Library Notes
October 17, 2003
By Pansy Hundley, Librarian.
Folks, there's a war going on, right here in our very own Farmersville and it's my very own private one too, the Private War of Pansy Lee.
I have declared war on poison ivy, but to look at my arms and to see me scratching, you may wonder who's winning.
That back lot of mine, where I contacted my last round of the red, itching bumps, I have attacked again. But I look like it attacked me!
Why didn't someone tell me that stuff runs along on top of or slightly under the ground for 18 miles? That it sprouts little ivies every few inches, that grow into big ones. And, don't look at me like I'm stupid either! I've never had occasion or the need to research poison ivy before. Never paid much attention to it -- until it started attacking me a few years ago.
I sprayed all over the place about a week ago and that stuff is still standing there, waiting for me, turning slightly brown around the edges. When I spray something like that, I expect it to wilt and start to look sick as I stand there. Humpf!!
I got out there my last day off (Hah!) and started pulling stuff out of a big pecan tree. That's when I began pulling roots and discovered the long-g-g running, rooted, vine that goes on forever and may cross four more vines in its' path.
That pecan tree had great, long vines, if I can call them that, that are as big around as my wrist and run out of sight in the top of the tree. Smaller vines run out from that BIG root, or at least they did before I got hold of them. I got my trusty axe and I whacked those things. I now have a huge one of those "vines" hanging down out of the tree, too attached in the top for me to pull down. So, I can bump my head on it every time I come around on the lawnmower or just walk into it if I don't remember it's there. I have another just like it, hanging from another pecan tree. I cut that one several weeks ago and still can't pull it down. If I ever pull it down, you watch, it will land square on my head.
I put on my gloves, long socks and a long-sleeved blouse, and proceeded to pull roots, strings and strings of roots. You never saw such a mess as I accumulated, round and round that tree as I made my root pulling way. I have enough roots, if anyone wants to start a poison ivy farm. I'll give them away free. Why, I might throw in $10.00 for you to load them and haul them off!
I worked the morning away and even though the sun wasn't shining, it was getting awfully warm out there. I finally pulled my last vine, stopped and went into the house to find some lunch, before I collapsed in the middle of the lot and the yet remaining poison ivy ate me completely. For a lady that doesn't sweat much, I made up for it that morning. Everything I had on was practically dripping.
You know that little spot between your gloves and your sleeve, especially when you raise your arms? Well, even with being so careful as I pulled and hauled that stuff, I have more bumps in that spot on both arms. But, as I scratch and scratch, I am determined to get the best of this stuff. I'll just continue to carry my three bottles of medicine with me, dob it on, "wear" oatmeal when I am around the house, dropping little clumps here and there, and pull more vines, when I get the time and the daylight and the weather. Determined, I say! Scratch -- scratch-- scratch --scratch…….
Don't get against one of these weeping bumps and I'll try to tell you about a new book You're gonna love this one, by Karen Robards, entitled "Beachcomber", the latest of many that she has written.
"Christy Petrino hadn't planned on a vacation on Ocracoke Island, but when she learns her finance and boss, suave Michael DePalma, is a "made man" and the Philadelphia law firm where she works is a front for the mob, she breaks her engagement and quits her job. But no one walks away from the DePalma family business so easily.…Only if she delivers a locked briefcase to a motel on Ocracoke Island will she--and her mother and sisters---be free.
But after clandestinely making her drop-off late at night, Christy suspects she is being followed on the moonlit beach - and unwittingly runs into a new kind of terror. Now a witness at the center of a homicide investigation Christy learns that the police are hunting a serial killer they refer to as the "Beachcomber" because beautiful young women -- women who in fact resemble her -- have disappeared recently while vacationing at nearby beach communities. Christy doesn't know whom to fear more - a serial killer who believes she might be able to identify him, or the DePalma family, whose tentacles she can't seem to escape.
Only when she's with Luke Rand, her big surfer-dude next-door neighbor, does she feel safe. But with Luke's asking so many questions about her ex-fiance and his showing up almost too conveniently whenever danger strikes, she can't help but wonder if his interest in her is due to more than attraction. Can she trust this handsome stranger to help her survive a hot and deadly summer?"