|The first day of Spring was once...|
March 9, 2004
the time for taking young virgins into the fields, there in dalliance to set an example in fertility for nature to follow. Now, we just set the clocks an hour ahead and change the oil. E. B. White 1944
Ain't progess a wonderful thing? No it's not...I personally do not find setting the clocks ahead (an act I loathe, despise, HATE and despair about) and changing oil any sort of subsitute for those old pagan rituals. Shoot, back in my days of being a young virgin, at least I had fields to roam about in, fields and meadows and paddocks and gardens and wild, wild areas that were strictly forbidden and therefore irrestible.
Barefoot, dressed in as little as possible and still remaining fairly respectable, I'd slip away from the house and with a bit of sausage and biscuit tucked in my pocket, head for the hills. Chilly early morning air gave way to sweet soft gauzy mists for this wild girl to vanish into. (I used to get giddy with delight to see the pearl droplets in my hair and feel the mist slip over my body.) Never having any real destination in mind, I'd just follow my nose and wander far, far, far into the wilder parts of the county. Or oftentimes, counties...for we lived near the junction of several counties. I knew all the little branches and brooks and caves...the deepest hollows and lonely ridges. I knew to stay well away from the spring-fed roaring waters of a certain creek...but I didn't.
Almost always, I managed to find rides in various farm trucks, several times with huge milk trucks...even though they were not supposed to take riders. Heehee. (It's incredible how one can break rules with a sunny smile and sweet voice.) I was totally enthralled by the various convents and monasteries and of course, the monks. I must confess, the nuns scared me to pieces.
Of course, most times, early March was cold, cold, cold and more cold. Many a time I awoke to see the tender buds on the silver maple tree, encased in thin sheets of ice. I was caught in drenching icy thunderstorms that rapidly turned into sleet, ice, and snow storms! I slippped on slippery limestone rocks, tumbled down incredibly steep hillsides, almost drowned in deceptively shallow pools, slid and slipped and skated in deep ruby-red MUD.
Since I'm reasonably sure the statue of limitations has run out...*hope* *hope*...several times, filled with the reckless restlessness and daring that has gotten me into trouble all my life...I managed to get myself on the campus of several of the various colleges scattered around the Bluegrass. There are several...with gorgeous, beautiful grounds, buildings, campuses and oh, yes, college men/boys. Professors! Libraries. Mellow antique brick walkways. Flashy sports cars with Ohio and Virginia plates. Even some from Michigan.
From what I understand, the College I sneaked away to the most now has strict rules and guidelines and instructions as how to deal with the locals. Especially the local girls! Heehee. It gave me great amusement to be taken as a local girl. I didn't agree with their definition and idea of just what a local girl was...I thought they were way off base much of the time. However, the wildness of Boyle County girls is still well documented. It's our well-known charm that really gets us noticed, though, I do believe. Heehee.
I'm still not quite sure how to describe how, well, easy it was to, uhmmm, distract, these fine young college men. Even the ones from NorthernKentucky seemed incredibly susceptible to the wiles and charms of the local girls. As for the Mid-Western boys...oh, it was kind of sad, really.
Secure in my position as both Mr. C.'s and Mr. D.'s grand-daughter, I perhaps was a bit sure of myself. Very secure, very certain I could get away with things...within reason, of course. As long as I didn't run into someone who knew me! Heehee. Anyway, it was all very innocent. A few lunches at Wendy's, a few long talks on the hoods of various cars, steps of front porches of student rentals, lots of long walks about campus and at the library...little slips of paper with carefully scrawled phone numbers, both at the College and at home...and oh, yes, a couple of discussions with various professors.
Those professors. I remember three of them very, very well and I have to restrain myself from checking to see if they are still there. Is that where my uhmmmm, weakness, for a certain sort of academic was born? Now, some of this was totally legitimate...several teachers had strongly recommended this college to me and truthfully, members of my family had been dropping out of this college for generations...and I knew it was one grandfather's dearest wish and hope that I would attend its sacred halls as a real, full-fledged student. Soon.
Anyway, I think I saw a professor there last May that looked very much like the one I admired the most of all. I couldn't get close enough to see for sure and he is of fairly standard issue type...but oh, my heart skipped a few beats just the same. Silly girl.
I really shouldn't be wasting time pondering on springs past...I spent much of yesterday researching Jefferson County and just like I suspected last May...I've been in Texas too long. Certain standards have slipped...oh come on be honest...they didn't just slip...they vanished!!
My poor boys...when they first began to live back East they kept commenting on how perfect and manicured and polished everything is in the Bluegrass area...storybook, one son called it. Well, Louisville ain't the Bluegrass but still...*sigh*. As for these years in this God-forsaken place, oh...how much damage can be repaired in a few months?? *BIG SIGH*
Well, here goes my mood...I am so excited I could explode!!! Scared. Impatient. Jubliant. And, yes, a bit lonesome.