Silent Saturday

Happy Birthday!

Happy birthday, special lady! May all of your days be as happy as this.

British Soldiers

We have British Soldier lichens growing on a rotting log in the woods in front of our house. They're called British Soldiers because the red color of the fruiting bodies reminded someone of the red coats worn by British soldiers in the 18th century. They do look like a tiny regiment of Red Coats, come to think of it.

If there is anyone here who doesn't know what a lichen is, it's a plant made up of two other plants, a fungus and an algae. One source stated that this fungus (Cladonia cristatella) and this algae (Trebouxia erici) can each live on its own, but that each seems to do better in association with the other. And, of course, neither is British Soldier without the other.

All of these photos were taken with a Canon 60mm macro lens borrowed from my daughter-in-law. Thanks, Karen!

Good-bye, Old Friend

We bought it used when our younger son was 17 and it was five. He had wanted one since they first appeared in 1990, and he had saved a significant contribution towards its purchase.

He took good care of it, and drove it to school for his final year of high school, and then took it off to college. Later, when he was in Veterinary  school, we agreed he needed a newer car and helped him get one. I then took the Miata and drove it for the next 11 years.

When my wife's brother died this past spring, he left her his Miata in his will. Although it was only two years newer, it had only half the miles and much less wear. We took a lot teasing from our neighbors for having four cars and only two drivers. And now the number of drivers has been reduced to one, at least until the cause of my wife's accident has been diagnosed. And space to keep cars also became an issue. I really wanted my son to take the red one back, but he, also, has too little space for another car. So, reluctantly, we sold it.

Good-bye, old friend. You were part of our family for 17 years. I think we've found you a good home.

Cosmic Possums

The expression was coined by east Tennessee poet Jane Hicks. It refers to a transitional generation from Appalachia, those of us who "have one foot in Appalachia and one foot out; and never quite fit either place." Our parents were raised traditionally in Appalachia, but then World War II turned their world upside down. Most of the men went off to war; many didn't return. Of those who did, life back on the farm often didn't offer them what they needed for their families, so it was off to northern factory towns. "Reading, writing, and the road north" were taught in the public schools, we joked. We, the children, grew up in environments that often were hostile to us and, along with our parents, longed for the frequent trips "home."

In many cases, we became the first members of our families to graduate from college. Instead of spending our entire lives within a few miles of where we were born, we have traveled the world. We eat foods every day that our grandparents never heard of. And our children have no idea of what living in Appalachia is all about. Yet .... Appalachia is still home. It calls us as only home can.

To read more about Cosmic Possums, and read Jane Hicks's poem How we Became Cosmic Possums, click here. And thanks to Sharyn McCrumb for introducing me to the concept. She's a Cosmic Possum, too, you know.

Taking down the tree

We liked this year's Christmas tree better than most we've had, but Christmas Day is past and it's time to take it down. And we had help.

Our help was putting ornaments, Victorian tinsel, and hangers in the cat-food dish.

Who could be doing that?

Ah, the culprit!

"You're not angry, are you?"

"If I purr, am I safe?"

Sunday Morning