Friday, March 30, 2012

Ramshackle But Still Standing...


This is a typical old 'ramshackle' barn still left standing 
on a North Carolina gravel road. Note how the road does a 
hairpin turn and the barn is built snug to the road itself. 
We love love these old structures and 
we cannot help photographing them!

Wednesday, March 28, 2012

Pink.


The view through the vines
in the back was amazingly pink this morning. 
It drove me to almost hop out of bed to take a pic. 
I thought the focus on the plant in the forefront 
made for this lovely shade of pink.

Monday, March 26, 2012

Spring Fun & Weather


Hail, hail and hail.



Rolling Clouds



Munching Green Grasses



Frolicking Fun


"What?" :-)

Our car ride this past Saturday was most
enjoyable, with animals out all over enjoying the mild
temperatures and all the lush, green, grass as it returns...
So nice.

Top: Spring weather is very changeable! We have had
rolling cloud cover, steady winds (last night), rain, sun,
rain, and repeated hail storms, leaving piles of hail laying
about for hours on end. It looked like it was snowing--
there was so much hail on my car windshield
yesterday as I dropped down from the mountain
and cruised into town!
High country weather
is not for the faint of heart!

Thursday, March 22, 2012

Baffled


Clouds at Play, Unveiling



Clouds Rolling Off into the Distance



Emerging from a Slumber



Expansive Beauty with the Sun Peeking Through

(Click to enlarge)

There was thick mist hanging all about the mountains
this morning (on my trek to school at about 4000 feet)
so it lead me to believe
that at about 5000 feet there would be
ONE
HECK
of a view, and I was right.

I hope you enjoy these
shots of the spring-time
mountain mist and
clouds hanging out on the top
of the Appalachian mountains of the Blue Ridge Parkway.


It was bright and sunny up at 5000 (feet) but
the view downward
was definitely a most heavenly one!

I cannot help believe that it is because
the mountains unveil
themselves as such, that former
generations of 'mountain folk'
could be heard to shout
and sing up a storm in these ol' hills.

I cannot deny
that if you look down and all about on these
beauties
being unveiled, that in spite of the curse of poverty,
ill health or whatever might be ailing you...your spirit will
sing upon beholding the expanse of this dream; the slow
moving billows of cloud groups that hang still and then play
at moving upon the tree lined hills.

To study the bumpy batches of gray-white clouds
as they roll off into the horizon,
it gets you to wondering,

just where does the sky begin?
It also gets you to wondering
some other things,
as well.
:-)

Wednesday, March 21, 2012

Fabulous Forsythia



Forsythia heaven,
high up on the hill
deep golden yellow-
around me you spill.

Forsythia blooming,
just over the rise-
forsythia my forsythia,
you delight my weary eyes.

Saturday, March 17, 2012

Pastel Morning


Pastels



Silver Moon

I brushed back the curtain this morning
to find a deer bounding off. The moon was
a sliver of silver through the trees on an inky sky.

Friday, March 16, 2012

On Having a Poem




On Having a Poem
Having a poem is like having a child.
Although there is, indeed, less pain--
you don’t often know what you’re going to get.
It could be a temperamental child.
You hope to God it’s not a child gone wild.
Like a child, an infant poem
you can caress, perhaps even digress to
pamper and pull, some.
You can bandy it about.
You can comb its long hair.
You can dress it up
and you can take it everywhere.
Having a poem is like
diving into a waterfall--
you don’t know exactly where you will end up.
Having a poem is like
being lost at night.
“Blink-blink,” there is a light
somewhere off in the distance…
and you hope you can
catch up to it
and make it out.
Having a poem is like having a shiny, new penny.
You can finger it
and turn it ’round and ’round in your hand, some.
Then you can (hopefully) turn it over to a friend.
It’s like a token.
Slip it in the slot
and just get on the train!
It might be a fast track or a long, slow ride.
Having a poem
is like (and unlike) having a child…
When it becomes a toddler and it
wanders off, alone, on shaky legs,
don’t worry--
you can just let go of its hand.

