The night brought a low of 48 degrees, but by the time I got out and about it was 51 and right now it has warmed up to 52. I went outside and found a fine drizzle coming down and I froze like ten naked men in a medieval castle (note: the original expression was modified in view of the changed ethnic sensitivities in some English speaking areas). So my stay outside was rather short.
What I cannot understand is why I do not find the warm jacket you and I bought a year and a half ago on the way up to watch the roof come. I was thinking I had left it here when I came down from the mountain last Fall, knowing that I had another one down there and expecting to have one in each place. When you look for forgotten things in the house some time in the future, would you look for that also? I might get caught in a snow storm before I start the trek down again and need one of them. Remember it is the blubbery black one. The brownish more stylish one I would like to keep in Gb because I probably will need it more often there, come Winter again.
Speaking about forgotten things: when I unpacked here, I found a veritable mountain of 'dirty' sweat- and T-shirts, but no dressy or semi-dressy short sleeve shirts, so I went to church with a long sleeved dress shirt and - gosh it was a hot day! That problem, though, was sholved. WalMart had what looks like OK-to-show-in-public shirts for under 15 bucks each. Two of them a actually Wranglers and all I need is a horse to make them feel in place. You do not need to put shirts on your list to pack, and the jacket - just let me know if you found it and perhaps Iivo can haul it up, since he does not include the Ozarks and Illinois in his itinerary when he comes up here in August. And if I do not have that jacket - no big deal. I have the fleecy you gave me for Christmas and that will keep me safe al long time ⛄️
Chip just pulled his camper to the basement door which means that he and Brenda will be gone this weekend. Who is there to play with then? Talking to Jason, he told me about Clyde Twitchell up on the mountain. That is not that nice young man we met at the Whitingham transfer station but his father. There is also another son living in the little ranch next to the old farm and then there is a third son living on Goodnow road with his property abutting to the back of his father's. Yet, with all sons and their wives and his grandchildren living almost all within walking distance, the (94 years) old man is living alone and none of them comes visiting except the son who lives next door, once a week in the morning on his way to work. The conversation on those occasions is restricted to a few minutes, just to make sure the old man is still around, says Jason. I think I might go and knock at his door some day. He is said to have problems hearing and that should create a feeling of affinity between him and me. We'll see what comes of it.
Last Sunday when I went to the cemetery I sat on the bench for a moment and immediately the local no-seeums came to accept the free offerings. Even though I was overdressed - see above - they still found enough seats at the table on my hands and in my face so I could not sit but a few seconds to put down the flowers, say Hello and to take that picture. I'm still itching and in response I have put only two of the garden chairs out on the deck and have used them only for very brief periods during this last week - one to sit on and one for my feet. As long as the wind blows briskly over the deck, things are alright, but when the leaves stop rustling, watch out!
Oh, yes - the leaves. There were almost none a week ago - the willows were green, but almost nothing else. That has changed so fast, the last few days you could stand on the deck and watch Spring take hold of the trees all over the valley. The temp has now risen to 57 and the sun is chewing its way through the clouds. I think I go out to enjoy things a little.
'nuff chat for now. More later.
What I cannot understand is why I do not find the warm jacket you and I bought a year and a half ago on the way up to watch the roof come. I was thinking I had left it here when I came down from the mountain last Fall, knowing that I had another one down there and expecting to have one in each place. When you look for forgotten things in the house some time in the future, would you look for that also? I might get caught in a snow storm before I start the trek down again and need one of them. Remember it is the blubbery black one. The brownish more stylish one I would like to keep in Gb because I probably will need it more often there, come Winter again.
Speaking about forgotten things: when I unpacked here, I found a veritable mountain of 'dirty' sweat- and T-shirts, but no dressy or semi-dressy short sleeve shirts, so I went to church with a long sleeved dress shirt and - gosh it was a hot day! That problem, though, was sholved. WalMart had what looks like OK-to-show-in-public shirts for under 15 bucks each. Two of them a actually Wranglers and all I need is a horse to make them feel in place. You do not need to put shirts on your list to pack, and the jacket - just let me know if you found it and perhaps Iivo can haul it up, since he does not include the Ozarks and Illinois in his itinerary when he comes up here in August. And if I do not have that jacket - no big deal. I have the fleecy you gave me for Christmas and that will keep me safe al long time ⛄️
Chip just pulled his camper to the basement door which means that he and Brenda will be gone this weekend. Who is there to play with then? Talking to Jason, he told me about Clyde Twitchell up on the mountain. That is not that nice young man we met at the Whitingham transfer station but his father. There is also another son living in the little ranch next to the old farm and then there is a third son living on Goodnow road with his property abutting to the back of his father's. Yet, with all sons and their wives and his grandchildren living almost all within walking distance, the (94 years) old man is living alone and none of them comes visiting except the son who lives next door, once a week in the morning on his way to work. The conversation on those occasions is restricted to a few minutes, just to make sure the old man is still around, says Jason. I think I might go and knock at his door some day. He is said to have problems hearing and that should create a feeling of affinity between him and me. We'll see what comes of it.
Last Sunday when I went to the cemetery I sat on the bench for a moment and immediately the local no-seeums came to accept the free offerings. Even though I was overdressed - see above - they still found enough seats at the table on my hands and in my face so I could not sit but a few seconds to put down the flowers, say Hello and to take that picture. I'm still itching and in response I have put only two of the garden chairs out on the deck and have used them only for very brief periods during this last week - one to sit on and one for my feet. As long as the wind blows briskly over the deck, things are alright, but when the leaves stop rustling, watch out!
Oh, yes - the leaves. There were almost none a week ago - the willows were green, but almost nothing else. That has changed so fast, the last few days you could stand on the deck and watch Spring take hold of the trees all over the valley. The temp has now risen to 57 and the sun is chewing its way through the clouds. I think I go out to enjoy things a little.
'nuff chat for now. More later.
So glad you're back in the environs that make you write beautiful things like "the last few days you could stand on the deck and watch spring take hold of the trees all over the valley." I wish I were there seeing it with you. I would love to sit a spell during the breezy parts, avoiding the bugs and wishing for the bluebirds and breathing the mountain air like I had all the time in the world.
ReplyDeleteI also sometimes wish that you didn't write well enough so as to prick my emotions and keep me forever worrying about the sweet man whose family lives close by but doesn't have the insight to see what a blessing they disregard. I love you all the more for wanting to go by and share things that don't need good hearing and lots of words. Squeeze his hand for me, would ya?