Eclipse -3 Day redux
Apr. 6th, 2024 08:53 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ismoWell, darn it--I wrote a whole post last night, but it disappeared. That never happens--I've always been able to recover them before. Mostly I wanted to talk about how much further advanced spring is here at the southern tip of Illinois. Every spring for many years in Michigan, my father would express his vexation at the weather. He loved living in Michigan, mostly, but he really didn't like our cold recalcitrant spring seasons. He was remembering one more like this. Even though it's only 39 again this morning, there's a big blue sky full of sun. It was the same yesterday, when we drove for an hour over winding country roads to get to Carbondale, where we plan to view the eclipse. The redbuds and dogwoods are blooming in the woods, and green, budding leaves veil the branches of the taller trees. We went to the SIU arboretum in Carbondale and took a leisurely walk. We saw thickets of May apples unfurling, pinky-blue Virginia bluebells, pink oxalis, and violets. The arboretum isn't very well curated, but I could identify holly, magnolia, yellow pine, horse chestnut, and three different kinds of oak trees. There's also a very mysterious grove of mature bamboo!
I enjoyed the walk, but came home with a terrific headache, probably from dehydration, and had to ingest a bottle of water and a big cup of coffee before I recuperated enough to look around for food. The next portion of my vanished post was mostly ranting about the terrible food in this part of the world--again a subject of endless vexation for my father. He was greatly saddened that these people (his people, for he grew up in this river country, a little north and west, closer to the Illinois River) lived in one of the most fertile and productive places in the world, but the food they ate was the worst, the most processed and devoid of any hint of freshness or flavor. Still pretty much true, alas. Our dinner destination looked so good on Facebook! I'm not sure how you ruin a baked potato, but apparently it is possible. I'll spare you the details. This is why I pack so many snacks. I came home and ate some cheese and crackers and celery sticks.
I'm sitting in the breakfast room at the motel, listening to conversations among people that remind me so much of my long gone, cantankerous and tough relatives.
Older man with suspenders and a white beard and mustache: "You're just seeing what you're thinking! You didn't really see that!"
Even older woman, with the fluffy dandelion hair of old age, probably his mother, changing the subject: "You remember that coffee pot I wanted to give you? And you wouldn't take it?"
Him: "What's your real question?"
Her: "Well, Bill said it had a cone in it . . ."
Him: "It does! That's where you put the coffee in! I explained it to you seventy-five times!"
Onward . . .
I enjoyed the walk, but came home with a terrific headache, probably from dehydration, and had to ingest a bottle of water and a big cup of coffee before I recuperated enough to look around for food. The next portion of my vanished post was mostly ranting about the terrible food in this part of the world--again a subject of endless vexation for my father. He was greatly saddened that these people (his people, for he grew up in this river country, a little north and west, closer to the Illinois River) lived in one of the most fertile and productive places in the world, but the food they ate was the worst, the most processed and devoid of any hint of freshness or flavor. Still pretty much true, alas. Our dinner destination looked so good on Facebook! I'm not sure how you ruin a baked potato, but apparently it is possible. I'll spare you the details. This is why I pack so many snacks. I came home and ate some cheese and crackers and celery sticks.
I'm sitting in the breakfast room at the motel, listening to conversations among people that remind me so much of my long gone, cantankerous and tough relatives.
Older man with suspenders and a white beard and mustache: "You're just seeing what you're thinking! You didn't really see that!"
Even older woman, with the fluffy dandelion hair of old age, probably his mother, changing the subject: "You remember that coffee pot I wanted to give you? And you wouldn't take it?"
Him: "What's your real question?"
Her: "Well, Bill said it had a cone in it . . ."
Him: "It does! That's where you put the coffee in! I explained it to you seventy-five times!"
Onward . . .
no subject
Date: 2024-04-06 03:13 pm (UTC)