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.

Like bits of chocolate on a bed of mint, the cows dot the grassy hillside. Heads down, bowing to the glistening dew, accepting nourishment from the sun posing as green plants, the cows accept their lot in life. From the road, that life looks simple, calm and content. The cows are giving each other some space, not crowding the others out because they think the grass is better here or there. The clover doesn't spoil their meal or give reason for pause. Such acceptance is rarely seen in nature much less in human nature. Neither happy nor sad, the great bovine remain vigil in the fields maintaining their dignity until it is snatched from them in one quick moment. I wonder if they think about their long, leisurly walks back to the barn on a summer evening, or remember the birth of their calf as they are led to slaughter?

Glancing at Geese

A gaggle of geese: winged beautys traversing the air in a bevy of beauty without any care. 
Gliding softly in unison around the tall trees.
In one accord bowing their wings, seemingly touching, maintaining a symetry like a multi-winged parachute, tilting and leaning with the wind. 
Brown feathers edged in black are nature's cue that these owners of the sky are as comfortable there as humans are with two feet planted firmly on the ground.  
Their mission, unclear to me, looming in front of them like an ocean wave, came to them as clearly as their existance.
Stealthily sliding into the pasture in precision formation, all eyes are on the air show.  
A sight of beauty as fleeting as the moment, gone as quickly and precisely as the geese could land.

A Squirel's Life

Pat, pat, pat, and that is that;

scratch, scratch, scratch, where was that?

Nuts in the ground,

are they ever found?

Paw over paw, claws over claws...

winters that gnaw,

empty stomachs wait for the thaw,

Can't make a map,

don't take a nap!

Fuzzy gray fur, just a small blur,

clinging to trees, nobody sees.

Climbing thin branches, taking their chances;

can anyone find their trail?

Gray squirrel, gray squirrel, swish your bushy tail!