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Monday, March 30, 2015

Looking for spring and another story

The park calls this "Brier Rose Farm,"
another euphemism for property they did not need to purchase,
have no use for
and have no money to maintain. 

However, the postman is quite happy it is a trail head with facility.

Looking out over the hills.
Today was beautiful, but cold.

Tree trunks.
I like them.

Kendall Lake, in the park.

Several years ago it had to be drained.
It became too silted in and shallow for the volume of water it handles,
And would be dredged.

When it was empty, Oh, the stench!

It was properly cordoned off, warning signs posted. 
The drive to the parking area is locked every night.
In short, if you could read and think, all would be well.

Two young women were visiting. 
One said "Oh, I lost my ring in this lake years ago,"
and went out to look for it.
Into the stinking muck.
It held her fast.
It rose to her armpits before the level stabilized.

Her friend called for help, 
and our EMT's showed up.

They laid all the plywood available at the local lumber yard on the mud's surface,
and crawled out to her as if it were an ice rescue.
She was so stuck they could not lift her.
In the end they secured a harness under her armpits, which were below the surface,
as were her arms.

They used a crane, on hand from the dredging operation,
to begin lifting her.
The entire rescue took about eight hours.

Paid for entirely, as I've mentioned from time to time,
by the fewer than seven hundred citizens of the township, 
many of whom are children.
Allowances are not taxable.

Friday, March 27, 2015

It's not spring until the last snowflake falls

As I traveled down into the valley to work this morning,
snow was falling.

Falling on top of the valley, too,
when I came home.
Caroline and Laura.

We were given assurances of safety equipment
when packing up to visit happened.

Laura has roller blades, of course.
Caroline has an articulated two wheel thing.
Remember I Wish I Could Shimmy Like My Sister Kate?
That's the locomotion for Caroline's board.

Snow on the pig.
Snow on the toad.
It's not spring, yet.

Wednesday, March 25, 2015

Clean windows and metaphores

When I came home Tuesday from work it sparkled in the house, and all from clean windows. I hoped Emily and Laura could follow up this morning having a go at all the oak leaves embedded in the pampas grass, out in the big flower garden. 

I found Emily at the front window this morning, wondering if they should make a start on the little triangle garden, too. "But it's raining," I protested. "I know," she said. I can only think they trained her well at the ski run. I gave them the morning off.

We headed off to Aunt Beth's for lunch, to swap Emily for Caroline. Emily can help Aunt Beth at the restaurant, and Caroline and Laura can do whatever two little girls do on school holiday.

Emily, Caroline, Laura and Francis.
Laura is two weeks older than France,
who is taller than I am.
I don't ask any more; he's tired of hearing it.
He's probably in the 5'7 or 8" range.

Just for fun, 2004.
Rebekah and Hamilton,
Emily, Kaitlin (my great niece),
Caroline being restrained, and Laura.

Hamilton, Rebekah, Emily
Laura, Francis, Caroline

Just to get one more, I said "Be as silly as you want."
Francis left. He is 13, you know.