I cannot believe we finally have cool weather! I cannot believe it. But I am thankful. Oh, YES!
A week ago, it was a full fifty degrees warmer, here. Now I am running an exhaust fan and drawing all this cool air into my stuffy house and listening to birds and squirrels chirping and chattering.
It is a gift.
Hugging the Sidewalk
Our ma cat appreciates it NOT. No one explained to the cats they would need their warm coats today. The pre-heated sidewalk gives relief, though, as Puddy hugs to it, waiting for the sun to rise over the treetops.
Not me! I’m dressed for 100 degrees, sitting in a 60-degree breeze, shivering and GLAD!
This cool weather did not bring rain with it, though. We are still more than 12 inches below normal for this year. Usually, we receive much rain in August, around 5 to 10 inches. I guess it all went to Mississippi and the Carolinas. Since it is the second year running that we have not received normal rainfall, trees are dropping like flies. We’ve lost about 3 per acre on our property.
One Twin Dies
Our neighbor has lost half of a gorgeous set of twin oaks in his pasture. It is sad, but we must look at what remains and be glad some trees have stronger roots and can survive. Maybe we’ll help harvest the firewood from our neighbor’s tragedy, turning it into something useful, so it is not a total loss.
Life is like that. We help each other turn our tragedies around, don’t we? We help make sure our losses are not total losses. We reach out to each other, perhaps grim-faced, but determined: We will not be completely defeated.
Well, it’s not the prettiest sight in the world, but it represents GREAT progress: a path to my sewing machine. Now it calls my name every time I hang up a shirt or walk to the coffee pot.
A View of the Path
I will be crafting several hand-made eye masks for sleeping, with lavender between the layers of fabric. Cannot wait to begin.
You know, that uberhuge closet had been the dumping ground for anything we were unsure about where to store it. Now that certainty has guided the clean-up, we still have the unsure things, but they are elsewhere.
It reminds me of the Cat in the Hat, which constantly flung pink stuff somewhere ELSE, but never actually got rid of it until the very end of the book.
I don’t want to wait that long.
But I surely enjoy strolling down that closet path.
On the way down to the chicken house, to take my girlies some scraps, today, I startle a squirrel, which bounds into the woods, startling me, in return.
Next, a deer leaps from its hiding place near the edge of the woods and races after the squirrel, such rattling of leaves and scrambling of footsteps as I’ve not heard in a while.
As I near the hen-house, which is 2/3 wood shed, I hear more scrambling. What a menagerie around here, today! I hear it again. Hmm. This is not the usual. The hennies are making a different sound, too, one I’ve heard too many times before. They’re saying, “We don’t like the sounds and smells around here, at all.”
I stop my crunching advance and listen. Another small movement comes from under the worm table. (Yeah, worm table. Gotta postabout those soon.) I toss a small rock over there to scare whatever it is.
Nothing.
I begin thinking about snakes. We’ve seen a timber rattler around here, before, and it’s been so hot and dry, and there is water inside the chicken house . . .
I realize I am not dressed for actual danger, in a summer dress and flip-flops, so I really need to size up the situation.
Inching along, I peer around a corner and gasp.
Raccoon (Procyon lotor). Français : Raton laveur (Appellé Racoon en Guadeloupe) (Procyon lotor). Author: Darkone, 5. August 2005 (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
There, in the deep shadows, is the glowing-eyed face of a huge, fat raccoon.
I immediately back up, out of its sight. A cornered raccoon can be deadly, roughly as dangerous as a pit bull. Odd that it just sat there looking at me.
Not wearing decent shoes, and not having my phone with me, I know the best plan is to retreat up to the house and think. Calling my husband, I learn the raccoon probably is caught in a trap, which explains why it did not attack, flee, or even move. Then he explains to me how to unlock our rifle, volunteering to come home early and help me.
I feel I ought to be able to do this, though, and want to try. So I change into jeans and real shoes, get a drink of water for all this heat and exercise, grab the rifle, and return to the chicken house via a different way, around the shop, to approach it from behind. Several branches of briars are in my path and with my nerves about to snap, I pick my way through to where I know my moment of truth awaits me.
I peer into that dark place, again, and sure enough, the raccoon is still there. I aim and squeeze the trigger.
Nothing.
Hmm. I pull out my cell phone to ask my husband a few more questions. Aarrgh! I’ve unknowingly grabbed our son’s rifle. Of course, it is not loaded. By now my husband seems really eager to come home. But I still think I can do it and I still want to try, so, it’s back up to the house, for me, to exchange rifles and get another drink of water, and then back I go, down to the chicken house.
Since the terrain continues downhill, beyond the building, I choose a different vantage point, this time, one that puts me on a lower elevation and puts the ‘coon more at my level. I’m feeling like quite the predator, now. I aim and this time the satisfying “pop” of success makes me feel lots more intelligent.
Until I realize I’ve missed the critter entirely. Sighs.
I move closer and try again. What! Now the rifle isn’t working, again. Oh, brother!
Thinking it must have had only one bullet, I return to the house and call my husband once more, telling him I give up. He agrees to come home. I drink more water and return to putting the finishing touches on my closet project.
