We are studying Native Americans. Most homeschoolers I know, if they were studying Indians, might read some books about different tribes, make some popcorn or jerky and possibly even build a replica of an adobe hut. My family has built a tipi.
This tipi is not from a kit, nor is it your run-of-the-mill, 6 foot tall standard tipi. Dh and ds have spent days chopping down saplings to build it. They said they wanted it to be authentic, just like the Indians would have made. I've joined them in the woods as they've painstakingly selected the straightest trees to build the frame, cutting down beautiful oaks and birchtrees. I watched as they erected the frame, pole by pole in a shape that somewhat resembles a circle but more closely mimics an egg. And I tried not to comment when they starting tying the poles together at the top, ran out of rope and ended up using duct tape.
Yesterday, the structure was finished. It is big enough to hold a few elephants and one very tall giraffe. I'm not kidding! It's enormous and sitting right in the middle of our driveway, perfectly visible from the road. I've observed onlookers practically going into the ditch as they look up to the top of our hill at this monstrosity. In it's primitive state, with no cover over it, the tipi frame looked like some sort of pagan, sacrificial monument, complete with duct taped supports.
Dh said he was going to go to the Army surplus store and get an old tent to use to cover the tipi. I warned him that something that big was not going to be cheap so he called first. The size tent he needed was going to cost $1600! He decided to go to the local tool store, where he found a 30' x 30' gray tarp for minimal cost. He and ds worked for hours trying to arrange the square tarp over the circular (and I use that term very loosely) structure. Finally, they had it situated the way they wanted it and it fits surprisingly well, except for a few "air vents" where the tarp wouldn't reach the ground. They have staked it in place and placed rocks where necessary to keep the tarp secure. Now when people drive by they undoubtedly think we've erected a missle silo.
The kids spent the afternoon making mocassins from kits we ordered and we're planning on having a pow-wow, searching for arrowheads, and going to visit the buffalo farm near us. This truly is homeschooling at its best but I'm a little nervous about our next subject, the moon!
Thursday, June 29, 2006
Monday, June 26, 2006
And on this farm we had a pig......
It's funny how every time I go to work on the weekend, I get a timely phone call from dh telling me what he has done, seemingly to prepare me for what I'm going to find when I get home. I never know what sort of profound things dh has built, destroyed, or acquired. This past weekend was no different.
There is an "Animal Swap Meet" in Fordland on the last Sunday of every month. The kids very cleverly sweet-talked dh into going; they know he's a sucker for a cute animal. We have fondly referred to him for years as "Dr. Doolittle" because he just seems to have a way with animals and they love him in return.
On Sunday they set out for the swap meet with a cage in the back of the pickup. When they arrived, dh and the kids sorted through the vast array of ducks, goats, chickens, puppies, etc. Unbeknownst to me, the family had plans for a pig. It was 4 against 1 and I was not there to be the voice of reason. We had no place to keep a pig, for starters.
After weaving their way through the myriad of creatures, they finally found the pig man at the back of the swapmeet. They immediately saw a cute little red-skinned pig with a white face that they instantly bonded with so they said "We'll take that one.". The man said "He's a good 'un, he'll make some good eatin" to which dh replied, "Oh, we just want him for a pet". The pig man looked at dh and the kids in disbelief and picked the little porker up by one leg, handing him to ds21. He hugged the squealing pig to his body and climbed into the back of the truck. The pig proceeded to relieve himself, bowels and bladder, repeatedly all over ds.
I arrived home to find a primitive pig sty fashioned out of various types of wood and metal in our barn. You have to climb over a stack of shingles, onto an old dresser and over a gate to climb into the pen but, no matter, the pig seems happy, especially when we "slop" him. I don't know if all pigs are herbivores but this one is, although he has turned his nose up at broccoli and cauliflower.
Littlewho was in the pig pen today, alone, without permission. We were inside the house and he came sauntering in with a guilty look on his face. He said he and Chewy, our mutt dog, had been petting the pig. Of course we were upset that he had been in the pen and before we could explain (again) all of the reasons it was dangerous to play with a pig by himself, littlewho said the pig accidentally bit his arm. He impressed us with a compelling argument for the sake of the pig--that the pig was really trying to bite the dog and his arm just happened to be in the way. Besides, he said, "It didn't hurt". His arm had a snout-sized abrasion with a bruise in the center; thankfully, it didn't break the skin.
