So much for that grand excursion.
Murphy’s Law in the form of a muffler clamp caught in a snowbank and detaching from the car sent us rattling to the nearest car repair place. The Baron got it fixed, but the dentist said a half-hour delay wouldn’t work with his schedule. Sigh. That means another appointment. It’s difficult to smother one’s glee at a missed dental appointment… postponing the necessary is both stressful and a relief.
Now, all those layers of clothes are peeled off and here we are, open for comments.
Fire when ready, y’all.
By the way, there’s an old saying ’round here that took me many years to decipher:
I’ve mentioned this before but we have lots of new readers since the last telling of this tale. Around here, as people take leave of one another, sometimes their parting remark is, “See you soon, God willing and the creek don’t rise”…
Sounds like rural-South-speak, right? Not quite. Those rising creeks were once Creek indian tribes who, in fact, did often rise against The Encroaching White man, rising so far as to kill off the residents of small villages in the area. Creeks weren’t the only one tribe. Coastal Virginia still has a small Indian population; there are two remnants.
Here’s a brief wiki on two of the remaining Indian tribes who actually have their own reservation and make a modest living from the tourist trade.The Mattaponi is one of them.
According to archaeologists, indigenous peoples of successive cultures have been living in the area now called Virginia for as long as 15,000 years
Schloss Bodissey is on a plateau or ridge some distance from the James River. The small creek in back of us must have been a popular spot for the Woodland Indians, who appear to have used what is now our property as a seasonal stopping place. This was more or less three thousand years ago. [Or so we were told by an archeological grad student who spent a lot of time studying Colonial artifacts along the coast and dated our find with some authority.]
Every time we dig in the garden, we’re on the lookout for arrowheads and spear points, chipped from the abundant quartzite rocks in the soil. When they excavated here for the foundation of our house addition twenty or so years ago, a beautiful intact spear point was unearthed just a few feet down. One of the carpenters told me such a find was good luck for the house. And so it has been.
I imagine Brits must feel the same sense of awe when they unearth some Roman artifact or other and hold it in their hands. It’s a strange feeling to hold in the palm of your hand an artifact that was crafted three thousand years ago.
…there are precious few “aborigines” left. Not enough to “rise up”, anyway — as the Creek once did when they believed they had a chance to push back against the encroachment of the barbarian White Man. ’Twas ever thus.
Dominance isn’t eternal. When our home is gone some generations down from now, curious people will be digging the soil. I wonder what will remain for the curious.