When a tree isn't a tree

 

...it's a cell tower.

I may hate these strange looking things. But I do love having cellular communication available 24/7. When I moved here (2007) I couldn't get service for my phone in my bedroom. The mountains were not friendly for cell service. Now when my son calls while driving between his home and Durango, there's a known "dead spot." We just wait till he passes through that area. His newer car than mine has built-in wi-fi. I just have a speaker button on my phone.

This is just a small portion of the cemetery at Gashes Creek Baptist Church, which is on the way to my new primary doctor's office in Asheville. The tower is also on that road.

They have 1595 memorial records there (according to "Find a Grave"). But I don't know if all those people are buried on this hill. And I don't know how old the church is...trying to see if there's a quick answer to that. Not really.

The back cover of my recently purchased book "Traversal" by Maria Popova, editor of "The Marginalian" newsletter. I'm so very interested in seeing what and how she weaves thoughts from diverse literature into this tome of 570+ pages. I like especially that there will be some mentions of my recently revived interest in plate tectonics, i.e. continental drift theory. Here's a page of the bibliography. It will take a while before I get to the pages that are indexed which mention this synchronicity.

When I was about to get back in the car across from my local bookstore, I noticed these...and had to pause to capture their beauty.

I've noticed by the photos that we get this garish pinkish red.  They just don't look right to me.

I took this photo several weeks earlier near my home. Same problem. Having had my cataracts removed several years ago, I'm really aware of colors. In real life they may have the same hue, but the leave are just as bright, so the roses don't look so artificial as they seem to do here.

Choosing to have joy is not naively thinking everything will be easy. It is courageously believing that there is still hope, even when things get hard.

MORGAN HARPER NICHOLS

Siwtchboards and phones

Ah, switchboards!  This is the picture from this week's Sepia Saturday
 
That was my first job, probably when I was working in my mom's office at my private school...which was mumble mumble mumble, about 1954.  I am pretty sure I was in "middle school" either 7th or 8th grade, having graduated from folding and stapling things and stuffing envelopes.

I loved trying to figure out answers to questions, like where was Mr. so-and-so, since he didn't answer his office phone.  (Who knew?)  And how to get to the school, when I didn't even drive yet.  I don't think I kept this part time job very long.  But it was the forerunner of many administrative jobs to come in my life.  I bet I've answered phones for so many times and so many hours, maybe the total would be years if I tried adding it all up!

All phones looked alike for many years...

Those phones of the 60s started out black, but were beige and green in my home. 

And instead of having a phone table in the hallway of a home, we started having a phone in every room.  Goodness!

Kitchen phones often had an extra long curly cord, which got all kinked up while I spoke to someone with the receiver tucked on my shoulder.

I had a princess phone in the bedroom; notice it still has a rotary dial.  Mine wasn't pink however.  I think it was beige.

I'll never forget the Ma Bell marketing which would try to put a phone in the bathroom also.  Really now!  I need some privacy please.

Thanks for reading, and for your comments!