I'm thinking it may be necessary to throw a little pork into the slop every now and then to put the biting swine in it's place-the pig doesn't necessarily need to know we are vegetarians!
There is an "Animal Swap Meet" in Fordland on the last Sunday of every month. The kids very cleverly sweet-talked dh into going; they know he's a sucker for a cute animal. We have fondly referred to him for years as "Dr. Doolittle" because he just seems to have a way with animals and they love him in return.
On Sunday they set out for the swap meet with a cage in the back of the pickup. When they arrived, dh and the kids sorted through the vast array of ducks, goats, chickens, puppies, etc. Unbeknownst to me, the family had plans for a pig. It was 4 against 1 and I was not there to be the voice of reason. We had no place to keep a pig, for starters.
After weaving their way through the myriad of creatures, they finally found the pig man at the back of the swapmeet. They immediately saw a cute little red-skinned pig with a white face that they instantly bonded with so they said "We'll take that one.". The man said "He's a good 'un, he'll make some good eatin" to which dh replied, "Oh, we just want him for a pet". The pig man looked at dh and the kids in disbelief and picked the little porker up by one leg, handing him to ds21. He hugged the squealing pig to his body and climbed into the back of the truck. The pig proceeded to relieve himself, bowels and bladder, repeatedly all over ds.
I arrived home to find a primitive pig sty fashioned out of various types of wood and metal in our barn. You have to climb over a stack of shingles, onto an old dresser and over a gate to climb into the pen but, no matter, the pig seems happy, especially when we "slop" him. I don't know if all pigs are herbivores but this one is, although he has turned his nose up at broccoli and cauliflower.
Littlewho was in the pig pen today, alone, without permission. We were inside the house and he came sauntering in with a guilty look on his face. He said he and Chewy, our mutt dog, had been petting the pig. Of course we were upset that he had been in the pen and before we could explain (again) all of the reasons it was dangerous to play with a pig by himself, littlewho said the pig accidentally bit his arm. He impressed us with a compelling argument for the sake of the pig--that the pig was really trying to bite the dog and his arm just happened to be in the way. Besides, he said, "It didn't hurt". His arm had a snout-sized abrasion with a bruise in the center; thankfully, it didn't break the skin.
I'm thinking it may be necessary to throw a little pork into the slop every now and then to put the biting swine in it's place-the pig doesn't necessarily need to know we are vegetarians!
Friday, June 23, 2006
Blueberries Are Ready
We went hiking this morning on some of the trails dh and ds have been cutting with the scythes. It has become sort of a morning ritual-dh and I wake up, have a cup of coffee or tea on the deck while watching the sunrise and then go for a peaceful, cool, morning walk.
A couple of weeks ago we starting noticing all of the fruit that is growing on the hillsides. This is our first summer here so it was a wonderful surprise when we discovered the peach tree, gooseberries, black raspberries, wild blueberries and, of course, the plethora of blackberries. We even found a pawpaw down by the creek bed, which I've not seen since I was a child. They are very elusive because foxes, raccons and opossums find them extremely desirable, as well.
Today we spent a loooong time gathering and eating blueberries and raspberries. There were only a few blackberries and by the time we got to them littlewho had joined us in the meadow so we had to fight each other for those that were ready! When they really start to ripen--watch out--there must be hundreds of thousands of them out there!
Although we have our own wild blueberries, unlike cultivated blueberries they are so tiny that it would take forever to pick enough to make one smoothie. We just enjoy them as we find them and, in the meantime, we will pick blueberries at the patch a few miles from our house. They are $8/gallon and ready to be picked!
A couple of weeks ago we starting noticing all of the fruit that is growing on the hillsides. This is our first summer here so it was a wonderful surprise when we discovered the peach tree, gooseberries, black raspberries, wild blueberries and, of course, the plethora of blackberries. We even found a pawpaw down by the creek bed, which I've not seen since I was a child. They are very elusive because foxes, raccons and opossums find them extremely desirable, as well.
Today we spent a loooong time gathering and eating blueberries and raspberries. There were only a few blackberries and by the time we got to them littlewho had joined us in the meadow so we had to fight each other for those that were ready! When they really start to ripen--watch out--there must be hundreds of thousands of them out there!
