Last Ride with Mom

Winding between the foothills, the road finds it's way to the last spot on a short trip in time.  The last curve yields to the view of a small house, blue and trimmed with lake rocks.  Passing back through the time in the mind, the site was unfinished and begging for the attention of a meticulous dweller.  The memory triggers thoughts of a less glamorous time, a time when thoughts are fleeting and messages lost in translation.  This place, this untimley place, leaves a ghostly flair of forgotten memories, of future forgotten moments and all the moments that pass.  A different time in the rotation of the Earth, a moment frozen and trapped in the corner of the brain becomes once again real.  As though it snapped back like a rubber band, the thought of her in the car fed the consciousness and opened the pathway to vivid memories. Joyless memories haunt the soul, yet turn to joy as the turn signal clicks.  

White Horses

White streaks run in unison through the green grass in Chatham.  Unaware of their 

muscular beauty and strength, 

they turn their heads and splash their tales 

as the wind gathers their manes 

to one side then the other. 

Free and unemcumbered by 

earthly desires, jealousies, or unkept promises, 

they are just themselves. 

A devotedness to gleeful play is indicated by their lively gait.  

Togetherness looks so delightful!  

Lovely white horses live and play 

at Chatham Hall School 

in beautiful, 

bucolic 

Chatham, VA.

AFTER THE STORM

The color of the day was pink and gray.  It swirled and whirled it's way across the sky like a painter's brush on canvas.  Patchy and pink, it looked like ink, painted and polished just waiting to pop.  

Wanting to savor the moment, my camera snapped up those colors into their digital home.  No photo, no words can match the raw beauty of the work of the wind and sun joining hands to paint this glorious masterpiece in the sky.  

As I drove, the patches elongated and drizzled high above the horizon.  One second pink, the next moment gray.  It was, after all, the end of the day.  

Tell me, I pray, have you ever seen the sky look this way?

Kudzu in the County

Cobweb canyons of kudzu flourish as summer flees and fall is freed.  Drooping drapes of giant leaves close windows to the past, a temptation for imaginations to run wild.  Lengthy tendrils travel to the light, driven by hormones kept out of sight. The viewer finds fascination in fomenting questions:  did the occupants of the hidden house leave because the kudzu overtook the house, or did the kudzu take over the house because the occupants left?  Fields of the stuff look fluffy and innocent like a new born bunny before it, too multiplies and runs rampant in the yard.  Lush, green, almost jungle-esque it lounges over trees and stumps, highways and byways, poles and lines making an impervious veil for shy cows and crows.  
It's Super Food, nothing can harm it; bugs won't touch it, cow's won't eat it, people can't eat it!  Super Food can leap tall buildings in a single growth spurt.  It's the big green monster that grows out of the woods into the fields and over the hills and fences and houses and sheds, oh my! 
 If you don't believe this silly tale of chlorophyll curtains and monsters and such, then come to Pittsylvania county and see for yourself!

TENACITY HAS WINGS!

Tenacity has Wings
A vision of persistence hops across the pavement, it's determination and perseverance apparent in every movement.  Pecking and pulling with a dogged strength of purpose, it's reward is fleeting and must be repeated with resolve and purpose.  Seeing it's endurance and stamina brings to mind the human condition.  We must never give up.  Obstinacy rules the day.  Peck, peck, peck away with the stubbornness of a splinter in the finger, the obstinacy of a desirous child for candy, the resolution of a persistent Preacher in the pulpit. Intransigence pervades its' constitution.  There is no stopping the insistent pecking, searching, finding the minute morsel of worm.  The end game is so delicious and sweet, endurance is the only option.  Steadfastly listening out its' prey, feathers unruffled, red breast puffed in accomplishment, beak full of booty buried in leaves, soil and grass, it basks in it's glory.  Lunch in Pittsylvania County, a virtual cornucopia of nature, nurture and determination.  Listening and learning, step by step, the goal is met. 
Tenaciousness grows wings.  

Tenacity:  the quality or fact of being able to grip something firmly.

BRICK BY BRICK

A gateway to knowledge, maturity and futures untold unfolds brick by brick in Chatham, VA.  The skill and expertise of all the ages has built a fortress of an entrance, a bridge and a work of engineering art. The eye is fooled by the majesty of bending bricks as they lay and overlay, curving and bending lending their solidity to the illusion. Month by month, brick by brick the gateway has raised it's form under the diligent hands of skilled artisans who's stories remain untold.  A story-book entrance is writing an invitation to adulthood, to education, to cultural experiences.  Higher hard skills meet higher soft skills and welcome awaits each on the other side of the precipice.  Chatham Hall has commissioned a fairy tale gate to the future.

