xt7jh98zct60_5 https://exploreuk.uky.edu/dips/xt7jh98zct60/data/mets.xml https://exploreuk.uky.edu/dips/xt7jh98zct60/data/2015ms086.dao.xml Bevins, Martha 0.05 Cubic Feet 55 items archival material 2015ms086 English University of Kentucky The physical rights to the materials in this collection are held by the University of Kentucky Special Collections Research Center.  Contact the Special Collections Research Center for information regarding rights and use of this collection. Martha Bevins letters to Tom McCarthy Radio broadcasting. Agriculture -- Kentucky. Birds Women air pilots. 1956 March 29 text 1956 March 29 2016 https://exploreuk.uky.edu/dips/xt7jh98zct60/data/2015ms086/Box_ms_42/Folder_1/Item_5/1956_3_29_Bevins_Lightning_destroys_tree_p1.pdf 1956 March 29 1956 1956 March 29 section false xt7jh98zct60_5 xt7jh98zct60 I
Morning View Kentucky
, 29 March, 1956
Hello Mr. McCarthy,
I hope you saw the sunrise this morning. It Was so irresistible I
watched myself completely off schedule. Migrant acres of Kansas
and the other Dust Bowl states had the sun by the throat, strangling
it to a pallid ghost of itself. It was equally interesting to
look off to the Southwest away from the sun. An almost invisible
film sapped the landscape of much of its color, giving it an overlay
of strange grey light, Surprisingly similar to the eerie half—tones
into which the countryside is plunged by a solar eclipse. The dust
was irritatingly evident in the air, making my lips unpleasantly
gritty when I licked them, and evoking snorting protest from the
sensitive noses of the dogs.

)5 The hedgerow along the line fence on the far side of the pend—field
is having a bad spring. It is a nice hedgerow -- irregularly spaced
tall trees bound tOgether by a lower growth of sassafras and redbud,
sparked by an occasional dogwood.
lhree of the big trees went down when the little twister, angling
across an open slope, blasted them before reaching the tree patch.

‘ In yesterday morning's pre-duun thunderstorm, the hedgerow suffered
another casualty -- a tall rock elm was struck by lightnigg. at the
first pause in the rain, I went over to inspect it.

On the way I spoke to Mrs. Fur as she licked her daily salt from

one of the little salt wheels I fasten to the trees. She is a most
amiable grey squirrel, yearly raising her family as close to the
house as possible. It is amusing to watch her if she happens to be
on the ground when I go out the door. She stops eating and watches.
If I am alone, she continues with her food, but if the dogs emerge
too, she retreats to the lowest branch of the nearest tree to finish
her repast, knowing the puppy has not yet learned restraint and

will occasionally try to catch her.

Once in the pond—field, I saw, near a clump of buckbush, the rabbit
I rescued and raised on a bottle several years ago. She throve on
the same formula I Was using for supplementary puppy feeding -- half
carnation milk and half water, laced with lime water and Karo and

a dash of vitamins. When she was larger l poured it over pablum.

I detoured around her, for, though she does not fear me, I had seen
her recently in that locality carrying miniature hay stacks in her
mouth, and knew her nest was near. Rabbits always carry their carefully
selected nest grasses firmly grppped in the middle, making the ends

 V .
-2-
bristle widely, so that they appear to have suddenly sprouted furious
whiskers.
It is impossible to move rapidly across the pond-field. As I passed
the maple sapling copse, Mr. Chewink, his brilliant spring coat
undimmed by the dampness, called, constantly flicking his long sooty
tail with its startling white trim, that he needed a peanut. I threw
him a nice big one, which he promptly took to his mate, waiting a
few feet away, quiet and lovely in her soft browns. He returned to
get one for himself, and I left them contentedly eating side by side
on the wet leaves, as I continued toward the pond.
I was soon stopped again, this time by what is probably the most
unpleasant voice of the bird world, and quickly found a big male
kingfisher on the wild plum across the pond. I was glad to see him.
He was late in arriving and I had wondered about him. I sat down to
see whether his fishing Was effective. It was too cool for the little
frOgs to be available, and the water of the pond, laden heavily with
silt, was perfectly opaque. To make it worse, more rain began to
crinkle the smooth surface of the water.
I underestimated kingfisher eyesight. In a few minutes he hurtled
downWard, plunging his bright plumage into the uninviting Water.
Returning to his perch, he swallowed his struggling silvery prey,
shook his feathers into place, and settled to watch again. He dived

, several more times, returning only once without a fish, and I went
my way, satisfied that he was dining well.

15::Et was necessary to pass below the dam, and I hurried, thinking
uneasily of the tons of water in the brimming pond high above my
head, restrained only by, what seemed to me, a very frail wall of
earth. Whenever the pond is full, the dam, to my ignorant eye,
always appears fearfully inadequate.
Reaching the rock elm, I stood agape at the wreckage. I have never
seen a tree so completely shattered by lightning. he big trunk forks
about fifteen feet up, and another five feet above that, etpecially
on the right hand side, it looked as though a heavy charge of explosive
had been set off. The wood was so blasted apart that I could have
put my hand right through the heart of it. Anything but a stubborn
elm would have fallen. eminded me of the toughness of the hubs of
the One Horse Shay —- never an ax has seen its chips, etc.
Spread on the ground, with the stricken elm as a center, Was a hundred
foot circle of raw, broken wood, ranging from solid little chunks the
size of a baseball to massive, thick spears fifteen feet long. One of
these latter had plunged into the ground almost upright, and all my
strength served only to move it slightly when I tugged at it. I stand
in awe of the power of a bolt of lightnning, but I cannot fear it,
thoroughly enjoying any lightning display, particularly at night.
I wish it had hit something other than the rock elm, whose seed pods,
and their arrangement on the twigs, are the most attractive of all ~
the trees native to this area.
Sincerely,
film ~wa