Possum Cough

Labor Day

2011-09-05T18:33:00.006-04:00

The other day at the Gate City weekly flea market...
We passed on the pumpkins because I couldn't tote one to the car. I settled for a very old lathing hatchet, purchased from an old man who was also hawking some seventeen-jewel windup pocket watches (very hard to find).

This particular flea market is a delight to the soul. The Scott county people are kind and generous and authentic. We also visited a much larger one in Jonesboro, TN. We couldn't help noticing that, while there was much more to buy, the people were largely vile in appearance and deportment. The people there are...different. The influence of a nearby (relatively) big city? Still, MeeMaw bought a bonsai jasmine plant with one powerfully fragrant blossom intact.
We've had a tenant for a couple of days. He poked his head out of a hole in the siding and said hello to MeeMaw.
Startled her so bad, she just had to harvest our watermelon.

We took Bonnie for a picnic lunch at Natural Tunnel State Park. She was underwhelmed at the scenery and the leash laws, but she enjoyed the sweet 'tater fries we fed to her.

This morning when I opened the blinds on the patio doors in the office, this little feller was taking shelter from the rain:

Bonnie and I went out in a ferocious downpour and walked for a long while. If I could push some of this rain down to Texas, I would. It's not for lack of praying...

MeeMaw sends her love. We miss you all. Rest well, loved ones.

~ PeePaw

Migrations

2011-08-26T19:13:00.005-04:00

We arose early this morning, since we had the day off together, and decided to take a day trip to Asheville, NC. The animals weren't as quick to rouse as we were, but who can blame them during hurricane season?

My daily consultation of The Old Farmer's Almanac yielded this tidbit: today is the start of the annual migration of hummingbirds. The ones up north, in Canada and beyond, will begin moving southward to warmer climes for the winter. Our regulars will not begin to move just yet, and in fact will likely hang around until at least early October. We may see some extra diners at the little bird-stop just off the back deck as weary travelers stop by for a drink and perhaps a brief soujourn. And then, finally, our little companions will leave us until next spring. MeeMaw plans to leave the feeders up and filled until late October, in case we have any stragglers who come through and need a good feeding on the long journey down to the negev.

One of our stops in Asheville was the Tobacco Barn Antique Market, which is a vast array of used goods in, well, an old tobacco barn. One could easily spend all day in there, browsing and deciding. We ended up with a mere two books, one for each of us. MeeMaw's was a selection of stories about the Ozarks, one of her favorite places on this earth.
My find was a slim volume of poetry. When I picked up the book, my attention was arrested by the photograph of the author on the front cover. He had a kind, somewhat sad face. The kind of countenance I think of as an "old timey" face. If you've ever seen Eddie Stubbs, the host of many bluegrass radio shows, the host of the Saturday evening Grand Ole Opry program, and the host of our beloved The Marty Stuart Show, you know the type of old timey face I mean.
The book is For All The Lost and Lonely, and the poet's name is Edward Dixon Garner. There is nothing about him on the internet, which is a shame. The brief biographical sketch on the dust jacket is all I know about the man so far. Garner, incidentally, was my father's name.

The poetry took me right away, and I stood rooted to the spot and read about a quarter of the book under the huge fan in the old barn. MeeMaw came and examined the book, too. She insisted that we get it. I'm so glad she did.
The poem that resonated most strongly with me is titled "Flight," and I wanted to publish it here, for what should be obvious reasons.

Flight

Instinctively the migrant knows the hour
To spread its wings to make the flight afar.
The route is charted by some secret power,
Unknown to all but whence such powers are.
High the bird rises, circles, and is gone
Straight toward the winter haven where, secure
Against the rigors that with winter dawn,
It finds the warmth that southern skies assure.

So, like a migrant, when the air shall chill,
And time's leaves fall...the hour for flight appear...
The soul shall rise and circle, then by will
That calleth all things home, be drawn to where
No winter waits, no blasts, no snow, no cold,
But lo! Green pastures and the Shepherd's fold!

~ Edward Dixon Garner
copyright 1961

Rest well, loved ones.

~ PeePaw

10th Sunday After Pentecost

2011-08-21T21:16:00.005-04:00

The dawn above Possum Cough...

...and the morning peace of our smallholding.
"I will lift up mine eyes unto the hills..."
The other morning when I stepped outside to go to work, I received a beautiful reminder of God's promises:
The jewel-like drops of rosin hanging from the pine cones is not just beautiful; it's very treacherous. Someday I'll tell y'all in detail what happens when one is driving a lawn tractor around under the pine tree while daydreaming. I was very relieved that I didn't end up having to tonsure myself to rid my hair of the stuff.
MeeMaw relaxing in the way she likes best...

And Bonnie being groomed by her new BFF:Just a fraction of one day's harvest:
Bonnie guarding her watermelon as it matures...
The mist in the hollers...
One of MeeMaw's beautiful morning glories...
And another...

Truly, an aptly-named plant.A bug warming himself atop a tombstone in the growing light...

The calmest air, and the sweetest breeze...
...and not a man-made sound to break the majesty.
The mist returns for the end of the day.

Eventide comes to Possum Cough...I will leave y'all with the words to a beautiful hymn below. Rest well, loved ones.

~ PeePaw

The day Thou gavest, Lord, is ended,
The darkness falls at Thy behest;
To Thee our morning hymns ascended,
Thy praise shall sanctify our rest.

We thank Thee that Thy church, unsleeping,
While earth rolls onward into light,
Through all the world her watch is keeping,
And rests not now by day or night.

As o’er each continent and island
The dawn leads on another day,
The voice of prayer is never silent,
Nor dies the strain of praise away.

The sun that bids us rest is waking
Our brethren ’neath the western sky,
And hour by hour fresh lips are making
Thy wondrous doings heard on high.

So be it, Lord; Thy throne shall never,
Like earth’s proud empires, pass away:
Thy kingdom stands, and grows forever,
Till all Thy creatures own Thy sway.

Amen.

The Sixth Sunday After Pentecost

2011-07-24T17:35:00.005-04:00

Yesterday, we arose early and drove up to Abingdon. The town's library was hosting a used book sale, so we stopped at Pal's enroute and got a couple of bacon biscuits and sweet tea and headed north. Finding the library was a bit of a challenge, since some of the streets were being closed for the annual Highlands Festival, but we made it. And then we made out like bandits. Less than an hour in the place, and we walked out with a big box of books, for which we paid less than we'd have paid for two books at the local latte'-bar-disguised-as-a-bookstore. I'd tell you what we obtained, but time is short. See MeeMaw for details.

After we left the library, we went in search of the local farmer's market. We ended up at one of the local Highlands Festival fairs. Younguns, take heed: walking around a town and declaring, "Let's jist take a look in them tents over yonder!" is usually not sound policy. One might find one's self attending upon a blacksmith.

We did manage to locate the farmer's market, but not before I had to tear MeeMaw away from the bungee jumping apparatus.

The farmer's market was one of the best we've ever found. It was held under a very large pavilion, so there was not only shade, but a wind-tunnel-effect breeze. We browsed and chatted with the merchants, and found some nice things.
We ended up buying two bottles of wine, one from each of the local vineyard. One was a blackberry table wine, and the other a local Riesling. MeeMaw bought a peach teacake and some fingerling potatoes. I purchased a beautiful eggplant from an elderly colored woman. The eggplant has been sliced and is now resting in some brine in MeeMaw's crock (do any of you know how to prepare eggplant? Hint: brine is absolutely essential).

We came home and set about coaxing one of the hens back into the pen after she literally flew the coop. I don't recommend traipsing about in the briars while wearing shorts. This is one more reason I feel that I have erred in deciding to wear the blasted things when we lived in Texas. Long trousers well become a man; short pants are for schoolboys. And I'll say no more.

After the "let's capture the convict" adventure, we examined our garden. The corn has many ears, and we're trying to be vigilant about guarding it from the 'coons. MeeMaw picked an immature ear just to see how it tasted. It was very sweet and very crunchy.

The black-eyed peas are exploding,too. We've been mystified at how black-eyed peas - a staple in Texas and Arkansas - are virtually unknown in SW Virginia and east Tennessee. It can't be the soil...ours are growing with a ferocious intensity. We may harvest some tonight. We won't cook 'em, though. MeeMaw is crock-potting some green beans that Helen and Ernie brought us.

Here's some of PeePaw's potato plants. MeeMaw will explain.
Trust me. MeeMaw will explain.

And here's the de rigueur shot of Bonnie Dawg. MeeMaw's uncle Ellis used to tell her, "You're as pretty as a spotted dog under a red wagon," which was a high compliment in Texas parlance. For Possum Cough denizens, "You're as pretty as a red dog in the green grass in the mornin' time" is equally high praise.
Oh, and here's the wine we bought at the farmer's market...

And here are the homemade lamb dog biscuits we got for Bonnie...

We had a pleasant time at the church meeting this morning. One of the other elders' daughters was visiting with her husband, and they came to PeePaw's Sunday School class. We had a full house, which was rare for this vacationing time of year.

Then the two old folks came home and had a light lunch and then drowsed in the dark, cool cave of the family room while a thunderstorm rumbled outside. Dog and cats napped, too. And now we're up and about in this heat, which seems hellish by Appalachian mountain standards, but which is child's play compared to what Joshi-O and Moo-Moo are enduring in Austin.

My buddy Herrick recently posted this 19th-century list that I found interesting:

1852
How To Shorten Life

Lead a life of enfeebled, stupid laziness, and keep the mind in a round of unnatural excitement by reading trashy novels.
***
Begin in childhood on tea, and go on, from one step to another, through coffee, chewing tobacco, and drinking.
***
Marry in haste, get an uncongenial companion, and live the rest of life in mental dissatisfaction.
***
Eat without time to masticate food.
***
Follow an unhealthy occupation because money can be made by it.
***
Contrive to keep a continual worry about something or nothing.
***
Retire at midnight, and rise at noon.
***
Gormandize between meals.
***
Give way to fits of anger.

He followed it up with this tidbit:

-1871-
How to Live Long

A venerable minister, who had preached some sixty-five years in the same place, being asked what was the secret of long life, replied, “Rise early, live temperately, work hard, and keep cheerful.”

Another person, who lived to the great age of 110 years, said, in reply to the inquiry, “How he lived so long?”: “I have always been kind and obliging; have never quarreled with any one; have eaten and drunk only to satisfy hunger and thirst, and have never been idle.”

Our love and blessings to all of you, our loved ones.

~ PeePaw

8:43 p.m.

2011-07-14T20:42:00.006-04:00

These are little solar lights that Peepaw attached to a part of our fence in the backyard....aren't they pretty? I want to take a drive down the road at night (below our house) and look at them from a distance.

I'm eating a Pepperidge Farm apple turnover with a dab of butter and a sprinkle of powdered sugar...doesn't that sound good? (it is.) Peeps is outside now putting the chickens to bed. There is always one girl, the big red one named Mable, who is naughty and won't go to bed with the others and Peepaw has to catch her and put her in the coop. But she lays pretty eggs so we give her some slack. We have one red one that tries and tries but can only lay a teeny tiny egg once in a blue moon. I wish hers were edible but the yolk is as tiny as the head of a pin so it wouldn't be much bigger than a dime if I were to fry it up. As it is, I just ooh and aah at the little thing for a few days then throw it away. (see above chicken related photo of Joshua and the coop)

Jason and Joshua, I was remembering y'all dressing up as super heroes when you were little boys, complete with your underwear on your head and a towel tied around your shoulders. You were so precious - and still are to your momma.