Although we have our own wild blueberries, unlike cultivated blueberries they are so tiny that it would take forever to pick enough to make one smoothie. We just enjoy them as we find them and, in the meantime, we will pick blueberries at the patch a few miles from our house. They are $8/gallon and ready to be picked!
Monday, June 19, 2006
Barbershop
Dh got a haircut the other day. Since he has been off work and couldn't go to his usual stylist in the city, he decided to go to the barbershop in Seymour.
Remember Floyd's Barbershop on Andy Griffith? When you go to the Barber shop on the square in Seymour, it feels like you've stepped back in time about 50 years. This place is complete with a red, white and blue barber pole and your very own Floyd, Barney, Gomer and Otis! Interestingly, dh has been called "Opie" for years by his coworkers--must have something to do with the strawberry blonde hair, freckles and ageless face.
For some reason, dh felt it necessary to drag me along to the barber shop. There were 3 people inside when we arrived so "Floyd" said it wouldn't be too long. Well, as you can imagine, country people have a different perspective as to what "long" means.
The man who was getting a haircut when we arrived, we'll call him "Barney", was a hoot. He was thin and balding and I could almost picture him being allowed to carry a gun on the condition that he have 1 bullet--in his pocket! There was nothing this man didn't know or hadn't done, up to and including killing grizzly bears. He talked nonstop and I'm not kidding. It takes good 'ol Floyd about 45 minutes to do a haircut, we discovered, so we were able to hear all about Barney's escapades. He tried to convince us that you could catch pond carp, can it in jars and it "tastes just like salmon!" We said, "yum, we'll have to try that!". He said "Fish is fish". YUK! The place filled up while we were waiting and no one was as happy to see him go as I was. We practically had to shove him out the door to get him to leave.
Dh can keep up with just about anyone when it comes to talking and I have to admit I was a little surprised that he didn't get impatient with the laid back atmosphere. The truth is, we were having too much fun analyzing the characters from Mayberry and listening to the engaging conversation.
The next guy to get a haircut was a corpulent, pie-faced man, we'll call him "Otis". His clothes were dirty and ragged and he appeared as if he had just crawled out of bed (presumably, he let himself in and out of his jail cell, still a little ebrious from the night on the town). He was a sweet guy with a not-so-sweet odor. Ewwww! Floyd must have noticed it too, because Otis' haircut didn't take so long.
The next guy had a hat on that said "WWII Veteran". He had been sitting in a chair, taking part in the conversation and since he was there before us, we assumed he was next. When Floyd looked at him he said "Aw golly gee whiz, I'm just sittin' here for a bit. I don't need my hair cut today". Yep, you guessed it, Gomer!
FINALLY, it was Opie's turn. We were at the barber shop for 2 hours but I have to say, if you need to know what's going on in Mayberry, uh, I mean Seymour, just go sit a while at "Floyd's".
Remember Floyd's Barbershop on Andy Griffith? When you go to the Barber shop on the square in Seymour, it feels like you've stepped back in time about 50 years. This place is complete with a red, white and blue barber pole and your very own Floyd, Barney, Gomer and Otis! Interestingly, dh has been called "Opie" for years by his coworkers--must have something to do with the strawberry blonde hair, freckles and ageless face.
For some reason, dh felt it necessary to drag me along to the barber shop. There were 3 people inside when we arrived so "Floyd" said it wouldn't be too long. Well, as you can imagine, country people have a different perspective as to what "long" means.
The man who was getting a haircut when we arrived, we'll call him "Barney", was a hoot. He was thin and balding and I could almost picture him being allowed to carry a gun on the condition that he have 1 bullet--in his pocket! There was nothing this man didn't know or hadn't done, up to and including killing grizzly bears. He talked nonstop and I'm not kidding. It takes good 'ol Floyd about 45 minutes to do a haircut, we discovered, so we were able to hear all about Barney's escapades. He tried to convince us that you could catch pond carp, can it in jars and it "tastes just like salmon!" We said, "yum, we'll have to try that!". He said "Fish is fish". YUK! The place filled up while we were waiting and no one was as happy to see him go as I was. We practically had to shove him out the door to get him to leave.
