THE THRESHOLD OF AUTUMN

 

Note

I wrote this post on Saturday, two days ago, and removed it solely because I was in an extremely rotten mood. I decided to post it again today (Monday). Comments are disabled for this post today, because I accidentally deleted your previous comments on Saturday while I was messing around with the settings on Comment Moderation.

I will write an update on my hemorrhaging arm after I talk to my wound care doctor when she comes tomorrow.     Jon

Not in the mood to expound today. Autumn is here, but it will pass too quickly like all good things.

I was cautiously optimistic last week, with five days of radiation therapy. It was really wonderful to get out of physical therapy prison and actually see the real world every day of the week.

On Friday (yesterday) we left very early, before dawn. The driver had to pick up Martha, the nurse. Then we had to bring a very elderly woman with us to Cookeville. She was in her 90s.

With my myopic eyes (still don't have any glasses) I watched the sunrise out the window. Always a great soothing treasure to behold.

Cookeville Medical Center was extremely busy Friday. After radiation, had to wait a very long time to see a doctor. My oncologist wasn't there so I saw another doctor. He said if the bleeding doesn't stop, we can call and they will arrange more radiation.

Very early this morning (here back at Signature) while two nurses were doing my routine wound care, the bleeding started again. My minimal optimism vanished.

Did the radiation fail to work........or does it take a few more days? This is ruining my initial plans. 

I can't keep waiting around for a miracle.

I can't go home with a hemorrhaging arm. I can't spend the rest of my life getting radiation.

I curse the ##@**##@* FOOL who botched my biopsy last April. If she didn't hit an artery I wouldn't be in this helluva mess. I've suffered enough.

Let's change the subject.

Instead of bombarding you with my seemingly endless AI (artificial intelligence) images, I'll plague you with my real genuine photos. You've probably seen most of them.......but don't complain. They're worth seeing again.

I bought this place in October, 2014 - - eleven years ago. My objective was to live in a rural area, with privacy and peace.  Rural living has complications and assorted unexpected compromises - - but I have no regrets.

The previous owners were the King family, whose ancestors lived around here for untold generations. This is known as King Mountain. 

Two acres at the edge of the forest. In fact, the forest begins only about a few yards from my bedroom.

These photos were taken on my property last year and the year before. And I'm not going to be coy.

I'm glad the place is mine.

The top photo is one of my favorites. The colors are beautiful.

The narrow road winding past my property.

A brief glimpse of the gravel driveway leading into the place.

My car by the garage. I no longer drive now - - with no regrets.

A haphazard glimpse of the cow/cattle pasture, at the edge of my property.

My neighbors and the extended pasture, photos taken several years ago.

The side of my tiny humble home.

Trees, a few feet from my bedroom.

Tree in back "yard"

Front porch

Front "yard"

Back yard woods

Morning fog

Sunset over front yard

Jon ❤️ home is where the heart is....

WOODLAND HORROR

Unfortunately there's a Blogger glitch on this post and the comment "Thingy" (a technical word) went awry and has stopped working.

This is a (sort of) continuation of my previous post.

The past few days here in Daniel Boone Land have been ......particularly trying.
Let's begin with last Sunday and work our way up to the exciting climax.

Wasps are building nests everywhere around the house. That's nothing new, but this year they are extremely aggressive wasps. They attack with sudden, unexpected force like Kamikazi pilots. I was stung three times this summer.

Lately the wasps have been building a nest directly above the back door and every time I open it I get attacked.
On Sunday morning I cautiously opened the door and one  flew inside the house. It immediately hit my left hand and stung me under the thumb.

I always have bad reactions from insect bites, but this one was the worst. The pain subsided within a few hours, but my hand swelled like an inflated rubber glove - accompanied by intense itching.

By Monday morning my gigantic hand itched like an anthill and the itching was traveling down my wrist.

As if this wasn't enough, my back went "out". I always have severe back trouble due to old spinal injuries - but sometimes my back completely malfunctions and the pain is too excruciating to move.

While I'm scratching my ravaged hand and limping like Quasimodo, I suddenly get a bout of dysentery - courtesy of eating too much fermented cantaloupe and ice cream.

On Tuesday morning things are no better. I'm scratching, limping, and battling the shits.

I limp into the bedroom (wearing nothing but my underwear)  and notice that Bosco (the cat) is intensely looking at something.
That "something" is hiding behind an antique trunk at the foot of my bed.

Fighting my reluctance to face another problem, I eventually force myself to take a peek at the interloper.
It's grey, curled up, and has a tail.

