That Darned Computer
I couldn't get the programs Josh recommended but, when I talked to
D#1, she gave me a couple of sites to hit and I was able to load
those.
Secretmaker is hard at work restoring space so I may, yet, be able to
get more than 99% of Firefox the next time I try. As of noon today,
Secretmaker has deleted 3236 files [27.8MB Disk space freed], has
released 29 phantoms and has eaten (erased) 212 cookies.
Spybot Search and Destroy is fun. It has a whole list of things it
doesn't like and, announcing its quarry, sends out a posse. It's
rounded up a lot of stuff. I don't know what to do about the Ezula and Web
Offer baskets that begin to download onto the task bar each time I go online.
When I get off line before they finish downloading, they disappear do I
watch the per centages as the download continues. There are traces of
Ezula sneaking in. I know that. I've seen the Spybot posse chase them
down.
[10:38] edited to add
Firefox on board - - - finally.
Thunderbird present, also.
Tomorrow, I try to figure out what I've got. Is Thunderbird an ISP?
Sorry. Brain went down before computer, this time.
Monday, November 08, 2004
Thursday, November 04, 2004
The Mud of March
In the spring of 1946, it was my family’s turn to challenge the rutted road to the little farm on Haw Creek.
In the mud of March, a young family struggled along the rutted road to cross the bridge where the farm of their new hopes began. Barely beyond the bridge, a long dead tree, standing like a high, white watchtower, welcomed them to the land and a distant cluster of buildings beckoned them. Following the westward ruts, they cast their eyes on the large field to their left. They could envision the crops sprouting in the spring, maturing in the summer heat and standing tall in the autumn days of harvest. At the western edge of the field, a stand of wintering cherry trees lined the farm’s edge. Through the trees, they could see a garden plot large enough for squash, melons, potatoes and the usual vegetable garden. A few yards more and they could see the driveway – and the house. From this vantage point, the large, square house seemed to be holding back the steep hill on its south and west sides. This sturdy house was to be their home. They could hardly believe it.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Over the years, many families had made this journey of discovery. In each of these years, the landlord introduced his new tenant to the farm in that age old way. Together, they walked the land.
In better times, the tenant would have seen the land before he brought the family but these were not better times. People who had lost their homes and their livelihoods often wandered into a town seeking food and shelter and hoping for employment. Shelter and employment might be found in town for a man or a man with a wife. A family presented a bigger problem.
This was not the first family to stand at the door, asking for work, and it would not be the last. As was the custom in this farm family, the door was open to those in need. The children looked so hungry and so tired. While a meal was produced, the table was set and the children were scrubbed. After the meal, quilts were brought out and spread on the living room floor for the children. Bellies filled, the children slept while the women did the dishes and the men spoke about history and possibilities. In the end, the women joined the men around the dining room table where a bargain was struck. Tomorrow, this displaced farm family would have a home.
In the dawning of the day, people seemed to be scurrying everywhere. Stoves were stoked, eggs were plucked from nests, water was fetched, the cow was milked, the animals were fed and, finally, a mass of people gathered to share breakfast. While the dishes were washed, the horses were harnessed for the journeys of the day. At the end of the lane, the farmer’s children turned toward school and the rest of the party turned westward.
For a short space, the road paralleled a deeply cut brook on the left. Soon the road began to rise, cutting through a hill, pastures on each side. On the downward slope, another road came into view. Turning south, they continued down the hill toward a small bridge, dreading the steep hill ahead. At the top of the steep hill, they could see an expanse of valley and more high hills in the southwest. The fields were flat and cleared and the line of trees promised plentiful water. Down the long hill they went and onto the flat of the valley floor, where they turned west.
In this moment of wonder, breath caught in the throat and eyes filled with tears, the family parked under the ancient Oak tree and looked around. The broad porch across the front of the house was welcoming. The all too swift rise of the concrete stairs could not inhibit them. They spilled out onto the spongy ground and, determined, trudged up the gentle slope to the house. Standing on the porch, they looked into the windows and were astonished. Ushered in by the landlord, they gazed around and spoke in hushed voices, which echoed off the smooth plaster walls, as they surveyed the wide stairs leading to the floor above and the pillared archway leading to the dining room. This was the most amazing house they’d seen. And, it was for them. This was the tenants’ home, unlike any tenants’ quarters they’d ever experienced.
It was a busy morning. The new house was cold. When wood had been carried and fires had been laid, when water had been fetched, the wagon could be drawn up to the front steps and whatever household goods there were could be unloaded and distributed through the house. By this time, there was warm water and the scrubbing could begin. While the men walked the land, cupboards and cabinets were scoured, dried and filled.
