On HWY 82 yesterday, between West Point and Starkville, I saw an overturned horse trailer a quarter of a mile ahead and there was a man standing on the shoulder who was signaling for everyone to slow down.
My chest seized up when I first entertained the idea that there were horses inside. I think of horses as being so heavy and long-limbed – sturdy when upright but almost absurdly brittle in every other inclination. As I passed, I looked back and saw two brown horses on their sides, one on top of the other. There were two men and a woman talking to the horses and trying to figure out how to get them out safely.
I really hope that the horses are alright. That when they were removed from the trailer that their limbs were whole… that they didn’t bolt into traffic… that they didn’t kick anyone…
Update: Found a tweet that the horses are okay:
“She felt that she could so much more depend upon the sincerity of those who sometimes looked or said a careless or a hasty thing, than of those whose presence of mind never varied, whose tongue never slipped.”
Austen, Mansfield Park
“We lose our bearings entirely by speaking of the ‘lower classes’ when we mean humanity minus ourselves.” – G.K. Chesterton
These two facts I’ve heard recently really made me pause:
1. The U.S. economy still has fewer breadwinner jobs than it did in 2007.
2. The 22,235,000 people employed by government in the United States now outnumber the 12,258,000 employed in manufacturing by 9,977,000.
My friend Neil is studying in England right now and has been sending me some great place names:
Stoke Newington, Tooting Bec, Chalk Farm, Heron Quays, Golders Green, Pontoon Dock, Limehouse, Snaresbrook, Harrow & Wealdstone, Tott’ridge and Whetstone, Angel, Chigwell, Crouch End, Neasden, Ickenham, Bromley-by-Bow.
I think it would be really cool to live in “Crouch End.”
I just finished listening to Jane Eyre on audiobook. It was great, and the reader’s English accent was very pleasant. When I finished listening to the book, I immediately thought of looking up literary criticism to find out who Rita is. Throughout the novel, Jane writes, as in a diary, to someone named “Rita” and yet there are no epistolary artifacts – a diary written *to* someone seemed to be an interesting thing to explore. Of course, as I told Ann what I was hoping to research, it dawned on me that “Rita” is “reader!” My train of thought – maybe “Rita” is a pun for “reader” and then, doh…
I thought this roundtable was helpful in thinking through the recent controversy caused by the TGC article. The real lesson of the whole event is that it’s a bad idea to process thoughts about race in public. It’s a perilous topic to broach and there are no rewards for failure that aren’t overwhelmed by the likely punishments for failure. You’re better off serving your immediate neighbors or making your garden a more beautiful place.
I overheard a guy talking to a Russian acquaintance of mine who has a thick accent. The guy said, “where are you from?” My acquaintance said,”Russia.” The guy said, “Oh, I lived in Europe for two years- nice area.”
A few that I identified this afternoon with a new app that someone suggested to me:
California Vervain (violet flowers)
Largeleaf Lantana (yellow flowers)
Largeleaf Lantana (yellow and reddish orange flowers)
Japanese Spindle Tree
Let me assure you from recent, foolishly obtained experience, that while 4 O’Clocks are technically edible, this fact should not sway you to try so much as a tiny piece of a leaf unless you truly want to learn what the “marvel of Peru” entails.