Open Writing

This is the time of year when that seasonal Midwest driving hazard returns to our rural roads. It will be a continuing threat to life, limb and vehicles until the last corn is picked this fall.

The trouble is, we all get accustomed, the rest of the year, to treating those corners as having wide-open visibility from all directions. But when the corn nears full height, you are faced with a pair of rather narrow roads, with narrow berms, where visibility is completely blocked, from all four directions.

Whether the roads are gravel or blacktop, and lightly or heavily traveled, they are likely, here in Boone County, to be equipped with good clear signage, not badly defaced, rusted, or obscured by overhanging tree limbs.

But signs are not brakes. And even brakes don’t always perform in ways we expect from them.

Some farmers go in and mow the corn to cut back a triangular visual safety corridor. But that is expensive and inconvenient for the farmer, and most don’t do it.

I’ve read that in some localities, usually where the community has suffered a sickening loss of local citizens, some plan has been devised to at least partly compensate the farmers for the expense of cutting back a viewing window.

But in the end, it’s up to each of us drivers to be aware of such hazards and be prepared to handle them. I, for one, don’t want to spend the rest of my life beating myself up because I killed a neighbor by inattention.

Necessities

Wonder how many generations of strong and healthy people lived without air conditioning in what is now Boone County? Going all the way back to 10,000 or 12,000 years ago? Maybe a lot longer than that. We don’t have even window units in our house. We do have lots of shade trees, usually a good breeze, a powerful exhaust fan, and very good ventilation.

We also have regular annual discussions about this time of year on the subject. Mother Nature isn’t helping my side of the debate much, either.

Life in the bonus years

The retirement books don’t tell you about treasured moments such as this. Here I sit at the breakfast table, hoping to enjoy my bowl of bran flakes with prune bits.

And after I take the first big spoonful I realize I forgot to put in both my upper and lower dentures.

Good neighbors

I looked out the kitchen door one sleepless night and saw that big, out-of-control batch of baby coons, without any sign of their mother. But enjoying breakfast with them was the ugly gray and white possum, which is at least a year old, but about the same size as those mischief-makers.

The possum was behaving more or less as a parent. Baby sitter, do you suppose? Live-in Nanny? That mother coon could certainly use some help from someone older and wiser in the ways of raising children. I’ll be watching to see if they continue traveling together on the nightly food gathering circuit.

More coon antics

Old Tillie ain’t no dummy. The other afternoon she and her one remaining kit were busily eating at 6:30, which is still broad daylight. No competition at that hour.

Another evening I went out there and saw that the food dishes were empty, but it looked as if a customer had been browsing. I put some food in one bowl, hollered, “Here, Tillie-til-til, come get some food.” Not ten minutes after I went in the house she was out there eating. Must have been hiding somewhere watching me.

Saw Larry And Moe the other night, along towards morning. One goes out on the sidewalk and stands guard until his brother finishes. They like to knock things around, explore the inside of empty feed bags, etc., just like they did when they were still living with Tillie. Big doofuses!

Nice weather

It’s nice to have a cool day now and then, even if you have to pay for it with a cloudy sky and a few small thunder-boomers. As long as they don’t blow anything away or set fire to the barn, I don’t mind. Of course, I don’t work outdoors as a general rule.

Matter of fact, I don’t work, as a general rule.

I’ve found it’s my best talent. Not working, that is.

More trouble in the Shepardsville suburbs

Avie has been having more trouble walking than I have. She doesn’t like to be mentioned here, but if you’ve seen her out and around you might wonder. Both knees and her lower back have decided to start acting up, all at once. Arthritis, mainly. And congenital orneriness, of course. Right now she’s got two doctors, or maybe it’s three, plus the Witham Rehab folks all trying to get her back on track. When we go anywhere involved with medical matters, which is where we mostly go these days, we have to let them know which one is the patient and which the helper. To look at us you might thing we were both candidates for the Critical Care Unit.

She’ll get over it, though. She’s a tough young lady. After all, she’s survived living with me for fifty odd years. (Well, some of them weren’t so odd).