7:10 pm

Night is here now, and Possum Cough is very quiet. After a week of unseasonably warm temperatures, the wracking wind returned last night, blowing hard enough to make the windows in the family room bow in and groan. This morning, there was some sun at first light. But by the time we left for church, the clouds were back, like steel wool in the high air. And the temperatures are cold. Deliciously cold, the sort of cold that makes the house cozy and nappable. The sort of cold that makes husbands and wives snuggle closer on the couch while reading. The sort of cold that makes food taste better and music sound clearer. No droning of insects. No sheen of sweat. No noisy activity outside. Just pure, rain-driven, holy cold.

Yesterday, MeeMaw had to work until 1 pm, so I used the time to finish up my Sunday School lesson plan. I also worked on preparing to lead worship this morning, the first time I've done this since we left Texas. Our pastor and his family are traveling to visit his father in St.Louis, and he asked if I would lead the service for the visiting preacher (who used to be the pastor at our church many years ago).

Saturday's mild temperatures and cloudy skies were perfect for my customary long walk. I enjoyed seeing how alive everything looked. Our Japanese maple is budding and leafing out already. The past two years, we've had a killing frost the first week of May, a happening that has (along with the two years of severe drought) played havoc with the local flora. We're praying that the rain will continue through the spring to help repair the drought. And we're prepared with sheets and tarps to shield tender vegetation in case of a (quite likely) frost.

Everything in the region has drunk deeply of the warm, moist air. The Clinch Mountain region looks very much like the ancient homeland of our people in the British Isles - "as green as dreams and deep as death."

MeeMaw's big pine tree in the front of the house looks very fit and strong. We'll likely have to prune it a bit this year by the end of summer.

When I came down out of the woods, I was stepping over the barbed wire and looking down when I noticed a very pretty clutch of mushrooms growing at the base of the fence pole. They are probably deadly, but they look lovely in a regimented sort of way.

Some new "tenants" have moved into the Texas birdhouse. They're Carolina Wrens (too early for bluebirds), and we enjoy watching their antics on the back deck. Ounce for ounce, they're one of the loudest species of birds around. Almost as loud as the bluejays, who have been stealing cat food from the barn cats every day.

When I removed the back of the birdhouse to clean it, I found that the nest inside was compacted down into a neat little square. There were tufts of local plants inside, along with pieces of dryer lint from the Possum Cough laundry department.

Speaking of nests...there's been a lot of bird activity on and around our gas grill, too. We noticed tons of bird poop on the thing, and couldn't figure out why in the world the birds would be interested in the grill. Well, yesterday, I noticed a starling flying away from the grill. On instinct, I opened the lid, and here's what I saw:

The picture doesn't do it justice. The nest is as big as a turkey platter. When I showed it to MeeMaw, she stood and gaped. "Is that what I think it is?" she whispered. We're going to clean it out before the starlings can lay eggs in it. I hate to undo all their labor, but they are parasitical birds, and I won't have our grill being used as some avian incubator. If they were bluebirds, now...that would be a different matter.

The pinestraw is piled pretty deep at the front rockwall steps. It'll make good mulch in a few weeks elsewhere.

And the Possum Cough farmhouse looms against the sky...

MeeMaw bought me a gift yesterday. I have been thinking of buying a cheap (possibly paperback) English Standard Version bible just to tote to church, since I seem to be the only person there who uses a different version. I was really thinking seriously about the purchase since I knew I'd be leading worship today, and would need to read from one of the pew bibles, or borrow MeeMaw's, or something. Anyway, she bought me a very nice ESV with that nifty soft buttery leather feel. It's the color of saddle leather, and is nicely masculine.

We went to the library yesterday afternoon to drop off some things and pick up a few things. While we were browsing in the stacks, an entirely unprovoked avalanche struck. I was standing there, looking at a cookbook, when MeeMaw said, "Oh, look out!" Next thing I knew, thunk-thunk-thunk-thunk! several volumes from the top danged shelf came a-tumblin' down, landing on my noggin. I wasn't hurt, but it startled me pretty good. Later, in the car, MeeMaw kept asking me if I was okay. She questioned me about several things, trying to ascertain whether or not I had sustained some sort of injury. Finally, she asked a question like none other I have ever been asked. I believe she was trying to ask me if I was experiencing any double vision. But what she actually said, in her beautiful Texas accent, was, "Are you seein' twyct?"

Shorty and Domino continue to amuse us every day. This afternoon, they got into a scrap and had us rolling with laughter. Shorty kicked Domino with his rear legs. Then Domino reared up on his hind legs and scared the donkey-crap out of his buddy. They both went racing around and around in the pasture. We're going to miss them when Gabriel moves them to their regular pasture.

Last night, our relaxation included watching an enjoyable production of King Lear. It starred Sir Ian McKellan (who is probably best known as Gandalf in The Lord of the Rings triology, a fact that probably irritates the famous homosexual to no end). Good show. It clocked in at three hours, but was interesting all the way through. It was a cast production from The Royal Shakespeare Company at the Old Vic. I think McKellan is artistic director or something at that hoary old theatre.

There's a pentecostal church down in Gate City, right near where we turn off the road to take the highway up into the mountains to come home. We've noticed a foot bridge across the Clinch River there, and have long intended to stop and explore it. Yesterday afternoon, we did so.

The water is only about three feet deep at this place, but is very swift. The recent strong rains have helped swell it to the banks.

A nice place to go a-courtin' and a-sparkin', too.

The mountains rising up from the fields next to the footbridge look as Irish as St.Patrick.

And very soon all the hills will be awakening with color. Apple and cherry blossoms are all around, as are the various ornamental pears that the yuppies plant down in Kingsport. The redbuds on the mountain slopes are starting to glow, very faintly. The dogwoods will follow close behind.

Let me assure y'all that there are all kinds of natural beauty in this world.

This evening, I noticed again how short Domino and Shorty have cropped the grass in the pasture. That field will be in stellar shape in a few weeks. They've trimmed it, fertilized it, aerated it, and watched over it. They're invested in Possum Cough. We keep having a mental fantasy that Gabriel will offer to sell Shorty to us for fifty bucks. It probably ain't gonna happen, though.
Tonight's supper, courtesy of the finest cook in the known world: pan-seared steak with hot Chinese mustard, and fried 'taters. No one eats better than PeePaw. And I have the gut to prove my assertion.

Please pray tonight for the folks who were victims, in one way or the other, of the shooting at the North Carolina nursing home earlier today. This is the sort of thing that hurts my very heart.

Rest well, loved ones.