The Bane of My Existence

 

As I lay in bed the other night, feeling sorry for myself, I asked God if it was really necessary for me to have a poison ivy rash every summer of my life. At sixty-six years old, must I really continue to suffer these miserable rashes? 

As a child, I played in fields and woods, ignorant of the plant that would hijack two weeks of my summer vacations with itching misery every year. Back then, we gave no thought to sunscreen, tick repellent, or plant identification. Summer vacation was pure freedom to swim, play outside after dark, explore streams and woods, and get into general mischief. 

I don't recall any of the other kids in our neighborhood having poison ivy, only me. I remember one day in particular. I was sitting on our front stoop and my friends came to call me out to play. I was too miserable even to play. The kids studied my legs as though they were a circus wonder. The rashes are hideous when they weep. The best treatment we had at that time were oatmeal baths and Calamine lotion. Neither had any good effect on my rashes. No, having poison ivy meant enduring the rash until it was good and ready to go away. Those rashes lasted for two weeks at the least. On hot nights when it was too hot to sleep, it felt even worse as we tossed and turned in our beds. Oh, the misery. Poison ivy was the bane of my summer existence.

The year that I was entering fifth grade, on one of the last evenings of summer vacation, I went with my  friend, Rosina, to her grandmother's house. It was an old farm way out in the countryside of Averill Park. This was Labor Day and it was our next to last night before school began. We were very excited about school starting but we were soaking up this last freedom. We played under shrubs and hedges, we explored an empty camp building and we generally ran around with no purpose whatsoever. I remember finding a fuzzy leaf and rubbing on my cheek. It was not a poison ivy leaf, I am sure of that now, but we must have been crawling through a patch of the poison plant while we played. The next morning I woke up with my face swollen and burning. My eyes were swollen shut and my skin felt tight. To my horror, I had poison ivy all over my face. That was the first time my mother ever took me to the doctor for poison ivy. The doctor gave me an injection and some cream. That rash went away quicker than other rashes had done, but I had to miss the first two days of school. When I did return to school, I still had oozing sores, red skin and no self-confidence about my appearance. It was difficult walking into a classroom filled with new classmates who had already chosen desks and had begun school without me. In my anxiety I wanted to turn and run home. To my utter relief, there were three girls who were kind and pitying of me. Each of them invited me to sit next to them. I still remember their names and faces and the feeling of melting relief I had for being accepted. To this day, I think of them as my heroes.

So, here we are today. I can identify poison ivy in a flash. It grows in all the outlying edges of our property and I always steer clear. BUT, in the last few years, it is cropping up in our yard. Seedlings grow on our patio, under shrubs and in our groomed beds. I think the birds are dropping the poison ivy berries they pluck or eat from the mature vines in the woods. These berries take root in our yard. I have seen the thick, hairy poison ivy vines that climb twenty feet high on old tree trunks back there. Those old vines have clusters of berries on them. 

Last weekend, I decided that I needed to pull up a poison ivy vine that I had let go last year for fear of touching it. It was growing up one of our Viburnum shrubs and I was afraid it would strangle it. I put on gloves and very carefully reached under the shrub to pull it out at the root. I tenderly tossed it aside where it could shrivel up. Then, I went into the house and, out of caution, washed my hands and arms in rubbing alcohol and then dish detergent. Then I showered. The next day the rash appeared on my arms. Welcome misery. Days later, new patches are still appearing. This is the worst rash I have had in many years. I know that a course of steroids will minimize it. But, I am on the fence whether to endure the rash or the side effects from the steroids. For now, I scrub it three times a day, put Caladryl on it, then bandage the worst arm to soak up the weeping of the sores. It looks hideous but at least it's not my face.

 

 

A Party for Claire

 

It is hard to believe Claire turned forty years old. Was it really that many years ago we had our first baby?! To mark this special occasion, her sisters and I planned a surprise party. Chelsea flew down from New Hampshire and Daniel made up a good reason to drive Claire and their family up from North Carolina. Claire was certainly surprised when she found Chelsea standing out on our patio! We made a celebration of the entire weekend from food shopping, to prep, to party.

We rented a large picnic shelter at Douthat State Park and threw a Tiki themed party.  Audrey and Tess bought lots of decorations, Chelsea made an excellent play list, and we all found Hawaiian recipes to prepare a picnic feast. 

It was a pretty setting for a party out in the woods. It was raining on and off but the kids,grand kids, nieces and nephews all managed to get in a little time on the lake. The rain didn't stop us from eating well, listening to good music, and celebrating Claire. Chelsea switched the music over to forties swing and all the dancers took to the area they had cleared for dancing. 

 

I was a little bit sad for the day to be over and to say goodbye to Claire and her family as they departed back home. Claire was my introduction into motherhood and I could not have had an easier, sweeter baby for my first. My heart is always full when I can have all my girls together at the same time, 

Torrential Rains

 I forgot to post about the torrential downpours we had earlier this week. Right around dinner time on Monday it rained so hard and so quickly that water accumulated in a flash. It was alarming to see flooding occur so fast. I heard reports that in some places four inches of rain fell within thirty minutes.

The flume I built was overwhelmed by too much water flowing down the hill. A normal rain would have caused a light flow of water but this was a gushing stream. The bricks did help prevent erosion of the soil so that was something positive. Some water still backed up to the house and into our basement. Steve kept up with the flow by using the Shop Vac. 