That was enough excitement for nothing, I think, but I do love having the experience!
And my husband says, “I never married you for a hunting buddy, anyway.”
English: Vietnam War Memorial, Hanoi. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
Just finished a good book by SQ. Rushnell containing a moving story about the Vietnam War and the damage it caused. It mentions the memorial, the 500-foot long black wall. It tells of visitors moved to tears by the more than 58,000 unlived lives and living heartaches represented there.
To say they died trying to protect us would be a fair statement even if some disagreed.
We could not say that about some others who have died:
The aborted ones have no memorial to speak of.
Oh, sometimes we display a few wooden crosses to make a statement, a temporary protest. When we put the crosses away later, though, we prove it is not a memorial.
But if a similar black wall existed for these dead, it would have to be at least a thousand times longer than the one memorializing the war dead. At least.
I read that three million people visit the Vietnam War Memorial each year. Hard to believe roughly 10,000 visits per day, isn’t it.
But at that same rate, if the aborted ones could have lived to visit the Wall, it would have taken them about 17 years, just to go there. It is that many.
To buy one rose for each MILLION would cost about $250.
To educate them, the public schools would have garnered about $270 billion.
Note: I wrote this long ago, but it is still true, today, except the number now is 55,000,000. That’s 55 millions. Look around you, folks; who’s missing?
Twenty-seven years ago, our Supreme Court nullified enough states’ laws that it effectively provided for the killing of the equivalent of 52 million US citizens. What kind of number is 52,000,000?
Try thinking about 17% of us missing.
Nearly the entire populations of California and Texas.
Gone.
OR
More than all of New York, Florida, and Illinois.
Wiped out.
OR
All of Pennsylvania, Ohio, Michigan, Georgia, and North Carolina.
Eliminated.
OR
New Jersey, Virginia, Washington, Massachusetts, Indiana, Arizona, Tennessee, and Missouri.
Disappeared
Or, Maryland, Wisconsin, Minnesota, Colorado, Alabama, South Carolina, Louisiana, Kentucky, Oregon, Oklahoma, Connecticut, and Iowa.
ALL GONE.
This is about whole states missing. All the people who built, spoke, taught, laughed, cried, worshiped, drove cars, doctored, nursed, grew trees, or developed technology, gone from more than one state. A wilderness, untouched by man, not even one firefighter to combat the effects of lightning.
And we don’t really notice.
They were enough to have replenished our teachers 2 or 3 times, our doctors, 78 times.
How many children would you guess are homeschooling in the US, today?
Two Million.
Two Million.
That’s one in every 25 kids of school age.
What this means is that in every classroom that holds 25 children, one is missing. And it’s because of homeschool.
The schools don’t like us home educators very much because of it.
They feel they are losing too much money because of it.
But they forget two things.
They forget we don’t get that money. Their argument is with their own bought-and-paid-for legislators, not with us, if anything is amiss or missing in public education.
They forget abortion.
Abortion has killed far beyond 55,000,000 since Roe vs. Wade.
That is more than EVERY child in EVERY classroom currently in America.
Missing.
Dead.
We’ve killed that many.
Look around you.
Every child ages 5 – 18 has at least one counterpart who is missing. because he or she was aborted.
They could have doubled their money, had they thought about it.
I look out my window and see dead trees, grass that’s brown and crunchy like Wheaties, cat dish always needing water . . . with all the heat we’ve had, isn’t it hilarious to read these old posts! Enjoy!
DAY OFF #2
Repairmen of streets, wires, and buildings will get our roads safe and everyone back in their places eventually.
In the meantime, we play in the snow.
The day begins with Dad shoveling snow and bleary-eyed offspring wandering into the kitchen to ask, “What is that noise?” We so seldom have the pleasure.
Now our snowman stands watch. Our cars are decorated with snow objects. Lots of hot cocoa has slipped away. I enjoyed the crazy antics of our two home-bound adult kids, playing in the snow as if they were grade-schoolers. How thankful I am for the snow! Realizing they can still find joy in each other’s company is bliss to this mom.
ALSO (here comes the fun part) THEY CAN PUT ON AND REMOVE THEIR OWN WRAPS!
THEY CAN HEAT THEIR OWN WATER AND STIR UP THEIR OWN HOT COCOA!
THEY CAN HANG ALL THEIR WET THINGS TO DRY!
THEY REMEMBER TO SHUT THE DOOR!
THEY THINK ABOUT NOT TRACKING THE HOUSE WITH SNOW AND MUD!
I get all the same fun as when they were younger, with none of the work.
Another amazing thing: No one grumbles today that the Internet is “down-ish”. We all have decided to do traditional snow-day fun and forget about the rest of the world. I love it. Board games, non-electric musical instruments, laundry hanging on wooden racks by the wood stove, homemade food, and wild birds have risen to the top of our most-selected interests list and everyone is content.
And I wonder: How is it in other homes? I hope you and yours enjoy a great day, today. I pray God grant you peace and contentment.
What this means is that in every classroom that holds 25 children, one is missing. And it’s because of homeschool.
Home's Cool! 