Summer is in full swing here and pretty much has been since May. We've had lots of record breaking days with temperatures over 90. It was so hot last weekend that we sat in the little wading pool that the children played in last month and it was so warm that it felt like bath water. As much as I love the summer veggies and fruit and long days, there is a part of me that's very much looking forward to this: (see above winter related photo of Peeps in the snow...a very cold Peeps.)

I have a three day weekend starting tomorrow and am very grateful for the time off. I will pamper myself a little bit, I'll do some cooking, and I'll gather my quickly-ripening tomatoes. Our corn has tasseled and we watch the little ears getting bigger and bigger by the day. I can't wait to try to first bite! We planted some heirloom corn seeds that we've been keeping in the fridge for several years and then we planted some local corn that was recently bought...wouldn't you know that the heirloom is growing the fastest and is the healthiest? We have a huge head of cabbage that I'll pick in the next day or two but the one thing I'm truly most looking forward to is black eyed peas! No one here grows them or purple hulls, for some reason. Maybe they don't think the soil is good but ours are very healthy looking plants with tons of blooms so we're waiting to see the first little pea sprout. A meal with all vegetables of the summer is one of the best things in the world, don't y'all agree?

I love you all very much and pray for you always,

Mom

p.s. sorry the pictures are all at the top....I had technical difficulties.

Before Independence Day

2011-07-03T17:32:00.008-04:00

Over a year since we last posted...I won't attempt any great narrative in this post (it just annoys Josh when I do that, anyway), and I won't attempt to cram a year's worth of photos in here, either. Just a few to highlight some things we've done recently. And a couple of not-so-recent.

We went out to visit Mother last week and also to attend the wedding of my best friend Doug's eldest daughter, Victoria. The wedding was in a tiny, beautiful hamlet in far western Tennessee called Troy. The event was a happy one, very modest and simple. The ceremony itself was the briefest one I've ever attended, and also one of the most moving. We had a grand time. It was a very poignant time for Doug, as he has recently gone completely deaf. He had to lip read during the ceremony in order to know when to answer the question, "Who gives this woman...?" He did a pretty fair job of lip reading all day long, though he confided to me that it's exhausting to follow every nuance of what someone's mouth is doing. On the upside, he can look away from a bore and find sweet relief from mindless nattering. We're praying that he'll be cleared for cochlear implants very soon.

God's promise in the sky always looks particularly striking at Possum Cough. This was back in the spring...

As y'all know, Butternut is going blind. She can see very, very little these days, and it's sad to watch her bump into things and get lost. One evening, she was under the barstools in the kitchen and couldn't find her way out, so she started calling out in a panic. I went and rescued her; this was the first of many times we've had to help her out. One of the peculiar latent effects of her diminishing eyesight has been her dramatic mellowing. We all remember how mercurial and vicious she could be in her younger years ("Just like PeePaw in his later years," piped Jason), and it's been extraordinary to see her let people hold and pet her, and to watch her become very attached to Bonnie. Whenever Bonnie lies down, Butternut will soon be at her side. The other morning, Butters washed Bonnie's ears and face for a long five minutes while we stood dumbstruck. The photo here was taken a couple of months ago. And it wasn't Bonnie who threw her leg over Butters...the old cat wormed her way under Bonnie's leg in order to be closer to her. Amazing.Back in the icy weather of Valentine's Day, we went up to Wise, VA to a charming little restaurant called Tavern on the Main. We enjoyed a splendid gourmet meal there, and then attended a very intimate concert in the Tavern's concert hall. "Concert Hall" is very misleading; it's actually a smallish club with a stage. On the bill was Mandy Barnett, one of our favorite singers. We first saw her live onstage at the Grand Ole Opry and were stunned at the power and range of her voice. Mandy hails from the little town of Crossville, TN, and she got her start in music performing as Patsy Cline in the musical "Always...Patsy Cline." We shared a table with three other couples, and enjoyed talking with them. One gent was a circuit judge in Scott County, one was a retired college professor, and one was a car dealership owner. And several of them knew some of our neighbors...small world. The concert itself was very nice, and we were sitting about ten feet from Mandy. For much of the performance, she appeared to be singing directly to MeeMaw. After the show, she walked by us and smiled, and I touched her arm and told her that she is an incredible talent. She thanked us for coming to see her. And now I'm typing with a hand that hasn't been washed since February.

We finally made The Big Purchase and got a lawn tractor so that I wouldn't have to cut the grass with a push mower on these 90-degree days. It's an absolute hoot. Takes me about an hour to cut both the front and back yards AND the front pasture. MeeMaw digs it, too.

Back in the early spring, Bonnie found herself a rabbit, thereby disqualifying herself from the "You ain't nothin' but a hound dog" category. She was very proud of herself, and presented MeeMaw with a trophy.

It was good to see Jason and Karen and the babies two weeks ago...our fancy above-ground pool was a big hit.

We had something of a mystery occur Friday night. Something broke out the passenger side window in MeeMaw's car. It had been very hot that day, and the glass was likely very brittle; we wonder if a bird didn't fly into it and shatter it. At any rate, I've patched it with plexiglass until this Friday. The local glass repair shops are booked up from the recent hail storms and no one could get to us until then. We're praying that it doesn't rain before then...

Here MeeMaw harvests her absolute first blueberry...

Some of the harvest from last night...

MeeMaw's morning glory is taking over the front fence...

Hard-workin' grillin' mama...

The tomatoes look good; they'll start ripening in a day or two. One variety, given to us by the Morgans, is called a Russian Queen. Doug says it's extraordinary.

MeeMaw harvesting some of her green beans...And then looking and snapping those same beans. How many of you have heard old-timers use the phrase, "I need to look my beans"? It means to examine them for pot-worthiness.

Resting in the quiet heat of the early evening...

The hens are doing very well. Such hard-working little girls...

Grilling some zucchini fresh out of the garden. And no, the chicken isn't fresh out of the coop. It's just a store-bought ploy to keep the hens nervous and appreciative of how good they've got it...

We've put bird netting over some of the wild blackberries this year, and they've started to ripen. Last night, we had some with ice cream and peach crisp. They are stellar- sweet and with very little seediness.
MeeMaw's knockout roses. You can't live in this region and not have at least one knockout rose. She also has a new climbing rose that's doing very well (at least it's doing very well after I fenced it off to keep the neighbor's dog from peeing on it).

The Queen of Possum Cough surveys her domain. Fear her.

We love and miss you all very much. Y'all come see us!

~ PeePaw

The Last Saturday Of Spring

2010-06-19T20:15:00.010-04:00

It's been such a dry white season since I last posted, I thought I would take a few minutes out of my Joon-teemph celebration and put up some photos.

The holler is still green and peaceful.

Some of us are more peaceful than others...

Gabriel plowed up a garden plot for us in the south pasture.

Coming back from time in the woodlot...

The blackberry bushes are loaded down. If I don't get the bird netting on them soon, we won't get many of 'em...

Some of our onions from last year were still in the ground, and MeeMaw harvested them. She put them in a salad, and they tasted better than anything I've ever bought in a store with beeping scanners and bleeping employees.

A view of the Cough in full springtide:

And the watchdarg of the Cough...

I am utterly surrounded by all kinds of beauty.

This is a cross section of the old bird tree. I've been chain-sawing it into sections, a bit at a time...

Since we posted this sign, Bonnie's self-esteem has ratcheted up several notches.

Here is our miniature azalea in full flower. Short-lived but deeply brilliant, like William Cowper:

Bonnie alerted us to the presence of a visitor.I took him up in the woodlot and told him to catch lots of pests but to leave my chickens alone. A few days later, on a rainy afternoon, I looked up and found myself staring into his eyes (or one of his relatives; they all look alike, donchaknow) while the scaly, writhey body was wound around a sapling.

We found this old mill on one of our traditional Sunday afternoon drives.

On that same drive...

One of MeeMaw's ground cover plants.

The eggs will arrive someday. They will. They will.

The coop, just past dawn...

We recently watched "Crazy Heart," which we enjoyed very much. MeeMaw bought me the soundtrack, and my favorite song came home to me with considerable force yesterday. By now, most of you know that our pastor and his wife lost their other little twin son. Right after I heard the news, I headed to the hospital to see John and Jennifer. On the drive down out of the mountains, I was listening to "Brand New Angel." Bad theology but great music.

Well it rained last night
And the stars shone bright
And way off yonder
We heard the whippoorwill.

At the first light of dawn
We heard that he was gone.
Our hearts was empty
And our eyes was filled.

Open the gates;
Welcome him in.
There's a brand new angel,
A brand new angel
With an old violin.

In music he heard
All the songs of the birds.
And he said that some songs
Is like a clear fall day.

But he played his last refrain
Oh but the song will remain.
Though he's put his bow down
And closed his case.

Open the gates;
Welcome him in.
'Cause there's a brand new angel,
There's a brand new angel
With an old violin.

One of the cows was trying to calve when I took this picture. She must have given birth during the night, because the next day, she and her baby were off on the far hill.

Babes in springtime:

MeeMaw enjoying her new cedar-wood swing:

The girls on parade.

Bonnie supervising MeeMaw as the black-eyed peas get weeded.

Evening has come. Rest well, loved ones.

~ PeePaw

Resurrection Sunday

2010-04-04T22:18:00.004-04:00

The red dog helped oversee my construction project on this long weekend. The chicks (or "chooks," as the Aussies call them) are growing so fast, I was compelled to turn serious energy towards the construction of their new home. Here's the raw material as I started on Good Friday morning.
I moved the chicks outside for fresh air and sunshine while I worked. Some leftover fence scraps made a handy pen for them. Bonnie thought, "Deli fresh!"
She got her come-uppance, though. Flower came to the fence and stared at the red dog. Bonnie thought she would bark at her and intimidate the bovine. Didn't work. Flower lowered her head and stomped her hoof and it scared the poodle-doodle out of our farm dog. She ran over to the shady patch and hunkered down and watched. But she didn't bark anymore...
While MeeMaw took a nap, I got the chicken tractor framed out and managed to get the coop atop the framing. Here's the work in progress.
And a back view...
My supervisor...
The romping chaos that is Possum Cough these days. Chicks in a crookedy pen, running dog with mischief on her walnut-sized brain, tools and various things strewn across the yard.

I love it so.

He is risen....He is risen indeed!

Rest well, loved ones.

~ PeePaw

Beginnings, Endings

2010-03-21T17:26:00.004-04:00

A soft rain is falling at Possum Cough this afternoon. After a Friday and a Saturday that seemed more Floridian or Texan than Virginian, we are back to gray skies and cooler temperatures for our Sunday. Even thinking such a thing as I am about to write is unheard of for either MeeMaw or myself, but the truth is that we had hoped we would have another sunny day today. Such is the power of spring, and such is the effect of a long and often difficult winter. We're grateful for all of it, though, and that's not just chirp-speak.

Speaking of chirps, the first day of spring was utilized as Livestock Acquisition Day. We went down to town and bought six pullet chicks, along with the gear needed to raise the little things to healthy egg-laying adulthood. MeeMaw has appended preliminary names to the chicks, "A,B,C,D,E, and F." As soon as they do something to distinguish themselves one from the others, she will flesh those names out into full monikers. Like Abercrombie, Boujoulais, Crunk, DeTwana, Euripides, and Farmaceutical.

One of the other elders from church, Charles, heard that we had obtained a wood-burning stove. He remembered an oak and a hickory that had blown down in his pasture a year or two ago. One afternoon, he recruited Ralph (one of the deacons) to help him chainsaw the wood into manageable lengths. They loaded Charles' pickup truck full, and he brought it by that evening. Even though it doesn't feel like woodstove weather right now, we may burn some of it before springtime takes firm hold. They're even saying that we might get one more big snowstorm before the month is out. Wouldn't surprise us.

