Steam Power

The first weekend in November is the annual Soule' Steam and Feed Works celebration in Meridian. This facility manufactured steam engines with valve systems that allow variable speed control. It functioned as a foundry until approximately 2003. Some local business men purchased the facility and turned it into a remarkable museum.



A view of less than one fourth of the machine shop portion of the facility. Note the common shaft system of powering the individual machines.



One of the steam engines in operation along with just some of the products produced by Soule' as a foundry.



What would a Steam Festival be without a steam powered Calliope. The young man is pulling a rope attached to the steam whistle.





These have nothing to do with the Steam Festival, but I thought they were interesting. You can see what I do on good days.



A product from a bad back and a over active imagination. Who would think that birds go to church. Of course they must have lots of faith. How else could they fly.

Such Talent!

My wife, in addition to being smart and beautiful, is extremely talented. She is quite artistic with an exceptional eye for jewelry. I realize I'm prejudiced, so judge for yourself.

She has been making many different types of jewelry for quite some time but recently took a Silver Smith class.


She buffed and shined the completed project to a beautiful finished product.


Needless to say, she was quite enthused about her new area of endeavor. It's difficult for me to imagine anyone with this type of talent, so watching her excitement grow over her success is really fun.


All these pieces were produced in less than five days of class.

Paul Revere, eat your heart out.

Signs, Signs, Every Where A Sign!

On a recent trip to the south part of the state we observed this sign on the east side of U.S. 49 just north of Hattiesburg. I sent it to some friends who encouraged me to post it on Wunder Photos on the Weather Underground web site. I was astonished at the number of responses and comments in favor of the billboard.

 

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Our Sun Porch is some what of a museum to signs. This one I received from my sister Beth for my birthday. I think since she lives in Virgina, she is attracted to things from her native state. We share the same love on the Magnolia State.

 

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This sign was a gift from my sister Jeri. We know her affectionately as Jerry Lynn, but since she is a professional type she uses Jeri. It pretty much describes our home. What better goal could you possible have for your dwelling?

 

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This one was a gift from Jeri when she and Beth went on a shopping trip recently while Beth was down for a visit. Corkey the yellow Lab lives on our Sun Porch and he needs several visits outside during the day. He is a great friend and gives me reason to keep my bad back limber. The sign pretty much describes my daily routine.

 

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What southern porch would be authentic with out a Coca Cola thermometer? This one is the real deal, not a knock off.
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Well, these are just a few of the signs that garnered my attention recently. It seems like you see so many signs on a regular basis, we begin to ignore them, The stop sign is an excellent example. It's easy to just slow down glance and keep going. Not just the traffic sign, but all the other stop signs we encounter daily. Like the ones Mother Nature leaves for us, or the signs of caring and love our family and friends present us on a regular basis.
The song from the 70's titled "Signs", ends by saying, "when they passed around the plate for a collection, I didn't have a single dime, so I got pen and paper and I made my own little sign, I said, thank you God for thinking about me, I'm alive and doing fine, signs, signs, every where a sign.

Signs..................

It's Officially Summer.............

It's officially summer now! Like we didn't already know. It's been summer for quite a while here in the deep south, regardless of what the calender showed. Temperatures soaring up too, and hovering around 100 degrees. Humidity to match, along with afternoon thunder bumpers that tail off into steamy evenings.

It has been tough but I admit I prefer it to freezing temps and frozen precipitation. I suppose it is because I relate back to my youth. In the winter you were allowed out to go to school, church and work. In the summer, when school was out, My Mother basically said, "get out of my house, don't get into trouble, and come when I call". The holy trinity of summer rules.

I remember riding bicycles in the early mornings. Some times I was sent to the post office, or the grocery, but the most cherished rides were to the plum thicket or to the creek to cool off. Afternoons were reserved for my paper route, baseball practice or the rare trip to the greatly undersized and over used public swimming pool. That is, if I was through with the paper route, cutting grass, (that's mowing lawns to you folk north of the Mason Dixon line) and no one else in the area need me for manual labor.