Dh can keep up with just about anyone when it comes to talking and I have to admit I was a little surprised that he didn't get impatient with the laid back atmosphere. The truth is, we were having too much fun analyzing the characters from Mayberry and listening to the engaging conversation.
The next guy to get a haircut was a corpulent, pie-faced man, we'll call him "Otis". His clothes were dirty and ragged and he appeared as if he had just crawled out of bed (presumably, he let himself in and out of his jail cell, still a little ebrious from the night on the town). He was a sweet guy with a not-so-sweet odor. Ewwww! Floyd must have noticed it too, because Otis' haircut didn't take so long.
The next guy had a hat on that said "WWII Veteran". He had been sitting in a chair, taking part in the conversation and since he was there before us, we assumed he was next. When Floyd looked at him he said "Aw golly gee whiz, I'm just sittin' here for a bit. I don't need my hair cut today". Yep, you guessed it, Gomer!
FINALLY, it was Opie's turn. We were at the barber shop for 2 hours but I have to say, if you need to know what's going on in Mayberry, uh, I mean Seymour, just go sit a while at "Floyd's".
How To Treat a Rattlesnake Bite
I saw a little boy in the hospital this weekend--19 months old--who was bitten by a rattlesnake. In 19 years of nursing, I've never taken care of a patient with a snakebite so I was fascinated by this particular case. The little guy touched my heart; he's such a cutie with his blonde hair and brown eyes and he was so tolerant of everything we were doing to him!
This nice family lives in the country and apparently, the child was playing on the patio when he was bitten between his thumb and forefinger. The mother was standing outside when it happened and they immediately took him to the hospital where he was given antivenin.
He is doing surprisingly well. The venom can cause problems with platelet levels (which help the blood to clot) so he was having frequent labwork and it was looking better every day. Unfortunately, his arm is very swollen and purple from the fingertips to his shoulder and he was having surgery today to open up the skin (fasciotomy) so the swelling wouldn't cause further tissue damage.
Rattlesnakes deliver a hemotoxin (affecting the blood) and a neurotoxin (affecting the central nervous system). No treatment in the field is recommended. It is no longer advised to ice the limb, apply a tourniquet, or suck out the venom (unless you are a skilled outdoorsman and have a "Sawyer" Extractor designed specially for this purpose). The most important step is to get to a hospital; the antivenin must be given within a 4-6 hour window. If at all possible, kill the snake and bring it along for identification and call the hospital ahead of time so the antivenin is available.
This nice family lives in the country and apparently, the child was playing on the patio when he was bitten between his thumb and forefinger. The mother was standing outside when it happened and they immediately took him to the hospital where he was given antivenin.
He is doing surprisingly well. The venom can cause problems with platelet levels (which help the blood to clot) so he was having frequent labwork and it was looking better every day. Unfortunately, his arm is very swollen and purple from the fingertips to his shoulder and he was having surgery today to open up the skin (fasciotomy) so the swelling wouldn't cause further tissue damage.
Rattlesnakes deliver a hemotoxin (affecting the blood) and a neurotoxin (affecting the central nervous system). No treatment in the field is recommended. It is no longer advised to ice the limb, apply a tourniquet, or suck out the venom (unless you are a skilled outdoorsman and have a "Sawyer" Extractor designed specially for this purpose). The most important step is to get to a hospital; the antivenin must be given within a 4-6 hour window. If at all possible, kill the snake and bring it along for identification and call the hospital ahead of time so the antivenin is available.
Thursday, June 15, 2006
The Whos Have a Little Lamb, Little Lamb...
Dd12 has been asking for a lamb for quite some time, ever since she volunteered to take care of the flock of sheep that belong to the Mennonite neighbors down the road. While they were on vacation, they let dd feed and water the sheep, promising her she could have one when the lambs were ready to be weaned.
Mrs. Mennonite called the other day, letting dh know that the lamb was ready. Much to our chagrin, they wanted $1 a pound for it, which translated to $50 and dh agreed. He and ds21 took the truck to the Mennonite's house. They weren't gone long and arrived home with ds in the bed of the pickup, gently holding on to a cute, docile, male lamb. The kids decided to call it "Cardigan". We had visions of strolling around with the lamb following us, playing with the kids and just generally enjoying its tame nature.