Bonnie is loving her fenced-in back yard. She prefers spending time out there, and has a knack for finding and gnawing on things that we don't want her to have. She dug an old shoe out of the goat shed (which I spent two hours straightening and cleaning Saturday) and chewed it to ribbons, and then found an old plastic dish with which we used to feed the barn cats. Chawed it up like 'baccy. Hateful thing.

But she loves her some fence.
She also prefers to take her cold dranks from the birdbath as opposed to the nice water dish we installed on the deck for her. The bath is stained from the tannin in the leaves that blow into it. You can see where her tongue has washed the tannin from the bottom of the bath

From Five Pines, MeeMaw and her doggy look as serene as a March breeze.
I didn't intend to end on a sad note, but one thing I was compelled to mention. One of Mr. D's cows (an old white lady MeeMaw named Flossie the first time she saw her amble past the fence) has been going downhill lately. She used to be quite active, and we enjoyed seeing her with her white-faced calf, Flower, as they fed and rested together daily. Flossie always carried an air of sadness to her. She was homely and mud-spattered, and we imagined the other cows thought of her as shabby and low-class. Naturally, we came to be very fond of her and Flower (the only white-faced calf among Mr. D's 100-strong herd).

When we came home from church this afternoon, we noticed Mr. D and his son and the country vet tending to Flossie, who was lying on the ground outside the big hay barn. They ran an IV through her, and then tried unsuccessfully to get her to stand. They pried her jaws open and gave her a drenching of some sort and tried again to get her on her feet, but she remained on her belly, legs tucked under her, eyes half-closed. The men finally left her where she was. Time passed and the other cows passed her on their way to the water trough. She watched them go, turning her head slightly and gazing at them through her heavy-lidded eyes. Alone in the spring rain, she sat and watched.

A few minutes ago, I went to look out and check on her. I was astounded to see that Flossie's calf, Flower, had gone down to be with her mama. And now, there she sits, close enough to nuzzle her mama and comfort Flossie as the old girl likely passes out of life. I have known human beings who didn't display this kind of devotion and affection for their own kin. Yes, Flossie is "just a cow," and Flower is "just a calf." They are mere dumb animals. But they are showing something fierce and beautiful this afternoon on a green Virginia hillside in the quiet rain, in the dying light, in the good order of created things.

Rest well, loved ones.

~ PeePaw

Bonnie Has A Bone...

2010-02-10T09:58:00.003-05:00

...to pick with that groundhog up in Pennsylvania.

We're both home today. MeeMaw was scheduled to be off, but I was snowed in. We got several inches between last night and this morning, and it's still coming down hard. The wind is the big thing...50 mph gusts and blowing the snow everywhere.

I called in to work this morning and told them I'd be late, IF I could make it at all. A few minutes later, my office manager called and said, "PeePaw, don't even think about it." She went on to say that the Kingsport area is a sheet of ice (we had rain all day yesterday, and then temperatures in the teens last night). Two of the girls who live close to the office went in to call patients and reschedule, and then they're getting out of Dodge, too. All the schools are closed.

The red dog and I went out for a walk just now and came back in looking like Betty and Freddy the Yetis. MeeMaw had to clean the snow pellets out of Bonnie's paws. We're going to build a fire in the stove in a little while.

We've definitely had us a winter this year. But spring will come. I can feel it wanting to come.

Monday, Under A Tree

[in memory of John Anderson]

Perhaps your robe felt warm enough as you
Stepped out the door and went to find your cat
(Your traitorous brain deprived you of the memory
That Mister-Kit had died some seven years
Before), but after calling for awhile,
You forgot why you'd clamored down
To begin with. Your ankles, bitten with

The numbing air, reminded you of something
From a day when hunting with your son
And both of you stepped in a creek and soaked
Your boots and later dried your feet beside
A fire you laid beneath a young hemlock.
And as you smiled and settled down last night
To warm yourself, your Mary dreamed of pies

And childrens' hands, and never stirred while you
Began to drift into the humming night
Where all the strengths came back, and answers to
Your questions sat in silver light, just waiting
To be known. I hope those fragile moments
Just before you left were warm as breath
And sweet as lashes on an infant's cheek.

~ copyright 2010 by S.K. Orr

Stove's In, Stove Works!

2010-02-05T18:20:00.004-05:00

Well, it's in and it works, so we're happy. We're also quite tired. When the fellows got finished with the installation (it only took 2 and 1/2 hours from the time they drove up to the time they drove away), we had quite the mess on our hands. The photo above will remind you of what the empty fireplace looked like.

The photo below was taken during the festivities. When they finally broke through the old damper, approximately 50 gallons of ash and soot fell into the room and pretty much covered everything. They carted it out, bucketfuls at a time. Nasty stuff, that.

I hustled my hind-end, trying to get things at least serviceable before my beloved arrived home. Once MeeMaw got home, we ate a quick bite and set about cleaning the ash and soot from everything. We did a good enough job to get by for the evening, but we'll have to re-clean the floors, etc. tomorrow. After we got everything put away, I took my Woodsman's Pal (my best friend Doug got it for me for my birthday) outside and cut some of the firewood into kindling. Then I came in and we built a fire.

The process is a slow one; we have to season the stove just as one does a cast-iron skillet. Build one small kindling fire, no hotter than 400F, then let it cool to room temp. Build a slightly larger fire, no hotter than 500F, then let it cool to room temp. Build a small fire with a log or two and let it get up to about 600F, then let it cool to room temp. Finally, build a regular fire and adjust the damper so that it burns really slow at about 600-650, then let it come to room temp. The stove is then seasoned. If one rushes this process, one can cause the brittle cast iron to snap like a cookie. This would not be a desirable outcome.

I ran outside before dark fell and got a shot of smoke coming out of the chimbly (as the folks in Scott County say). A first for Possum Cough!

MeeMaw is enjoying the warmth. This little stove is very attractive and puts out a good amount of heat on just a small kindling fire. We're very pleased.

The two fellows who installed the stove were filthy by the time they left. Their faces were covered in soot. I told them they looked like minstrels. They gave me a funny look for some reason.

It's time for me to take a shower, too. I got quite a bit of soot on me in the cleanup phase.

Rest well, loved ones.

~ PeePaw

Waiting On A Stove

2010-02-05T13:30:00.002-05:00

I took the day off so that I could be here when our woodburning stove installers came. They arrived about 11:45 (it's 1:30 right now) and it's been quite the adventure. I am fearful for the moment when MeeMaw arrives home and sees the mess.

The fellows had to demolish the old damper (it was frozen in place), and when they did, about fifty gallons (no exaggeration) of ash and soot came a-tumblin' down into the living room. I had the foresight to close off all the rooms that I could, and I'm glad I did. Right now in the family room, foyer, kitchen, dining room, and office, every surface is covered with a fine black soot, which very much resembles the fingerprint powder we used to use in CID. This is going to be one long, arduous cleanup job.

All the windows in the family room are open, along with the front door, and I have a fan going to try and suck out as much floating soot and ash as possible. Poor Bonnie is in her crate in our bedroom, and the cats are in the middle bedroom. Purrl will be our litmus test to see how well we clean up after the installation is complete. She may very well not be as monochromatic as she is as of this writing.

But I'm hopeful that when the job is done, we'll have a beautiful source of heat (and cooking!) when the power goes out again, which it almost certainly will do at some point.

Speaking of heat and power, I thought I'd share this very dignified video of Dr. Shine and Dee Dee.

And some people wonder why the church is not held in high regard in many circles.

Love to you all...

~ PeePaw

The End of January

2010-01-31T17:26:00.006-05:00

The month is winding down, and the day is winding down, and MeeMaw and I are grateful that we have heat and light and food and the night together. This snowstorm wasn't as destructive as the last one (the snow was not quite as heavy or wet), but we got somewhere between a foot and a foot-and-a-half here at Possum Cough. We kept our power - God be praised - and we've plenty of food and books and old movies, so it's been a peaceful, happy weekend.

Church was canceled this morning; the entire northern part of Sullivan County was shut down and the Bloomingdale area (where our congregation meets) was impassable. John called me last night and made the decision early, so that folks would know. We don't know if we'll be able to make it to work in the morning or not - we'll cross that particular snowy bridge when we come to it. Personally, I feel that a three-day weekend would be an utter tragedy. Yes, indeedy.

MeeMaw is doing well. She's puttering in the kitchen right now, preparing our chicken fried steak for supper. She's also baking me a loaf of bread and a pecan pie, sweet wifely woman that she is. Purrl is sitting next to me, gazing out the glass door at the birds in the snow, and Bonnie is in the kitchen with MeeMaw, praying for a crumb or a scrap to fall to earth. Butternut is packed into a sleeping hostile little yellow lump in the middle bedroom, dreaming of an endless line of ankles and a new set of titanium teeth.

The first night of the storm (Friday), Bonnie and I had another adventure. The snow was coming down very hard, and naturally the red dog needed to go outside. MeeMaw was taking a nap on the couch, so we were stealthy while I bundled up, and off we went, down across the front pasture to the road and then into Mr. D's pasture across the road.

The entire time, Bonnie was skittish and jumpy and distracted. She "did her business" and then turned to go back to the house, the very picture of determination. Right about that time, I heard her growl, very low and rumbly. I stopped, she stopped. Then I realized that the growl wasn't coming from her. It was coming from the impenetrable shadows at the edge of the woods on the other side of Mr. D's fenceline. Bonnie was pointing with her body, tail straight out in back and puffed up to three times its normal size, her head low and her lips pulled back from her teeth.

Then the mountain lion screamed.

Bonnie bolted, trying to pull me towards the road. I yanked on her leash and began backing up, keeping my eyes on the treeline, talking to Bonnie in a low voice. After a few steps, I heard the creature running in the snow-covered leaves. Bonnie yanked on her leash very hard and I did what every good Southern boy does when faced with a monster: I fell down on my back in the snow. I had the very distinct thought, "Well, this is it. This is how it ends for me."

Bonnie was trying to pull me to my feet, and she was growling and yelping in fear. I jumped up and pulled out the only weapon I was carrying: a foldable tree saw MeeMaw got me some time ago. I keep it in my coat pocket when I walk Bonnie because it is a very wicked weapon and can lay anyone or anything open to the bone with one swipe. I highly recommend you fellows get one...they're perfectly legal and perfectly lethal. Anyway, I pulled out the saw and began backing up again. Bonnie was growling and trying to pull me away, and I noticed that she wasn't looking in the same direction she had been earlier. The mountain lion screamed again, and all the adrenaline in my body slammed into my heart. The thing had run down the fenceline while I was scrambling around on the ground and now was somewhere near the trees. Somewhere between us and Possum Cough.

"It's hunting us, girl," I told Bonnie. Her eyes carried a distinct response. "No ****, old man."

We made our way via a wide, circuitous route to the road, me holding Bonnie close and brandishing my saw blade. Once we hit the road, we took off in a dead run. And while we were running, Ernie's dogs and the Kegley's dogs down in the holler were going absolutely insane. We made it back to the house and found MeeMaw napping on the couch. There was no way I was going to wake her up and present this little narrative to her, so I waited until later after she awoke and was less likely to be horrified by what had happened.