In the midst of all that downpour, I had to drive Chelsea to the airport. Tess went ahead of us down the road. We slowly rolled through high water and carefully avoided washed out gravel and fallen branches and debris. We came upon one small incline in the road that was rushing down with water such that it looked like a waterfall! Tess thought it was too dangerous to traverse. When we saw her turning round, we did the same. We took another back road to cut across to the highway. We saw fields turned into lakes. The hills were sending water into ravines that ran like rushing streams. Emergency vehicles passed us heading north, toward Eagle Rock. The whole scene felt apocalyptic. We could only think of our West Virginia and North Carolina neighbors and what they endured last year. I never saw so much water rise up in such a short span of time. I always thought we were safe in the mountains and on high ground from flooding. But, all the hills, hollows, streams, and ravines serve as channels for heavy rainfall. The water rushes down, carrying everything with it.

Eerily, as we left our county and headed into Roanoke, not a drop of rain had fallen. The roads were dry and flights were on time. I drove back home in a light rain. The washed out gullies left a lot of debris in the road but the flooded areas had receded. I was glad it was still light outside for my drive. 

The forecast shows chanced of storms again on Thursday. Steve and I will need to get outside and work  more on the grading near the back corner of the house to better channel water away. Aside from keeping the house dry, there is really no way to prepare for such flooding. It comes too quickly and the roads became impassable so fast that one cannot safely drive to get away from it.

Our road quickly turned into a fast flowing creek.

This is where we decided to turn around and find another route.

Sugar Shack

 

Our son-in-law from Quebec became an American citizen last month. Chelsea flew down from New Hampshire this past weekend for her sister's birthday and I was finally able to give her this little rug to take home. I hooked it as a nod to Simon's heritage. It is designed by Isabelle Rollin of Quebec and is titled, "Sugar Shack". I thought this design fitting as a gift for them because Simon told me once that being Quebecois meant that maple syrup runs through his veins instead of blood.

 Chelsea and Simon also have friends in New Hampshire who own Kearsarge Gore Farm. I had an opportunity to visit their wonderful sugar shack a few years ago. Their syrup is delicious. My little quilly wood pile does not accurately represent the true size of their wood pile. It was enormous!

 

 

 

Things (Not) in Common with a Troll Doll

 

Seven year old granddaughter Violet spent the day with me yesterday. She ran across this little troll that belonged to my older sister in the mid 1960's. As she gently stroked its hair she said, "Nonni, if you grew your hair long you would look like this." I thought, "Huh??"

Later on, I shared this exchange with my other daughters over Marco Polo and we all had a good laugh. Nine year old Hugo got on and he said, "You would not look like that. For one, you are not that small. And for another, you would not be undressed."  Then he held up his finger and pointedly said, "Not to be disrespectful or embarrassing." We cracked up even more. 

No one said anything about my ears, nose, or eyes...

Warm Springs, VA

 

We took a weekend getaway to this lovely cottage in Warm Springs. It is a beautifully renovated three bedroom, three bathroom VRBO located right behind the Jefferson Baths. We went with two other couples with whom we frequently travel. The weather was cool and fresh and we had a fun time exploring. Warm Springs is exactly one hour from our house. I don't know why we don't drive up there more often. We vowed to come back again, even if only for a day excursion.

Warm Springs is best known for the Jefferson Baths and the Omni Resort, called The Homestead. We dined one evening at the resort and another at The Inn at Warm Springs. The food and service at The Inn were excellent and we were able to easily walk across the road to it. On Saturday afternoon Steve and I went to the baths. It was a peaceful, relaxing soak and we were happy we took the time to do that. It was not crowded on that particular day so they gave us a choice of the ladies or the gentleman's pool. We chose the ladies which is larger and has an open roof. The gentleman's bathhouse is a bit smaller with rafters that crisscross the roof hole but, it has a little side room with a little waterfall where the warm water rushes out. One can sit in the waterfall. 

We went exploring and found the nicest antique shop called, Springhouse Antiques. Every item in the store was immaculate. All six of us chatted with the owner's husband and marveled over the beautiful antiques. We found a couple of goodies to purchase and much more that we would have liked to purchase. We also took a drive to Hidden Valley. We visited the Bed and Breakfast there and looked at the Kitchen House and grounds. The plantation house has a grand and imposing entrance. It was built facing the Jackson River. Trees now obscure the river view but it was easy to imagine the early days of this farm while we walked the grounds. The main building serves as a bed and breakfast and the kitchen house is available to rent with three bedrooms and two bathrooms. They feature the fact that the 1993 movie, Sommersby was filmed there.

Nestled in the mountains is a natural warm spring. Warm steam rises fro the water on a chilly morning.

 

The larger bathhouse with changing rooms encircling the deck. The water is a constant 98.7 degrees. The water is six feet deep and the bottom is river rock. There are black foam floaties to help stay afloat.

The water is mineral rich with calcium, magnesium, and lithium.

The pristine Springhouse Antiques store.

 

Springhouse Antiques has a pretty, old fashioned store front. (which is no longer used as the main entrance)

A front view of the Warwickton Bed and Breakfast in Hidden Valley. It is in a very secluded location. The front elevation would have a sweeping view of the river if trees did not obscure it.

The main house and the kitchen house are attached with a breezeway.

The kitchen house is also available to rent by the night.

Channeling the Water

This is my experiment to see if I can get the water that flows down the hill, past the perennial bed, and behind the shed to flow without washing away the soil. Bricks are compliments of the old smokehouse that was torn down next door twenty-three years ago and scavenged by me. I still had a pile left even after I lined all the garden beds and paths with them over the past two decades. It took me six hours of hard, but fun, labor. 

We just had three days of rain, two of which were a steady pour. So far, so good!

I call it a gully. Steve calls it a flume. 

Getting started.

Nearing the end.

Transitioned from brick to river rock behind the shed.