Tuesday, March 13, 2012

The Doors


She stood looking at the strange door.
"Should I go in?"
"What could be in it for me?"
she wondered.

She jammed her hands into her
dungaree pockets.

Then she dragged the toe of her
shoe through the
damp earth,
back and forth.
She knew she was stalling.


"I guess I'll go," she thought.
"What do I have...to lose, anyway?"


Monday, March 12, 2012

Sights and Scenes...


Simply Delicious! (Large pink flowering bush; so early!!) :-)




Groovy



Salmon Door



Light Pink Blooming...


Asheville Street Mural

Saturday was a good day for a car trip to
Asheville, N.C. to take in the local scene
and some good food. It was in the mid 60's
with moderate sunshine. Asheville is 'loaded up'
with culture; murals, street artists, musicians, great
food choices and varied stores (including antiquing.)
We ate
Indian food (which I LOVE...) while taking in
some
leisure (for the details, I ate potato and pea stuffed
pastries over long grain white rice with garbanzo beans
bathed in Indian spices; and it was much better than the
average...) We shopped at a local organic grocery store for
bulk spices, and walked and then walked (some more)
all over the downtown. Asheville boasts one of the
biggest Goodwill stores in the nation (among other
things, mind you :-) ), so we had to
pop in there.
Here is a sampling of a local mural, the
trees
and bushes in glorious bloom and bud, and
some
wonderful local architecture that I admired.

What is it about wonderful old wooden
doors that beg the need for study ?
:-)
Enjoy.

Thursday, March 8, 2012

Party.

Loosed


Loosed at last.

Moving on.

Uphill journey.

Keeping

your

head

in the

clouds.

Traveling well.

Gratitude.

(Impatience.)

Praying all the day.

Hope like a companion.

Virtue no man can take away.

Tuesday, March 6, 2012

Leftovers


Quilt




Corner Barn



Bird Feeders



Last Year's (garden)


Winding Road (as seen from above)

We took a short road trip this past Saturday
as the weather is perking up. I liked this view
(bottom) of the winding ribbon of a road.
When we do see this kind of view, we often think,
"Wait, have we been on that road, yet?" Let's think.
If not..."Let's go, soon!" Then, after mild
weather
(on the weekend) it really snowed and
it
blew on Monday. Today (Tuesday) it has
cleared but it is cold (in the low 20's) this morning!

Monday, March 5, 2012

Monday...


"Sporting a New Do;"
note the saliva droplets, nice, eh?!





"No Bother..."




Ginger 'On the Watch;'
in all of her glory...Mountain Dog that she is...:-)




Down the Rail
(...please do note the 'blizzardy' wind whipping UP at the end of this shot;
gusting to well at 45 MPH; and that I stood here to get this 4 U :-) Ha!)



Through the Trees


Wellll, it's Monday, March 5th (2012)
and we have here, a blizzard
with snow...and NO school.

Friday, March 2, 2012

the fiddle heads


I've always wanted to draw them...
(a work "in progress," I suppose; but
when it comes to drawing, less is more.)
Fiddle heads (fern baby plants)
are amazingly keen.

Such a sweet little package
that when unfurled
produces a large, green,
and rather furry fern leaf
(say that fast, ten times.)
Anyway, they make me smile.
lg

fiddle head


fiddle head friends
where are you found?
fireflies tell, you are close to the ground

wee little people
in mushroom caps
play tiny fiddles, feet crossed, taking naps

fiddle head fiddle head
where can you be?
the first of march
and I am longing to see...

fiddle head, O fiddle head
alone up in the wood
tiny dearest spring plant
unfurling something good



Thursday, March 1, 2012

A Writer’s Life



Hidden
(Wild Daffodil)

A Writer’s Life

A writer’s life

is not her own…

it’s like you sit right by the phone, waiting

most hours of the day

and oddest hours of the night,

and, of course, you look a fright--with

hair not combed

and glasses on…

for thoughts to drop right from the sky

(it’s like you’re just a passer-by…)

The thoughts may stay

but the words might go--

it’s like they’re not

your own,

you know.