Spring Snow

We had quite a bit of spineless snow overnight.  It had no determination, no stick-to-it-iveness.  I shouldn’t complain, because I know the neighbors were pleased.  My feet were happy, too, because there was no black ice lurking to surprise us when we walked.  The sun was just coming up when we headed down our street.  On the second day of Spring, the toy camera wanted to record snow on the mountain, still sticking to the ground at higher elevations.

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St. Patrick’s Day

There was no holiday or parade for St. Patrick’s Day in Western North Carolina, but it was the best personal celebration I could remember.  Amy and I knew we were both having company and planned to share the day.  John’s sister Chris and husband Steve came specifically to go with us to the Biltmore estate, as did Amy’s friends Mary and Tom.  The plans were quite loose.  We’d have dinner together in the evening.

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John, Chris, and Steve

 

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As we waited at the shuttle stop to go to the mansion, three pairs of hands waved at us from inside the departing bus. We had semi-formal introductions as our groups met at the grand staircase, one going up and one down.  Surely we wouldn’t see each other again.  We did.  There were more greetings in the garden shop when they had finished a picnic lunch, and we had not eaten.  We were finishing ice cream treats at the creamery as they arrived.  John and I had never before stopped at the last gift shop on the estate, but we clapped each other on the shoulder inside.  Having met so often, we chatted like friends of long standing at the dinner table.

 

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John, Chris, Tom, Mary, Anne, and Amy, all wearing green

 

It should have been neighborhood day at the Biltmore. Neighbor Shawn said she saw us from the shuttle bus as we waited to follow her path.  I didn’t know until we got home that she had been there, too.  The other surprise to me was seeing a huge number of people wearing green.  Shop owners here didn’t realize people would notice the day.  There were a token number of decorative items and a mere mention of corned beef at the supermarket.  Wake up people!  We are more Irish in our hearts than you think!

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Tom, Mary, Amy, and Anne

 

 

I can’t begin to quote conversations from our dinner, but the recurring punctuation was laughter. I wished the evening would never end.

Twice Washed Hair – Blame Henry VIII

As I put the shampoo on my hair, I realized I had already washed it and should have used conditioner. My mind was involved with the hours of TV we watched the night before, several back-to-back videos about Henry VIII. That was as good a way as any to spring our minds from the Downton Abbey series.

I went through the ditty for remembering Henry’s wives:

Divorced

Beheaded

Died

Divorced

Beheaded

Survived

The first two were easy for me to remember, probably because there are more references to them than the others.

Divorced – Catherine of Aragon, causing the split with the Catholic church

Beheaded – Anne Boleyn, courted by Henry for seven years and married about half that

Died – Jane Seymour, died in childbirth, giving Henry his only legitimate son

Divorced – Anne of Cleves who didn’t resemble the miniature portrait Henry saw

Beheaded – Kathryn Howard

Survived – Katherine Parr who might have been beheaded if Henry hadn’t died first

Henry had to remember only three names for his six wives, although the Katherines seemed to have spelled their names differently.

There! End of the history lesson!

 

Climbing the Railing

Once neighbor Logan discovered he could climb from the driveway onto our porch, he practiced it many times. The toy camera wanted part of the action, too. As soon as Logan saw the camera in my hand, he performed his new stunt proudly. I was shocked when he stood up, swaying a bit in the heavy wind. Instead of frightening him by screaming and running toward him, I held my breath. With the video, you could time how long he balanced. It felt like a full five minutes to me. I’m sure the train cars thought there had been an earthquake, complete with sound effects.

Riding a Bicycle Backwards

School should have tired neighbor Logan out, but he was eager to come play at our house. He struggled to get on my exercise bike, facing the front, and actually made the pedals move. The next time he mounted it backwards, which was probably a bit safer. I had to stifle my giggles.

Visiting Biltmore

Neighbors Shawn and Bob went with us to visit Biltmore, the Vanderbilt mansion in Asheville. They had not been there for a long time, and I wanted to see the wedding costumes from movies that were on display. The shuttle bus driver said a few magic words that excited me. Visitors were allowed to take photos! We were asked not to use flash, but this was the first time I let the toy camera out of my pocket inside the mansion.