Dh had been getting our corral ready for the lamb, cleaning it out and making sure the fence was intact so Cardigan wouldn't be able to get out. Ds carried the sweet little lamb into the corral and within seconds ds's pit bull (raised lovingly indoors) had clambered under the gate, cornered the lamb, and was tearing at the wool on its neck. Dh had a sudden rush of adrenaline and despite his arthritic joints, grabbed the pit bull by the neck and the tail and flinged it over the 6 foot tall fence as if it were a mere puppy! The dog lay in the tall grass, knowing it had really messed up this time (we overlooked the killing of 3 kittens). I will not elaborate but (ahem) we have 2 dogs again instead of 3 and I am resting much better at night.
When the excitement was over, we looked around and guess what? No Cardigan. It had jumped between the boards in the corral and escaped to the end of the lane and was standing in the yard, bleating in vain for its mother. We chased that lamb around the yard for hours, literally. It can jump like a gazelle. I have never laughed so hard in my life, watching 2 novices trying to corner and grab onto the poor little helpless creature.
They tried everything, chasing it as it weaved around the obstacles in our yard, jumping through their arms and out of reach; you wouldn't believe how lithe and muscular a little lamb can be! I almost peed my pants when they ever so stealthily crept up behind it with a lasso (dd's jump rope), simultaneously lunged for it and Cardigan, with the agility of a cat, leaped straight up onto the propane tank leaving dh and ds lying in a bewildered heap on the ground.
Cardigan kept going toward our basement window. At first we thought it was going to jump through the window, thinking it was an escape route. After several return visits, we realized the lamb could see its reflection and thought it was another sheep looking back at him! Since arriving at our home it had been attacked by a vicious animal and endured being chased for hours so it seemed to find comfort in its new friend. Dh and ds decided to use the window to their advantage.
First, the lamb rustlers tried sitting by the basement window, hoping Cardigan wouldn't notice them (tee hee). It did come quite close several times but when they would try to grab it, it just turned and ran. They were getting very frustrated, hot, and hungry and I was rolling around with stomach pains from laughing so hard.
At around 5 pm--yes, they had been at it ALL day--they came up with an ingenious plan. Ds decided to hide in the basement bathroom with the window open. When Cardigan approached the window to look at the other lamb, ds thrust his arm out the window and grabbed a leg and held on like a vice. Dh was standing by and pounced on the rest of Cardigan and lo and behold, victory! It was a long, hard day but such entertainment!
Cardigan is now peacefully enjoying his new home but--can you believe it?--he won't let us come near him.
Mrs. Mennonite called the other day, letting dh know that the lamb was ready. Much to our chagrin, they wanted $1 a pound for it, which translated to $50 and dh agreed. He and ds21 took the truck to the Mennonite's house. They weren't gone long and arrived home with ds in the bed of the pickup, gently holding on to a cute, docile, male lamb. The kids decided to call it "Cardigan". We had visions of strolling around with the lamb following us, playing with the kids and just generally enjoying its tame nature.
Dh had been getting our corral ready for the lamb, cleaning it out and making sure the fence was intact so Cardigan wouldn't be able to get out. Ds carried the sweet little lamb into the corral and within seconds ds's pit bull (raised lovingly indoors) had clambered under the gate, cornered the lamb, and was tearing at the wool on its neck. Dh had a sudden rush of adrenaline and despite his arthritic joints, grabbed the pit bull by the neck and the tail and flinged it over the 6 foot tall fence as if it were a mere puppy! The dog lay in the tall grass, knowing it had really messed up this time (we overlooked the killing of 3 kittens). I will not elaborate but (ahem) we have 2 dogs again instead of 3 and I am resting much better at night.
When the excitement was over, we looked around and guess what? No Cardigan. It had jumped between the boards in the corral and escaped to the end of the lane and was standing in the yard, bleating in vain for its mother. We chased that lamb around the yard for hours, literally. It can jump like a gazelle. I have never laughed so hard in my life, watching 2 novices trying to corner and grab onto the poor little helpless creature.
They tried everything, chasing it as it weaved around the obstacles in our yard, jumping through their arms and out of reach; you wouldn't believe how lithe and muscular a little lamb can be! I almost peed my pants when they ever so stealthily crept up behind it with a lasso (dd's jump rope), simultaneously lunged for it and Cardigan, with the agility of a cat, leaped straight up onto the propane tank leaving dh and ds lying in a bewildered heap on the ground.