I assume that it's a 'possum. I've already had two previous 'possums in the house. They're more annoying than scary.
I limp to the garage and drag in a cage. I put a bowl of cat food in the cage and carefully position the cage near the 'possum. That's how I caught the last two.

After ushering Bosco out of the room, I limp to the kitchen and get a broom. Perhaps I can coax the critter into the cage.

Imagine my surprise when I return to the bedroom.....and the critter is gone.

Imagine my HORROR...

okay, we can all scream now

......when I turn around and see a big snake sticking out of one of my dresser drawers!!!!!! ( I had left the drawer halfway open).

 I grabbed my camera and took this for posterity

My numb mind was having trouble registering reality.

That was no 'possum! It's a gargantuan serpent from hell!

I grabbed a trash can and the broom and VERY CAUTIOUSLY tried to coax the revolting reptile into the can.

It made a horrifying hissing sound, slithered into the drawer, and disappeared!!

I retreated from the bedroom and slammed the door shut. 

Now I'm limping, scratching, and shaking like a pansy in a zephyr.

Despite my agonizing back and knocking knees, I manage to get to the kitchen and....

You are not going to believe this, but I swear to Gawd Almighty it's true

....there's a small BIRD flying around!!!! It must have gotten in when I left the front door open a crack to let my other cat Kitzee out.

So there's a mega snake in my dresser drawer and a wild sparrow in the kitchen. It's like an expunged episode of Wild Kingdom.

I somehow managed to corner the bird and cup him in my good hand. Then I guide him out the front door. He was eager to leave.

I'm only assuming the bird was a he. It could've been a she.

 I start reading everything I can find about snakes on the Internet.

"Never fear snakes. They are our friends."

Yea. Tell that to Adam and Eve.

I cut through the PETA crap and start reading about the poisonous snakes of Tennessee.

Then I study photos, trying to identify the snake in the drawer. It's a complete impossibility.

The crash course on serpents is getting me nowhere. I'm clueless and afraid to go back in the bedroom. 

By now it's early evening. I eventually open the bedroom door a crack. The snake is slithering on a bookcase!

How the hell can they climb so good with no limbs??

I slowly approach, armed with a broom. The thing starts hissing again, slides down, and quickly disappears under a chest of drawers.

This time I'm determined to trap him. I grab everything I can find (boxes, books, etc) and block the entire area under the chest of drawers. I figure there's no way he can get out.

It's getting dark. I valiantly decide to wait until morning to capture him.

AND I courageously decide to sleep in my room.

Hell, this isn't the first time I ever slept with a snake......

I keep a bright light on.
I keep my myopic eyes peeled for danger.
I keep reassuring myself that the revolting reptile is safely imprisoned under the chest of drawers.

Dawn finally arrives.

At this point - trying to make a long story short is a complete impossibility.

 Despite my bad back, swollen hand, and monumental apprehension - I decide to take action quickly. Armed with a broom and plastic trashcan.....
I cautiously look under the chest of drawers.

The snake is gone.

While trying to keep from swooning, I limp into the living room and discover Bosco - - who is completely preoccupied with something.
It's the snake, hiding behind a box and hissing like a deflating dirigible.

After two dozen tries, I finally manage to swoosh the snake out from behind the box. It coils up. I grab a large plastic trash can and plop it over him.
Then I carefully maneuver the trash can to the front door. I lift it slightly and the snake quickly slithers out, over the porch, down the steps, and into the yard.
It looks three feet long.

He's unnervingly close to the house, but what the hell else could I do - - drive him to Nashville?

Here's the big question:
Is this a happy ending?

My hand is no longer swollen, but still extremely itchy.
My back hurts but I'm not exactly limping.
And I'm snake-free. At least for the moment.

It'll take a few months for a sufficient psychological recovery, and I now have another phobia on my (very) long list of woodland horrors. But I'll survive.

Maybe.

WELCOME, OCTOBER

Trash bags.
I forgot to buy trash bags.

I made the harrowing, perilous, seemingly endless journey to town yesterday - and in the chaotic frenzy of grocery shopping I forgot to buy desperately-needed large plastic garbage bags.

This probably doesn't seem like a big deal, but when you live 500 miles from town (slight exaggeration) it's a huge crisis. I sure as hell don't want to drive back.

Last summer I was completely out of money and subsequently out of food. If it wasn't for the merciful kindness of my cousin Nancy I would have starved to death.

Now I'm (miraculously) back on track and have money again. So yesterday I made the journey to civilization and bought a lot of much-needed supplies.

The only redeeming factor of my trek to town was the beautiful weather and lovely scenery. October is a glorious time of year.

