Strength in Numbers, Strength in Strength

Yellow elephants stand at the ready.  They are strong and sturdy.  Their trunks are raised and lowered.  Ringing the muddy lot next to the bypass around Danville, the yellow elephants have babies.  The bigger ones tower over the smaller ones.  Mouths agape, the yellow metal creatures seem to be frozen in mid sentence.  Side by side they stand spreading the rumor of their strength around the line, encouraging even the weakest to be strong.  A graphic demonstration of strength in numbers, they stand together.  All of us are more than one of us and none of us can stand alone.  The machine elephants wait for someone to crank their engines to make them demonstrate their strength.  Humans don't have to wait.  People all over the country are gaping their mouths to demonstrate their communal strength.  Like the yellow elephants, they are finding strength in numbers and are ready to crank it up and do the work at hand.

Sites and Sounds Across Pittsylvania County, VA: Llamas Lay on the Hay

Sites and Sounds Across Pittsylvania County, VA: Llamas Lay on the Hay

Nature's Fireworks in December

Streaks of light fill the sky in Pittsylvania County on 12-13-14.  

Bundled up and waiting anxiously for the universe's show tonight,  the trek to the bottom of the yard was like a safari.  Anticipating the bright light show was half the fun.  Hot chocolate to warm us,  blankets to wall out the chill air, we made our way to the new red  chairs at the garden, now still from the frost.  

Excitement is not far away.  Barely in our seats and the show begins.  Right  over our dear departed neighbor's house, the burning meteor flew to the  earth.  Shouts of "ooh, there's one, at 3 o'clock!" and, "did you see that one over the cedar tree?" echo into the yard. Wondering if the neighbors could hear us, our voices dropped to whispers, like the silence of the falling stars we watched.

Barely visible, nearly imagined beams of long forgotten matter fall to earth whether we saw it or not.  Straining our aging eyes to find the joy we found watching this same shower of space debris while awaiting the birth of  our first child; we reminisce. Doughnuts and coffee were the fair of that night.   We have no doughnuts tonight, nor pregnant belly, only continuity of years together, just as the stars.

The universe expands before us as we contemplate the ancients who sat just  like us staring into the dark abyss of the sky. Wonder comes in many ways and stays for many days. Hold onto wonder. Hold onto cold, clear nights with stars so bright.  

Hold onto the joy of life that exists in your backyard in Pittyslvania County, Virginia, or, where ever you may be on this plant we call Earth.

Good People in Chatham

Laundromats are a great place to people watch.  This communal method of washing clothes has actually been a custom for a long time: from the days of carrying the kettle to the creek, making a fire to heat the water, and stringing the clothes through the trees till today. Another tradition of laundry mat day is bringing the small children who are not yet school age. This can be a challenge.

Over the years, I have noticed many parents' behaviors there. Children's behaviors are fairly predictable in this situation.  They are bored.  Sometimes they are sick. We still have to take them with us to do the laundry.  Many mothers take the tactic of chair squatting.  They expect those little people to sit in a chair and be quiet while they go about life's work of washing the family's clothes.  Some parents bring a toy for their child.  Some read to them. Some get loud and angry about what they expect.

Today in quaint Chatham,  Virginia here in the heart of Pittsylvania County, I saw the rare man.  The rarest of men: one doing the laundry with a child in tow. Not only was he tending the machines, he was also tending the child.  When the little boy cried, he picked him up to soothe him.  After the trauma passed, he put him down and followed him around the washers.  As he followed he talked to the child about what they were doing.  He clapped for the child as the small boy toddled along.  When the child fell on the floor, he wiped his hands, and told him this is what he was doing.

GREAT STUFF!

As I stepped up to the dryer, he shared with me which dryers seemed to be in good working order.  I told him he got an "A" today for his handling of the little boy.  He gave me a high five.

Yes, Virginia, there are good men here. Good men at the laundromat in Chatham, Virginia.