Cardigan kept going toward our basement window. At first we thought it was going to jump through the window, thinking it was an escape route. After several return visits, we realized the lamb could see its reflection and thought it was another sheep looking back at him! Since arriving at our home it had been attacked by a vicious animal and endured being chased for hours so it seemed to find comfort in its new friend. Dh and ds decided to use the window to their advantage.
First, the lamb rustlers tried sitting by the basement window, hoping Cardigan wouldn't notice them (tee hee). It did come quite close several times but when they would try to grab it, it just turned and ran. They were getting very frustrated, hot, and hungry and I was rolling around with stomach pains from laughing so hard.
At around 5 pm--yes, they had been at it ALL day--they came up with an ingenious plan. Ds decided to hide in the basement bathroom with the window open. When Cardigan approached the window to look at the other lamb, ds thrust his arm out the window and grabbed a leg and held on like a vice. Dh was standing by and pounced on the rest of Cardigan and lo and behold, victory! It was a long, hard day but such entertainment!
Cardigan is now peacefully enjoying his new home but--can you believe it?--he won't let us come near him.
Monday, June 12, 2006
Pesto, yum!
We are finally starting to reap the harvest from our garden. I picked a bunch of Basil the other day--it is my all-time favorite herb--you just pick off what you need and it keeps producing, very easy!
Besides throwing Basil into everything I saute', I made Pesto for the first time. It is so incredibly good. Here's the recipe:
1 large bunch of fresh basil leaves, washed and spun dry
1/4 cup olive oil
1/4 cup pine nuts (I didn't have any so just left them out)
2 garlic cloves, crushed
1/2 cup parmesan cheese, freshly grated (I used Asiago, it's what I had on hand)
Combine all of the ingredients in a food processor or blender and pulse to a paste.
Serve over your favorite pasta, I used organic tomato-basil linguine. It was fabulous, even the kids loved it. This is very rich so a couple of tablespoons per serving will suffice. Try it, if you've never had Pesto, you will be surprised!
Besides throwing Basil into everything I saute', I made Pesto for the first time. It is so incredibly good. Here's the recipe:
1 large bunch of fresh basil leaves, washed and spun dry
1/4 cup olive oil
1/4 cup pine nuts (I didn't have any so just left them out)
2 garlic cloves, crushed
1/2 cup parmesan cheese, freshly grated (I used Asiago, it's what I had on hand)
Combine all of the ingredients in a food processor or blender and pulse to a paste.
Serve over your favorite pasta, I used organic tomato-basil linguine. It was fabulous, even the kids loved it. This is very rich so a couple of tablespoons per serving will suffice. Try it, if you've never had Pesto, you will be surprised!
Tuesday, June 06, 2006
Sandals and Scythes Don't Mix
Today, I nearly cut my toe off. Well, not really OFF but it's a deep cut. Dh and I were sitting on the deck early this morning, drinking hot tea and coffee. I was enjoying the peacefulness and the unusually cool morning when he said "do ya want to go scythe?". I couldn't wait, I mean, who could resist an offer like that?
Dh has been off work due to an exacerbation of his arthritis so we've been able to spend the days together for a change. He is very stiff and has lots of pain in the mornings and it takes him several hours to loosen up. It helps him to be active and one of his [seemingly] favorite things to do is chop down the weeds on our land. Dh is as concerned about the environment as I am and even though we have a gasoline powered lawn mower and a big weed eater on wheels, he insists on doing as much of the chopping as he can with a scythe.
If you've never experienced the benefits of using a scythe, according to dh--besides the fact that we're not using fossil fuels and polluting the air--it's a great workout and it's therapeutic. I've been married to this man for 22 years and still can't figure him out but I do know he's got more energy in his pinky finger than I could muster up in a week. There are occasions when he simply has to have an outlet. We don't go out to eat or to a movie for fun like normal people, we do things like lift weights, paint the house or go scything.
Now, most people I know don't even own a scythe. We have 3. This morning at 7am, we were out on the hillside, scythes in hand, swinging away at the ubiquitous weeds. Most of our land we are allowing to naturalize but dh has blazed hiking trails and keeps the area around the tree swing, littlewho's fort and the zipline cleared away to keep the crawlies off of the kids.
