Scene of the Crime

We went back to the one of the sights of the arson from earlier this fire season.

Standing in the burn, looking at the surrounding wooded mountains brought it home how much was at risk that day.

One nice thing we saw, that first line we put in, held.

Greenhouse 2013

In spite of a late start, the Three Bears Greenhouse is perking right along.

Culture Shock

At home nearly every commercial transaction ends with the clerk wishing the customer, "Have a nice day."

I admit, I've occasionally walked away from that admonishion grumbling --leave me alone-- under my breath. I've learned, however, I much prefer that to the --give me your money and get out of my face -- attitude of the Irish.

We met a woman from County Kildare who taught in Alaska her whole career, so I asked her, she being used to Americans, why the Irish seemed so rude.

She told me, in polite teacherly tones, it was a cultural difference I wasn't recognizing -- they're just blunt, or the rude person was an emigrant, not really Irish.

Now, the man who yelled at us this morning when we asked what time the shop opened, looked like he emigrated the last time the Vikings raided the coast, so I decided it was about time someone forced some common manners on the feckin' Irish.

I decided to greet everyone we met on the walk back from breakfast. "GOOD MORNING!" I said.

I startled the crap out of quite a few. Caused one man to tip his hat. 

When the bartender growled, "What'll ya have?" this afternoon, I said, "Hi, how you doing?"

"Fine, yourself?" He says.

"I'm good. Lovely weather you're having." I say.

"It won't last." Says he.

It will be an up hill battle, I can tell. Fortunately for international relations, I'm departing the island tomorrow.

A Long Time Ago, In A Place Far, Far Away

I suppose anyone doing genealogical research will discover, if they search far enough into the dark annals of history, that they are related to a religious fanatic who slaughtered hundreds of his neighbors.

Right?

Oh, it sounded romantic at first. 8th Chief of the Clan -- who if you piss us off we will smite you down to your last living soul -- And, of course, it was a long, long time ago when community relations weren't as civilized as they are now.

 And, of course, there are more than one version of how this all occurred, so perhaps I shouldn't be to quick to harshly judge my fanatic murdering forebears.

As I read the account of how old Alasdair prayed for seven days for a sign from God before he smothered over 300 people I felt a deep internal wince. At least he won't be joining us for Thanksgiving dinner.

On the other hand, apparently I am genetically predisposed to be cranky with my neighbors.

I'm okay with that.



~ UPDATE ~

The genealogy app (which I hate*) tells me, this particular miscreant is related through the father-in-law of the 10th great grandfather.

I guess that's not so bad. Everyone thinks their in-laws are psycho.

~ ~ ~

*Every piece of genealogy software I've tried has been a big glitchy mess.

Hot Time in the Old Town

Last Wednesday, an arsonist set nine fires in the woods around my community.

Local News Story, 2nd Day

Due to swift recognition of the perpetrator by firefighers and fast-action by local law enforcement, the suspected arsonist was arrested early the same day.

Suspect in Custody

Our fire department's Chief and I were first on scene and I ended up on the working end of a shovel for a while while the Chief managed the county-wide first response over the radio.

I don't think I'll ever forget the odd sense of bewilderment I felt as I looked over my shoulder from throwing dirt on flames to see a string of smoke columns erupt behind my back. 

I thought, how is the fire over there? I heard our Assistant Chief yell through the smoke -- someone's driving down [the road] setting fires!

Spent the rest of the day and half the night in the staging area as on scene medic (my usual job) where I watched the guys for heat stress, handed out snacks and cold water. I heard it over and over from firefighters -- we're used to people making dumb mistakes and accidently setting the woods on fire -- no one could comprehend someone setting intentional fires.

I had one scary moment. I was dragging a hose, laying down a wet line. the Chief was at the truck running the pump, talking on the radio. I'm connected to him via the hose and I have a radio. I hear gunfire. I have flames at my feet and smoke in my face and I can't even see the fire truck behind me. I yell, "Someone's shooting at us!" I crouch down behind a burning tree. Nothing else happens. (Except, of course, the big freaking forest fire.) I stand back up and start the wet line again. More gunfire. Okay, a foot-wide burning pine tree is not enough of a hiding place for my fat self. I duck down again and decide I'm not moving until the Chief takes care of whoever is shooting at me. I hear him yell that it's lost ammunition. 

The area is a local favorite target shooting spot. People leave behind live rounds by accident. Fire sets them off. Okay, I think and start the hose again. About five feet later it ocurrs to me, hold on, that still means bullets are flying around out here, but I decide to be Scarlet O'Hara and think about it tomorrow.

I can't wait for my vacation.