Play Date for the Turkey Vultures

The vultures are playing in the air today.  Warm currents carry their light bodies through the air as they float on the rising air nature presented for their amusement.  Circling round and round as if on a synchronized spiral, tens of Turkey Vultures drift quietly and calmly through the Chatham sky.  On further investigation, this "kettle" of vultures appears to be amusing themselves.  My eyes burn from trying not to blink as I watch for the first flap of wings.  I watch one floating bird come from the kettle, never once making any effort to further it's flight, land on a branch and then and only then did it flap.  Like the dog with dirt on its back, the vulture seemed to be shaking off the stiffness from holding out its wings.  Their flight looks so playful, so effortless, I wish I could join in the fun.  I, however, remain on my perch on the street in Chatham, grounded for life.  Vultures are totally ungrounded.  Look up and you'll see freedom in flight.

Sounds of the town

In Chatham, when the air is clear, crisp and cold you can hear the sounds of the town.  Around any corner you may hear old men laughing in the street, and high-spirited talking between them.  Laugher abounds and time passes slowly like the dripping water freezing at the end of the downspout.  It's as though a wave of happiness and freedom came through riding the wave of no more lawn mowing, no more gardening, no building decks, or plant boxes.  Just time to pass, laughter to expend.  Time to blather on about nothing much.  There's chatter about the weather and thanksgiving meals to enjoy.  Time to show pictures of the grands and the grander.  Time to listen to the pulse of the town.  You can hear the Postal Carrier's keys rattle against the mailbox as he retrieves the days deposits.  Boots clack as they hit the cold, hard concrete.  In Chatham, where the air is clear, crisp and cold; you can hear joy, if you just listen.

Happy Trails to Cows

"I could dance with you till the cows come home. Better still, I'll dance with the cows and you come home."  Groucho Marx

In Chatham, Virginia, the county seat of Pittsylvania County, the cows dance home!  They look so happy, well, they look focused, calm and in charge of their path.  Tonight momma cow and her baby were alone in their vigil.  Their gait was a little hurried for cows.  The baby seemed to be double stepping to keep up with momma.  The field stretched out before them like a chenille bedspread, bumpy, yet flat.   Their trip looked long, but they didn't seem to mind. Momma focused on keeping the pace while baby fell in line behind her long tail.  Heads held high, there is no shame in being a cow on a hike for the barn.  I wondered how they know where to go and how long it will take, or do they worry about that?  They're not sniffers like dogs, who can find their way anywhere because they leave a trail of smells.  I know the cows came from the barn in the morning.  On hillsides you can see the trails they forge on their daily trek to and from the barn and their field assignment for the day.  Open land makes it a little harder to discern the trail.  I saw it as a dance.  It seems boring to me to be a cow, so I would want to dance my way back to the barn.  If cows aren't dancing, why do they call dancing "hoofing"!

A Warm Moment in November

When it's November 10 in Pittsylvania County sometimes it's warm.  It's that kind of warm that's not Summer, but not Fall.  It was 67 degrees at the high point of the day.  The sun was shinning and there was little to no breeze.  It was the air that was different.  There was no chill, but also no fire, no burning air that makes it thick and stiffling, causing breath to be labored and skin to sweat.  It was a stillness that we should hold onto like the magic of Christmas or the innocence of easter bunnies.  Working in the garden was like standing still in time.  Using the hoe to weed, pulling up the frost killed tomato vines that were hanging on, ever hopeful their yellow blooms would reach maturity, was not a chore.  No sweat, no glaring sun to make this work a job. Bathed in the sunshine, no need for sunglasses, I think the sun is so low it has formed a new relationship with the Earth.  I feel the time waiting for me to grab one more chance at tending my earth, my land, my provider.  I give the ground my loving hands and it gives me the fruits I need to sustain this body that works the soil.  A circular relationship that is suspended in this moment.  This moment that hangs between Summer and Winter, this moment that must be acknowlegded to exist. .>

The First Frost in Pittsylvania County

Water: solid, liquid and gas.  The first frost makes visible the moisture in the air at 32 degrees or below.  The soft green grasses, clover, lemon balm and other soft green ground growths hold the water crystals and wear them like a sequinned gown.  The cars look fuzzy with the microscopic, solidified water droplets resting gently on all its surfaces.  It seems as though the objects outdoors have grabbed the water in the air and made it their muse, their frock, their decoration of the season, their light and levity, their mink coat of cold, moist vapor.  The water succumbs to a recipe of vapor and oxygen, mixed in a precious concoction of visual acuity unmatched by any art submitted by Earthans.  It is a fragile mixture.  The large star we call the sun shows its warm face and smiles on the frost.  The warmth of that smile melts the heart of the frost and it slowly disappears like the setting evening sun.  Frost:  illusory, magical, flimsy and flouncy, bouncie and buoyant, fleeting and floating.  Frost, the harbinger of winter provides us a dress rehearsal of winter water wonders waiting while winter warms up to cold.   December 21st is more than just a date, it's a promise.