Although I was very eager to spend quality time with my hubby, I was not really dressed to go scything; I was still in my pajamas and I was wearing a pair of sandals (Mr. Safety is slacking). After about 10 minutes, I was really getting into it and was aggressively swinging my tool, actually enjoying the work. Unfortunately, during one misdirected return stroke, the scythe hit a rock, bounced off and sliced into my 2nd toe. I threw the scythe down and started hopping around in agony, afraid to look down for fear my toe was no longer attached.
After a few minutes, dh had me sit down long enough to look at the damage. The toe was still there but had a deep cut and blood was dripping from my sandal into a pool on the ground. It could have easily used several stitches but ya know, it's just a toe.
Dh was so disappointed that he now had to scythe on his own, he woke ds21 up (who just recently moved back home) and took him out to the meadow to put him to work. Reluctant to lose another scything partner, he insisted that ds put his tennis shoes on. I have a feeling ds will have a job and his own apartment very soon...............
Dh has been off work due to an exacerbation of his arthritis so we've been able to spend the days together for a change. He is very stiff and has lots of pain in the mornings and it takes him several hours to loosen up. It helps him to be active and one of his [seemingly] favorite things to do is chop down the weeds on our land. Dh is as concerned about the environment as I am and even though we have a gasoline powered lawn mower and a big weed eater on wheels, he insists on doing as much of the chopping as he can with a scythe.
If you've never experienced the benefits of using a scythe, according to dh--besides the fact that we're not using fossil fuels and polluting the air--it's a great workout and it's therapeutic. I've been married to this man for 22 years and still can't figure him out but I do know he's got more energy in his pinky finger than I could muster up in a week. There are occasions when he simply has to have an outlet. We don't go out to eat or to a movie for fun like normal people, we do things like lift weights, paint the house or go scything.
Now, most people I know don't even own a scythe. We have 3. This morning at 7am, we were out on the hillside, scythes in hand, swinging away at the ubiquitous weeds. Most of our land we are allowing to naturalize but dh has blazed hiking trails and keeps the area around the tree swing, littlewho's fort and the zipline cleared away to keep the crawlies off of the kids.
Although I was very eager to spend quality time with my hubby, I was not really dressed to go scything; I was still in my pajamas and I was wearing a pair of sandals (Mr. Safety is slacking). After about 10 minutes, I was really getting into it and was aggressively swinging my tool, actually enjoying the work. Unfortunately, during one misdirected return stroke, the scythe hit a rock, bounced off and sliced into my 2nd toe. I threw the scythe down and started hopping around in agony, afraid to look down for fear my toe was no longer attached.
After a few minutes, dh had me sit down long enough to look at the damage. The toe was still there but had a deep cut and blood was dripping from my sandal into a pool on the ground. It could have easily used several stitches but ya know, it's just a toe.
Dh was so disappointed that he now had to scythe on his own, he woke ds21 up (who just recently moved back home) and took him out to the meadow to put him to work. Reluctant to lose another scything partner, he insisted that ds put his tennis shoes on. I have a feeling ds will have a job and his own apartment very soon...............
Friday, June 02, 2006
Heat Stroke
I have had an epiphany; It's HOT! And, I might add, it's HUMID! I started running again last November so up until the last few weeks, my runs have been in cooler weather (the colder the better, IMO). My trek is 4.5 miles and the last 1/2 mile is uphill on a steep grade. It's killer and I had forgotten that I wasn't acclimated to running in the heat yet.
A week or so ago the forecast was for the temperature to climb to 92 degrees. I, in my ultimate wisdom, decided to go on a run at noon. Unfortunately, I have never been one to sweat very efficiently. I've always been envious of dh who sweats through 3 or 4 t-shirts a day when it's hot. I love to sweat--ahhh! It feels so good to get rid of toxins--but if I'm not careful, I just turn red and pass out.
So, on this particular day when it was hotter than Hades, I took off running. At the 3 mile mark, down in the valley where there was no air movement, I started feeling a little lightheaded. I kept pushing myself, thinking that it would pass and I'd be in the shaded area within a few minutes. At the 4 mile mark, right before the notorious hill, I was becoming extremely weak so I conceded and stopped at the creek to cool off. I poured water over my head and splashed my face with the cool, running water. I was delirious and it wasn't until later that I thought of the cattle upstream that were also cooling off in the water and relieving themselves without concern about the water quality, yikes!
