Beth Ferrier’s Blog

In just a few hours I’ll be heading towards six days of teaching in Mississippi, in July. Since my inner child has been playing with matches for many years now, I’ll admit, I’m concerned about the heat. Let’s face it, there’s only so much clothing one can remove and still be street legal.

I’m assuming that folks in the south run from air conditioning to air conditioning the way we northerners run towards the warmth in the dead of winter. Perhaps I’ll even sweat off a few pounds while I’m there (one can hope). Oh, wait, I forgot, I’m going to the civilized south, I mean perspire.

One way or another, I’m really looking forward to my time in Ole Miss. Just last month I was in St. Cloud, MN, in a classroom that overlooked the Mississippi River. This week I’ll be closer to the mouth of the river than ever before. Someday I’d like to see the beginning and the end of the Mississippi. The river has always been a life metaphor for me. It starts out so small, and grows to be strong. While it may wander a bit in the middle it supports life and provides for others. Those who fail to take it seriously end in ruin. And then it finishes in grand style, pouring all it has left into the sea. We could all hope to do so well.

The last things to go in my suitcase are my evening diversions. I must admit that I shudder in horror at the thought of having nothing to do. That’s not to say that I’m incapable of doing nothing (shut up Karen), and after a good day of teaching, sometimes nothing is about all I have left. So I’ve tossed in enough yarn to make two pairs of socks. And I’ve tossed in a piece that I’ve appliqued, along with embroidery floss and beads. And I have three books on my ipod. Hmm, maybe I’d better toss in another skein of yarn, or pull the fabric for another small applique project.