It was time, now, to unload the landlord’s wagon. It was quite filled with wonders. The landlord’s wife has brought food for the day, stuffs for the pantry and, often, small household goods and clothing she’d found at hand.
It had been a great day. And, as darkness enveloped the landscape, this sturdy, warm, busy house emitted a tiny light, proclaiming its new hope to the neighbors across the fields of the valley. This new light cheered the valley. It was always good to have a neighbor so, in the days to come, the house would welcome neighbors coming to meet its occupants. They would bring little gifts. “Cherries from your own orchard,” one might say as the jar of cherries or the little jar of jelly was presented. Before long, these new neighbors would know where to hunt the best nuts, berries and game all around the hills of this enterprising little community.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
In the mud of March, a young family struggled along the rutted road to cross the bridge where the farm of their new hopes began. Barely beyond the bridge, a long dead tree, standing like a high, white watchtower, welcomed them to the land and a distant cluster of buildings beckoned them. Following the westward ruts, they cast their eyes on the large field to their left. They could envision the crops sprouting in the spring, maturing in the summer heat and standing tall in the autumn days of harvest. At the western edge of the field, a stand of wintering cherry trees lined the farm’s edge. Through the trees, they could see a garden plot large enough for squash, melons, potatoes and the usual vegetable garden. A few yards more and they could see the driveway – and the house. From this vantage point, the large, square house seemed to be holding back the steep hill on its south and west sides. This sturdy house was to be their home. They could hardly believe it.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Over the years, many families had made this journey of discovery. In each of these years, the landlord introduced his new tenant to the farm in that age old way. Together, they walked the land.
In better times, the tenant would have seen the land before he brought the family but these were not better times. People who had lost their homes and their livelihoods often wandered into a town seeking food and shelter and hoping for employment. Shelter and employment might be found in town for a man or a man with a wife. A family presented a bigger problem.
This was not the first family to stand at the door, asking for work, and it would not be the last. As was the custom in this farm family, the door was open to those in need. The children looked so hungry and so tired. While a meal was produced, the table was set and the children were scrubbed. After the meal, quilts were brought out and spread on the living room floor for the children. Bellies filled, the children slept while the women did the dishes and the men spoke about history and possibilities. In the end, the women joined the men around the dining room table where a bargain was struck. Tomorrow, this displaced farm family would have a home.
In the dawning of the day, people seemed to be scurrying everywhere. Stoves were stoked, eggs were plucked from nests, water was fetched, the cow was milked, the animals were fed and, finally, a mass of people gathered to share breakfast. While the dishes were washed, the horses were harnessed for the journeys of the day. At the end of the lane, the farmer’s children turned toward school and the rest of the party turned westward.
For a short space, the road paralleled a deeply cut brook on the left. Soon the road began to rise, cutting through a hill, pastures on each side. On the downward slope, another road came into view. Turning south, they continued down the hill toward a small bridge, dreading the steep hill ahead. At the top of the steep hill, they could see an expanse of valley and more high hills in the southwest. The fields were flat and cleared and the line of trees promised plentiful water. Down the long hill they went and onto the flat of the valley floor, where they turned west.
In this moment of wonder, breath caught in the throat and eyes filled with tears, the family parked under the ancient Oak tree and looked around. The broad porch across the front of the house was welcoming. The all too swift rise of the concrete stairs could not inhibit them. They spilled out onto the spongy ground and, determined, trudged up the gentle slope to the house. Standing on the porch, they looked into the windows and were astonished. Ushered in by the landlord, they gazed around and spoke in hushed voices, which echoed off the smooth plaster walls, as they surveyed the wide stairs leading to the floor above and the pillared archway leading to the dining room. This was the most amazing house they’d seen. And, it was for them. This was the tenants’ home, unlike any tenants’ quarters they’d ever experienced.
It was a busy morning. The new house was cold. When wood had been carried and fires had been laid, when water had been fetched, the wagon could be drawn up to the front steps and whatever household goods there were could be unloaded and distributed through the house. By this time, there was warm water and the scrubbing could begin. While the men walked the land, cupboards and cabinets were scoured, dried and filled.
It was time, now, to unload the landlord’s wagon. It was quite filled with wonders. The landlord’s wife has brought food for the day, stuffs for the pantry and, often, small household goods and clothing she’d found at hand.
It had been a great day. And, as darkness enveloped the landscape, this sturdy, warm, busy house emitted a tiny light, proclaiming its new hope to the neighbors across the fields of the valley. This new light cheered the valley. It was always good to have a neighbor so, in the days to come, the house would welcome neighbors coming to meet its occupants. They would bring little gifts. “Cherries from your own orchard,” one might say as the jar of cherries or the little jar of jelly was presented. Before long, these new neighbors would know where to hunt the best nuts, berries and game all around the hills of this enterprising little community.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)