Life: Idiotropic

I would like to be able to write about the amazing adventures that I'm having here in sunny MD and all the culture quirks and culinary delights.  They are there... I am sure of it and with a little digging and a bit more time I'll find them, but my days are still filled with the the monotony of housewife work and doctor's appointments, teacher home visits, and  quiet office tasks in pursuit of a few of my personal goals.

The doctor's appointments are an emotional roller coaster of hope and frustration.  Yesterday's at the ENT found nothing - another medical dead end for what is close to 6 continuous weeks of vertigo.  We're still searching for answers and solutions with more appointments to go.  Tiara's ok, but it's wearing on her.

My camera has been whining lately.  Errands don't afford many photo ops unless you want pictures of strip malls and franchises.  No, that's not very exciting.

But, we have barns.  Big barns and red barns, some covered in vines and some falling apart.  They aren't protected, so farmers have the choice to tear them down, but still, many stand and dot the once tobacco filled fields with beautiful statements of this region's history.

So, on the way home from an errand, it's easy to find a barn.  These are the ones I see every day, the ones at the entrance of my street, the Harm's barns. 


This is the larger one of the two with a orange rusted metal roof and unpainted wood in various shades of grey.  It isn't used now and is filled with miscellany covered in cobwebs, but once it was a tobacco barn with slats that would open outward to allow the leaves to dry as they hung.


This smaller barn was red once and is predicted to fall on it's one some day as the vines of bittersweet have surrounded it in a boa-like choke hold and in time will crush it under their weight.


Though the locals don't love the bittersweet for obvious reasons, it is beautiful still.   The leaves of summer revealing the bright orange berries as they fall and these darling little berries clinging on through storms and snow and winter.  Shriveled and dry, they're still pretty.  I'll be helping a farmer by cutting some and making a wreath come next year.


This is just the house across the street from our development that's been here for years and was once the only spot of light at night in this area without street lamps.  If you look up on the chimney, you'll see that they had visitors today - two turkey buzzards who came to rest a while.


So that's it.  Errands and barns.  Doctors and waiting.  Lessons in patience and a lot of quiet.  And that's ok.  It's a chapter and every chapter has an end and a segway to the next.