I walked the rest of the way home that day, cutting through our meadow to get home faster. The kids were waiting for me outside as I trudged up the hill, red-faced and effete, croaking, "Water, quick, I need water!". I have since started getting up earlier and earlier each morning to escape the heat and have found that there is quite a lot of activity in the mornings around here.
We live on a 4 mile loop that consists of 3 or 4 farms. Some of the people are Mennonites and I can't tell you how strangely uncomfortable I feel when I'm running by in my shorts and sports bra. They're always very kind and maybe they aren't as disapproving as I assume but regardless, I decided long ago that my health was more important than their approval so I carry on. Our neighbors are all very friendly and it's not uncommon to encounter some of them on my runs. If only they knew how difficult it was to stop in the middle of a run to have a conversation! Once, one of my neighbors actually got in her car and drove the loop to find me to get my "professional" opinion when her daughter had fallen and hurt her arm!
Yesterday, I was on the final leg of the uphill stretch when I met a man walking along the road picking up cans. I tried to avoid his gaze so I wouldn't have to stop so I just smiled and said "Hi", but alas, he stopped to talk and I couldn't just ignore him! He said, "You sell them thar beagles?" (Our neighbor's 2 beagles have adopted us and will not leave, despite a few BB's to the posterior). I explained that those beagles weren't ours, they belonged to Goat Woman, they just liked our house better because, much to my dismay, sisterwho feeds them every day. He said he was interested in buying some beagles. I explained how much we liked the beagles but they kept us up at night barking and then said "So, on second thought, yes, they are for sale!". He laughed and I took the opportunity to finish my run.
A week or so ago the forecast was for the temperature to climb to 92 degrees. I, in my ultimate wisdom, decided to go on a run at noon. Unfortunately, I have never been one to sweat very efficiently. I've always been envious of dh who sweats through 3 or 4 t-shirts a day when it's hot. I love to sweat--ahhh! It feels so good to get rid of toxins--but if I'm not careful, I just turn red and pass out.
So, on this particular day when it was hotter than Hades, I took off running. At the 3 mile mark, down in the valley where there was no air movement, I started feeling a little lightheaded. I kept pushing myself, thinking that it would pass and I'd be in the shaded area within a few minutes. At the 4 mile mark, right before the notorious hill, I was becoming extremely weak so I conceded and stopped at the creek to cool off. I poured water over my head and splashed my face with the cool, running water. I was delirious and it wasn't until later that I thought of the cattle upstream that were also cooling off in the water and relieving themselves without concern about the water quality, yikes!
I walked the rest of the way home that day, cutting through our meadow to get home faster. The kids were waiting for me outside as I trudged up the hill, red-faced and effete, croaking, "Water, quick, I need water!". I have since started getting up earlier and earlier each morning to escape the heat and have found that there is quite a lot of activity in the mornings around here.
We live on a 4 mile loop that consists of 3 or 4 farms. Some of the people are Mennonites and I can't tell you how strangely uncomfortable I feel when I'm running by in my shorts and sports bra. They're always very kind and maybe they aren't as disapproving as I assume but regardless, I decided long ago that my health was more important than their approval so I carry on. Our neighbors are all very friendly and it's not uncommon to encounter some of them on my runs. If only they knew how difficult it was to stop in the middle of a run to have a conversation! Once, one of my neighbors actually got in her car and drove the loop to find me to get my "professional" opinion when her daughter had fallen and hurt her arm!
Yesterday, I was on the final leg of the uphill stretch when I met a man walking along the road picking up cans. I tried to avoid his gaze so I wouldn't have to stop so I just smiled and said "Hi", but alas, he stopped to talk and I couldn't just ignore him! He said, "You sell them thar beagles?" (Our neighbor's 2 beagles have adopted us and will not leave, despite a few BB's to the posterior). I explained that those beagles weren't ours, they belonged to Goat Woman, they just liked our house better because, much to my dismay, sisterwho feeds them every day. He said he was interested in buying some beagles. I explained how much we liked the beagles but they kept us up at night barking and then said "So, on second thought, yes, they are for sale!". He laughed and I took the opportunity to finish my run.
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