I happened to bring my El Cheapo digital camera. It's nearly impossible to stop anywhere on the narrow, winding road but I did manage to pull over a few times and snapped some photos without getting out of the car.

 There are lots of rocky cliffs (at least that's what I call them) just outside of town. In the winter they're covered with icicles.
This close-up photo doesn't do them justice.

 The foliage is starting to wither slightly but there's no autumn color yet. It will be spectacular towards the end of the month.

 This little old wooden church seems to be abandoned (at least I've never seen anybody by it).

 A quaint little valley dotted with some bales of hay.

 

MOUNTAIN MAN

When I lived in Southern California I vowed that I'd never leave. I loved Los Angeles with a fiercely unwholesome passion.

A few years later (still in my 20's) I decided that I wanted to be bi-coastal. I planned to divide my time between Los Angeles and New York.
All I knew for certain is that I wanted to be in a big city..... and near the beach. 

I craved big city life and all it had to offer. I didn't think I could ever exist without fine dining, excellent shopping, the theater, opera, ballet, museums.

By the time I was in my early 30's, my wildly destructive life in L.A. was causing major burnout. I still loved the city intensely, but - during rare moments of paralyzing sobriety - I realized that I wouldn't last much longer if I stayed.

This has the possibility of getting incredibly long, so I'll skip all the details and Fast Forward the story.

When I finally left California I was severely homesick for a decade (at least), but something happened to my lust for big city life: it dwindled considerably and eventually vanished.

I grew to love rural life in the Missouri Ozarks. I liked the simplistic lifestyle and the honesty of the country people.
A drastically pleasant change from the 24/7 chaotic frenzy of L.A.

Even though I generally hated West Texas when I lived there, I discovered that I still found an irresistible attraction to country life.

And here in the Tennessee wilderness - despite many inconveniences - I still feel an immense satisfaction being in a rural area with country people. At this point in my life, I'm very comfortable being a mountain hermit.

 Hillbilly hermit

last autumn

Are these feelings deeply rooted, perhaps hereditary?
My mother loved the mountains more than anything - undoubtedly because of the extended time in her youth that she spent in Red River, New Mexico.

In retrospect, all of my ancestors (on both sides of the family) came from rural/mountainous areas.

My father's family came from a tiny village in eastern Hungary, right near the Romanian border. His ancestors reportedly migrated from the mountainous region near Transylvania.....

...which is why I often joke about having vampire blood in my veins....

My mother's family came from a tiny village in the Bakony Mountains of western Hungary, right near the Austrian border.

Ironically, there is a distinct visual similarity between the Bakony Mountains and rural Tennessee.

This is Borzavar, in the Bakony Mountains where my mother's relatives were from.

This is the area of Tennessee where I'm presently living.

So, what's my point?

No point, really. Except I think that my country/mountain heritage is in my blood.

When I lived in Los Angeles - long before my adventures into rural life - I had a keen interest in bluegrass music - - but most especially in traditional Appalachian music.

I sang and recorded some of this music. Fortunately many of these recordings are lost (although my singing wasn't too shabby).

I recently discovered this recording of Wayfaring Stranger by Jack White. I used to sing this and his "hillbilly" singing style is similar to mine.

This music probably won't enthrall everybody, but I love it.

HARVEST MOON

There are presently so many negative things going on in my life that I've reached the point where I don't give a royal crap about anything.

And I'm not in the mood to reveal specifics. Let's just say that my wretched existence has become a maze of problems, complications, detours, setbacks, dead ends, and impossibilities. Did I mention obstacles?

The weather has been gorgeous - with a long absence of rain. The temperature is perfect. Autumn is my favorite time of year. Yet I'm wallowing in a debilitating mire of misery. 

Tonight is the night of the harvest moon (one of my personal favorite nights).  It is supposed to rise here in TN at 7:00p.m.
Due to all the trees and hills around here, I probably won't be able to see it until 8:00 or 9:00 or later. Photographing the event will be a near impossibility but I'll give it a try.

Well, hell, I'll undoubtedly howl at the moon, too.

I drove to town last Monday and tried to snap a few pics along the way - which isn't easy. The road is narrow with very few places to pull over.
And if you dare to step out of the car, you'll either get hit by a logging truck...or go over a cliff. 

Here's the road which eventually leads to my house (or near it, anyway).

This old barn is one of my visual "markers" on the way to town. Once I see it, I know that there are only about 2,000 more miles to go (very slight exaggeration).

This is a very typical view on my way home.

Scruffy and Bosco are eagerly awaiting the new supply of cat food (and litter) that I bought (that's an old blanket that I tossed on the bed for the cats)

Scratch doesn't really care - she just wants to be petted (who doesn't??)

