Archive | July 2024

Living off the Land

V-shaped notches were used here to tap sap from a pine tree.

A cool breeze entered the living room window and swirled through the room. It had stopped raining a short time ago, so the damp breeze carried the smell of the lilies blossoming in profusion just below the window. Looking up from the comic book I was reading, I reflected upon how cozy it felt to spend a Sunday afternoon with Mom and Daddy like this. My older brothers and sisters were in other parts of the house.

Mom, in her upholstered rocking chair, had one of her favorite woman’s magazines on her lap as she dozed. Daddy sat in the armchair reading the big family bible. Sitting on the linoleum living room floor next to where Daddy sat, I leaned against his legs. An incredible thought suddenly occurred to me: Mom and Daddy had once been children, too!

“Daddy?” I questioned. “What sort of things did you do when you were a little boy”?

Looking up from the bible, he thought for a moment before replying. Glancing down at my bare feet, he said, “I didn’t wear shoes all summer long.” I looked at his face to see if he was joking. I’d taken mine off after coming home from Mass this morning, surely, he wore shoes to attend church! As if reading my mind he explained, “I grew out of the shoes I wore to school during the winter and I didn’t get another pair until sometime after the weather got really cold during the following fall.”

Mom had once told me she and Daddy were in their middle forties when I was born. I counted on my fingers…that made him at least fifty-five years old! “What else do you remember?” I prompted, realizing that his childhood was such a very long time ago.

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Pine Pitch Bandage

Although I was going downhill, I kept peddling my bike. Hot summer sunshine blazed in the afternoon sky as I sped down the road creating a breeze that fluttered through my uncombed hair. The sleeveless top I was wearing caught some air and billowed away from my sweaty back skin.

The center of the gravel road was hard like pavement, but loose gravel lined the sides of the road. The driveway to my family’s farmyard came up faster than I was ready for it. With all the confidence of a ten-year-old enjoying her summer vacation from school, I decided to keep peddling and just turn the wheel of my bike when I got there.

All the hay wagons that had come in and out of our yard that summer had made the driveway hard as pavement, but also covered it with a large amount of loose gravel.  My bike skidded and tipped over, but momentum kept me moving. Still clutching the bike handlebars, my right knee scraped across the hardened driveway made up of thousands of sharp granite crystals.

Coming to a stop, I sat up immediately and took stock of the situation. My right knee hurt. However, I figured it didn’t hurt bad enough to have a broken bone. My wound was covered with gritty dirt. It didn’t even immediately bleed. I stood up and walked my bike to the back door of our farmhouse, yelling for Mom. By the time, I reached the door, there was blood running down my leg.

It hurt to have a soapy washcloth rubbed over my knee, but I understood that the dirt had to be washed away. Some of the dirt refused to leave the wound. Mom said it was trapped under a flap of skin. Opening the medicine cabinet over the bathroom sink, she pulled out a small bottle of mercurochrome. With tears running down my cheeks, I cried, “No! Don’t put any of that on my knee! It burns and hurts too much. My knee already hurts more than I can stand.”

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Groundhog Day

Again!

I pressed the fork down on a small red, buttered potato and it easily flattened, releasing a small puff of steam. Taking the lid off a skillet on the stove, revealed tender, browned chunks of chicken breast and nicely steamed broccoli. After sliding the contents of the pan onto the plate containing the potato, I walked into the dining room and sat down at the table.

The food before me was everything my high school home education teacher said was ideal for a meal. It was attractive and colorful. The browned meat, buttery red potato and bright green broccoli were pleasing to look at. I’ve read that colorful foods contain all sorts of vitamins and minerals that a body needs. Best of all, despite having butter on the potato and vegetable, my meal was low in calories.

I want to lose weight.  But I also don’t want to suffer to accomplish that by having to gnaw on dry rice cakes. Being mindful of how good my food tasted and chewing slowly and longer than usual, I practiced every diet tip I’ve ever heard about that is supposed to help dieters feel satiated. Half an hour later as I placed the empty plate next to the kitchen sink, I felt full and satisfied. Surely, after eating such a good supper, I wouldn’t want to eat again until tomorrow morning.

The minute I sank down into my favorite living room chair, I felt a familiar longing for a snack. Trying to ignore the growing desire, I found a channel playing the 1993 movie Groundhog Day with Bill Murray. Enjoying the familiar story, I tried settling down to watch it. I couldn’t concentrate because a bar of dark chocolate in the kitchen was calling my name. Finally, glancing at the clock on the wall, I decided that since it was just eight p.m., it was still early enough to eat one more thing, especially since my evening meal had been so low in calories.

Confident that dark chocolate was a healthy choice, I felt good about having some. Chocolate is filled with lots of rich antioxidants. However, one piece of the candy bar wasn’t enough. As I made another trip to the kitchen, I rationalized that chocolate was good for me and it would be alright to have more. On the television, Bill Murray’s character was waking up to the same Groundhog Day for the seventh time. He was trapped in a time loop!

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Up At Bat

Equipped with a towel, I stalked the little brown bat. When it flapped up the stairwell, my cat Jerry chased after. Sighing, I slowly trudged up the steps, hoping the wee creature didn’t decide to come back down to fly a few more rounds in the dining and living room.

In the upstairs hallway, I found Jerry leaping at the flying rodent as it looped back and forth overhead. Prepared to swat it out of the air as it flew past me, I readied the towel in hand. I swung too soon, and the towel barely touched the bat. It fluttered close to the floor but quickly recovered.

I grumbled, “It’s been such a long time since I last had a bat in my house. I’m losing my touch!” When I swung the towel the second time, I knew I had once again jumped the gun. To make up for my haste, I lunged forward and knocked the bat to the floor.

The minute I lunged forward, I knew my body was not prepared to make that type of movement. Searing pain in both of my calves made me gasp. Despite the pain, I had a mission to complete. The stunned bat lay on the carpet in front of me. The creature still needed to be put outside. I picked it up using the towel like a potholder. Recovering his senses, the little beastie inside the folds of fabric chattered and hissed angerly.

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I Should Have Said

Is she really asleep this time?

The evening passed quickly. Before I knew it, the living room clock chimed midnight. Resisting the temptation to put off bedtime, I picked up the cat sleeping on my lap and carried him to the dining room door. Having retired to her sleep nest in the entryway earlier in the evening, Sadie, the girl cat met us at the door. Jerry leapt from my arms to join her.         

I turned out the living room lamps and took a glass of water with me upstairs. After washing my face and brushing my teeth, I snuggled down into my cozy bed. I expected to fall asleep quickly because I was so tired.

A cool breeze made the window curtain gently flutter. It felt good, but I was happy for the light comforter covering me. I could see a large moon in the dark night sky. There were faint, soothing outdoor night sounds. However, my brain refused to relax. It began to flash memories of the day across my mental screen. A thorn had been placed in my psyche earlier in the day and the harder I tried to go to sleep, the bigger the thorn began to grow.

As I tossed and turned, I ruminated on what had happened and what I had said and done. Embarrassed and frustrated, I mulled the experience over and over, wishing for a ‘do-over’.

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