Sunday, June 23, 2013
The interior. Oh my gosh. As lovely as it was in winter (above), it’s killing me in summer. Cowpies of indeterminate age spackle the floor. I find a little liniment bottle tucked into a corner, tucked the way you would keep a bottle you don’t want to throw out.
Chet thinks there have been mice there, and he stands for a long time, huffing the mysterious scents.
Surely something brought the moss and sticks here. I look at this muscular little dog and admire his thighs for perhaps the thousandth time.
Note the marks on these hand-hewn sandstone blocks. Here in Ohio, we take such blocks for granted, most of the time not thinking about the epic struggle of making them with hand tools.
I love his thighs. I can’t imagine owning a dog so furry you couldn’t see the delineation of every muscle, run your hands over that warm sculpture. I never tire of watching him trot just in front of me, watching those legs clicking off the miles like clockwork.
The mystery windows, black frames around summer's springing lushness. A coil of poison ivy, like a hangman's loop, furry and creepy.
We go out to gaze at the siding and I grin again at the traces of someone long ago, trying to stop the vines. Well, good luck with that. New recruits on the way! Go ahead and chop us. We’ll make more.
A pitched battle against massive poison ivy vines appears to have ended in victory for the farmer. Chopping with an axe, he stopped them cold. The vine leaves bas-relief graffiti that nobody dares touch, even decades later.
I wonder about poison ivy, a lot. Why? Why should this plant be so heavily armed? What’s it got to protect? Are its leaves delicious? Its fruit? I’ll never know. Twice in my life I’ve had a whole-body case, and I never want that again. The last time I had an outbreak, I popped tiny homeopathic pills all day long for several days, and it simply went away without ever blistering . I also have two bars of Fels Naptha soap in waiting. It smells amazing, and is said to quell the itching. I’d love never to find out.
I'm glad there is someone beating back the darker forces of Nature, keeping this farmstead alive.