My plan didn't work. MeeMaw was horrified anyway. But later that night, after midnight, Bonnie wanted to go out again. This time, Mr. Remington went along with us, eager to meet Mr. Mountain Lion. I didn't get to make the introductions this time. But I'm going to alert all our neighbors and the county extension agent just in case.
This Friday, our wood burning stove is slated to be delivered. We're looking so very, very forward to this event. Even if it turns into summer the next day, at least we'll know we're prepared for next winter in a big way. We're also having the back yard fenced in, as soon as the snow allows the young feller and his crew to begin setting posts. Bonnie will love being able to romp at will, and I will love not having to accompany her on every single nocturnal urination and defecation and perambulation. I have to get my chain saw fired up and drop one tree and one old stump before Darren and his crew show up for the fence installation. Firewood for next year. I'll also have to build a woodshed of some sort so that we can have good seasoned wood near the house. The tasks keep multiplying but it's a joyful thing. The only thing that would make it even more joyful would be if I had a couple of strong young men living nearby who could help me in my frail golden years as I try to eke out an existence for their saintly mother here on the wild frontier of Southwest Virginia.
I don't know if Jason and Karen got to meet him or not, but I do remember that Joshi-O met our friend, Mr. Paul, at church. He's the older gentleman who had a brain aneurism....walks with a cane and has a bit of a speech impediment nowadays? He was in my office Friday to get blood work done, and wasn't looking well at all. He's had a lot of health problems lately. Anyway, Ginger from church called MeeMaw a little while ago and said that Mr. Paul was admitted to Holston Valley Hospital at 3 am today with what looks like cardiac problems. Please pray for him. He and his wife Bernice are two of the finest people we know. Humble servants, both of them. Paul used to be a master carpenter, building bookshelves and furniture, etc. (many of the furnishings at our church building were fashioned by him), and he's a formidable musician. He's been a bluegrass picker for decades and used to play at all the churches and dances in this area. Bernice takes care of him full time, and she also takes care of their elderly neighbor full time. Very special folks, those two.

We put out sunflower seed for the cardinals today, and they are enjoying it with great gusto. Very fat redbirds, too! They must have their winter plumage on, or thermal underwear, or something. I can't get a shot of them...they're very skittish in the snow. Perhaps they're aware of what attractive targets they make for all the creatures, red in tooth and claw, that populate our little farm.

MeeMaw snapped this while I was napping yesterday. Did she tell y'all about Bonnie sticking her muzzle down my throat while I was napping and snoring? We theorize that she thought a badger was down in a hole, growling in the throes of rabies, and the red dog was trying to protect the family. Let me assure you that coming out of pleasant dream to find one's self staring into the copper-colored eyes of a curious dog is rather unsettling. And then realizing that the red dog's eyes are so close to one's own because the dog's snout is touching one's uvula is, well, extry revolting.

Last night, the moon was out and the snow was slowing down a bit, so Bonnie and I went for a long, long walk. No mountain lions, but I did see what I think was a mule deer. He came out of the treeline over by the spring and stopped long enough for me to get a good look. His head was enormous, like a horse or a donkey, and he was massive and dark. Ran like crazy down the middle of the road toward the spring and disappeared down there somewhere.

As Bonnie and I were coming back up the steep curve in the road, I heard something down in the pasture by the old stock pond. A bunch of coyotes were watering, and I must have startled them. The wind was with us and Bonnie didn't even detect their presence until they were disappearing into the woods. Very pretty to watch, their running from the presence of one of Adam's sons. Like wraiths. Silent, wheeling, ethereal.

We're already starting to make tentative (and I emphasize that word, loved ones) plans about things for this spring at the Cough. Blueberry bushes, fruit trees, a shade tree or two, and some chickens. I'd really like to start a beehive, too, but we'll see. Being snowbound makes one antsy to start doing things.

Rest well, loved ones.

~ PeePaw

8:00 p.m. Sunday

2010-01-24T20:10:00.003-05:00

Hello, kids!

It's Sunday night and it's cool and raining outside. It was kinda weird weather all day. The temperatures weren't as cold as they have been and the sky looked like a summer sky when it's about to storm. There were reports of expected high winds but thankfully, they never came. The fallen bird tree in the front yard is a reminder that we don't want anything like that again for quite some time. The only tree that would ever fall on our house is the huge pine tree at the corner and we figure the only thing that would uproot that thing is a tornado and thankfully, those are rare here. I do think there must be some sort of a fault around Nickelsville (which is about 10 miles from here) because apparently, there was a very mild tremor last year. We never felt it but it was in the paper and our co-workers knew all about it.

We've had a nice weekend. After I got home from work, Peeps and I went to Meadowview Convention Center to the Farm Expo. You might recall that we went last year and it was nice. We got to meet our county extension agent at taht time and also watched people do turkey calls. They were going to have a hog calling contest yesterday and I tried to convince Peepaw to enter, but he declined. He can do a mean hog call....you'll have to get him to do it for you sometime. We walked over to the little petting zoo where there were chickens, turkeys, puppies, lambs, and a tiny little donkey. And then we saw this -

You can't see it from this angle, but she had a red circle painted around one of her eyes. There were little bowls of paint and children were brushing it on their hands and then "painting" the horse. It was very cute but I sort of felt bad for the little horse. But I imagine the nice, warm bath that she undoubtedly got after the show was worth it.

We wandered around a little longer and then decided to leave. Last year, we stopped at almost every booth and signed up for "free" stuff and in doing so, you could grab a free pen or magnet, etc. Well, what we didn't think about was the fact that we would get bombarded with phone calls for months afterwards from people wanting to install new windows or sweep our chimney - you get the idea. So after we left, we drove to a new (to us) little restaurant that we had heard about. Peepaw's co-workers had all told him about this place that is kind of out in the country. It's between Gate City and Kingsport and is called White's Farmhouse Restaurant. It was very quaint and had good country cooking. The surprising feature of this place was the two huge crystal chandeliers hanging inside. Although they didn't really fit the decor, they were so pretty and really lit that place up. I couldn't quit staring at them. They have daily specials and Peepaw wanted fried chicken livers and I got meat loaf. After we placed our order, the waitress came back to the table and very apologetically explained that they had run out of chicken livers. (can you imagine??) They must be REALLY good. So his alternate choice was a flat iron steak. The sides all sounded so good...mashed potatoes, fried okra, green beans, pinto beans, broccoli and cheese casserole, etc. When we ate (and it was very good), Peepaw went to pay the cashier (who was also our waitress). She told him that she was not going to charge him for the steak since he had originally ordered chicken livers so his steak dinner with all the fixins was only $7.99 as opposed to the $10 it would have cost, which is pretty inexpensive for a steak. And it was a pretty good sized piece of meat. We decided then and there that we'll definitely go back for breakfast one day soon.

We're listening to Elton John's album, Captain Fantastic and the Brown Dirt Cowboy. Peepaw said it's one of his very favorites and he thought of it tonight because we had recently seen an episode of Andy Griffith that had Goober in it. When Peeps was about 13 years old, he was visiting his Aunt Carolyn during the summer and was helping to hoe her garden. He would go in the house to cool off and listen to that particular Elton John album on his 8 track player. When he was finished, they went out to eat at a restaurant that George Lindsay (Goober) owned in Little Rock. Afterwards, he went to Baskin Robbins for the first time and got a Daiquiri Ice cone. He said he felt so grown up that day. The first time I got ice cream at Baskin Robbins, I was persuaded by my brother, David, to get licorice. It was so ugly...all dark gray. Plus I didn't like licorice candy at all but if David wanted me to do it, I did. It was so good. It turned my mouth all black and the customers in there stared at me but I didn't really care. I've only had it once again since then and that was in Beaumont, Texas. I was in high school and the local Baskin Robbins brought back licorice for a limited time and I couldn't wait to try it again. I figured it wouldn't taste as good as I remembered but you know what? It was even better. I sure wish they would offer it again because there are a lot more weird flavors of ice cream nowadays than licorice.

We're looking forward to a pretty calm week and hope that each of you has a calm, happy week, too. We love you all very much.

Mom

1-12-10 - brrrrrrrrr

2010-01-12T17:26:00.005-05:00

Bonnie eating snow -

Y'all, it is SO cold here. Actually, I think it made it up to around 30 today but yesterday morning, it was 5 degrees. 5. When I walked outside to get in the car, I had a cloud of frost around me. It was surreal but still beautiful and exhilirating.

I have the kerosene heater lit this evening and it is quite cozy and warm. Our heat pump has been running so much the past few weeks although we keep it set on around 64 or 65 when we're here and down to 62 at night or when we're gone. So having this little heater has been great but it will be even better when we get our woodburning stove. It's scheduled to be installed around the first week of February. There was a huge rush on buying those because of the power outages around here so the store where we bought it is swamped right now.

Peepaw just came in from work. His co-workers had a belated birthday celebration for him today. They had fried chicken and all the fixins' (per his request) and a big birthday cake with the "over the hill" theme on it. They led him into the kitchen at work and had a wheelchair sitting at the head of the table with his name on it, along with a "tinkle" pad for him to sit on and underneath that, they had placed big bubble wrap so when he sat down, well, you get the picture. It was all very cute and very thoughtful of them to make his 50th birthday so special.

I hope each and every one of you is doing great....I miss my kids and my grandbabies. You are always in my thoughts and prayers. Hug each other for me and be very careful in all you do.

Until next time, all my love,

Mom

9:48 p.m. update

2010-01-03T21:52:00.003-05:00

The "birthday" Peeps with his new chainsaw.

Bonnie is wanting to shake hands in the above photo. We're trying to teach her a few tricks but also some obedience. She's a quick learner but we have to be very disciplined about teaching her. She is especially fond of Purrl and will actually put Purrl's head in her mouth! She never bites down or closes her mouth - it's just a fun game to her and Purrl doesn't seem to mind one bit. However, once in a while, Purrl will watch Bonnie walk past her and for some reason unknown to us, she slaps her in the face! It's as though she's telling Bonnie that the mere sight of her at that particular time annoys her, so she smacks her. It's very cute.

I'm off to bed for now...I love you!

Mom a.k.a. Meemaw

a very important day (1-3-10)

2010-01-03T18:29:00.006-05:00

It's Peepaw's birthday and he's 50 years old today!

I think he would say he's had a good day...I fixed one of his favorite breakfasts of steak and eggs and for supper, we're having roast chicken, twice baked potatoes, and corn on the cob. I got him a chainsaw (which is a necessity here) and he's anxious to use it. I imagine the first order of business will be to cut up the old bird tree that fell a few weeks ago. It will make great firewood. I also got him some safety goggles because I sure don't want a stray hunk of wood hitting him in the eye/face. I think chainsaws can be intimidating to use but I know Peeps will be very careful.

While we were driving home from church today, we started asking each other if we remembered certain foods from our childhood. We love doing that because we almost always know what the other one is talking about. Food is such a common bond for families and some of my strongest memories revolve around food or meals. I have always loved to read and one of my favorite things to do was to read the entire box while eating a bowl of cereal every morning. One of my favorites was a cereal that my mother liked...it was Skinner's brand Raisin Bran. The box was cardboard, of course, but it was covered in a wax paper. This was my favorite box because on the back, there was an ad for birthstone rings and it had every month with its coordinating stone underneath it. I would stare and stare at those stones the whole time I was eating. I was always glad that my birthstone was pink.

