There’s a story Grandpa used to tell by the fire about a Lady who was engaged to be married to a very rich man. He’d had many wives before, it was said, but they’d all vanished. This caused the Lady some concern, but her parents just saw his money and sent her off to be wed, and she being in the sort of predicament she was, resolved to find her own way through it.
So she moved into his house on a far-away island away from her family, with her solitary trunk, and look upon the wide expanse of the huge estate that stood, colossal and empty except for him and her and their silent gray-faced servants. The man she married was huge and had a long black beard take devoured most of he face, and beady, dark eyes that burned in his wide, dark sockets.
No one knew how he’d come upon his fortune, but he had many ships and was often away, and he said he was just as happy to leave her be, that his main interest was in travel, but he needed someone to tend to his home.The grey-faced servants moved her one solitary trunk into her cavernous bedroom and he bent before the bed and kissed her small hand and he kissed her small foot and told her she could have anything she wanted in all the world if she would simply agree to stay here.
“You may go into any room in the house, have anything it is that you wish to have, build anything my fortune can build you, and do whatever you wish with my fortune to please you. You may move what you wish moved, and all I ask in return is that you do not use this key. All I wish is that you do go into the room at the bottom of the tower, at the end of the hall, it is my private sanctuary and it is all I love besides travel. This is all I ask of you,” he said, and his eyes gleamed too hot and he held her small hand in his large paw and stared too closely at her.
“Promise me this and you may do what you wish with all I otherwise possess.”
“I do promise,” she said. He kissed her small foot and he kissed her small hand and the very next day sailed out into the world, waving goodbye and leaving her all alone in the wide, empty house with only grey-faced servant silently stepping around her and saying no words.
She promptly removed it from the ring and threw the heavy too-cold key into the ocean. She reviewed her husband’s books and accounts and began to neaten the household, paying the servants more and renovating their quarters until they were friendly and bright eyed and she opened up the extra, cavernously echoing chambers of the house to their families so the hallways rang with voices.
She balanced her husband’s financial empire, sending missives and inquires to various branches, and by the time he returned from his travels he looked bewildered that she was still there and all she had done, but conceded that she had followed the letter of their agreement.
“But what was the room then, Grandpa?”
“Who cares? If somebody tries to lead you into a trap, don’t follow them, and if you promise not do something, then don’t do it,” Grandpa had said, offering me a perfectly toasted marshmallow.
I prefer this ending
Holy shit, this makes me so uncomfortable. Knowing in the original stories that the bodies of his previous wives (in some versions the sisters of this woman) are mutilated in pieces in this room makes this version frankly detestable to me.
Think about it. Someone in power over her (parents) hand her to someone who is widely regarded to be a dangerous individual (rich husband from a far away place that she’d never be able to escape without help). She is now trapped under his hand. He gives her permission to do whatever she wants (in a scenario where the slightest misstep could still end up with her dead because he has complete control over her). As a test he hands her the key to truth and all she needs to bring him to justice, knowing that once she’s seen the bodies she won’t be able to hide it.
In the original story she gets help. She stops the monster. Some versions even bring her dead sisters back to life after she stitches their mutilated bodies back together. This version though?
Nope! Forget that! Forget truth! What’s truth among spouses? What’s truth to someone who’s property? Don’t question! Don’t poke around! It doesn’t matter if the corpses of a dozen women are in the basement, as long as he doesn’t get mad and chop you to bits, it’s fine!
The grandfather’s message is to always listen to people in authority over you, even if you’re pretty damned sure that they are a murderer. Even if they are doing monstrous things. Sure, you can try to work behind the scenes to make things a little better for a few people, but you should never go against the person committing atrocities.
There are plenty of fairy tales worth reinterpreting in different ways, but Bluebeard is one of the few well enough known that’s out there that tells women to be careful, to pay attention, to take care of themselves, and to do the right thing (and doesn’t assume that doing what her forced husband wants is actually the right thing). This is not the story we should be reinterpreting to say obedience and submission are the right thing to do. Not when dead women are under your feet.