The winter garden was decked out with flowers and huge swags of white material, going with the theme of romantic weddings.  I took a quick back shot of Shawn and Bob there.

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I wish I’d stayed closer to our friends, because they say as many amusing things as neighbor Amy. When we stepped onto a second floor balcony, Bob said, “This would make a good hunting blind.”

 

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Bob, Shawn, and John on the balcony

I’ll include one set of pictures from the special display – the sign and costumes from the movie of Pride and Prejudice. My shots were not good because of the lighting, but the displays were lovely, scattered about the main rooms.

 

Our tickets included a wine tasting, something I’ve never done before. I took a quick shot of the others, and the waiter offered to get us all. He quickly put bottles on the counter and turned one so that the Biltmore label showed. I’m sure the camera grinned when the man commented on how small it was.

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We had a quick lunch nearby and went straight to Logan’s school to pick him up. Shawn and Bob opened the car windows so their son could see their faces in a strange car. We were soon home and ready to put our feet up after a fun day out.

Going Toe Up

Neighbor Amy says at least one amusing thing every time I talk to her. We talk long enough that I can’t recall the one sentence out of a thousand that tickled me. This time it was different. I had John as a witness, and we stopped to talk about the phrase.

Amy planned to have an older man do some heavy yard work for her, but she was afraid he might overdo it. She said, “I wouldn’t want him to go toe up on me.”

Bet you got it before I did. “Going toe up” means dying. I had some Tennessee phrases that people in New York found amusing, but my list was far shorter than hers.

Wrong Side of the Coat

Neighbor Amy began watching the TV series Downton Abbey when the fifth season was in progress. Before the finale, she wanted to see everything leading up to it. John and I expressed an interest in it, so we had marathon viewing sessions for a week. I skipped the last few, coming home to see the finale on TV.

I was having a hard time bending to pick up anything, because the back/hip pain was a muscle spasm that could last two to three weeks. Amy kindly picked up my jacket and held it for me. As I put my arms in the sleeves, I said, “This makes me feel like I’m at Downton with people to wait on me.”

Amy, ever quick with an amusing answer, said, “Yes, but I’m on the wrong side of the coat.”

The Day I Got Old

People in their 70’s should not be surprised when their bodies occasionally betray them. Although I am an eternal pessimist, I am remarkably optimistic about my health. Each time I recover from something, I say to myself, “Thank goodness that is over.”

It’s as if, once I’ve had something, the same thing will never happen again. There are some things that are permanently in the past, such as a gall bladder attack, an infected appendix, and swollen tonsils. Having immunity from these things gives me a false sense of wellbeing. I was surprised to wake in the middle of the night with a backache. Changing position did not alleviate it. I slid to the floor and thought, “I’m not sure I can walk.”

I did walk, if a hobble counts as walking. Lying in a different position might help, and with that I fell asleep again. When I woke ahead of the alarm, I was determined to walk to the creek if I could bend enough to get my shoes on. They say walking is the best thing for back problems, so the exercise could either improve me or make me lame. All was well until I paused at the creek, shifting my weight from one leg to the other. As new pain hit, I wondered where I’d turn for help. John was on his way to Tennessee to a train club, and the neighbors were probably asleep. I got back on the pavement, which did the trick. These words are proof that I made it home.

On the way home, I was remembering Amy’s recent account of seeing a relative. She hadn’t seen the woman for some time and was surprised to see her hobbling. Her pace was painfully slow.

Amy asked, “What’s wrong with you? Are you having hip problems or bad knees?”

I don’t remember the answer because Amy’s next blunt query made me laugh. She asked, “When did you get old?”

While trudging up the steep hill on Qualla, I decided this early March day might very well be the day I got old.

Spring?

On Leap Day I leaped into gardening. This must be a harbinger of Spring. Note this jump was just a baby step into gardening, because I’m at least one notch below novice. Neighbors Amy and Shawn, as well as sister Beth, encouraged and advised me through the past year. There is still a lot to learn.

I walked straight through the house after walking, picking up shears on my way to the garden. The tall clump of ornamental grass stalks has been cut down, ready for the new growth. I left a mess, though, which should be raked up.

On the bright side, we picked up some flower seeds the other day. Great patience will be required, waiting for the soil to warm up. Maybe we should hold the packets up near the window when the snow flurries come later in the week.

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