We also talked about 7-up at great length. When I was a little girl, you could take a 6 pack of empty soda bottles to the grocery store and turn them in for a cash redemption...you had to pay a little extra when buying soft drinks as a deposit for the glass bottles. Anyway, after Mother and I turned the used bottles back in, we would head for the soft drink aisle. (actually, we just referred to all soft drinks as Coke.....(pretend you are visiting someone)...your hostess would say, "Come in, can I get you a Coke? We have Coca Cola, Dr. Pepper, Nehi, root beer, Orange Crush, etc." I digress ...we would head back to pick out our "cokes" and back then, you could just get an empty carton and pick and choose whatever you wanted. We always got 7-up in case one of us got sick and they were so good. The bottles were heavy and dark green and I would always want to pour it over ice, like on t.v. It was so fizzy that it would tickle my nose when I drank it and it was MUCH better than Sprite...not as sweet. Peeps remembers them the same exact way. He, too, read the cereal boxes when he ate his cereal. There were also toys in many of the cereals back then and I was always wishing for a whistle. I used to want a whistle from wherever we went, sort of like you boys wanted a new comic book or baseball cards. Oscar Meyer used to put a red whistle in their packages of hot dogs once in a while - now that was a huge deal to me and I would beg my mother to let me have one. And this wasn't your ordinary whistle...it had a neat shape and a very shrill whistle. After much pleading, she did let me have one - I wish I had kept it.

It's very, very cold at Possum Cough. I think it was about 9 degrees this morning. We're leaving a tiny stream of water running from the faucets at night so we don't have burst pipes. I have to say I do sleep better when it's cold because then I can pile on the covers and be toasty and warm.

Please say a prayer for our pastor, John. His father may only have a few days left to live. He has a multitude of health problems and he's in kidney failure and unresponsive to anyone at this time. John lost his mother around 8-10 years ago so he's understandably having a hard time. He said the worst part is that his dad is so far away in Missouri and he can't be there with him. They did go for a visit at Thanksgiving and his dad was able to communicate at that time so that does give him some comfort.

I will go see about Peepaw's birthday supper. I love you all very much and hope you have a wonderful, safe week.

Mom

8:49 p.m.

2009-12-29T20:52:00.010-05:00

It's a very cold night here at Possum Cough and this weekend, they're calling for it to get down to about 10 degrees. Don't y'all wish you were here with us? We sure do!

There are still about 11,000 people without electricity in southwest Virginia. Thankfully, we aren't included in that group. When I was on my way to work this morning, there were about 15 or 20 utility trucks all caravaning down the road to start yet another long day of trying to get electric lines repaired where the snow and wind have knocked trees over. It's been very violent weather this month. I love the snow, as you all know, but I have to say it was not my friend Christmas week as we waited and waited for our power to be restored. But we could have had it so much worse than a lot of people and for that, I'm very grateful. I surely do appreciate turning a light on now or opening the fridge and having cold food. It made me feel sad to throw away so much food but it had to be done. Eight bags full!! (actually, some of it was weird looking stuff that had been in the freezer too long and was unidentifiable...we all know about that, huh?)

Ready for some pretty snow pictures?? Okay....here we go....

This is our outdoor refrigerator -

Kitty finds the buttermilk -

This next one gives you an idea of how deep it was...

Peeps and Bonnie frolicking (this was a week after the big snow - that's how long it stayed on the ground)...

I'm very glad no one was hurt in Lufkin the night before Christmas eve when they had an F3 tornado blow through town. It makes what we went through seem like nothing much at all. I'm especially glad Joshua and Mollie missed it by 30 minutes.

And I'm very glad that Jason, Karen, and kiddos are all feeling much better.

I'm off to get ready for bed now. I love each and every one of you and miss you all very much.

Mom

7:39 a.m. Thursday

2009-12-10T07:42:00.003-05:00

Good morning, y'all! I hope and pray you are all well rested, safe and sound this morning. I'm home from work and getting ready to start my day but not without wishing my precious Ruth and Rhiannon the happiest of birthdays. I was recalling the night they were born and how sweet and perfect they looked, laying in their little beds in NICU. We are so grateful that you are healthy, happy, and beautiful.

Happy birthday, little girls. You'll never know how much Meemaw and Peepaw love you.

We had HORRIBLE wind here yesterday. It was reported that all of Gate City was without power right before we were due to come home. Thankfully, only part of the town was blacked out and we were fine up here on Copper Ridge. You'll recall that old bird tree out front? We loved that tree because it was a sanctuary for all the little birds around here. Well, that wind pulled it up from the roots and toppled it right over. It landed right next to the fence without hurting it, or the house, or anything. It looks so bare where it once stood but we'll plant more in the front yard to provide shade for the house and a new home for our birds. I'll post a photo soon.

Peeps is going to get off work a little early today and we're going to drive to Gatlinburg and look at the Christmas lights and decorations and perhaps get in a little bit of shopping. We'll return early Saturday. We may even go to Dollywood. We went once during Christmas several years ago and it was so beautiful! They have thousands and thousands of lights all over the place and there is a parade at night along with lots of Christmas music. If that doesn't get you in the mood for Christmas, nothing will. We are still anxiously waiting for the day when Ruth and Rhiannon are old enough to take to Dollywood. Y'all might remember us telling you how we saw a man pushing a stroller with his twin grandchildren the first time we went there and we talked about how sweet that was and that "one day, we'll bring our grandbabies here". So....that is our plan and then when Jackson is old enough, we'll do the same for him as well as any other grandchildren that we are blessed with.

The picture at the top of this post is of Bonnie in her first snow. She loved it...she jumped and spun and yipped at the snowflakes!

I love you all very much. Please be careful in all you do.

Mom

Thankful day

2009-11-26T14:05:00.005-05:00

I came into the office earlier and found Peepaw writing a list of things he is most thankful for. After reading it, (which made me cry) I asked his permission to share it with our family. My list mirrors his, for the most part, but I will add a few thoughts of my own after his.

My Savior and King, the Lord Jesus Christ, Who came and took on human form and died for the sins of His people, chosen before He created the world, and Who arose in triumph from the tomb and ascended to the place where He now reigns, the place where I will go when my sojourn here is done. I can never comprehend the scope or depth of what He has accomplished, and I can never be grateful enough.
My beautiful, devoted, faithful wife, Sadie. She is the best human being I have ever known in my life, and has made my life full and complete. She models Christ’s love in so many ways, not the least of which is that she loves me in spite of my many glaring faults, and she loves me fully.
My precious Mother, whom I wish could be with us today. She gave me life, she sacrificed for me in ways I still don’t know in full; she showed me what it means to be Southern and reverent and tough and how to walk in the Father’s creation with an eye to the fragility and wonder of each day.
My sons, Jason and Josh, and the strong, fine men they have become. Both of you have taught me valuable things…and neither of you knows the extent to which you have hallowed my life and given me hope for the coming years.
My grandchildren – Ruth, Rhiannon, and Jackson. They are healthy and safe and they know they are loved, and this is enough.
My two daughters-in-law, Karen and Mollie. Beautiful and loving young ladies, they adorn our family like living jewels.
My valuable and cherished friends, who are like breathing treasures to me. I love each of you and daily ask God’s blessings on you and your houses.
My church family and my brother officers – we have so much work to do, and my own resources are so meager, except through Christ!
The Holy Scriptures, which have never been anything to me except comforting and instructive.
My job and the necessities God provides through this medium.
Our little farm and the agrarian peace with which it fills our bones.
Turkey with crispy brown skin.
A red dog with soft brown eyes.
A mean yellow cat and an eccentric white cat, both of whom have loved on me when I was sick, tired, confused, and scared.
An old truck that runs just fine.
Shelves full of books.
Eyes that, while beginning to fail, can still read those shelves of books.
The soft stroke of music across my ears: Mozart, Beethoven, Wagner, and so many other composers’ works.
Poetry, the lightning rod of the soul.
Sadie’s little hand on my rough, wrinkled one, whenever we sit next to each other
Real Christmas trees and the way their aroma fills the house.
Computers and high-speed connections that allow instant information and correspondence.
The snort of a deer in the pre-dawn stillness at our little farm.
The delighted squeal and the pointing finger of a golden-haired granddaughter.
The way the barn cats look at me when I come out of the door with a sack of food in my hand.
Sadie’s little feet and her sausage toes.
Mother’s teaching Sadie how to make chocolate gravy and delta-style fried chicken.
Pocket watches and handkerchiefs and pocket knives.
A single candle in a cool room.
The high wind in the top of the pine tree outside our bedroom window.
Laser printers, with their speed and crisp output.
A relatively pain-free body
The fact that I can still hear most of what I try to hear.
The particular blood in my veins, and the mighty deeds of those who went before me with the same blood in their veins.
The fact that rap music, most of today’s popular music, and Wayne Newton’s music is not mandatory listening material.
The way Bonnie just slunk into the room with a piece of purloined apple in her mouth.
Leather work gloves.
Songbirds in the bare tree in the front pasture.
Well-oiled firearms and the lack of immediate employment for them.
The variety of food that God provided for us.
The fact that I don’t have to pretend to enjoy listening to Johnny Mathis’ bizarre voicing of the song “Sleigh Ride.”
The woods behind our house, where I spend so many hours walking and praying and prowling and avoiding work.
The lines on my face and the gray hairs on my head and in my beard.
The crisp quiet of this day, in my home, with my wife, beloved of my God and my family.

And now my own list...

I am thankful that God chose me to be His.

I am thankful for my wonderful, loving, and caring husband. He is my best friend.

I am grateful that God allowed me to be Jason and Joshua's mom, Karen and Mollie's mom-in-law, and Ruth, Rhiannon, and Jackson's Meemaw.

I am thankful that I was able to hear Ruthie and Rhiannon say, "I love you, Meemaw".

I am thankful for our precious little pets and especially for getting to care for Sophie for 14 years.

I am thankful for my home in the mountains.

I am thankful for long distance service so I can hear my children talk to me.

I am thankful for a mind that holds a lifetime of memories.

We just finished filling our tummies with Peepaw's YUMMY turkey and my dressing with all the fixin's. Pumpkin pie is waiting in the wings. I think it's time now for a little walk to help digest that feast. I hope and pray you are all having a happy Thanksgiving and that you will be safe in all you do.

I love you all so very, very much.

Mom/Meemaw

8:09 p.m.

2009-11-22T20:11:00.003-05:00

When is the last time that y'all were surrounded by an absolute absence of man-made light and sound?

Last night, Peepaw, Bonnie, and I went on a little adventure. We grabbed a flashlight and headed toward the cemetery. It was around 9 p.m. and it was pitch black outside. The only illumination was from Helen and Ernie's garage doors where they have some decorative lights. The moon was a teeny little sliver but the night was clear and we could see most of the stars.

We headed through a pasture across from us and stopped once in a while because Bonnie would look back behind us as though she heard something in the woods. It was kinda scary but fun. I had to use the flashlight to guide my way most of the time because I didn't want to step wrong and twist my ankle. I had it on at one point when a truck was going down the road and around the curve in front of our house. We noticed that they slowed way down because I think they saw my light and probably wondered what kind of hooligans were walking up to the cemetery at that time of the night. Thankfully, they just went on and we proceeded to climb the hill. Once we reached the cemetery, we found a clearing and sat down, with Bonnie acting as the sentry as she parked herself right in front of us and guarded us. It was so beautiful, y'all. As our eyes got accustomed to the dark, we could see the headstones and the shadows of trees and rocks. We laid back on the grass and looked up at the sky, hoping to see a shooting star. We had learned from a friend that when you see what looks like a plane in the sky but it's got no blinking lights, it is probably a satellite or a space shuttle (we saw neither). We were looking for the different constellations and could see a few but there were enough little wispy white clouds to partially cover a lot of the stars. We decided we might try to get a telescope one day. I took an astonomy class in high school and actually did very well because I found it so interesting. We had a planetarium at Forest Park and the highlight of my day, as a junior, was going to that class.