Leaf by leaf green appears and each growing soldier stands in lock step with the next in calibrated rows.  Uniformly curved across the sloping hill, they spread their wings and grow.  Week by week the layers form, marking time with the sun.  The rain falls, the sun shines, the soldiers grow.   These emerald spectacles have no mind, no emotions, no pain,  They are unwitting players in a centuries old game.  It is everything in one compact product: glamour, power, relaxation, sex appeal.  Dark hands from across the ocean tended and tilled it, and; it filled their days with pain and fear.  Those hands traveled here in ships just like the layers of gold leaf piled one on top of another in the carts carrying it to market.  Backs were beaten, families were decimated. It caused a war! Such natural beauty nurtured by human hands wreaks havoc on the human condition, from its’ very beginnings to this day: from slave labor, to destruction of the human body, to ecology, to illegal trafficking, to addiction, to profiteering.Statesmen tax it, laws relax it, doctors tell us what the facts is.

Death of a Season, Life for a reason

Nature abounds in death in Autumn.  That death makes way for other expressions.  It is the pathway to Winter and along that pathway are natural beauties that delight the onlooker and soften the blow of the bitterness that lies ahead.

Seeing the true nature of a tree is what is happening when the earth begins it tilt away from the sun, and the leaves reveal their true selves.  Deprived of sunlight, a part of them recedes bringing forth their true being.  Deprivation is most generally perceived as a bad thing, but; if we look at leaves deprived of their ability to make chlorophyll , we see beauty.  Their true selves shining through, the ground becomes their skirt, scattered leaves adorn not only the wind, but the earth, providing nourishment for the soil.

In witnessing this revelation in nature, could we not transfer this as a revelation of ourselves?  When we are deprived of parts of ourselves or our needs, we are forced to look deeper into who we are and how we want to manifest our true selves.   If and when we show our true selves, we spread the joy and love that lies at our core, and; we blanket others with those expressions, providing nourishment for the soul.

On November 22, 1963, our President was assassinated.  Only a few people in history have lived through such an event.  Soon no one will be alive who was alive then.

That solitary event gave those living through it, a chance to see what can happen in life.  A young mother was left with two small children to raise.  A nation was left without a leader.  Young people learned that fathers die. Somehow, though, facing those frightening realities strengthened the nation, strengthened individuals to be their true selves.  We can face events in life that force us to see our true self and be like the trees in Autumn turning those events into something beautiful and meaningful for all to see.

The trees in Pittsylvania County look tall and proud and strong and fearless.

This isn't my usual fare of Sites & Sounds, but; I am in Pittsylvania County, and; this is what I thought one day while I drifted through its space.  However, I think it follows the theme:  seeing the extraordinary in the ordinary.  I hope you enjoy it and will make a comment.

Miss Betty's Daily Adventures

Miss Betty travels through time and space.  She always has a good day.  There's always fun going on when she's around.    A walk though the park is like a trip to Utopia.  No weapons exist, no hate is felt, no negative thoughts cross her mind, no competition just to prove a point, no jealousy.

So, today Miss Betty awakes to the smiling face of her spouse.  He made the coffee and it smells like heaven opened up.  He bends down and kisses her cheek and the day gets off to a great start!  He says funny things and she laughs like there is no one funnier.  HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH!  "Stop, my sides are splitting!"

Breakfast is on the table like magic and tastes like summer and winter had baby chicks and they married a lamb.  The toast is light and crispy, the eggs are easy over, the grits are southern cuisine at it's most basic and delicious.  The butter melts like mountain snow as it slides down the sides of the grits.  Yummy on a plate!

Miss Betty gathers her coat, lunch and water for the day.  She dances her way through the dining room into the living room on her way to the door.  Snapping her fingers and whistling her way down the steps, her husband swoops her up and kisses her on the lips like it was the first time.  The first time he enveloped her soft, silky pink lips between his lightly biting lips, the first time his heart fluttered and she fascinated him, the first time he wanted to be a part of her life, that's how it felt to her.  She had suspended time and space for those few moments; and they were glorious and joyful and titillating.  Every day was a hit parade of joy and acceptance.

The sun shined through the windshield and her sunglasses shielded her eyes.  It was warm and light and the car drove like a dream.  165 miles to the gallon was a great deal.  Just the thought of it sends shivers down her mind.  She makes it happen every day.

Griddle Drum Solo

The rhythm of breakfast beats fast and furiously as the spatula hits the griddle. Voices hum along in early morning chatter as the plates and glasses clatter. Higher pitches from little stitches round out the sound with bright new ideas and just a smidgen of fidget.

