A little archaeology while I hunker down from the snow.

Morning all, hope you are well. The fellers are being adorable again, dagnabit. Definition: Dagnabit aka FFS or Dammit, or the like. It’s against the rules to be that damned adorable. IE, huggable squishable etc… Heck, they know this. THEY KNOW THE RULE. They break it often.

I can’t hug, because of the whole ripped rotator thing. I know, I whine about this quite a bit. I’m so sorry. Sighs. Nothing I can do about it. Life happens. Meanwhile, the snow version of the apocalypse is going on this week outside according to the weather channel. Thing is, for us, it’s just winter.

I don’t understand the need for the weather channel to make news of every storm. Storms happen. It is our climate to have winter weather. However, as much as I kvetch about the weather, you would think I hated where we live.

I’ve even whined about my direct ancestral units not moving to like Hawaii. Yet, they didn’t, and I didn’t. So, I live in the upper midwest. In talking to one of my daughters, I realized what I would miss living somewhere else.

We have these wheatgrass oceans here. When the wind blows through them, the waves of grass roar. At the road sides, wild roses grow. Cottonwood trees shed their fluff every year, yet have the most beautiful leaves.

Nothing is more fun than sitting by a certain river, with a cooler and wetting a line, or knitting while my brother fishes. Watching the ice fishing huts sink in the spring is my favorite sport. Also, walking on those wheat grass fields in the fall after they have been mowed and the crunchy sound they make.

Foggy mornings where I swear we are in middle earth can’t be beat. There is a river nearby that I swear is always foggy in the morning. Driving to the parks near that river with a cuppa coffee and sitting on that river bank reminds me of scenes from Morte De Arthur.

The best garden tomatoes grow nearby, and the best asparagus as well. The frost in the winters make this a wonderland to behold. This, crazy insane place is home. It always will be. The thing is, home is truly where the heart is.

Now for the archaeology portion of the post. I Love archaeology. I love learning about our ancestors, and how they survived in weird places. I want to know how our family got through. By our family, I mean all of humanity. We’re all related, according to the DNA experts. I believe them. I’m currently listening to archaeonews, the archaeology channel podcast. I’ve listened to the Pettigrews for years, and this podcast has been going on for over 20.

It’s amazing how a small piece of pottery shows which people lived where. Or a small piece of flint can expand the knowledge of a whole people. Where I live, the original residents spoke a different language. They hunted, fished, and gathered their food. They had different rules to live by than we currently do. What gods they worshipped and how they worshipped is so fascinating. I want to know more about them.

Where my direct ancestors came from, they also hunted, gathered, and fished. They spoke a different language than I do. They definitely had different rules to live by that we currently do. I want to know more about them as well. Most of our ancestors, we can’t learn their names. We don’t know who their friends were. We don’t even know if they liked brussels sprouts or not. 😉 I certainly don’t.

It’s a lifetime of learning. And I want to know so much more about our people. All of our people. It’s a thing, I suppose. My ability to go to college was gambled away by my former step mother. That’s okay, she didn’t destroy my love of history and learning. She only destroyed her relationship with me.

Hugs my friends, take care. Stay safe and comfortable please. I will pester you again tomorrow. -L


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