Coop's Corner: Only Sort Of Potpourri

Monday, January 22, 2018

Only Sort Of Potpourri

I think I've blogged with the potpourri word before but this time I've actually got something that smells.

Besides fresh smelling herbs and formerly live plants, I see that a synonym is "medley". There's a good mix here of the latter..."fresh" isn't exactly the word most would use to describe some of the musty old smelling things I've been going through collections of lately. Luckily, what I'm sharing here is the best part(s), the images. You'll have to use your imagination for the scent.

First though, earlier today and the reason I came home early from work.

I thought this purple 'pin stripe' line, sleet, delineating the delta between snow and rain was almost too good. I don't remember ever seeing a buffer showing such a perfect width; something I would have to do in CAD to get this level of perfection.

And now.....according to Accuweather, 27 minutes until the snow ceases. I guess we know which way the winds are blowing, don't we?

Something not as recent but much more so than what follows below, this photo that was taken by my brother in 1974 in the wilds around Avery, ID and not far from the St. Joe River. I don't remember ever being in the photo, didn't remember that my brother had his camera and how I ever found it in my Great Aunt's things is an even bigger question. My brother obviously gave this to Aunt Anna, framed under glass and everything. I'm there in my blue 3/4 helmet on my 1970 Yamaha AT1 Enduro in a jean jacket I'm sure. I can say with authority, though the photo can't corroborate, that my brother was on his 1970 SL100 Honda.

We were there as a family of 4, visiting one of my dad's cousin's family's, the cousin working for the US Forest Service. Brother Kevin was so enthralled with the place (perfectly understandable) that he went back the following year as a summer employee.

(How we ever got back to camp without a GPS will forever be a mystery.)

Now we're down to the aromatic stuff....From the 1941 end of year Red Wing Newspaper, the Daily Republican Eagle (still being published!). I've seen all of these old photos at the local County Historical Society but I didn't have to go out in the cold and nasty to share them; they're right here on top of a big box.

Red Wing built a spiral bridge over the river in the 1890's, replaced by our current Eisenhower Bridge in 1960 and now in 2018, a new bridge is being built, something I've blogged about previously.

This the Hastings bridge but it was almost the same as the one downriver in Red Wing.

Photo courtesy of the Mpls Star and Tribune

4 comments:

RichardMJanuary 24, 2018 at 12:16 PM
I like the spiral wooden bridge. I know that circular bridges are commonplace now with all of the highway on/of ramps but there is something about one made from wood...

Paper maps are still useful. Add a compass and know how to use it.
ReplyDelete
Replies
TrobairitzJanuary 24, 2018 at 2:15 PM
Little bit of snow you have there. A good excuse to come home early and work on those projects.

I enjoyed the old photos and newspapers. So many things happened before our time.
ReplyDelete
Replies

Add comment

Others say....

"it was auspicious to approach any situation from a deferential, inquisitive place. Conceding that there is much to learn is the best blueprint for discovering something new." ----B. Fuller

The Man straightened stiffly above the block of salt fixed to the stake and looked at the young cattle ringed about him. The pasture was holding out well and the stock was looking good. This bunch would be ready to sell in another month, maybe sooner if the market was right.

A stir among the cattle down near the river brought him round to face the swinging bridge he'd built years before. Someone was coming toward him from the bridge. Someone in breeches, but it didn't look like a man, somehow. What was a woman doing in his pasture this time of night?

He bent over the salt again; maybe if he paid her no heed she'd go on past and let him mind his own business. He heard her footsteps come nearer and stop. "Good evening," she said.

Her voice was smooth with book learning but friendlier than most, and somehow almost shy. When he made no answer she went on, "I've been sitting on your swinging bridge....I thought I'd like to say thank-you...." Her voice stumbled a little, then she tried once more.

"You are Mr. ____". His name sounded strange in her voice, but she went on to tell her own.

"That's what they've called me the last sixty-eight years," he said, looking past her face to the hills fast darkening under a single star. "I reckon the woods are free for those that like to walk there."

The unfamiliar voice laughed a little. "That's what Emerson said: the grove belongs to the man who walks in it with an open heart....On that basis I guess I've owned part of your woods for a good many years.....". She made a final effort. "I've always wanted to thank you....."

Something deeply hidden stirred in him. "There's a stump up there, in the notch of the woods", he said slowly, "that before the timber grew so tall you could stand on it and see all over this country."

He kept still a minute, remembering, then, "I used to stand up there an' look at things, an' wonder how they come to be like they was, an' how the hills was created, an' all the things in Nature.... I told my wife I guessed all the religion I ever had I got standin' on that old stump, a-wonderin'..." He turned his face away from her.

She helped him out. "I know about that, a little. This afternoon I saw......." Her account of a thing she had really taken time to look at eased him, and he answered with telling of the badger den at the foot of the swinging bridge.

When she had gone, he turned to watch her. After a moment she stood clear and unmoving against the sky. You could hear the sounds of the river where she stood. She was one that could stand still long enough, he thought, really to hear what a body was saying, or a river.

Then she walked down the farther side of the slope and was gone. ------Margaret Snyder from A Chosen Valley

Fall was the end of harvest, end of the growing season, a burst of color and sun-warmth before killing frost turned the land gray and cold. Fall was a moody time, full of both life and death, a time when we were reminded of the power outside of us, reminded that the seasons happen to us. We do not invite the change to come.-------Ben Logan, from The Land Remembers

When you get those rare moments of clarity, those flashes when the universe makes sense, you try desperately to hold onto them. They are the lifeboats for the darker times, when the vastness of it all, the incomprehensible nature of life is completely elusive. So the question becomes or should have been all along, what would you do if you knew you only had one day, or one week, or one month to live. What lifeboat would you grab onto? What secret would you tell? What band would you see? What person would you declare your love to? What wish would you fulfill? What exotic locale would you fly to for coffee? What book would you write? ------- Ben Tyler

We were also cautioned about journeying far from home. As an example of the dangers, the town had a badly crippled lady named Lucy, who as a girl had traveled to New York City. As she traveled along a sidewalk, sightseeing, she was struck by the outstretched hand of a suicide who had leapt from high above. Her spine had been shattered and for the rest of her life, she was to walk bent forward at the waist, tapping the sidewalk with two black canes. Whenever the subject of travel to a big city was raised, someone would say, "Just remember what happened to Miss Tripp." ---- Ted Kooser, from Local Wonders

"Steamboats are like wedding cakes without the complications...." ----Mark Twain

"It's not about having lots of money, it's about having lots of options......." -----Chris Rock

As the very proud father of three former ponytail wearers, hopefully I can get away with this....."For the past few years it's been fashionable for young women to wear ball caps and to snap the strap on the back under their ponytails. I like the looks of that, their shiny ponytails jauntily swinging, but it's hard not to think of the rear ends of horses. There's a piece of harness called the crupper that goes just under a horse's tail to keep its nose down. If the horse lifts its head to look for a way out of whatever predicament it's in, the crupper tightens and hurts the horse. But it's foolish for parents to think that a ball cap might keep a young woman from running away. Anybody can see they're made for running." ------Ted Kooser, Local Wonders

"I tell the guy's girlfriend that the only difference between the book's main character Phaedrus and myself is that I am neither brilliant, tortured or insane, she looks at my bike and there is an uncomfortable silence." --------ahendepe (a.k.a. Vermin)