After I got off work yesterday afternoon, Peeps and I drove to Gate City as they were having a "holiday open house" at a few of the businesses. We strolled through a couple of antique shops but didn't find anything but it was fun to look. Then we ate a late lunch at the Hob Nob and came on back home and relaxed. Today was a cool, cloudy day and perfect for a little afternoon nap. We each picked a couch to lay on and got settled in to sleep but after about 15 minutes, Bonnie and Purrl decided to start playing chase, so that was short-lived. It was just enough to refresh us, though.

At this time of the year, we are keenly aware of the distance between us and all of you. But you are always, always in our hearts and we will focus on how much we love you and we will be so happy when we're together again.

I love you,

Mom

3:02 pm

2009-11-15T15:04:00.004-05:00

Hi, kids! It's a gorgeous day here at P. C. It's about 72 degrees and sunny and breezy. Just perfect for being outside. Bonnie is pacing behind me right now, wanting to go out and do some hunting so I think a nice, long walk is in order for her, me, and Peeps.

We've had a restful weekend. Yesterday, we drove to our friends' house and spent part of the day with them. They live north of us and it takes about an hour and a half to get to their place. We had a treat for our meal....grilled quail and homemade dressing w/gravy. I was a little worried about the quail - I'm not sure why except that I'm just funny about eating new things. I actually ate quail when I was a very little girl. PaPa and Uncle Gordon used to go quail hunting and when they got their quota, they would bring them back to my grandmother's house where they were plucked and cleaned and Grandmother would bake them. They really and truly do taste like tiny little chickens and the drumsticks are about the size of two matchsticks put together. The only bothersome thing about the whole meal yesterday was that I could see where my little quail's neck was and so I got rid of that part really fast and pretended that I never saw it. We saved all the little teeny bones and gave a few of the smallest ones to their newly adopted dog, Harley. He is about 6 months old and just showed up on their front porch last week and won't leave! He's part German Shephard and very, very cute and obedient. They didn't really want a dog but he's worming (no pun intended) his way into their hearts very quickly. As they told us more than once, "he is doing everything right". I think they'll keep him and I'm glad for that.

On the way home from church this morning, Peepaw looked over on the side of a hill and hollered, "Look at the turkeys"! There were 10 wild turkeys just munching away on the grass. They were so pretty - I hope someone tells them that Thanksgiving is right around the corner so they can find a hiding place.

I'll leave you with a picture that Peeps took of a sunrise the other morning. It's just too pretty for words. I love and miss you all so very much.

7:54 p.m.

2009-11-07T19:54:00.005-05:00

Lookie at what Peepaw and Meemaw got today!

I work with a woman named Kathy (the groomer at my job) and she mentioned to me the other day that she remembered me saying I was looking for a china hutch. Her sister, Brenda, is moving out of a large home into a smaller one and was wanting to "get rid" of some of her furniture and didn't want to bother with having a yard sale. Kathy told her not to sell this hutch until she told me about it. When she told me what Brenda was selling it for along with the matching dining room table and chairs, I about fell out of my chair. It is incredibly reasonable and I about told her I would buy it, sight unseen. She had Brenda's son email me photos of everything. After work today, Peeps and I caravaned to Brenda's house. They had the furniture out on her carport all ready for us to load and even had carefully wrapped the glass shelves in newspaper for safe travel. I have Peepaw's mother's dishes in it now. They are so precious to me and we use them every Sunday. We've got the old table and chairs out in the yard barn and will keep it for someone who might need it one day. Grandmommy and I picked out that table and chairs when I was about 12 years old. It's been moved around all over the country. We've sat at that table and shared meals with those most precious to us. Our little animals have wound their way around the legs of the chairs and there have even been puppies to teethe on it. We've sat at that table and played games and we've cried in heartwrenching grief over the deaths of loved ones at that table. If it's possible to love a table, then we do. We love that old table. And it will stay in safe storage until it's needed again.

We're enjoying really cold nights and mornings. We've had to scrape frost off of the windshield of our vehicles for quite a few mornings now. I love, love, love the wintertime and am so grateful that if we have slippery roads on a workday, my co-workers understand that I won't risk my life to get there at a certain time and they will cover for me until I can get there. Peepaw has that same deal at his job and that is a real blessing. Even on some of the snowiest days last winter, we noticed that the highway crews kept our mountain roads clear with one or two exceptions. We're also looking forward to getting a woodburning stove installed soon. We found one in Johnson City that we both like (my only request was that it have a glass door so we can see the fire) and we're pretty sure it will fit right into the existing fireplace. That forced hot air is not healthy to breathe in all the time plus the coziness of a fire is something I've been looking forward to since we moved to Possum Cough. We will also make sure that whatever we end up with can be used to cook on in case we lose power.

Well, we're eating late tonight so I'll close for now and tend to supper.

We love and miss you all very much.

Meemaw

7:09 p.m.

2009-10-24T19:11:00.004-04:00

Peepaw and I have been away from this blog way too long. We'll try to be more diligent about posting, I promise.

I think I speak for both of us when I say that the last week and a half have been so very special. Flying to Texas and witnessing Joshua and Mollie's wedding, reuniting with friends and family, having Jason officiate at the wedding, then returning home to spending the day with Karen, Ruth, Rhiannon, and Jackson was absolutely wonderful. You are all loved so very much. Joshua and Mollie, I hope you had a wonderful honeymoon week (we're glad you didn't die on the mountain). May you have a lifetime of happiness.

It was hard to return to the daily grind after such a fun week. It was especially hard on Peepaw because he developed a bad sore throat and cold on Tuesday and had to start taking some antibiotics later in the week when he just couldn't shake it. I'm happy to report he's much better today. In fact, when I got home from work, we decided to take a drive to Cumberland Gap for the afternoon. It was cloudy, cool, and the leaves are peaking right now and it was just too gorgeous to stay in the house. So off we went in search of more fall foliage, antiques, and food.

We oohed and ahhed the WHOLE way there and decided that there just aren't adequate words to describe the beauty of the scenery. We arrived in Cumberland Gap around 3:30 and promptly went to a neat little store called Whistle Stop Antiques. There were 3 little black cats laying out in front of the store. I tried to pet them but they weren't having any of it. We browsed inside the store a little while and tried very hard not to knock anything over. I found some beautiful little salt and pepper shakers among other things and Peepaw saw things that his mom and his Nanny used to have around when he was a little boy. One was a wooden hamburger press. He recognized it because there was a picture of 2 roosters on the front of it. It is hinged and you open it up, plop a hunk of hamburger meat on it and then close it. It presses it out real thin and perfectly round. I also saw some spice containers that my mom used to have that had a little metal sliding door thingy on the top and you push it to one side to reveal the little holes that the spice comes out of. Anyway, we both agreed that every time we go "antiquing", we always see some object that one of our moms or grandmothers had when we were little and we want to cry....in a good way, you know.

After we browsed, we went up the street to a little diner called Webb's Country Cafe. It's in a real old brick building and has a good atmosphere and really good food. I got a veggie plate (salad, green beans, potatoes, and pinto beans) and Peeps got a chicken fried steak sandwich. Nope, they can't do it here like they can in Texas but it was passable. I'm going to try to replicate the c.f. steak we got at Texas Pepper's in Livingston. It bears repeating.....that was THE BEST I've ever eaten and I've eaten me some chicken fried steaks in my lifetime.

On the drive home, we stopped along the road and took some pictures of the mountains with all the colors of the leaves. Peepaw said that his Nanny used to say that the colors of fall look like God dipped His hands in a bucket of glory and flung it all over the hills. Isn't that beautiful? It's so true.

I will close for now and send you all of my love.

Mom a.k.a. Meemaw

7:10 pm

2009-09-07T19:14:00.004-04:00

After our visit with Mother, our hearts sit in our chests like stones wrapped in old despair.

As soon as we walked into her room, we knew that she was different. Worse. In decline.

She was lying on her back, staring at the television, her mouth open like an infant. She looked at us. She was frail and weak. The skin around her eye was bruised, like a black eye in a cartoon. Mother said it was from her scratching too hard. She had a rash, the origin or cause of which the nursing staff hadn't yet tracked down. and she scratched at it on and off all day. One of the nursing aides said to us, "You her son, ain't you? We thought you was. We knew you was gonna get mad about that bruise on her face." When I asked her to elaborate, the aide shrugged and said, "I jis' work weekends. I don't know nothin'."

I asked Mother, "Did someone hit you?" She looked me square in the eye and said, "No."

I pressed her. "Would you tell me if someone did hit you?" She said that she would. After asking one more time whether or not someone had hit her, I dropped the subject.

Within a half-hour, MeeMaw and I were exchanging worried looks. The deterioration of Mother's mental strength was obvious. She was confused as to the day, as to when we had arrived, as to what we were doing there. Within the span of four or five spoken paragraphs, I took the measure of my Mother's remaining life and knew that the woman entire was lost to me forever. She had retreated inside herself to await the horror and boredom and stress of her daily lot.

After a little painful conversation, I asked Mother, "So do you think you'd feel like getting out of here for a while and taking a ride?" She surprised me by immediately answering in the affirmative.

So MeeMaw helped her dress and use the bathroom while I signed her out and brought the car up to the front door. We wheeled her down the hallway and out the door, and I thought again, just for a second, about aiming the car towards Possum Cough and leaving all her scant worldly goods in the nursing home and driving driving driving driving driving away from this prettified prison and its sullen support staff and its obese nurses with the bored eyes and the too-loud, condescending cigarette-stinking voices. But I lifted my mother into the car like a piece of furniture and I placed her wheelchair in the trunk and I got in and said, "Where would you girls like to go?"
We drove out to the little house where I grew up still stands. It has bars on the windows and a weed-choked yard protected by a poorly-constructed fence. After cruising around the once-thriving downtown area and enduring the hostile stares of those who now inhabit my hometown, we headed out of town to the country cemetery where my mother's people are buried. The graveyard sits on the other side of a quiet road from a massive cotton field. Mother noticed the cotton and commented on the quality of the crop. When we stopped at the cemetery, I went into the cotton field and picked her a stalk with an open boll and an unopened one on it. She said, "I'll put that up on my wall in my room. But they'll take it away from me."

Mother refused to let me take her out of the car to look around the cemetary. She sat in the car and talked to MeeMaw while I strolled around and took a few pictures. The delta dirt was as black as I remembered, rich with prehistoric water and the bitter tears of sharecroppers. Sharecroppers like my mother's family, all gathered to their fathers and resting in the black, alluvial soil. When I was done, we left and drove back to town, winding through the cotton fields and the rice paddies. It was midday, and Mother admitted that she could eat a bite, so we stopped at one of her favorite places and took a meal. Mother wanted a grilled cheese sandwich and coffee. She coughed so hard while trying to eat that I feared she had aspirated some food. And I thought, "She will choke like this someday in her room, and no one will be there to help her."

After she finished coughing, she was so weak that we decided it was best to return to the nursing home. She didn't protest, and this was significant. As MeeMaw said later, "All the fight has gone out of her."

So we returned to the nursing home, and I hung her cotton stalk up on the wall behind a portrait of MeeMaw and me, and we sat and talked with her, until the shadows lengthened and time forced us to begin our goodbyes. We tucked her into bed and made her as comfortable as we could, and then I talked quietly to her for a few moments, telling her that if she went home to be with her Lord before I saw her again, to look for me in the heavenly kingdom, and that I would be watching and looking for her. She kissed my face and weakly poked fun at me for the thousandth time about my beard, and promised that she would look for me on the far side banks of Jordan.

