Catching up.
Sep. 19th, 2010 04:07 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
averygoodun42Day 14 – Where you live
I live in southern New Hampshire. Picturesque scenes abound all over the place once you get out of the big mill centers and coastal towns. Not that there are many coastal towns, seeing as New Hampshire has only thirteen miles of coastline.
While I'm still less than overwhelmed by the beauty of New Hampshire - being the spoiled world traveler that I am - its tamed beauty has grown on me considerably over the years. And I will say that fall in New England is deserving of all the accolades it's drawn. In a good year. In a bad year, you might as well be in the Midwest. But in a good year... It's breathtakingly beautiful. As long as you aren't expecting great swathes of red and orange, that is. The maples do not change like the aspens, all at once and brilliantly so. They are individuals, and so must be looked at as such to see their incredible beauty, not as part of the whole forest.
Speaking of which, the maple in the back yard has begun to change. Bright red is creeping in from the tips and edges of the leaves. It'll be another week at least before it's in its full regalia, but I'm looking forward to seeing it again.
Day 15 – Your childhood
My childhood was one of freedom. I didn't realize just how much freedom until I had a child of my own. And even so, I remember chaffing at the restrictions that were put on me.
I grew up in Affluent Liberal Suburbia (by the name of Boulder), on the front edge of a mountain range. Beyond one row of houses was a big, big hill that was protected land - open space - owned by the city. There were paths and trails that led up and around the hill, and I learned early on that it really was best to stay on the paths because of the prickly pears that hid in the buffalo grass. As I grew up, I also learned to fear the creatures that lived in and around the grass, even though I fortunately never met one.
Sometimes, though, the paths just weren't going the direction I needed to go. After all, if a little girl wanted to catch a grazing deer, then the path must be abandoned. Occasionally. I never did catch a deer, but I put all the blame for that on my sister's dog's shoulders. Lousy, big mouth that she was. (The dog, not my sister.)
That dog was the biggest restriction of them all. She followed me everywhere. And it wasn't because she loved me and wanted to be around me, no. It was because she was a neurotic mess and truly believed that if anything happened to me, she would be blamed.
So, if I nipped outside for a walk around the block (never crossing a street, because that was strictly verboten), I would be met a quarter way round by scornful brown eyes. (And a wagging tail.) If I wanted to go down to the school yard, or the shops, I would be followed by that annoying, happy tail the entire time.
She did protect me, though; she would put herself between me and any unknown man. And it's surprising how many people are afraid of biggish, black dogs. Even when they've got a tennis ball in their mouth and their butt is threatening to fall off from all the joyful "play with me!" wagging.
So that was my childhood. It ended when I was ten. And huh... That's about when the damn dog died.
I live in southern New Hampshire. Picturesque scenes abound all over the place once you get out of the big mill centers and coastal towns. Not that there are many coastal towns, seeing as New Hampshire has only thirteen miles of coastline.
While I'm still less than overwhelmed by the beauty of New Hampshire - being the spoiled world traveler that I am - its tamed beauty has grown on me considerably over the years. And I will say that fall in New England is deserving of all the accolades it's drawn. In a good year. In a bad year, you might as well be in the Midwest. But in a good year... It's breathtakingly beautiful. As long as you aren't expecting great swathes of red and orange, that is. The maples do not change like the aspens, all at once and brilliantly so. They are individuals, and so must be looked at as such to see their incredible beauty, not as part of the whole forest.
Speaking of which, the maple in the back yard has begun to change. Bright red is creeping in from the tips and edges of the leaves. It'll be another week at least before it's in its full regalia, but I'm looking forward to seeing it again.
Day 15 – Your childhood
My childhood was one of freedom. I didn't realize just how much freedom until I had a child of my own. And even so, I remember chaffing at the restrictions that were put on me.
I grew up in Affluent Liberal Suburbia (by the name of Boulder), on the front edge of a mountain range. Beyond one row of houses was a big, big hill that was protected land - open space - owned by the city. There were paths and trails that led up and around the hill, and I learned early on that it really was best to stay on the paths because of the prickly pears that hid in the buffalo grass. As I grew up, I also learned to fear the creatures that lived in and around the grass, even though I fortunately never met one.
Sometimes, though, the paths just weren't going the direction I needed to go. After all, if a little girl wanted to catch a grazing deer, then the path must be abandoned. Occasionally. I never did catch a deer, but I put all the blame for that on my sister's dog's shoulders. Lousy, big mouth that she was. (The dog, not my sister.)
That dog was the biggest restriction of them all. She followed me everywhere. And it wasn't because she loved me and wanted to be around me, no. It was because she was a neurotic mess and truly believed that if anything happened to me, she would be blamed.
So, if I nipped outside for a walk around the block (never crossing a street, because that was strictly verboten), I would be met a quarter way round by scornful brown eyes. (And a wagging tail.) If I wanted to go down to the school yard, or the shops, I would be followed by that annoying, happy tail the entire time.
She did protect me, though; she would put herself between me and any unknown man. And it's surprising how many people are afraid of biggish, black dogs. Even when they've got a tennis ball in their mouth and their butt is threatening to fall off from all the joyful "play with me!" wagging.
So that was my childhood. It ended when I was ten. And huh... That's about when the damn dog died.
