The sign at the bank at the turn to the hospital on Sawyer said it was 14? this morning  sometime between 6:15 and 6:30. It was cold enough that frost formed inside the little green car and on the rearview mirror. (When I was a little girl, my ears heard “review” mirror, as in review where you have been. Made sense then. Heck, it makes sense now . . . unless you are backing up – so never mind.) Back home, I decided it as time to have a fire because it was . . . yes, cold. Wood outside on a pile is very cold, too, especially if you are not wearing gloves.

Now, at 8:21 am, I am sitting in front of said fire, but with shoes on. I think shoes, especially heavy ones that have been out in the cold, can get in the way of fully enjoying a fire. Actually, it’s a bit like having cement “L’s” on your feet.
CLUNK  …….     CLUNK. That would be the sound of my shoes dropping to the floor if it were not carpeted. As it is, the sound is more of a THUNK. Freed from being encased in what felt like solid blocks of concrete, my toes stretch out toward the heat. Ahhhhh. Yes.

Oh, we need more wood . . . Should have thought of that before “thunking”. *

* to thunk: to let one’s shoes fall from feet to a carpeted floor; past tense of to think in some circles.

WAIT!! The word sun* was in the title of this post, so, yes, sun is predicted for a good part of the day.

* sun: object in sky rarely seen this winter in Northern Indiana.

Yes, I am. I am sitting here looking at the fire I built. Can’t you just feel the warmth! Oh, five inch penalty for taunting – I have to move back five inches. Damn refs.

Well, I suppose that’s all right since they say a neatly kept house is the sign of convention-bound, dull person. Or is it a lazy one. Hmmm . . .

When I’m out on the porch and look down at the floor in front of where I am sitting, I see this needlepoint footstool. Gotta love the cow. I picked this up at a Goodwill store; it was a real nice fine – made my day.

In fact, I hate to put my feet on it , but in the end, I do; the cow doesn’t mind and it makes balancing my laptop much easier.

Oh, speaking of laptops, Apple just introduced the Airbook . . . for about $1,800. ACK!!!Oh, speaking of laptops, Apple just introduced the Airbook . . . for about $1,800. ACK!!!

After checking out some information on the South Fork Dam that gave way and flooded Johnstown, Pa. in 1889, I started thinking about the St. Francis Dam – although I couldn’t remember it’s name and had to look it up by referencing Mulholland. It collapsed in a spectacular and deadly fashion two years after the 1926 dedication and released a 2.8 mile long lake which roared toward the ocean. At this site, pdf files can be opened to look at the reports about and impact of the dam collapse. One pdf discusses reassessment of the dam failure and includes this photograph:

This is not a surprise; it is happened before – several times in my life, actually. It was cold out in the diesel at 6 am, getting it started and defrosted for a trip to take my daughter-in-law to work. But I didn’t mind it so much – the little glow plug light was orange and then went out and when I turned the key, the engine responded with a healthy chug, chug, chug. There was no doubt about it, no thought of deciding, “Oh, heck, AmeliaJake, it’s too cold for me to do this . . . I’m just going to stop all this foolishness and let my parts rest.” But it was steadfast, doing its job. Oh, Little Green Car, I love you.

This is a decoy that my father-in-law, William A. Vance jr. gave me one year because he knew I liked rustic things with a history. He found it in a shed or barn or basement or whatever located on his property on the Mississippi River, just south of Nauvoo, the place from which the Mormons left to go to Salt Lake City. Joseph Smith, the religion’s founder, was hung there, mob-fashion, and the rest decided it was best to head out.

I think there are some things that break you heart so completely that nothing else ever seems to phase you; but that which broke your heart is still capable of coming back and devastating you all over again, despite the years that have passed.

More accurately, I should ask: Remember hearing about the Johnstown Flood of 1889? I have always thought it a compelling story, but over the years, I have come to be most fascinated not by the mass of water that barreled down the valley, but by the dry lake left behind. This morning while doing a little history researching type of thing, I found a a site where an apparent railroad buff had posted pictures of trains in Pennsylvania. Down at the bottom of the page was this picture.
Photographer: Tony Kimmel
Location: South Fork, PA
Date: October 21, 2007
Description: Three blue 80MACs bring a train northbound through the former lake Conemaugh.

So, the resort homes would have been along the treeline and that low-lying grizzled area is the original lake bed, which, of course, was previously an original low-lying grizzled area.

Go HERE to get information concerning David McCullough’s book about the flood. Click HERE to see photos from the Library of Congress.

Some time ago, I came upon a blog about Thomas Bickle, who was discovered to have a brain tumor when he was around six months old. I think I have been reading about him for seven months now, and late last fall read his mother’s entry that the cancer was winning. She said they were going to enjoy the time between the discontinuation of chemo and the appearance of symptoms from the growing mass in his head. She said they probably wouldn’t blog much during “this cold season.”

A couple of days after I read this, we put up our outside Christmas lights while the weather was favorable and it popped into my head that these lights – red and white and floating on air in the darkness – were Thomas Bickle’s lights. Somehow they were sending a message for him and about him. But now, it is nearing the time to turn them off and take them down . . . and I hadn’t thought about that.