We said goodbye and told her that we loved her, and she told us that she loved us, and I backed out of the room, and that tough little woman with the burning blue eyes, the strong little woman who raised two children alone against staggering opposition, the fierce little woman who gave me the uniquely Southern gift of blood-pride, the tired little woman who wants to go home...she held my gaze until the industrial-yellow wall moved between us and cut her off from my sight. Who can say whether we will see each other again under the Arkansas sun?

Both MeeMaw and I cried on the long drive back home, and we asked many questions that will likely never be answered. That night, the moon was a red smudge behind charcoal clouds, and I felt as if we were driving down down down into a tunnel, and I could hear Mother's wheezing breath as the big trucks blew past us.

My mother is in a bad place and I cannot rescue her, and my faith flickers like the light in her Celtic eyes. Praise to His kingship that He never makes mistakes, and that He will be waiting for me on the other side of the blasphemous anger I feel toward him on this day when His skies have been weeping on us and His word has been sitting hard in my heart, like a stone wrapped in old despair.

I am much troubled in spirit, and comfort is far from me. Easy, pious cliches are near at hand and easy to access; all I need do is ask someone to pray and I will be virtually buried in such useless sentiments. But I have a tiny clutch of friends who have known pain as deep and green and cold as the Strathclyde, and they will sit on the ground with me and be silent while I talk of the sad, slow death of a life-giving mother. There is none like her. Nor shall there ever be again. God be praised for her.

The Book of Common Prayer tells us that in the midst of life, we are in death. I would note that in the midst of death, we are in life. Yesterday, our dog brought this home to me.

I took Bonnie for a walk after we got her home from the kennel. We went up into Mr. Davidson's pasture, just across the road from our front pasture. She likes to nose around up there, sometimes finding deer sign or chipmunks worth chousing. Often, she makes these pogo-stick vertical boinging leaps up and down so that she can see over the tall grass. With her reddish fur, she looks like a kangaroo when she does this. Bonnie-Roo.

There's a little cut-through between Mr. D's pasture and the cemetery, and we often take this path up into the cemetery. When we get to the top, I'm usually wheezing like the geezer that I am, and I usually sit down and Bonnie sits with me and we look at the Clinch Mountains and watch the cows and I daydream of my past youthful endurance and Bonnie daydreams of chousing - and catching - a big ol' heifer.

So yesterday when we started to pass through the cut-through, Bonnie stopped and wouldn't go any farther. When I tried to coax her on through to the cemetery, she turned around and pulled - backwards, mind you - on her leash, trying to keep me from walking forward. So I began to drag Bonnie with me. Seeing that I wasn't going to turn back towards Possum Cough, she ran around in front of me and stood, pressing her weight against my legs. Every time I tried to pass around her, she cut me off and leaned against my legs, stopping me.

Now I need to back up a bit. Not long ago, Bonnie and I were in the cemetery at dusky-dark when she began to act in a very curious manner. Her hackles went up, she began a low, deep growl, and she was looking at two tombstones. I began to think of how animals can sometimes see things we can't (like Baalam's donkey, for instance), and I got a wee bit nervous, wondering if some ghost or apparition was about to step out from behind one of the granite markers. We beat feet out of there in a hurry. Never did see anything, but the experience certainly creeped me out.

So when Bonnie was doing this "Don't go in there, PeePaw!" routine, I was thinking that perhaps she was sending something, well, otherworldly. My curiosity prevailed, and I pulled my dog on toward the cemetery. I was just about to step over a sapling tree at the entrance to the graveyard when something made me stop and look closer.

A two or three foot-long copperhead was coiled there, waiting.

I held Bonnie's leash tight in my fist and reached for a large rock. I slammed the rock down on the serpent, but my aim was a bit off and he began trying to slither away. I stepped on his head and then just behind his neck, and I stomped and stomped until he was dead. Bonnie was going absolutely insane while I was dispatching the ancient enemy.

When we got back to the farmhouse, Bonnie got two treats and a lot of love from two very grateful old folks. She's earned her place at Possum Cough, without a doubt.

Such experiences do make one think of the fragility of life. Such experiences make one think of how to best use the time one has left in this life. And such experiences tend to cement one's conviction that when one dies, one would rather be thrown in a ditch and forgotten than to be eulogized like this.

We're about to grill us some grass-fed, antibiotic and hormone-free Scottish Highland t-bones. It's all about Labor Day, donchoo know.

Rest well, loved ones.

9:25 pm

2009-09-01T21:29:00.003-04:00

Our dear friends Ro and Lee came to visit us tonight.

The occasion of the visit was their finally locating a source of raw milk - about an hour and a half from their home. They went to the fellow's farm, scoped it out, found it acceptable in terms of cleanliness, treatment of the cows, etc., and made arrangements to buy raw milk on a regular basis. They bought something like ten gallons on the spot.

Then Ro and Lee hopped back in their car (yes, in their seventies, they still hop) and drove three hours to be here when we got off work. Why do they do this? Because they love us. Because they are true friends. Because they are more Christlike than I will likely ever be on this side of my Father's house. Ro and Lee have taken a deeply personal interest in my brown recluse-related maladies, and this is why they literally spent weeks researching potential sources for raw milk.

When our friends came down the driveway at Possum Cough, the car had barely stopped rolling before they both sprang out with the warmest of hugs and greetings. It's very difficult sometimes to remember that they're not our age. They are so vital and so interesting and so alive and so loving. Ro popped the trunk and began pulling things out. The phrase "an embarrasment of riches" came to mind...

Included in the gift were four gallons of raw whole milk, two gallons of raw buttermilk, five pounds of beef ribs, four pounds of ground beef, eight steaks, and a massive beef roast.Also, Ro and Lee picked the last of their blueberries this very morning and brought them to us...about a gallon or a gallon and a half of those beauties.

Something to be aware of is that the beef was slaughtered just the other day. Ro's brother raises cows, and this one is a Scottish Highland. It was raised entirely on grass, and has never had a hormone shot, an antibiotic, or any other kind of injection. Pure and natural and grassfed. We can't wait to cook some up.

Our visit was entirely too brief (less than two hours), but we packed a lot of good conversation into those two hours. We talked of literature and poetry and movies and books and food...and Ro and I spent a few minutes trying to see who could tell the worst joke. I think he won.

We're in awe at how God brings good folks across our path. May He provide each of y'all with friends of whom you can truly say, "He (or she) is a blessing," and may the statement be more than an empty, pious expression.

Rest well, loved ones.

10:00 pm

2009-08-30T22:03:00.003-04:00

This was a day of peace and rest, and we are very grateful for it. Much as I admired his preaching and writing, I strongly disagree with the late James Montgomery Boice, who once said, "The Lord's Day should be a day of holy activity, a day when we are very busy." This is a sentiment many have bought into, but I see nothing in Scripture that sets aside the principle of the Sabbath rest. Busywork can be accomplished any day of the week. The Lord's Day is for rest and worship. When the Lord's Day tires one out, something is wrong. And as a friend of mine once said, when the Lord's Day becomes a list of things you can't do, then you've effectively bled the joy out of the day, and you are unable to call the Sabbath a delight. Very well said.

After morning worship (and a magnificent sermon), we came home and ate a very light lunch and then took a Sunday drive. We who were once so arrogant about the fact that we don't have to pay garbage and sewer bills because we have a well and because we can put our trash into any dumpster in the county...we are regretting our complacency. Our county has opened a new waste disposal center and removed almost all of the easily-accessed dumpsters (including the one at the market just down the road from us). So now we have to either drive to the waste disposal center, or drive five miles to Fort Blackmore and use their dumpsters. The third option, which is looking better by the minute, is to start burning all the burnable trash we can in our fire pit. We'll likely do a combination of the latter two options.

After we got home, we took naps and then MeeMaw baked a loaf of bread.

We're looking forward to Tuesday. Our beloved friends Ro and Lee have located a source of raw milk, and are going to bring us some (not a moment too soon, either!), along with some fresh grass-fed Scottish Highland beef from a neighbor of theirs. No steroids, hormones, or antibiotics were ever given to this cow, which was raised on good Virginia grass and nothing else. Can't wait!

If you look very, very carefully at the photo below, you can see Bonnie and me in the center of the frame. MeeMaw took this while Bonnie and I were walking in the cemetary this afternoon. Fresh air is a medicine all its own.

Rest well, loved ones. All of you are in our prayers.

9:44 pm

2009-08-29T21:47:00.002-04:00

Thus far, a pretty quiet day at Possum Cough. MeeMaw had to work, and after she got home, we went shopping in Bristol and got a bite to eat. It rained like crazy on the way home, but cleared up before we arrived at the farm. This made taking Bonnie out for her afternoon walk much easier.

We'll do a more comprehensive update tomorrow, d.v. For now, enjoy two of my favorite songs...

The first is Gilbert O'Sullivan's "January Git." I was amazed to find this video, since it's one of "Ray's" more obscure songs. The video's not bad, considering that this was done in 1971!

And finally, there's Dwight Yoakam's Buenos Noches From A Lonely Room. Yoakam consistently sounds good live, which cannot be said for too many artists. This is because he can actually do what he does, as opposed to letting studio trickery do it for him. His vibrato is remarkable on his studio recordings, and is pretty good here, too. So here 'tis.

Rest well, loved ones. MeeMaw and I are sending out all kinds of farm love.

6:58 pm

2009-08-23T19:02:00.007-04:00

A 17th century samurai once wrote, "The elegance of simplicity can be, to the appreciative eye, a most astonishing thing." I happen to agree with this sentiment, and I can say that our weekend here at Possum Cough was elegant and astonishing.

It was a simple weekend.

Saturday morning, MeeMaw and I took Bonnie for a longish walk. She's a delight to walk because she is attentive and obedient, and as easy to steer as an old Ford truck.

We stopped at the graveyard and I gave Bonnie some etiquette lessons on approaching a grave of a Confederate soldier. She seemed to be impressed with the gravity of my words.

MeeMaw and Bonnie stopped to watch the white cattle in the southern valley as they made their way to the pond for a drink.

And the early morning mist gave everything just the right feel, an ancient feel. The utility poles look just like the ones William Wallace marched past on his way to the battle at Stirling.

We righted a wreath that the wind - ever present on the sad hill - had taken down atop a fresh grave.

We let Bonnie romp through the pastures and even the woodlot, and then we took her home to cure her of her doggy smell. A little water clears us of the deed, as Lady MacBeth noted. And a little coconut shampoo doesn't hurt.

Here's MeeMaw clocking Bonnie going zero in a fifty-five zone.

As the day waned, we all sat outside in the west (front) pasture and read. Well, truth be told, Bonnie didn't read. She forgot her books. But she enjoyed sitting under our chairs.

Later, Bonnie and I went up into the woods to survey Mr. Davidson's pasture behind us. His silage corn is coming in nicely; I was surprised that I didn't see any deer. In about a month and a half, when he begins cutting silage, the cows in the surrounding pastures will keep us awake for a few nights as they bellow for a bellyful of the fresh corn and the stalks.

Bonnie took me on a rapid, shoulder-yanking tour of the woodlot. I knew she had struck trail by her body language: low and intense and very fast. I thought perhaps she was tracking a rabbit...right up to the point where a big old coon raised his head and looked at us. Bonnie dragged me to the tree where he fled and barked at him like a pro. She was so arrogant and proud for the rest of the evening. Treed her first coon, she did. And I didn't even get a picture...