The beat goes on as fathers and grandfathers laugh and listen to sons and daughters around the table; friends and neighbors who come when they're able.

The soloist taps with skill, as pancakes flap on the grill. Potatoes sizzle and onions drizzle. Sweet pungent flavor ready for patrons to savor.

The beat of the bacon and home-fried potatoes resounds through the room without any tune. The drummer's solo infuses the space adding nose-pleasing smells to early morning breakfast plates.

A cloudy day fades away, as the waitresses say to you, "Thanks for eating at Ruebens, Too!"

Imaginary Images

High above the roadway, through the windshield, beyond imagination and just out of grasp, giant white wonders exist.     Dinosaurs and ducks, angels and devils float into view, dissipating with every passing breeze. Whipped cream waffles line the sky; temping the taste buds with imaginary sweetness.     Dark masses gather in gloom and grayness, extending their depression over the city, ending at a seamless border.Translucent dimness diminishes the daylight.     Monet-like brush strokes give fame to their frame.Like the ocean upside down, they waft and rush across the horizon and over the landscape.     Large looming clusters shadow the space below like a blimp on it's way to nowhere.Dynamic distractions dive down, reaching out with teasing fingers, never touching the ground.      This "visible mass of condensed water vapor floating in the atmosphere" provides endless imagined images.

I conclude that clouds evoke more emotion and wonder than any definition can express.  

Look up in the sky: it's a bird, it's a plane, 

no, it's a cloud!

Pittsylvania County Virginia is clouded!

Fall Flash Mob

Who doesn't like an exiting flash mob?  

 

Colorful mobs of leaves first fall to the ground, floating and flitting.  

Soon they fit into their surroundings, 

relaxing passively on the ground.  

No longer attached to their life sustaining stems and limbs,

 the fluid leaves their once smooth surfaces.  

With the age of days, they crinkle and brown 

into crunchy light figures subject to the whims of the wind.

Then, the music of wind begins to play.  

The crescendo ascends brown leaves into a swirl of dancing dervishes.  

More and more mobbers join in the deftly planned performance. 

Spinning and floating inches from the pavement, 

others join in as the group swirls past. 

Jumping and dancing round and round, more and more 

leaves abound.

And, just as quickly as it began, like a good flash mob, 

the leaves disperse back into the crowd 

just as steathily as they had entered 

the silently spinning scene.

 

Mother Nature, 

flash mobbing in Pittsylvania County!

A Mailbox in Dry Fork

The mail box:  a small blue box with a portal for material possessions on their way to a new home, monetary obligations being sent, and not least of all, expressions of love.

The mail box has sent many a note, letter and postcard from my hand. Such a simple pleasure to send or receive that precious note from Mom or Grandma,  the blissful joy of a love letter, a thank you note for kindnesses extended in joy and sorrow.

The mail box, an inanimate partner in the joining of two minds, stands alone on the corner always at the ready for that precious cargo.  That mailbox sent cards to a dying mother and an ailing mother-in-law, and unseen sailors at sea.

Today it looks lonely, and; I know why it makes me sad to see it.  There is a loss of habit, a loss of that person who made it useful, that loss of purpose in someones else's life.

Maybe it will look happier tomorrow, or next week or next month, or...

Peace for the people of the world

Pittsylvania County came alive at midnight New Year's Eve 2014.  The sky was clear and bright. The moon was high in the sky providing illumination for the midnight festivities.  Out in my front yard the air was crisp and cool.  The sounds of fireworks and various other popping noises erupted all around.  It's as though we are attempting to catapult ourselves into the next year.

Thinking of new beginnings is exciting:  new love, new life, new sprouts from the garden, new experiences, new opportunities, new friends, new challenges. A new day is dawning and brings with it a new year.  

The people of Pittsylvania County are no different from the rest of the world when it comes to envisioning a fresh start; a chance to wipe the slate clean and make things right or better. We want to lose weight, be healthier, exercise more, eat right, make more money and find happiness. 

Where do we find happiness?  It is so elusive at times, but at midnight December 31, anything seems possible.  In the midst of all the revelry and explosions, we search for peace.  Can people all over the world truly be happy without peace?  

Let us each make peace a priority in our daily lives in 2015. We could do it if we tried.  

The Imagine Peace Tower is calling to us to make a wish for peace, calling without a cell phone, calling without sound, calling to us with the light of peace.  Light gives us glorious hope and unbounded joy.  Let your light shine, and; you will make peace on earth, good will to mankind.  

Love to all...

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.