Sunday, March 28, 2010, 04:29
Bamboo
My bamboo shirt arrived Friday. It's my first one. I ordered it from All American Clothing. It is made in the USA, and it is 80 percent bamboo.
I did not know what to expect with a bamboo shirt. Actually, it is very soft. Light blue is the color I ordered, a robin's egg blue. The fabric has a drape to it that's a lot like silk. But it does not have the icky, skin-crawly feeling of silk. It is just very soft.
I was intrigued by the idea of a bamboo shirt. Bamboo is highly sustainable. It apparently does not require fertilizer and pesticides. And it grows quickly and regenerates quickly.
I am so very tired of buying "cheap junk" from Indonesia, Malawi, Honduras, El Salvador, India, China -- you name it. The shirts I have purchased from foreign countries either fall apart after the first washing or else they entirely, completely lose their shape. So. Time will tell how the bamboo shirt holds up when it has been worn and washed. It is a polo shirt, so I will have to wait for warmer weather.
These past few days here Route 2 have been cold again. Thursday morning and Friday morning it was 12 degrees. Wednesday the high was in 30s. It was a little warmer Thursday and Friday and Saturday with highs in the 40s. It is supposed to warm up later in the week, though.
LeAnn R. Ralph
Monday, March 22, 2010, 06:36
For Those Who Are Missed
It has been more than a year and a half since our Springer Spaniel, Charlie, died. In fact, it will be two years in July. But I am still having trouble going for walks cross country.
Saturday evening, Randy and I decided to take our little Shetland Sheepdog, Pixie, for a walk. It was a clear, cold, evening with the sun hovering about the horizon, getting ready to set. We headed down the road, and when we got to the driveway across the road from our place that leads to the spring in the woods, I said I wanted to see if there was water in the spring.
Surprisingly enough, the spring was bone dry. And so was the little pond at the head of it made years ago when a neighbor decided to dam up the spring.
At this time of year, after the snowmelt and before anything is growing to draw on the water supply, the spring has always had water in it, and so has the little pond. But not this year. Which means we are still very much in a drought. And must mean, in spite of the recent rain and snowmelt, that the groundwater level is very low.
As I stood there looking at the dry pond, I couldn't help but think of Charlie. It was one of his very favorite places. When the pond had water in it, Randy would throw a stick for him, and Charlie would dive in happily and swim around. Even when Randy did not throw a stick, Charlie would dive in and swim around. No matter how cold it was, Charlie liked to go in the pond. But now there was no Charlie to be swimming happily.
After that, we climbed the hill to reach the farm where I grew up. This was one of Charlie's favorite places, too. He loved to race back and forth through the pine trees, seeing if there were pheasants or grouse or rabbits or anything at all that he could flush out. We walked up the hill to the corn stubble and as we walked along, I kept expecting Charlie to race by, happily jumping over cornstalks, tongue lolling, looking up at us with bright eyes and droopy ears perked, as if to say, "Oh, yes! This is the life!" But there was no Charlie.
Yes, of course, little Pixie enjoys the walks, too. But she has always been a more subdued walker than Charlie, not so boisterous. She makes her way along either behind or in front or beside, but she doesn't run around full tilt. And that's fine. I'd rather she didn't run full tilt with the arthritis she has in her knee joints.
There was something so joyful about Charlie, and his joy was so infectious. There was no one and nothing in the world happier than Charlie when we went out for a walk and he could run around to his heart's content, following his nose.
I suppose, when a person spends 13 years sharing in that kind of infectious joy every day, it takes a while to get past it. Or maybe you never do.
I hope, wherever he is now, Charlie knows how much we miss him.
LeAnn R. Ralph