Cooling Off

One of my favorite pictures is this one of my mom and her sisters Rosa, Taty, and two friends taking a dip in Panther Creek near Panola, Illinois.  My mom is in the middle.  Taty is on the right and Rosa is on the left.  Do you see the smiles?  Can you almost imagine the sparkle in their eyes?  Kids are kids.  Water is water.  And hot days in the summer just naturally draw the two together.

I love the handkerchiefs tied in knots on four corners that they have on their heads.  I have another picture of the same crew on the same day....out of the water. It appears as if they are in their bloomers and undershirts, shaking the water out of their eyes and wringing the last drop from their clothes.  I wonder what my Grandmother did when they arrived at the back door, dripping wet and laughing?

I know how hot it is in Illinois in the summer.  And we all know the sizzling days we have here in the Ozarks as the hot and humid weather makes us yearn for cool water and soft shade.  This picture was taken in 1920.  And I do believe I could go down to the creek here at home and find a similar scene any day.  Kids in the water.  They may not have handkerchiefs on their heads or be swimming in their underwear.  But they are laughing and calling and dunking each other under that cool refreshing water.  Some things never change.

Sidelined

This is a picture from long years ago when my hair was mostly brown and I could fit into size 10 jeans.  How I love to dance.  Always have,  Always will.  It is just part of me, like breathing or walking or smiling.

Unfortunately, my dancing days may be over.  It all started last fall with a pesky ache in my right hip.  Went to the doctor.  The MRI showed a considerable amount of fluid in the joint causing pain and aggravation.  The solution was easy.  Fluid drawn off the hip.  Cortisone shot injected in the area.  Good as new.

Well, not quite.  Fast forward to January of this year.  Clearing brush I strained my lower back.  Major pain for some time but nothing I had not experienced before.  I knew it would get better in a few weeks with rest and relaxation.  

And then the hip started to hurt again.  Was it my back?  Was it my hip?  I hobbled around as if I had suddenly added several years to my life.  And as you well know, that is not me.  I tried exercising.  Painful, painful.  Not at all the thing to do, said my body.

Another visit to the doctor.  Another MRI.  More x-rays.  The news was not good.  My hip had developed more fluid.  And the worst was that actually the joint was now practically bone-on-bone.  The fluid was drawn off again.  And I decided to get a second opinion, not liking the recommendation that I needed a hip replacement.  No! my mind screamed.  No!

My appointment with another doctor is in the beginning of July.  I am anxious to see what he says.  Maybe there is an easy fix.  Maybe I won't have to have surgery.

But now the festival in West Plains is coming up.  Jig dance contest, three hours of square dancing for two nights.  Lots of friends that we only get to dance with a few times a year  will be there.

But I can't dance.  I will be sidelined.  Not my idea of a good time.  Sitting and listening to dance music is not what I want to do.  But that is what will happen.  

Tapping my toes, I will pretend that I am dancing, hearing the sound of shoes keeping time with the fiddle.  And I will be sitting there.....waiting for the day when I can dance.  Hopefully.  With fingers crossed.  Waiting to dance....again.

Bears and bees

The night before last all was well with our bees in their new hive.  They were tucking themselves in for the night, humming as they cleaned up after the busy day, making plans for the coming of daybreak, knowing there was much to be done in their constant search for food and water.  Busy bees indeed.

But sometime in the twenty-four hour period between eight p.m. Wednesday and seven p. m. last night, a black bear raided our hive and scattered it across the green grass.  Andy found it first and came to get me to help.  I don't work with the bees but I can be an extra pair of hands on occasion.  I took pictures while he assessed the damage.  Thankfully, bees were clustered on the main hive body and the frames of comb were intact.  After suiting up Andy carefully put things back together.  I stayed in the truck, with the windows rolled up and mourned, trying to get an idea of what we might need to do next.

We have had bees before, in Illinois and in the Irish Wilderness.  It had been nearly forty years since we had fooled with them but we were delighted to take on beekeeping again.  Not so much for the honey but for the pleasure of seeing them work so hard.  They are fascinating creatures.

Andy worked hard last night, moving the hive to a new location and then he was up early this morning getting them settled in.  They are mad.  They are fighting mad.  Andy has been stung many times, but he is used to it.  Fingers crossed that they decide to stay where they are now.  I would be very unhappy if they swarmed and left us.  

But there is one thing we have learned.  Bees make honey.  Bears like honey.  And right there is one of those sad facts of life.  Bears and bees don't mix.