Oh, but when the afternoons gave way to thunder storms or the occasional gentle tropical summer rain shower the routine had to be interrupted for the ever polarizing mud ball fights. We couldn't afford water balloons so we just threw freshly packed mud balls. Some contained the occasional rock hidden in the center. Purely accidental, of course.

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Recent thunder storms left the heavy feel of summer steam near the Ross Barnett Reservoir.


The rains passed as quickly as they came and yielded to the blistering sun that baked the earth and made the steam rise. I remember inhaling the steam and the feel of the moisture as it entered the lungs and the ever so sweet ozone of natures perfume from the fresh aroma of honey suckle,magnolia, mimosa, plum, pear, and apple trees that seemed to be every where. Not to mention the smell of the fresh vegetable blossoms in every garden and truck patch in the county that were always within reach of our noses.

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The sweet perfume of this magnolia was quite the welcome sign of summer in our back yard.



Summer sunsets were always spectacular, giving way to starry evenings that were brightened by the lights of the little league baseball field and the sound of the families cheering with the crack of the wooden bat. On the nights when there were no scheduled games, the stars were the field lights over the pasture or back yard where we played blooper ball. (sometimes called whiffle ball, but always played with a plastic bat and ball on a make shift field using trees, towels, posts, flower gardens or what ever we could find for bases, or what ever fell into the geometric pattern of the diamond of a baseball field. Yankee stadium or Camden Yard had nothing on our imaginations. After the major league games on television they would have firework displays, after our blooper ball games, we had lightning bugs to put on their light show. Lightning bugs........that would be fire flies to those culturally deprived of Southern Living.

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This nest of Cardinal hatching's near our deck, were quick to open wide to the slightest sound.



Finding a bird nest was always a summer treat. Watching the adults flutter around with twigs and sprigs of grass to build the brooding abode always drew our attention. We would make mental notes of the locations and follow the progress all summer. From eggs, to hatching's to big mouths open wide when the parents lit on the limb adjacent the nest to feed the ungrateful little chippers to the day when the young feathered noise makers attempted their first flights. We often stood yard guard to keep the dogs and cats from feeding on their inept attempts to fly.

Climbing trees to get a better view of the country side, or hide from your buddies during a game of day or, when the parents were watching, night hide and seek, without flashlights. Only sissies needed lights. Bruises, scratches and cuts or any other injuries gained as a result of poor visibility, were worn like badges of honor. Crying from injuries was overlooked, but ONLY if the injury resulted in a bandage. Otherwise you were ostracized by being the last one picked the next time teams were selected for what ever game we were playing.

Summers were great. It's a wonder we survived them. I'm sure glad we did. I'm even happier that they held such beauty and wonder..........and memories.

WAY OVERDUE!

Needless to say, I am way behind on posting. It's not that there hasn't been anything to write about, I just haven't felt inspired. To be honest, I'm posting this out of guilt.

At any rate, it's been an interesting spring. But before the real warm weather arrived I was still feeding the birds in my satellite feeder.





There is a cemetery in the city of Brandon near where I live that is quite historic. The civil war memorial is quite appropriate for this time of year.


I had the opportunity to return to my home town and share with a few of the folks there, how important the people, town, and time period had been to me. Much to my glee they agreed, without exception. We even smiled at some of our identical memories of our youth.

The number one location of influence, outside my home, during my youth was this beautiful church.





The stained glass has always been beautiful and thought provoking for me. I think that this little sanctuary is probably the most peaceful place I have ever had the privilege of being.


I know this post is just a bunch of ramblings, but they were on my mind. Each day has been filled with my plans or intentions to write something worth while, but I have fallen short. Maybe it was spring fever or old age that caused me to procrastinate. More likely, it's just plain ole laziness. GUILTY!


The days have lengthened, the sun is hotter each day, the sweet smell of honey suckle and gardenia fill the air while chlorophyll green is the color of the day.

Enjoy the Summer.

Keeping your roots...........................................

