Did you all know that the Danville High School baseball team won their game on Sunday, their second state championship win in a row, and the eighth overall.  Kyle Johnson (Edgewood Ave.) pitched a super game.  Way to go, Kyle - we're very proud of you and the whole team.

Some of you will remember my writing a while back about crackers - I couldn't find square saltines at the time, but I think they are back on the shelves now.  Then I talked about the old fashioned crackers made in St. Johnsbury by the Cross Company.  Well, WCAX just had a segment about those exact same crackers.  Take a look.

I just came in out of the rain.  I planted the tomato plants Fred got for me yesterday.  I didn't want to put them in the ground when the sun was so hot, so planned to get them in this afternoon, before the rain came.  That didn't work out.  I was working here in my office and didn't realize the rain had already started; but I went out and planted them anyway.  It's a nice warm rain - the thermometer s still reading 70 degrees outside my window - and while I got pretty well soaked, it was fun.  There was no thunder or lightning to worry about, and any biting bugs were hiding out under some leaves someplace, so I got the job done and the plants seem very happy with the gentle rain and warm, damp earth.  

I noticed I have baby spinach almost ready to pick, and there are radishes nearly ready.  My lettuce hasn't come well at all.  I've had really bad luck with lettuce this year.  First I bought an empty package, and now the seeds I bought to replace it don't seem to be doing much.  I need to replant, I guess.  Perhaps I'll do that tomorrow, if it isn't raining too hard.  

Working out in the rain reminded me of how we kids loved playing in the mud puddles.  I don't know what the attraction was, really.  My mother got very upset whenever she found out I'd been barefoot in the mud.  I guess she had good reason - it was, after all, on the farm, and while it was in the driveway, I'm sure if there's any mud that could be characterized as "clean" mud, that probably wasn't it.  I wasn't supposed to go barefoot around the farm, and mostly I kept my shoes on like she told me, but when it rained and the grass was all wet and slippery, and my city cousins were all barefoot, I couldn't resist.  None of us suffered any dire results as far as I know.

We were warned about rusty nails and such, but every now and then someone got a puncture.  My Grandmother Bolton always had carbolic acid on hand, and every wound got a liberal swabbing of it before a bandage went on.

Once when I was a teenager, I was leveling silage in the big silo.  It was the beginning of the season, so I was 12-15 feet below the opening into the stable we used to access the silo.  There was a ladder up the wall, and overhead the wet, green corn was being blown in at a very rapid rate.  My job was to keep the silage leveled.  I used a six-tined fork - it's called a dung or manure fork - and when it was loaded with silage, it was really heavy.  Sometimes I'd pull the silage towards me with the fork, which I learned the hard way was a bad idea.  Somehow the fork slipped or I applied too much force and it slammed into my leg.  I remember watching the skin around the tine as I pulled it out.  No blood, just intense pain.  My world stopped for a moment, but the silage kept coming, and I knew if I fainted I'd probably get buried in silage.  The machinery made so much noise, nobody would hear me, no matter how loudly I yelled.  Somehow I made it to the ladder and climbed out of the silo.  I could barely walk on my leg - I think the tine had glanced off my shin bone and that's why my whole leg hurt so much.   

I made it to the house where my grandmother applied the carbolic acid and then tied a piece of salt pork over the puncture, "to draw out any infection."  I limped for a day or so, but the wound healed ok and left only a small round white scar.  It was tender for weeks after, though. 

 Back then, nobody thought about tetanus shots, and you had to be pretty badly injured or seriously ill to see a doctor.  But most made it ok, and in some ways it was probably better than things are today.  At least the cost of seeing a doctor wasn't out of reach of most folks, and if they didn't have any money, the local doctor would take butter, eggs, vegetables, meat, or whatever the farmer could offer.  Nobody had health insurance, but nobody got turned away from getting care when it was needed, either.  Of course, the care was entirely different, too.  Back then about all the doc had to go on was how the patient looked on the outside and how he or she described the pain, unlike today when technology lets doctors look inside us, take samples of our tissue and blood, and hear not only what we are telling them, but hear and see what's going on inside of us in order to make a diagnosis.  So while I'm sure we are really better off and have a better chance of living longer, healthier lives, some of us lots of us also have treasured memories and yarns to tell; and thanks to more great technology, a place to spin those yarns and at least a few kind folks to read them.  Thank you.