Swirling colors cover the county

There's a place where the roads converge as do the sky and the trees.  Swirling pink and white whisps of clouds stretch across the sky like a Bob Ross painting.  The trees reach up to touch them, but can't quite reach the elusive clusters of moisture and beauty. Green and rust, yellow and red splash across the county like a newly crocheted afghan.  The eye cannot take it all in one glance.  As the road winds around like a Disney World nature ride, eyes find no end to view and vantage points fading into North Carolina.  It is the perfect place to experience the "Carolina blue" sky stretching out over its charges of clouds and colors and changing landscapes.  The road meets its end, the view never does.  So sees the lady who lives and loves in Pittsylvania County, Virginia, a veritable canvass of light and life.

The Swirl of Leaves and Life

     It's a windy Fall in Pittsylvania County.  The more the wind blows the more the leaves, now showing us their true colors, fall from their previously well planted stems. As they fall, they find themselves subject to the whim of the wind.  Those remaining aloft seem to drift upward. Just when it seems they will remain that way endlessly, they suddenly lose the wind and fall to mother earth's waiting arms.
     Tiny leaves swirling against the curb of the parking lot look trapped and hopeless to escape the trap of concrete and cars, wind and whirling.  Each leaf shimmers and shivers alone, yet in concord with the rest.
     When we stop trying to be what we think people want us to be, we show our true colors.  Sometimes we float up high and it is truly exciting and energizing.  Just when we think we will remain aloft, we are dropped down with no wind under our wings.  Little problems can keep us swirling in indecision, feeling alone and trapped,  But, we are not alone.  There are friends and co-workers, church members and family members who will help us remember that we are all swirling around together.  And, when we swirl together, we can shimmer and shine.                    Like the falling leaves, we can drop and know that someone can be there to catch us, if we will just let them. Take a moment and enjoy the beauty of the falling leaves in Pittsylvania County and rest easy on the earth.

The Irony of Grass  4/30/14

The yards in Chatham start greening up the minute the air warms and the sun shines longer each day.  The air is filled with the sound of mowers and blowers and trimmers and spreaders. The flowers bloom with no provocation, and; the trees bud with wild abandon.  

One yard stands out along the block.  A yard that in the past was a haven for broken mowers:  riding, pushing, weeding and blowing.  A yard mowed well by the premiere lawn mower repair person in all of Pittsylvania County, I hear tell.  
When my mower failed us, someone said, "Take it to Junior, he'll fix you up right."  We did.  We all did.  He was a whiz in size 8 shoes.  

And, now, his yard mourns his loss.  His faithful grass keeps coming up even though he's not there to mow it.  Loyal customers ride by the empty shed where he worked his majic, no mowers in waiting, the yard is clear for the grass to grow.  
It's growing and going unmowed, the only yard on the block that is unkempt, uncared for and unmowed.   I see it there alone and abandoned and I feel the irony of it's existence, the sting of loss, the pity for the ones Junior left behind and I wonder about grass.  Does it even care?  No, it's just there because that's where it is.  

It isn't a House and Garden yard, it's just another yard in Pittsylvania County.  

Wild Winter Whirled



Winter whirled around us this month. As Spring drew nigh, the winter winds flew. Snow swirled around Pittylvania County like the rest of the world didn't exist. Rain, then ice, then sleet, then rain, then snow pelted windows, roads, cars and faces relentlessly. It seemed that Spring was here, then all hope was dashed after a day and a half. The snow was back. It looked just like the week before! Snow flew sideways, straight down and up, seemingly all at once. Just like life, it just kept coming at us, harder and more ferosciously as the day wore on. A trip to the store just a mere 3 miles away began on a barely wet road and 30 minutes later, cars were creeping along the totally white road like turtles in a sack race.