All right, I've saved the very worst for last. It's not for the faint of heart......

I found this ON MY BED a few days ago!!!!
After I regained consciousness, I grabbed the blanket it was on and shook him to the floor.
Then I sprayed him with about half a gallon of bug spray. He refused to die so I put the one gallon (I'm not kidding) spray container on him...and sort of crushed him...and suffocated him....

That's an autopsy photo - but he still looks alive (hey, I'm assuming it was a "him" and not a "her").

Anyway, this scared the living jeeters out of me and I didn't sleep for two nights.
Just when I was finally calming down, I found another spider exactly like this one - on the floor in the hallway.

I THINK they are just grass spiders -
but, then again, they could be deadly predators.

Holy shit - - as if I didn't have enough problems....

JON GOES TO TOWN

 St. Paddy's Day:

somber, gray, wet, damp, windy

On St. Patrick's Day I summoned the courage to drive into town. Actually, I was compelled to go because I wanted to personally get an erroneous bill straightened out (from my Internet provider/phone company).

They were extremely nice about the error, and now I'm straight.
So to speak.

After getting gas, going to the bank, and hauling my trash to the dump, I was ready to call it a day - but I had to go grocery shopping.

There are three shopping choices in this minuscule town: Walmart, the supermarket, and the Dollar Store. If you really want to  spice up your mundane existence and live dangerously you can always visit the Tractor Supply Company. 

Walmart is inevitably my first stop. That's the only place that has decent cat food and tolerable bread.

Bread?
Let me explain something: I've always enjoyed a wide variety of breads - rye, pumpernickel, sourdough, cheese bread, black bread, herbal bread, etc.

Rural Tennessee has white bread. That's it. Rye isn't in their vocabulary.  Either is hard Italian salami. Or wine. Or fine cheese or pastries. Or all the other things I crave and would actually kill for.

The local Walmart at least has some mediocre Italian bread and smoked ham - so that's what I always buy.

I'm also able to get Viennese coffee and Earl Grey tea - thank God. One of the very few pleasures I have left.

So, I'm in the coffee aisle at Walmart. The Viennese coffee that I always buy is on the very lowest shelf. In fact, it's actually level with the ground. I have to crawl to get it.

There's an extremely attractive young Amish woman looking at the coffee. Hey, Amish women turn me on. It has something to do with the way they dress.
Anyway, this chick is carefully reading every coffee label on the shelf - - and she's standing directly in front of the Viennese coffee that I desperately want.
She won't move. She just keeps reading.

I linger near her, trying not to look suspicious or perverted, trying to pretend I'm looking at other things. And I'm thinking:
How the hell am I going to get the damn Viennese coffee? I don't want to crawl around the hem of her dress.

She finally moves just enough for me to quickly dive and snatch the coffee - - -and believe me, diving and snatching is not an easy feat with my notoriously bad back.

Did I ever mention how much I hate store employees who are constantly in the way so you can't look at things?
Walmart wins First Prize for annoying employees....
...but....
it also happens here at the local supermarket.  

I'm trying to look at donuts and an extremely annoying but cutsie-looking male employee is blocking the entire area with a large cart while he carefully puts out loaves of bread. White bread.

I make a few strategic maneuvers around him to get to the donuts. While trying to grab one damn box of donuts, I inadvertently start an avalanche. At least half a dozen boxes tumble to the floor.

Holy shit!! (I think I said that out loud).
I quickly scramble to retrieve the errant donut boxes while hoping my ravaged spine won't snap in the process. I'm trying to look cool and nimble in the wake of profound embarrassment.

My life is like a Woody Allen movie. 

Did I mention the two employees blocking the frozen food aisle? They have a gigantic food cart in the middle of the aisle while they slowly and carefully stock the shelves. 

I stall around, hoping they'll eventually leave but they don't. Can't these Bozos stock shelves after hours??

I eventually have to force my way around them to get the damn frozen things that I desperately need.
I drove a hundred freaking miles (slight exaggeration) on perilous mountain roads to get to this raunchy supermarket and I'm not about to leave without my French fries and fish sticks.

As I was driving home on the narrow, winding, dangerous, slick - not to mention perilous - mountain roads, loose rocks started falling from the cliffs above. One of them bounced off my car but fortunately didn't do damage.

Five minutes after I got home it started pouring rain. I got drenched as I hauled the heavy stash of groceries up the muddy, slippery, annoyingly steep bank to my back door. 

As if on cue, my cat Scratch showed up out of nowhere and dropped a dead mouse directly in front of the back door.
I kid you not. A gift from a grateful feline.