Looking Around

 

The Day the Weaponized Castle Ladies Staged a Coup and Knocked Down the King

The day dawned peacefully. But in the corner cupboard, rebellion was afoot.

Emboldened by their new weapons, the Ladies determined it was time to smash the patriarchy. Even the Queen joined in.

Chaos ensued! But the Sorceress lured the King away . . .

And he was down!  

What will the Ladies do with their new-found power?

The mind boggles.

 

Josie the Cow Wrangler

                                                                             

I had a busy afternoon yesterday. Meema picked me up and we went to the library and returned books and I picked out six new ones. There was a girl there who goes to my school--she is in kindergarten--and we played outside. I am in the pink crocs.

She had on boots. They aren't so good for running up the slide like I do.

Then we went in and did puppet shows. I did Little Red Riding Hood for her.

We entertained her little sister.

She is pretty cute for a baby.

Then there was another baby! We had our hands full!

When we got back to the farm, the cows were in the wrong pasture and they could get out and go anywhere!  Oh dear, said Meema, I'd better call Grumpy.

Don't worry! I can get them, I said, and jumped out of the car while she was calling Grumpy. I have done this before and know how to make them go where they should.

You just have to get behind them and kind of shoo them to where they should be. There were about eight of them and most went back in the right pasture but two were off in a corner. I ran fast and got behind them. 

I did it all myself except I needed help getting the gate pulled shut. Meema did that. Josephine, you are amazing, she said. You are like a little Border Collie, you run so fast.

I told her not to worry. If it happened again, she could call me and I would take care of it.

 Finally back at the house, I had a snack and then made some weapons for my Castle Ladies.

Here are some more that are waiting for the glue to dry. They are very fancy.

                                                                                 

Killers of the Flower Moon

                                                                                         

Now a major motion picture, this book examines the 1920's reign of terror and violence perpetrated by leading (White) citizens against the oil-rich members of the Osage Nation. Yet another shameful example of the exploitation of a minority in the Land of the Free--probably Moms for Liberty will want to ban book and movie, lest any White children feel bad about their ancestors.

I had known that some Native American groups, who'd been forced from their homelands because White settlers wanted the land, had been removed to barren, unpromising territory which later proved to be oil-rich. It seemed like a fine, ironic turn of events.

What I didn't know is that The Government, in its so-called wisdom, had deemed the Native Americans incapable of administering the fortunes that accrued to them through their headrights. And so (White) guardians were appointed for these individuals. 

Many of the guardians took advantage of their positions to skim off vast amounts of money. Some went even further.

Some of these guardians had multiple possessors of headrights in their care. But that wasn't enough. And so began the mysterious spate of deaths among the wealthy Osage.

Due to the unwillingness/inability of local law enforcement to act, eventually the fledgling FBI became involved. And that's another interesting story.

Killers of the Flower Moon is a fascinating tale of venality and corruption, the extent of which will probably never be fully known. A necessary read.

(An aside: isn't that a great title! As it turns out though, it has only the most tenuous link to the events. Ah, well.)

                                                    

Looking Around

 

Autumnal Equinox

The sun is in the middle of our horizon, beginning its long slide south. 

Poised between summer heat and winter cold, we enjoy the glory and the poignant, fleeting beauties of autumn. 

Just now, our windows are still open, but I'm wearing a hoodie and sleeping under blankets at night. 

It's all about balance.

                                                         

Fuchsias and Coming to the Mountains

The first fuchsia I ever saw was hanging on my friend Vicky Owen's front porch, a little ballerina of a flower. It seemed magical to me like everything in this part of the world--the muted roar of the branch that ran in front of their old cabin, the dance of the hummingbirds feeding in the fluffy pink flowers of the mimosa tree just below the porch, the lilt of the fiddle and dulcimer--back in Chapel Hill, Vicky and Malcom had been members of the Fuzzy Mountain String Band.