The low, building sound of the snow scrapers, one following the other splashed white snow and ice mixed with sand to the sides of the road both clearing and clogging. The roads are clear, the driveways are clogged. What good is a clear road when the driveway is blocked by three feet of dirt, ice and snow?

Work is opening two hours late. So, we'll all bust our guts clearing the driveway to experience a stressful drive to an office that likely will close as soon as we arrive at our assigned destinations? Decisions were made based on personal fortitude. This worker has had fortitude in the past, but that is past. Fortitude is over rated and definitely an attribute which should be designated for the young.

Winter will whirl away and Spring will fling soon enough, or; not soon enough.

Snow is mostly a stranger in this part of the state. We dream about it, hope for it and are usually disappointed by it's lack of appearances. But, when it comes, it reigns supreme! We've been fooled before by inaccurate forecasts and wishful thinking. This time: weather reports were spot on! A phone call alerted me to the first flakes in Danville. The Main Street live webcam which had shown clear skies and dry pavement all morning long and only moments before, now revealed large white floating flakes drifting swiftly in the camera's view. I put on my coat and left work. A generally 20 minute ride took 45 harrowing minutes to complete. The cars were covered within an hour. All afternoon the snow thickened like creamy potato soup. By nightfall the snow blew sideways and the wind howeled spitting a mix of snow and sleet in my face as I stood in the yard with the dog. The tick, tick, tick of falling ice on my window kept me informed throughout the night of the storms' progression into chaos. By Friday, our friend the sun crowned the afternoon with brightness. All hopes of the storms' passing were dashed as it revved back up Friday afternoon, spreading fear and panic. It was the storm before the calm. That last dog walk late Friday night gave me moonlight and stars and clear sky.

Human Sites

Monday, February 10, 2014
      Sites seen on a beautiful Saturday e'en were lovely young people and, a few not quite so young, spreading their wings to fly. Exploring the limits of their freedom, the cast of Vagina Monologues reached deep into their female souls to pull out performances rife with expression. Their readings ranged from subdued rage to delightful elation. All were sites to be seen. In varying colors from pink to shimmering red, the ladies both bared and covered their legs, wore flats, tennies and heels, short skirts, long skirts, pants, tights and jeans, sweaters, t-shirts and scarves. Women wearing what they want, where they want. Beautiful.
     A lovely, late night party exposed more sites of lovely, sweet, intelligent young people all looking for or living their passion. Men and women with gifts to give and long lives to live who want to make a difference in the world, and in their birth place and where they call home. Guests were playing piano, singing show tunes, snacking on home made ham biscuits, colorful miniature cupcakes, and spicy dips with salty chips; raising their glasses, toasting the moment. These sights and sounds were very pleasing to me, giving me hope for the future, and love for the present.

Weight of Water
Winter 2013

     Passing over White Oak Mountain one morning in the winter, the clouds were weighted down with water. No view of the mountains in the distance, no blue sky, no sunshine lighting up the atmosphere. 
    The heavy clouds just hung over the darkened hills ahead. The farther north I drove, the farther the rain seemed to have pushed it's way through the clouds, falling to the ground. Droplets falling, seemingly weightless.
     If you've ever carried a pail of water you know that water is heavy. Spread out among the droplets, it seems weightless. And, yet, those clouds over the mountains look so heavy and full of the promise of life giving water. 
    The weight of water happens after the wait for water. We love the sunshine, we need the rain. So, when the wait for water ceases, the weight of water begins its' slow descent to mother earth waiting below. 
     On the drive home, the clouds were still heavy over White Oak Mountain. What appeared to be lightning in the clouds, was actually the reflection of the beakens from cell phone towers. Their blipping white light reflected off the clouds as they made their ascent back into the upper atmosphere. 
     We benefit both from the wait and the weight of the water. 
     The wait for water weighs heavily on my mind.

Llamas Lay on the Hay

The Llamas lay on the hay, hey, hey


The llamas lay on the hay.


The donkey's in there today, hey, hey


The donkey’s in there today.


Coyotes, you better beware; the donkey’s always in there,


he’s guarding and watching your prey, hey, hey


He’s guarding and watching your prey.


The llamas have plenty of class, but, the donkey, he’ll kick your ass!


The llamas lay on the hay, hey, hey


The llamas lay on the hay.