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.


Double click the photo to enlarge.

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.


Double click the photo to enlarge.

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


Double click the photo to enlarge.


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.


Double click the photo to enlarge.

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

Warmth and Hope

 

After what seemed like an eternity of ice, cold temps and frozen ducks, Mother Nature granted us a reprieve, how ever brief it might be.

It's said about the deep south, "if you don't like the weather, just wait three days". Well, this last round of cold lasted far longer than three days. It only made the warm air, sunny days and relatively mild nights even more welcome.

 

 

I realize it's some what of a false sensation, but the sunny afternoon feels much like an early spring. Though the cold temperatures and precipitation are sure to return before the real winter relief, we find the results of the temporary trend of rising temperatures brings more than one type of warmth. Nature is quick to recover from the frigid fest and regale us with a hopeful interlude of blue Skies and signs of hope. The birds seem to be a little more chipper with their movement. Perhaps more playful than scurrying and scrounging for food. The trees aren't drooping with the weight of winter. Their branches seem to be strengthened, reaching more skyward toward a warming sun.

 

I was on our deck servicing the bird feeders,(we have at least four that feed the feathered friends)when I observed a cocoon twirling in the wind from an overhanging branch. The limbs are stripped of leaves and all signs of green have long since passed, but the cocoon stood out as brightly as the blue sky it was silhouetted against. It was obvious that it had already been vacated but it brought a smile to my lips. Warmth and hope. More than welcome after gray skies and the absence of the sun's comfort. Granted, a cocoon is the symbol of rebirth, the continuing cycle of life. But just the sight of such a symbol was a reminder that the cold and gray won't last forever. That's a good thing to remember.

Warmth and Hope,

Charles

Cold Enough.......ENOUGH COLD!

This is suppose to be the Sunny South. Here lately mother nature has been suffering post Christmas blues, resulting in our being blue. A result of poor circulation from all the cold temperatures. It's been below freezing for several days and down to fifteen degrees at night. I realize that's not cold north of the Mason Dixon line, but here it's equivalent to living inside the appliance we preserve meats and our garden vegetables in. Come to think of it, it resembles a deep freezer. Lots of white rime frost on every surface and every droplet of condensation turned into ice. Every time you open the door, a blast of Arctic like wind hits you in the face. If the wind blows hard enough and hits you in the forehead, you wind up with the same feeling you get in the summer when you eat home made ice cream too fast. A brain freeze! That explains some of the brilliant ideas coming from our nations capital. I'm afraid those brains are permanently frozen.

I've heard people all my life saying they liked winter more than summer. (These people are traitors of the southern life style) They say things like, "I can put on enough clothes to keep warm, but I can never stay cool in the middle of the summer". Well I can't put on enough clothes to keep warm, but I can easily sweat in the summer. I don't have to make an effort to sweat. I have to constantly make an effort to stay warm in the winter. It makes me stay inside. I much prefer the freedom of being outside. I feel like I'm being held hostage in the winter.

The other morning when I was leaving the house while the temperature was sixteen degrees, I noticed some ducks frozen in the pond across the road. After I took a picture, I tried to check and make sure they were really stranded. Sure enough they were wedged in the ice.Their little feet had to be freezing. I made some noise and slid some objects across the ice to get the quackers attention. Finally after lots of flapping, squawking and feathers flying, they pulled free. They waddled around and slipped and slid until they got a clumsy running start and flew away.

When I was very young I had a paper route. Actually several paper routes. When it rained I put on a rain suit and climbed on my bike, as I got older, a motorcycle and later a car. When it got cold, I did the same thing and just got cold. Before I had a drivers license if there was ice and snow, I had a piece of tin from a barn roof that I would tie a rope to and pulled my papers around the route. Even though the Down Hill Racer Sled was built in Mississippi, no one I knew owned a store bought sled. I have been so cold delivering papers, that when I got home and pulled my boots off, the heels of my feet had cracked and bled. Now that's cold! This was an omen of things to come. After that, every job I ever had required that I deal with foul,(fowl), weather. This winter, I can stay inside and keep my feet propped up under a nice warm comforter. I still hate winter. I feel like I'm being held prisoner.

The one thing that makes me smile in the winter is the odor of a fire burning. The kind that I use to appreciate as a child. Red oak, or hickory flaming away in a fire place. You knew when you smelled the smoke you were headed in the direction of comfort. The embers glowed and often were the primary light of the rooms they occupied. If you moved away from their warmth you immediately were reminded of their importance.

Life's memories are like those burning embers of a fire. When you move away from those elements of your life that provide your inner warmth, you are immediately aware of the cold reality of the world. If you move too far you may get stuck in the ice. At least until something or some one comes along and urges you to break free from the ice and fly away to those glowing embers.

Keep your feet,...................... and your hearts warm.

