Think about it. This is the stuff you put in your mouth at least twice a day. And it's got a poison control warning on it. The federal government began requiring fluoride in drinking water many years ago, and the people who protested against this were dismissed as loonies and fringe elements. The older I get, the more I want to know about what the so-called loonies (and especially the "conspiracy theory nuts") have to say. Here it is, in plain English, on your toothpaste tube. There's poison in it. But it's good for you, so don't complain. Obey. Submit. Turn the other molar.
We're beginning our search for a good, fluoride-free toothpaste.
Went up in the south pasture just before sunset, while MeeMaw was preparing an all-vegetable supper (we spent quite a bit of time this afternoon reading and discussing a scholarly but very readable article on the health hazards of eating pork, so we were ready for some "pulse"). Mr. D is growing feed corn in the huge field to the south of our pasture. It looks ready to harvest, all tasselled up and ripe. A coon's paradise.
There's lots of thistle in our pasture, too. The butterflies love it, and the bees do, too. I recall telling Jason the story of how thistle came to be Scotland's national flower. I've heard two versions of the story - one with Roman soldiers and one with Viking raiders. At any rate, the tale essentially goes like this: centuries ago, a group of either Romans or Vikings were planning to ambush and kill an encampment of the ever-intractable Scots. They attempted to sneak up on the camp in their bare feet. One of the advance guard stepped on a thistle plant (makes me wince just thinking about it), let out a bellow of pain, and inadvertently alerted the sleeping Scots. The Scots arose and slaughtered the would-be ambushers. They were so grateful for the thistles around them in the field, they adopted the prickly weed as their national flower. If you're interested, here's the tune. And the lyrics are:
O flower of Scotland
When will we see
Your like again
That fought and died for
Your wee bit hill and glen
And stood against him
Proud Edward's army
And sent him homeward
Tae think again.
When will we see
Your like again
That fought and died for
Your wee bit hill and glen
And stood against him
Proud Edward's army
And sent him homeward
Tae think again.
The hills are bare now
And autumn leaves lie
Thick and still
O'er land that is lost now
Which those so dearly held
And stood against him
Proud Edward's army
And sent him homeward
Tae think again.
And autumn leaves lie
Thick and still
O'er land that is lost now
Which those so dearly held
And stood against him
Proud Edward's army
And sent him homeward
Tae think again.
Those days are passed now
And in the past
They must remain
But we can still rise now
And be the nation again
That stood against him
Proud Edward's army
And sent him homeward
Tae think again.
And in the past
They must remain
But we can still rise now
And be the nation again
That stood against him
Proud Edward's army
And sent him homeward
Tae think again.
After leaving the pasture, I eased on into the woodlot and made my way through the dense ground cover, just ambling along, looking for something to photograph. As I started the descent toward the house, the growth was about waist-high, so I was probing carefully with my staff in order to warn any lurking serpents of my approach and to give them time to skeedaddle.
I was looking off to one side when my foot bumped something. The "something" jumped up and scared the living snot out of me. It was a fawn, about the size of a medium dog, and when it jumped up, two BIG does lifted their heads with snorts. About six feet from me. And then they ran. Right AT me. I had a momentary flash of certainty that MeeMaw would find me trampled to death after I failed to show up for supper. I sort of twisted sideways, threw my staff up in front of me, and exclaimed something like "Meshizzletwaforkldeewhing!" The fawn had melted into the air, and one of the does ran to the fenceline and bounded over it. When the one who was "guarding" me saw that the other two were safe, she wheeled and followed suit. I took off running to the fence to try and get a photo, turning the camera on as I ran. I just managed to get off one good shot as the last doe was about to flee into the corn. If you look closely, you can see her in profile. She's just left of center, just below the corn perimeter.
I was looking off to one side when my foot bumped something. The "something" jumped up and scared the living snot out of me. It was a fawn, about the size of a medium dog, and when it jumped up, two BIG does lifted their heads with snorts. About six feet from me. And then they ran. Right AT me. I had a momentary flash of certainty that MeeMaw would find me trampled to death after I failed to show up for supper. I sort of twisted sideways, threw my staff up in front of me, and exclaimed something like "Meshizzletwaforkldeewhing!" The fawn had melted into the air, and one of the does ran to the fenceline and bounded over it. When the one who was "guarding" me saw that the other two were safe, she wheeled and followed suit. I took off running to the fence to try and get a photo, turning the camera on as I ran. I just managed to get off one good shot as the last doe was about to flee into the corn. If you look closely, you can see her in profile. She's just left of center, just below the corn perimeter.
Tomorrow, I begin teaching an overview of the four gospels. And MeeMaw is heading to bed right now, so PeePaw will, too. Sleep well, loved ones.
