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!