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The tempest of my eyes
Jul. 13th, 2011 10:11 pmI am on Google+ as Pamela Dean. If I know you but have not added you yet, it means only that I'm a little bewildered and somewhat beset with daily life.
I went to the eye doctor today, for the first time since I had a peripheral vitreal detachment in 2004 or thereabouts. To my great pleasure, the eye doctor told me that my eyes looked "very healthy," with no sign of the various bad possibilities lurking in my family history. I certainly do need new glasses, though, and have a prescription for same. I had been a little uncertain about whether I simply never got the hang of bifocals, or whether I seriously needed a new prescription; it's clearly the latter.
At the moment, what with the dilating eye-drops, I have the overwhelming sensation that the lower, near-vision half of my glasses is smudged and must be cleaned, but of course I could clean it till Doomsday to no avail.
Since the Minnesota legislature contains too many Republicans with no sense, no empathy, and no apparent wish to use whatever intelligence they possess, who willfully let the state government shut down on July 1, and are still faffing around refusing to negotiate with the governor unless he criminalizes stem-cell research and does other evil things he is not going to do, Raphael and I went to Willow River State Park in Wisconsin yesterday. The vegetation at the edge of the lake near the boat landing was packed with damselflies: if you looked at a square foot of sedge or daylily, dozens of bluets sewed the air. Elsewhere were huge numbers of dragonflies, primarily twelve-spotted skimmers and widow skimmers. I have never seen so many widow skimmers. Every few feet, one was perched on a stick or blade of grass, or swooping back and forth over the short grass of the path. There were a few Halloween pennants, too; also a spotted sandpiper running along a fallen log near the foot of the dam, a red-bellied woodpecker, and bluebirds. At sunset at the edge of the lake near the swimming beach, Raphael found a single vesper bluet, with a bright yellow body and a tiny blue tail-light. We didn't even get to the waterfall, but we plan to come back, even if the Minnesota parks reopen.
I don't want to live in Wisconsin. I love Minnesota. And at least we aren't afflicted with the equivalent of Scott Walker. But sailing down the steep hill on I94 West, zipping over the lovely St. Croix River, seeing the Welcome to Minnesota sign, and then seeing the first big rest stop blocked off with orange barrels, yellow tape, and huge orange CLOSED signs, was infuriating and lowering.
Pamela
I went to the eye doctor today, for the first time since I had a peripheral vitreal detachment in 2004 or thereabouts. To my great pleasure, the eye doctor told me that my eyes looked "very healthy," with no sign of the various bad possibilities lurking in my family history. I certainly do need new glasses, though, and have a prescription for same. I had been a little uncertain about whether I simply never got the hang of bifocals, or whether I seriously needed a new prescription; it's clearly the latter.
At the moment, what with the dilating eye-drops, I have the overwhelming sensation that the lower, near-vision half of my glasses is smudged and must be cleaned, but of course I could clean it till Doomsday to no avail.
Since the Minnesota legislature contains too many Republicans with no sense, no empathy, and no apparent wish to use whatever intelligence they possess, who willfully let the state government shut down on July 1, and are still faffing around refusing to negotiate with the governor unless he criminalizes stem-cell research and does other evil things he is not going to do, Raphael and I went to Willow River State Park in Wisconsin yesterday. The vegetation at the edge of the lake near the boat landing was packed with damselflies: if you looked at a square foot of sedge or daylily, dozens of bluets sewed the air. Elsewhere were huge numbers of dragonflies, primarily twelve-spotted skimmers and widow skimmers. I have never seen so many widow skimmers. Every few feet, one was perched on a stick or blade of grass, or swooping back and forth over the short grass of the path. There were a few Halloween pennants, too; also a spotted sandpiper running along a fallen log near the foot of the dam, a red-bellied woodpecker, and bluebirds. At sunset at the edge of the lake near the swimming beach, Raphael found a single vesper bluet, with a bright yellow body and a tiny blue tail-light. We didn't even get to the waterfall, but we plan to come back, even if the Minnesota parks reopen.
I don't want to live in Wisconsin. I love Minnesota. And at least we aren't afflicted with the equivalent of Scott Walker. But sailing down the steep hill on I94 West, zipping over the lovely St. Croix River, seeing the Welcome to Minnesota sign, and then seeing the first big rest stop blocked off with orange barrels, yellow tape, and huge orange CLOSED signs, was infuriating and lowering.
Pamela
