Going Nowhere

when a lower back seizes into knots.

In the Middle of Nowhere

Murphy, NC: 

home to devoted evangelicals, 

beautiful scenery and outdoor adventures, 

a downtown made for wandering, 

and a deli serving delicious pastrami and corned beef.

Light Landing

A day in the car, to and from North Carolina, to pick up two Greats for a visit.

The journey ended with this.

Home again, with children and Skipper.

 Life is good.

Under the Stack of Unopened Mail

I found this gem from Christmas. I had forgotten these -- one handed to me on arrival by the writer, the other I discovered in the guest room.

The youngest of the four Greats, like one of the other great-nieces, uses writing for real purposes, and as always, when the writing is real because the writer cares, the reader does too.

I freely admit that I teared up.

Again.

To answer her question, I'd say this: I slept there in love.

The Blues Before Leaving

Christmas Reflection

of missing grandmothers

Before

Christmas Eve 

visit to my niece's new studio

rain and water

first gifts: 

what's most beautiful

is as it is.

After the Drive

like the stacked stone
just-right flowers
wood bowl of shells
slow-burning green wood
my niece's house
radiates more warmth
than even Christmas

New Times in an Old Place

Once, as my brother told his story of a summer camp summer hiking trip many years ago, an old man came wandering up to our campfire in the woods. He sat down and told us stories, played his guitar and sang songs with us.

He left as quietly as he came.

He was Carl Sandburg whose Flat Rock farm, Connemara, was famous for him and for his wife's goats. 

My brother's daughter and family visited the farm the day after Thanksgiving, where the children made friends with the chickens, goats, and cat.

 I don't think they even noticed the bluebirds.

I couldn't help feeling nostalgic for a place I myself knew many years ago from many camp summers nearby, for singing around a campfire, and for a meeting with a man I knew only through his words and voice.

Generosity

My niece welcomed all to the Thanksgiving table: her family, his family, and the family cat.

She knows a good thing when she sees it.

Anticipation

I love driving. By myself.

No music or loud music. My choice.

I especially love driving on back roads, winding along back roads, moving through beautiful scenery, mountains and vistas.

But mostly I love driving to people I want to see.

It's good to go to family at Thanksgiving.

A Quiet Space

Empty on a Friday afternoon (except for me), the University Archives and Special Collections gallery features a small selection of paintings from The Johnson Collection of over a thousand works owned by a Sewanee alum and his wife. 

While I might have wished to see more of the collection, I left satisfied with one: Will Henry Stevens' Smoky Mountain Landscape. Some years ago, when I saw a larger exhibit of his work in Asheville, I felt swept away by the planes and colors, reminding me of childhood in the mountains, looming large still in memory.

On the coldest day of autumn, I warmed to the work and my reminiscence.

Drive-by

Today, on the way to see my niece and her family, I stopped three times -- once for gas, once for food, and once for love.

I have long loved the mountains of North Carolina -- the low lumpy ones and the high peaked ones, the silvered and grayed ones, covered by clouds, and the blue ones like these, receding and bluing into the distance. Their beauty never ages.

The Cure for What Ailed Me

Labor Day in North Carolina with my niece and her family provided the balm I long needed.  My niece E said sometime Sunday evening, "You're such an easy guest."  That's because all I wanted was time with four of my favorite people and time is what I got.

C and A scouted out spiders and big leaves and caterpillars for my camera.  O made me the best cocktails I've ever drunk and took us all to Shining Rock Wilderness where, despite the rain, we fished and swam and laughed at the Red-spotted Purple that landed again and again on Kiva, the family dog.  E showed me her van and place of business.  And we played games and watched The Gruffalo's Child and The Lorax and ate popcorn, and while E read Harry Potter to C, I read Miss Spider's Tea Party to A.

Better than vacation, Labor Day was homecoming.

North Carolina

I have loved the mountains of North Carolina since 1959 when I first went to summer camp at Green Cove in Tuxedo on Lake Summit. After long days on the red clay tennis courts and biscuit-eating contests at dinner, I enjoyed evening programs like campfire, a beautiful and peaceful time for singing and friends and readings. When I became a counselor, I loved the nights after my cabin fell asleep when I played bridge in the Lodge or "stole" goodies from the food locker (an official would somehow produce a key) and cooked them in the kitchen or lay on the canoe dock counting stars with the lapping Green River and night critters as companions. I will be heading to North Carolina to visit family and friends in Brevard and Asheville and am looking forward to seeing them and the mountains again. I'll collect snaps while I'm there, though I may not be able to publish till I return.