This hellgrammite showed up at work today.
Thought I’d share with you all.
Sweet dreams everybody. 😎😎
I love the interlaced pattern in the wings of the Eastern dobsonfly (Corydalus cornutus), which is the adult form of the more familiar hellgrammite. This is the female. The male possesses thin, elongated mandibles that are mainly used for jousting with other males and for courtship of the female. The female’s mandibles, on the other hand, are fully functional and capable of delivering one hell of a painful bite if she’s threatened (don’t ask me how I know). Dobsonflies aren’t commonly seen because they have very short lifespans (about a week or less after emerging from the pupal stage). Their main goal is to mate and lay eggs. Although they appear somewhat ominous (but are actually quite harmless unless mishandled), they are one of nature’s foremost barometers of a healthy ecosystem – they are pollution-intolerant, and their presence indicates a healthy stream or river nearby.
(Boletus bicolor?) rises dramatically from a curtain of spent fronds. Identifying the boletes is a bit of a chore, due to similarities among related species – variations in individual species themselves can complicate matters even more. Many are edible, but some are not. A helpful breakdown of similarities and differences can be found here.
Appalachian Summer, 2018, Volume Twenty-Seven: Wild Bergamot. A familiar summer wildflower of Appalachia’s dry, open woods and fields and certainly one of its most versatile plants, wild bergamot (Monarda fistulosa) is a tall, showy perennial herb with a long history of use as a medicinal herb, tea plant, honey plant, and garden ornamental. During its summer bloom time, it’s also one of the “go-to” nectar sources for a wide variety of insects and hummingbirds. One of the little bugs I most love – the hummingbird clearwing moth (Hemaris thysbe) – is a frequent visitor, attracted by its preference for pink or lavender flowers; swarms of these darting sphinx moths descend on wild bergamot patches during the hottest hours of the day. The plant produces flower heads, which rest on a whorls of gray-green, leafy bracts, at the ends of its long stems; tubular, double-lipped flowers, pink to lavender in color,
begin blooming from the middle of the head outward, giving a wreath-like appearance. The leaves grow in opposite pairs on the stem and are
lanceolate, finely-toothed, and give off an oregano-like odor; they can be used to make an aromatic tea. Also known as wild bee balm, this sun-loving plant in the mint family spreads aggressively both by branching rhizomes and self-seeding. The leaves were used by Native Americans to treat respiratory ailments and to prepare a poultice to treat minor wounds and infections. Nowadays, it’s often planted as a garden ornamental and a honey plant.
Appalachian Summer, 2018, Volume Twenty-Two: Swamp Milkweed. As the first milkweeds of summer – Asclepias syriaca and tuberosa – fade away by mid to late July, swamp milkweed (Asclepias incarnata) rises to assume their important roles within Appalachia’s summer ecosystem. A gorgeous perennial herb of wet meadows, marshes, and stream edges, swamp milkweed bears upright clusters of pink flowers at the top of a tall, branching stem, whose leaves are narrow,
lanceolate, and opposite with smooth edges. As with those of its relatives, swamp milkweed’s flowers are arranged in a “hoods and horns” structure with five downward-swooping petals surrounding a central crown of five upward-pointing horns. The petals are a light pink to deep rose shade and contrast vividly with the pinkish white to cream-colored crown. Swamp milkweed, also known as rose or pink milkweed, plays a critical role in the life-cycles of the monarch and queen butterflies, both as a food source for their caterpillars, which eat the foliage, and their adult forms, which consume the nectar from the flowers. The flowers attract a wide variety of butterflies, bees, and other insects, as well as hummingbirds. You can find a good resource here for growing milkweeds as monarch and queen butterfly host plants.
one of my favorite things is how badgers and coyotes will hunt cooperatively. as in not just like happening to go after the same thing at the same time but actually combining efforts to bring down prey; coyotes are faster and can chase down prey species, while badgers are adept at digging them out of their burrows
Urocyon's Jaunts 2.0 
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