I hate green. Green is my least favorite color, at least in clothing and accessories and household goods. I don’t wear green on Saint Patrick’s Day, or any other day, for that matter. And I’m the opposite of an “environmental wacko”, since I don’t believe that humans are a blot on the landscape, or destroying the planet, or any of that stuff; “green energy”, “green buildings”, of no importance to me.
However, I’m quite fond of green landscapes. When I visited Britain in 1984 for the first time, I was totally blown away by the green fields demarcated by hedgerows and low stone walls. I was fascinated by the beautiful landscapes in the Highlands of Scotland. My readers will have seen dozens of the pictures I took of the area around Cambridge, which is the most beautiful place in the world. I’m a rotten gardener, but I have visited many beautiful gardens in my travels. Here are some.
Mount Rose is the highest point in the Washoe Range in Nevada, and the highest year-round pass in the Sierra Nevada mountains. On the highway at the summit of Mount Rose, here are the trees and rocks at the very tippy-top.
On the way down the other side, when you feel like you’re really on top, you can see Lake Tahoe below.
So one afternoon, I’m in my car on the way to a doctor appointment. I’m driving down the freeway, and when I look up and around, the sky looks like there’s a “lid” on the world, and it’s been raised a bit. And, right in the strip of blue sky between the lid of clouds, and the earth, what should I see, but Mount Baker. When I got to the office, I parked right on the top of the parking garage, because I just had to get a picture of that mountain.
They are both occupations. Way back in the medieval period in England, people didn’t have “family” names, since there were few enough people around. They were often known by what they did in the community. John, the miller, who owned the flour mill by the river and accepted everyone’s grain to grind into flour. If there were ten people named John in the village, they were distinguished by their occupations so people didn’t get them mixed up. So you might have John the miller, and John the butcher. Eventually, when there were enough people around, those occupations became their last names, and their children had two names, a first name and a last name.
For a while now, I have, just for fun, been keeping a list of last names that are occupations. I’d love it if my followers could add names that I’ve missed. Here is what I have so far:
Smith (as in blacksmith), or Schmidt the German variation
Fletcher (makes arrows)
Shepherd (or Shepard)
Cooper (makes barrels)
Mercer (makes thread)
Fuller (processes cloth)
Marshall, or Marshal
Mason (the Masonic order was made up of the specialized stonemasons who built early cathedrals)