It's been quite some time since the last post. I've had a birthday. My Grandson had a birthday. Spring arrived. The next day it snowed and sleeted. I learned early in the month that a childhood friend was ill. I hadn't seen him in several years. Not since our last, joint high school reunion. He was a year younger than I, but we knew each other for many years. We were in Cub Scouts, Boy Scouts, Explorers, M.Y.F. We played summer league baseball on the same team. In our teenage years we were in a rock band. He was our drummer, maintaining our tempo and providing quite a bit of the vocals. I was and still am a terrible musician. But, I love it as much today as then. The rest of the band was quite talented. I still think I loved the time we spent together in a band more than the rest of the band members. I was, and am grateful they tolerated my participation.

My friend had become a dentist, raised a family and recently celebrated the birth of his first grand child. Two days after I learned of his illness I was informed of his death. His passing evoked memories that reinforced my belief that I grew up during a great era in a wonderful community. The only way I can describe it's effect on my life, is to show these photos and relate their similarities.


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The plaque tells an amazing story. On the campus of the Gulf Coast branch of the University of Southern Mississippi in Long Beach, stands a tremendous symbol of life, growth and survival. The Friendship Oak is over 500 years old. Imagine the hurricanes, storms, and droughts it has endured. This tree is massive in size, sprawling in girth, and far reaching with it's root system. Though it easily covers a block, it is not proportionally tall. You would expect a tree this old to tower hundreds of feet. Instead it's growth is outward and inward. Largely in an area that is not visible.


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The photo above shows it's statue from quite a distance away.


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The huge branches reach out, sometimes down, and ultimately terminate in a luscious green enveloping canopy. Looking up at this living marker of history is an amazing experience. What I am constantly overwhelmed with is it's root system. The anchoring branches known as roots are far more intricate and far reaching than are visible or even imaginable. They are overlapping, meandering, and constantly searching for moisture to maintain it's life, to continue it's growth and strengthen it's existence. How does it know? Even though it's on a college campus, it's never had a formal education. No one trained it. It didn't have a life coach. The nature of it's existence is to search for the moisture to supply it growth and to anchor it's base.


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The root system is the anchor, just like my formative years. Just like my time spent learning with my friend. Each time I think of my youth, I realize how blessed I was. I am so thankful for being who I was, when I was, and where I was. My friend, just like all the others who influenced me, (and there were many) were my root system. My anchor. Building base. The terms are infinitesimal.

I have mourned the loss of my friend and the passing of one of those roots. The loss has caused much reflection and reminiscing. It has brought even more prayers of thanksgiving. I can not undo the time that has passed, but I can take action to reconnect. To, graft some roots. I plan to visit our home town, and try to make contact with more of those roots. I feel compelled to tell them what they did for me and how much they have meant through my life.


I guess in short I need to.................... KEEP MY ROOTS WET.

 

Sometimes it seems like this winter just won't end. The photo above is from the second snow of the winter, the first one of 2010. It left us with just under five inches of winter precipitation. We were very fortunate that it didn't cause any roadway and power line problems for most of us. This particular view is from our front porch. Some times the best view is from your own widows looking out. Especially if it's cold.

 

The birds took full advantage of one of our feeders. The combination of gold finches and house finch adds a touch of color to the white. It's not much, because the birds are still in their winter colors. They don't really put on the bright colors until late March or April. Then their brilliant colors serve to attract their mates. The usual bickering and fighting that normally takes places between our feathered friends seemed to come to a stop during the snow fall. The truce appeared to be short lived. As soon as the snow melted the fowl tempers came back.

 

Since the roads were in good shape, we made a trip up the Natchez Trace and found the bridge at the swamp partially protected from the snow. You can tell the stately cypress trees seem to stand guard while providing a canopy over the foot bridge. The snow adds a blanket of insulation to natures normal sounds. It's difficult to imagine in this winter silence that the surroundings of this scene is in hibernation from the sounds of an active ecosystem.

In less than 48 hours the snow was gone. The south was sunny again and kids were back in school with only stories and memories of our second of what is now our fourth snow fall of the winter. Thankfully, the best thing about Mississippi winters is they are brief in their periods of severity and there are always flowers waiting to bloom after the cold snaps and warm the eyes and the heart.

Stay warm and enjoy the view.

Charles