My Mothers' Day fuchsias are going strong, thanks to frequent watering. And I've actually rooted some -- a first for me.  Besides being beautiful, fuchsias hold a special lovely memory for me.

In 1973, John and I and not-quite-one Ethan were on a quest to find a new place to live--more nature and fewer people. Florida had become too hot and way too crowded. We were headed north to look at some land in New York state, maybe even in Canada.

But, first, we stopped to visit my old college friend Vicky and her husband on the farm they'd bought only a year ago. After navigating the winding river road from Asheville and finding our way to the Barnard bridge, our hand-drawn map assured us we were almost there--only eight miles! In Florida, that's about eight minutes.

The road up Big Pine is winding and narrow with steep drop offs here and there. That eight miles seemed to take an hour and a half, and we were at the point of turning around, sure we were in the wrong place, when we spotted a landmark the map had shown.

We turned off, at last, onto the road up to the cabin. It was full of large rocks that our Scout could just barely crawl over. But at last we found our friends, ensconced in the old house they were slowly renovating. And I drank in the beauty of the land and felt the appeal of the simple mountain life our friends were living.

What was going to be a brief visit turned into a search for land and an introduction to a community.

 And here we are, with fuchsias on our own front porch and grateful memories of departed friends.

 

Re: Guilt--A Conundrum

Something has been puzzling me. I wonder what the overlap is between the (white)folks who don't want history taught that might cause their (white)children to feel guilty--you know, the history of the treatment of minorities, the history of colonialism and underhanded dealing by our government, et cetera, et cetera-- are these the same folks who subscribe to the Christian doctrine of Original Sin?

Do these same folks scare their kids with the story of Adam and Eve who 'sinned' by seeking knowledge of Good and Evil? Do their kids feel guilty for having been born a sinner and in need of redemption?

Just wondering. . .

 

Summer's End

 

In Her Own Words

                                                                           

Hi. I AM JOSIE. I GO TO SCHOOL AT BRUSH CREEK ELEMENTARY. I AM 6. I AM IN FIRST GRADE. 

HERE IS ME.

Meema helped with the hard words. 

                                                         

Owed to Monty Python

                                                                              

                                                          The Quandary

                                                                          

“So, what do you think we should do?” Pope Aloysius VII gazed out the krystalplex window of his apartment in the New Vatican. New Rome shimmered in the distance, air cars swooping and shuttle cars threading silver webs across the ancient vista.

At his side the young nuncio cleared his throat, “It is, indeed, a perplexing question, Your Holiness. I don’t have a ready answer. But perhaps we could-”

“It seems to me . . .” From the shadows of the tapestry-hung chamber, a third voice spoke. Cardinal Jimenez stepped forward.

“We have two choices. One: Accept this . . . this entity as the Second Coming; Two: Denounce it as a demon, or . . . threaten it with the comfy chair. Three, we have three choices.” 

I came across this bit of silliness as I was rootling through my files. I'm still a Monty Python fan. See the skit that inspired this HERE.

Celebrate the Day

                                                                             

Wishing a Happy Rosh Hashanah to those who celebrate it and a peaceful Sunday to all.

Except for those Texas Republicans--they know who they are.

Seasonal Shift

                                                                             

The Equinox (9/23) is a week away but cooler weather and a desire to spread out the work had me getting started on my seasonal rearranging yesterday. Down come the paintings of white lilies and the blue and white porcelain and up go the mountain road and the quilters, in suitably autumnal colors. And some crows.

                                                       

Away with the seashells and summer stuff in the corner cupboard. I guess I'm glad that I have only two shelves to work with since Josie's Castle People have exercised Eminent Domain on the bottom two.

Yes, those are cleaning supplies under Danielle Barlowe's beautiful Raven. (If you don't know her work, give yourself a treat and check out her website HERE.) Moving stuff around always reveals an embarrassing accumulation of dust and cobwebs to be dealt with. Another good reason for this seasonal shift.

There's still lots to do, mainly cleaning--but it can wait.