Hollow Happenings

I tried to get the girls up today to go to Palm Sunday service at Aunt Barb and Uncle Harry's church this morning, but staying to watch Daddy and Kelly Moore move the shed was just too much more interesting! G has plans to make the back area more level in order to put in a carport/pavilion and eventually a pool to the south side, so the shed had to be moved.

Mary Black, the stray outdoor cat who adopted us and whom SG named, has shown up this morning! She was gone for three days, and we thought perhaps she had encountered the mountain lion that supposedly attacked several of Ronnie Harrell's goats -- either that feline or the coyote that George spotted in the front yard several weeks ago . . . I have witnessed neither feral animal, but many in the neighborhood have. We're wondering how more lives dear MB has . . . and, no, she's not welcome in the house -- we're all allergic!

Sisters

Yesterday I took the girls to Frederick to visit my grandmother while my mom, my great-aunt, and my aunt were there visiting her. This photo shows our three pairs of sisters that day: my great-aunt Marguerite Poole Angell and her sister (my grandmother) Helen Poole Null; my aunt Susie Null Stambaugh and her sister (my mom) Judy Null Fuhrman; and my girls Sarah Grace and (drama queen) Sylvie. It was taken in front of the coffee shop beside Grandma's home, Somerford Place.
Grandma was Alzheimer's Disease. She is doing very well physically, but she no longer knows who we are and she is incapable of taking care of herself anymore. Somerford has been a godsend for her and for us; they take care of her exactly the way she needs it, and she is as happy as she can be there. Unfortunately, Maryland's laws are not conducive to allowing for Medicare to finance care in an Alzheimer's unit; when her own money runs out, she will have to be moved to a nursing home, a completely inappropriate place for her at this point in her life, unless she gets lucky and gets a waiver. My family has written letters to our delegates in hopes of their changing the law, and Susie has even had a few responses!

South County Kids

All six of these lovely children (here enjoying a July day at Catoctin Zoo) get the privilege of growing up within a mile of our little hollow. The Videttis, the McCrossins, and the Downins alike share what I think might just be one of the prettiest places on Earth. Tonight, while I sat on the driveway watching Sarah Grace play, I looked east out over our yard across to the other ridges. I was struck by the vibrant colors of the mountains and this July evening sky. Despite the relentless gnats, I love it here. The rugged landscape is so different from the rolling hills of Carroll County.

Twenty-one Years of Madness

Every year on a Saturday around Thanksgiving, hoards of impassioned runners take on 50 miles of our rugged landscape in a little race called the JFK Ultra-marathon. George's dad, Dave Downin, has participated in this event for the last 21 years, and for the last several we have been at the finish line to welcome him back from surviving the madness. This year he literally carried his Mount Lock Hill neighbor Bill Moore by the arm for the last 3 miles to ensure his finish. For years Bill had said he wanted to run the JFK, and this was the year Dave held him to his goal. Dave was part of the Herald Mail's feature series on some of this year's runners. Read one article here. Another short article was written just about Dave helping Bill finish. Find it here.
The JFK is the country's oldest ultramarathon and takes participants from Boonsboro to Williamsport across the Appalachian Trail and down the C&O Canal. It begins at George's old high school in Boonsboro and ends at my current school, Springfield Middle School. Locals have varying feelings about the race, but most seem to have a sense of pride about the event. Many of our friends claim they will some day run the marathon, but very few have followed through. A few years ago, George found himself in the race at the last minute. One of Dave's registered running buddies injured his knee just before the race, and Dave dared his son to run in his stead. George did, without one day of training (he figured his bike-riding would suffice), and indeed finished in over 12 hours. He was out of commission for a good three days in pain, but it is a feat on which he often brags. The best part of the story is that he ran the race in sneakers he found along Coastal Highway on a summer trip with the boys to Ocean City.
Next year we are quite sure Dave will make his twenty-second finish. He has recently retired and looks forward to more time to train.