It has been ages, eons at least, since I last tried to convey my thoughts and emotions in a comprehensible fashion. The way I am feeling at the moment (all stuffy and achy) may not be the best time to attempt such a lofty feat as that, but I will give it a go.
The goings on here of late have been, in a country sort of way, rather fast paced and bordering on frantic at times. As I mentioned yesterday (at least I think I did) Don has had a cold and he passed it on to me. The poor guy was so miserable he didn’t sleep in bed for two or three nights and that is quite unlike him. Of course his responsibilities as a coach could not be set aside just because he was sick, his kids depend on him and he coached them to a conference championship. The party we had here for them was an unqualified success. They all had a great time, as did we. This weekend they will be participating in their district championship which is followed by the region championships and then, if all goes well, state. I sincerely hope for all their sakes, Don’s and the kids, that they make it to the state level.
During my occasional lucid moments, I have been thinking about My Name Is Elizabeth and I am becoming quite excited about the thought of actually putting it all down in written form. Already I have discovered a few things about her life that I had not previously known about. Another exciting thing I am looking forward to is the research. She comes from a part of Ohio rich in history and for me at least, fascinating social structure. The people in that region are to this day very class driven in their day to day lives. As soon as I get my head back on straight I intend to jump right in on the research.
One other little piece of research I have started (at the moment I do not believe it ties in with Elizabeth’s story) is the history behind one of my all time favorite songs. It is a ballad from Scotland, written in 1884 about the battle on Culloden Moor in 1746 and the escape of the young Bonnie Prince Charlie by boat to the Isle of Skye. From what little I have discovered in my brief journey concerning the Skye Boat Song, it was written by one Sir Harold Edwin Boulton and it appears he may have had a co-writer in the person of one Annie MacLeod. I am extremely excited about researching this song. It speaks to me every time I hear it I want to cry and I cannot help but wonder if I want to cry for Charlie or for countless dead Scotts who lay down their lives for a cause only they will ever fully comprehend.
On another topic, completely removed from the above, I am quite surprised to relay the fact that the autumn leaves, for the most part, have yet to change color. The woods are far and away greener than they are red or gold. I do have to say I cannot ever recall the leaves not changing and yet that would seem to be the trend. It looks as if the first heavy storm that blows through in the next week or two could just strip the trees bare without our ever having had the pleasure of viewing their fall glory. Sad, that, but there it is.
And so there you have it; a few of my scattered and weary thoughts concerning the things that are foremost in my mind.
There is always hope.
Betty
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