. But anyone who drives that road on a daily basis learns to look out for the unexpected. I have seen cars upside down in the ditches, cars gone sideways off a curve, cars rolled into trees, cars stuck in the creek at its bottom. Had I remembered my camera, I could now have a coffee table book full of the stupid accidents on this road. Just last week someone flipped their Blazer going too fast down the hill. It's a road you have to treat with respect, because you never know what's around the next loop or bend.
Were it not such a liability, I think they should have left the taurus stuck in the trees as a warning to everyone else. Maybe seeing that would slow people down a little, make them realize that whatever their destination is, and how much of a hurry they're in, it's not worth that much.
Monday, April 20, 2009
all knotted up
Tonight I feel slightly frustrated. After I finished physical therapy, I sat down and tried to make some jewelry. But after about a month of not making much of anything, my fingers were clumsy and refused to cooperate with me. Every little, delicate thing I tried to make ended up bigger than I wanted and badly formed. Finally I gave up after beating on a few pieces of copper sheet. That I can do. Whacking something with a hammer doesn't require one to be precise.
I've not washed my hands yet, so my fingers smell like a combination of latex from the resistance bands and pennies from the copper sheet. It reminds me of when I worked retail. At the end of the day, my fingertips would be black and stinking of old, dirty change. No matter how many times I washed them through out the day, within an hour they'd be filthy again. One reason why I rarely carry coins on me, now. I've seen just how nasty they can be.
I've been in physical therapy for nearly a month now. I like to ignore problems until they go away, which rarely works and usually makes things worse. I've been ignoring my painful joints since I was about 20 years old until I realized how weak I was becoming. So now I have to contort myself in various ways using latex bands and a squishy ball. The exercises range from the mundane to the ridiculous. All of them hurt like the dickens. As soon as I get used to the exercises, the physical therapist adds more reps and new things to do. I'm pretty sure she's in league with my dentist and they meet in secret each week to discuss new ways of torturing me.
But this friday marks the end of my weekly visits to her office. I get to go from once a week to once every 3 weeks, though still doing the cursed exercises every day at home. I know eventually it will all pay off. But as I curse and grunt and bend myself into each new position, it seems futile at times. Especially when I sit down and my hands won't even let me shape wire properly.
I guess I'll go wash the stink off of my hands and throw my pity party in bed. I have a date with two Tylenol PM and a cup of tea. My fiance will be home soon, and I'll get him to rub out all the knots, and the welt on my stomach from where one of the resistance bands slipped off the doorknob and snapped back into me. Hey, those suckers HURT when they do that.
Tomorrow I'll be feeling better. I'll just sit down again and make my hands listen to me, to the shape of the pliers against my palm, and the sharp gleam of the copper wire until something beautiful comes out.
I've not washed my hands yet, so my fingers smell like a combination of latex from the resistance bands and pennies from the copper sheet. It reminds me of when I worked retail. At the end of the day, my fingertips would be black and stinking of old, dirty change. No matter how many times I washed them through out the day, within an hour they'd be filthy again. One reason why I rarely carry coins on me, now. I've seen just how nasty they can be.
I've been in physical therapy for nearly a month now. I like to ignore problems until they go away, which rarely works and usually makes things worse. I've been ignoring my painful joints since I was about 20 years old until I realized how weak I was becoming. So now I have to contort myself in various ways using latex bands and a squishy ball. The exercises range from the mundane to the ridiculous. All of them hurt like the dickens. As soon as I get used to the exercises, the physical therapist adds more reps and new things to do. I'm pretty sure she's in league with my dentist and they meet in secret each week to discuss new ways of torturing me.
But this friday marks the end of my weekly visits to her office. I get to go from once a week to once every 3 weeks, though still doing the cursed exercises every day at home. I know eventually it will all pay off. But as I curse and grunt and bend myself into each new position, it seems futile at times. Especially when I sit down and my hands won't even let me shape wire properly.
I guess I'll go wash the stink off of my hands and throw my pity party in bed. I have a date with two Tylenol PM and a cup of tea. My fiance will be home soon, and I'll get him to rub out all the knots, and the welt on my stomach from where one of the resistance bands slipped off the doorknob and snapped back into me. Hey, those suckers HURT when they do that.
Tomorrow I'll be feeling better. I'll just sit down again and make my hands listen to me, to the shape of the pliers against my palm, and the sharp gleam of the copper wire until something beautiful comes out.
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