It has been such a tupperware day today.
I just love that phrase.
Coined by Bill Bryson in one of his brilliant books, he said that living in England was like living in tupperware where it was sort of grey and murky and hazy. That's today. It's been foggy/misty/drizzly yuckiness.
Nigel is down at Speedwaya nd they are trying to run the league final for the third time in less than a week and I imagine the weather is grim down there.
Also who knows who will be riding. Darcy is out due to an inury over the weekend, our replacement rider was fog bound in Poland so who knows. I just hope Nij stays warm and dry.
Having had a moan about the weather I do actually like our English weather. we do have proper seasons and if I lived in blissful warmth all year round I'd miss that! OK so I'd like the chance to miss it, but I am sure I would.
I have another page to share today that I made for the pre-crop challenges on UKS. This one was a harder challenge for me. It was a class by beanpole and based on hexagons.
I decided in a moment of maddness to stitch lots of small hexagons onto my background page. Why? I hear you ask. A very good question and one I asked myself pretty much with every hexagon I sewed.
However the finished page looked OK and it is another trip from our 2012 year recorded and in the album.
Today I am thankful for
- varied seasons and the every changing landscape
- My cousin coming through surgery very successfully.
and a few more of those amazing photos followed by the page a day calendar page.
and two rivers merging
what an incredible snake
and the stunning Northern Lights
I was tired. For seven hours, we had been clearing firewood, wicker furniture, and other flammable objects away from homes threatened by wildfire. Being on a structure-protection crew during a forest
fire is neither glamorous nor exciting.
The winds shifted late that afternoon, and the fire made a run down a steep hillside, across a creek, and
toward three houses. The siding on one of them was already blistering when we arrived in our truck. I peeled one hose line from its bed and hurried toward the house. My partner opened the valve to fill my line; I sprayed the wood siding to cool it, and then tried to cool a stack of firewood that was burning furiously only ten feet away. The siding began to crackle from the reflected heat, and I sprayed it again. I had to be sparing with our water until a tanker truck arrived. When it did, I aimed a steady stream directly at the stack of wood. The firewood scattered like bowling pins into the surrounding black
We saved all three homes. Later that night, my arms ached as I tried to repack our hose lines. I couldn’t lift the heavy hose onto the bed on top of our truck—I was so tired, I wanted to weep.
“Need some help?” Two strangers from another fire department hoisted the hose and began folding it
neatly into place. They left before I could mumble, “Thank you.”
When my partner and I collapsed on the foam-soaked front porch to eat a sandwich, I thought about the parable of the Good Samaritan. I joined the fire department to become a Samaritan. But what did I learn? That even Good Samaritans need help.