Out in the Woods Again

You may see Fiorella as past her prime, but the fire ants see her as prime beef. Filet mignon, to be exact.
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Fio was out on the acreage for a while yesterday afternoon, gathering up rocks to shore up the driveway and pulling fallen branches out of the woodsto chainsaw into firewood for the winter--if there is one this year.
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Did Fio tell you that one of the boxwoods in the row she and Husband planted two years ago is GONE? She would guess that a hungry deer ate it, not realizing it was deer-resistant. Somewhere on the acreage, there is a deer with a very bad stomach ache.
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Did she also tell you that her bayberries are being eaten alive again this year? She sprayed them with the appropriate insecticide, but it may be too late. Damn--she thought they were unkillable.
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This is hilarious. At this very moment, Fio is sitting on the couch in the den, supposedly working on her book while Sonia Dog snores on the right side of her and Husband, on his recliner, snores on the left side of her.  And guess who's making the most disturbing racket?

News Flashes

Okay, now a man in wee little Georgetown has been exposed to Ebola.  It's all  matter of time.
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Fio and Husband had their rock-gathering expedition in the west yard interrupted by an army of wicked-looking little black ants that gushed out of the ground and stung like hell.  We were totally routed.
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We have all these wonderful electronic means of communication--email, FaceBook, Google--and they all go down the drain at the slightest hint of a thunderstorm. Nature will prevail.

Fio's Theory of Afterlife

Recent research has suggested that some children are born with genetic tendencies toward violence, and, of course, we know that bad nurturing can also cause children to develop negative patterns of behavior. Children can also be born with diseases that cause them to act out.  In short, we are all the products of nature, nurture, and happenstance.  Why then, would a caring God condemn those who have three strikes against them from the outset?

What Fiorella hopes happens is that we will all be cleansed in the fire, then dwell in peace and love forevermore.

Woven Together

Fiorella gathered several old photographs to email to Cousin Norma for the family epic she's putting together. God bless Norma. She's researched Grandfather John back to his roots in an obscure Eastern European town, and even a few generations before that. Fiorella contributed a few family anecdotes and some "begats" she'd written down at some point, but that was about it.

Family histories are important. They give you a sense of where you came from--not necessarily biologically, because God only knows who really hooked up with whom--but of the composition of your nest.

We've got family histories written by Husband's parents in their later years, and Fiorella has learned a lot about Husband by leafing through them.

Nature is the clay, but nurture is what molds it.

Another Day

Ah, the splendor of the sunrise . . . .

Fio awoke to a silent dawn filtered through the tangled branches of the large, old live oak just outside her east-facing window wall, and she rejoiced in the gift of a new day.

And she deserves it, after the harum-scarum of yesterday.