Charles

BLUE MOONS

It's difficult to realize that another 365 days have flashed by. The pages of the calender turned, a year gone by. The earth rotated, planets aligned and moved about their orbits. The seasons changed four distinct times. Newspaper headlines struck with bold print decrying all the first time occurrences, miracles and the mundane. We saw and heard about terrorism, natural and man made disasters, and the hate that drove it.

No matter how difficult or cruel we thought it had been, the day faded into night, and graced us with a view of Gods majesty. The night sky is something that always takes my breath. Even when I was a child, I would stand or lie in the yard or field at night and just stare with my mouth and mind agape. I studied the stars in grammar school science, but really began to learn about constellations when I began Boy Scouts. Night navigation was a big thing to the scouting program. I don't remember why it was such a big deal, they never let us get out of the camp site after dark.

The space program was ablaze in those days. N.A.S.A. was king. I watched every moment of television coverage of the space missions. I knew all the astronauts and their mission numbers. There was a period in my young life when I was consumed with space. I wasn't alone. My best buddy and every friend and relative we knew felt the same. We watched the night sky looking for identifiable planets, stars, or the every elusive satellite or space capsule. More than anything else it was an excuse to be outside at night and a way to pass time. We couldn't wait to grow up. We wanted the world to turn faster. Now I just wish things would slow down.

There were lots of sayings relating to time that I remember hearing as a child. Occasionally you hear some of those sayings even today. Things like,"it's been a month of Sundays since I saw you",or "I haven't seen him in a coon's age". My favorite was, "it's been a Blue Moon or two since I saw him". Even though the moon appears with a blue hue, the saying doesn't refer to that. It has nothing to do with the negative activities some folks participate in when it's at full glow. Experts still argue about whether the full moon causes crime sprees and general lunacy. What I believe is, it's certain that the Blue Moon floats into our lives with very little fan fare, brightens our lives and effects our moods and often leads us in one direction or the other.

The Blue Moon is held in high regard because of it's rarity. The term denotes the second full moon of a calender month. It's only fitting that 2009 ends and 2010 begins on such a special lunar occurrence. It's relatively rare, unique, brilliant and deeply affects those living creatures here on earth. This year like all the others of my life has been filled with Blue Moon people. Though some entered and departed my world, they always left a life long impression. Some showed up unexpectedly, shone brightly,and each improved my general mood and well being. They caused me, because of their rarity, to truly appreciate their brilliant presence. They caused me look with my mouth and mind agape. They embedded their glow in my heart and memory. They left me breathless.




Happy New Year,............ and here's wishing to all, many Blue Moons!

Possum Ridge

It's amazing what your memory can retrieve. Sometimes memories are pigeon holed in spots so deep you are not conscious of their existence. Today I experienced several of those moments where you think, "where did that come from".

The metro area model railroad club for years has displayed their treasures at Christmas time. This year they set up in the William Winter State Archive building. I conned my son and two of the grand kids into going with me. They have no experience with the steel rail other than to see them pass at a crossing, but I found my memories of this industry are deeply embedded. My father was a section foreman for the Gulf, Mobile, and Ohio railroad for over forty five years. I grew up smelling creosote from the cross ties and powder in his overall cuffs from the slag that he and his crew shoveled. My best friend's father was the depot agent. I learned Morse code from the clicking, clacking sounders while sitting around waiting for my dad to come in from the days work. So model railroads were something I always wanted as a child, but we never could afford such a luxury.

When we stepped into the display room, the engineers,(men running the exhibit) greeted us with a smile from underneath their striped railroad cap and a cheerful, "Welcome to Possum Ridge". That's the name of the model community the rail setting is based upon. There's not actually a place by that name in Mississippi, but there are several close to it. I'm sure there are some unmapped local areas similar. But nothing plotted on the map.

The display covered several hundred square feet and was bordered by a plexi-glass wall. The group of wide eyed children stood on foot stools and hung onto the top of the barrier to peer through and over the plexi-glass to get the best view possible of the the miniature community and multiple train operation. The adults, most of whom were grandparents, were doing the same. Except with wider eyes, mouths agape and the occasional drool.

So.......I wiped the moisture from the corners of my mouth and started taking pictures. I lost all track of time. So much so that I could hear the G.M.&O. freight train blare it's whistle and rumble past the crossings. I smelled the diesel fumes from the Illinois Central passenger train as it clicked across the sections of rail. I smelled the hickory smoke from the open pit barbecue at the town cafe. The ping of the hammers at the machine shop, was almost drown out by high pitch whine of the saw at the saw mill and the blowers and motors at the gin. And then, there it was. The oil thick aroma of creosote that clung to my dads pants leg and his work shoes. The memory that took my breath was the sweet smell of corn bread cooking in my mothers kitchen.

I shook myself back to the present when a red headed boy jumped off his perch on a stool next to me and thudded to the floor, giggling as he ran to the other side of the room.

I have no idea where those memories and smells were stored, but I'm grateful they returned for a brief visit.

I've received another Christmas blessing.