After we left the coon behind, I took Bonnie back to the house. I went up to the south pasture and noticed that the seaberries have arrived. The birds will make short work of them. I just wish I could get a definitive answer on whether or not they're edible for humans. If so, we could have us some fine jelly or jam. I've tasted a couple of them (very cautiously) and they are pleasantly sweet. So far, no seizures or loss of bowel control for PeePaw...

One of my favorite daily sights...the Clinch Mountains in their quiet majesty. And before I forget, let me wish a belated Happy Birthday to both Mollie and Karen. Old men tend to be neglect certain niceties sometimes. But I hope the both of y'all know that I never do so out of lack of love. Happy Birthday and all our love to you both.

When I came down the pasture, Shorty and Domino were grazing along. I fed them some carrots and Shorty let me scrub his ears (some of Mollie's talent must have rubbed off on me). We love these equine beauties, but to tell the truth, we're looking forward to them moving back to their regular pasture. We want the entire woodlot and south pasture for Bonnie to romp in.

Five Pines looks as somber and mystical as ever, like a gateway into a faerie tale where a lad goes into the woods and meets a talking animal or an elf or a magical beast who changes the direction of his life...

This afternoon, we sat outside and let Bonnie get better acquainted with the bovines.

MeeMaw helped Bonnie with her algebra homework...

And then Bonnie watched with exquisite hostile interest as one of the barn kittens took a drink from the bird bath.

She went perfectly apoplectic when two more of the kittens joined the first one and drank the bird bath dry in 30 seconds.

At the end of a cool, breezy Sunday, what more could an old man want than to sit on a log in his own woods and think calm thoughts?

Rest well, loved ones.

9:29 pm

2009-08-17T21:32:00.001-04:00

Another Monday is at an end, and we are again reminded of the fleeting and relentless nature of time. It slips away so easily, and yet is so brutal in its neverending push toward our last day. This is indeed Monday night, and before we can think many thoughts, it will be Friday night again. But for now, the cats are content to enjoy a cool Monday night in the mountains.

We just came inside from walking and romping with Bonnie the budding farm-dog. She has developed a very humorous technique for prolonging our outdoor time. She will do her "business," as it were, and then meander around, perhaps eat some grass, lift a paw and "point" at some cows, etc. And then when she senses that it's time to go back inside, she will grab the leash in her mouth and pull us sideways, trying to start up a tug-of-war. She will also leap into the air and twist around as if she's having an epileptic fit. Or channeling Joe Cocker (spaniel?). While she's doing this, she has the most effulgent dog smile on her face. It's a grand game. But now she's settling down, pacing from room to room, trying to decide on whether to gnaw her Kong toy or take a pre-bedtime nap. If one were to replace the words "Kong toy" with "some of MeeMaw's cookies," one would have a fairly accurate description of PeePaw's nightly routine, too.

Last evening when we were sitting outside, all of the barn cats came out and lined up to watch us. When Bonnie stood up and snorted, they all zipped off in different directions. Bonnie was smiling, I think.

Yesterday, we had our homecoming service at church, and it was very interesting and pleasant to witness. The homecoming tradition is very common in the mountain culture, although this was the first homecoming service (as far as the records show) in the congregation's entire 137 year history. Perhaps because they've always felt it wasn't sufficiently Presbyterian? Who can say? At any rate, the basic gist of the homecoming service is that invitations are sent far and wide to former members and attendees who no longer attend or live in the area. The session oversaw a separate homecoming committee, and the ladies on that committee worked very hard to try and contact as many "old timers" as possible. Praying that the response would be good, we set up the fellowship hall to hold the worship service, since the regular meeting hall only holds 75-80 comfortably.

Come Sunday morning, we ended up with somewhere in the neighborhood of 120-150. We very much enjoyed meeting some people who had been members years ago and moved away. The service was joyful and majestic (and the music sounded much better than in the meeting hall, since the acoustics are livelier). Afterwards, we had a fellowship meal, and then there was a slide show with old pictures all the way back to the 1930's.

The highlight of the day for us was getting to meet a teaching elder emeritus named Frank Chapo. Mr. Chapo is twice-widowed, and lives in Johnson City. Even though in his eighties, he still attends as many presbytery meetings as he can, and seems to have enormous physical energy and natural force. A trim, tidy little man with a crewcut and deeply lined wrinkled face, he exudes love and Christlikeness from the minute one encounters him. Mr. Chapo (who was born in Poland) was drafted into the German army in World War II and, according to his own words, looted and stole things during the course of the war. He was converted to Christ after the war, and then later went back into the countries where he had stolen things and returned these things and made restitution to the owners. He has translated some gospel tracts into Polish and delights in passing literature to anyone who will take it.

When John (our pastor) introduced MeeMaw and me to Mr. Chapo, he took my hand in both of his and looked into my face with the kindest look I've seen in many years. After we exchanged pleasantries, I gestured to MeeMaw and said, "May I present my wife...?" and Mr. Chapo took her hands in his and said, "Ah! And you are the queen!" MeeMaw was so charmed and flustered, she could only blush and say, "Thank you! Thank you!"

What was really interesting was a little later when we met a former pastor of the congregation. I approached him because (a) he was by himself and (b) I didn't recognize him. He was leaning up against the wall, hands in his pockets, whistling to himself. When I introduced myself and MeeMaw, he gave me a big ol' used car salesman handshake and started up a snappy, semi-sarcastic line of patter. We excused ourselves after a few minutes. And though we didn't talk about it until we were driving home, we were both thinking the same thing: the contrast between Mr. Chapo and the former pastor could not have been more dramatic.

Another lovely memory of Mr. Chapo for Meemaw...while we were singing "And Can It Be (That I Should Gain)?" in the service, MeeMaw noticed that Mr. Chapo was singing while looking around at the congregation, attempting to catch peoples' attention and beaming his great smile. She said it was as if he were singing TO the congregation, exhorting us, encouraging us. Being in this man's presence for a few minutes is like a tonic for the heart. Bless him. We're hoping to contact him and invite him to Possum Cough for a meal and some old-time visitin'.

With regret, we had to leave before the slide show because at that point, Bonnie had been in her crate for over four hours and we needed to get home and let her take a bathroom break. When we started to pull out of the parking lot, I stopped while MeeMaw put hand sanitizer on my hands and on hers (all the hand-shaking with all the folks with colds is NOT a good thing, and this is our usual custom). Then we left the parking lot and headed home. Some of you will recall that Bloomingdale Road (on which the church building is located) is a narrow, very winding two-lane country road. We were just a mile or two from the church when around a sharp corner came a kid (looked to be about 17 or 18) in a fast little car. He was going at least 60 (in a 45 mph zone), the car almost over on two wheels...and he was in our lane, headed right for us. Both of us inhaled - that's truly all we had time to do - and braced for impact. At the very last moment, the car veered over into its own lane and whipped past us, disappearing in an instant. My heart was pounding so hard I couldn't speak. MeeMaw's eyes were as big as saucers. And we both whispered, "Thank you, Father." On the ride home, we were very aware of how He had protected us. If we had been just five or ten seconds farther down that road, the kid would have hit us head on at over 60mph. If we hadn't stopped to sanitize our hands, we would have been badly hurt at the very least...and perhaps worse. We are comforted not only that we were protected, but that the smallest details are in the hand of Him Who loves us.

The time has slipped away even more, and it is time to prepare for sleep here at Possum Cough. Rest well, loved ones.

5:18 pm

2009-08-15T17:21:00.004-04:00

Our old Texas thermometer out on the back deck is reading 87F right now, which is pretty warm for these parts. We're not complaining (especially after MeeMaw just saw that it was 106F in San Antonio today), and all things considered, it's not bad. In the shade, it's pleasant. The sun itself is as merciless as a hammer, but in the woods or the darkety part of the yard, it's fair tolerable.

MeeMaw worked today, and Bonnie and PeePaw romped around and actually did some work in the yard today. After MeeMaw got home, we left Her Royal Redness in her crate and went down to the town to return library books and eat a late dinner/early supper at Burgers R Us in Lynn Garden. Very good chow. We were served by a lady with whom PeePaw used to work at the hospital (she's still there, but works part-time on the weekends waitressing). Then it was back home for some more romping with Bonnie.

One thing about having a dog - they can really make a person take stock of life and the future. Here PeePaw is contemplating his new career as perfume salesman at the ladies counter in Belk's...

Another great thing about dogs is that one can take all sorts of liberties with their dignity and live to tell about it. If one tried to put a hat on Butternut, one would bear more scars than one has room for. But Bonnie took it all in stride. Fact of business, she does a pretty mean Texas Two-Step.

This morning, Bonnie took PeePaw for a long walk, and we ended up at the cemetery. She enjoyed herself quite a bit, and particularly enjoyed watching the cows across the road. She has a natural dignity and is very photogenic, but is not at all haughty or "show-doggy."

Perhaps one of the best things about Bonnie is her eagerness to please and her ready obedience. She does typical puppy things (chasing the cats, attacking PeePaw when he's not looking, eating the cats' food if we don't monitor her movements in the house, etc.). But we never have to raise our voices with her. She understands our speech very well and immediately complies with whatever we direct her to do. She made PeePaw rather nervous last night in an encounter with a local critter (more about that in a separate post), but is very pleasant.

Except for one thing.

She has that peculiar canine habit (Sophie had the same habit) of looking at the cats' litterbox as a salad bar of sorts. So if we're not watching her very, very keenly, she slips into the utility room and thinks to herself, "Let's see...what shall we have tonight?" But we will speak of this no further, and we will pray for Bonnie's rehabilitation.

Bonnie is, incidentally, the first big dog either of us have ever owned. She is such a presence. And it's very touching to see how devoted to us she's become in a very short period of time.

Bonnie loves her some MeeMaw. And MeeMaw loves her some Bonnie.

Rest well, loved ones.

5:00 pm

2009-08-09T17:02:00.002-04:00

Genuine summer has arrived in force at Possum Cough. For the past few days, a front has been stalled over our region, bringing temperatures around 90F and some very high (for this area) humidity. The air is draped in a blue haze, and the drone of locusts and katydids is hypnotic and seductive. All of us - animals included - are behaving in the manner I remember from my childhood. As little movement as possible. When movement is necessary, it is as langorous as a sloth's sigh. Seek the shade. Seek the breeze. Talk little. Eat less than usual. Suck down fluids until your belly sloshes when you move. But try not to move much.

We've been harvesting some really nice yellow crookneck squash from the garden beds, along with our first (sadly premature) SugarBaby watermelon. The tomatoes are coming in with great beauty, and we even have some ears of corn ripening. Back when we thought we were going to have goats by this summer, we planted some mangle beets to supplement their feed. They are a nice, hardy beet. Here's what they look like:

They're too "woody" for human consumption, but goats and chickens are reported to love them. I washed one and cut it up and offered it to Shorty and Domino. They crunched it down like candy. They were uninterested in the beautiful leafy greens, though. Actually, the greens might be fit for human consumption. One never knows what MeeMaw may throw in the stewpot...

We spent all day yesterday with some friends of ours who live just a little north of us, Ro and Lee. They own a quirky farm of about 18 acres on top of a mountain in some truly gorgeous country. The area used to be rife with coal mines. Though the mines are largely played out, there is still a little bit of mining done in the area, and most people who live in those particular mountains have at least one stove or furnace that burns coals in the wintertime.

In addition to their house (a lovely old farmhouse with a great front porch), Ro and Lee's property contains a "grandpa house," which Ro built by hand so that Lee's father (now deceased) could live with them when he was elderly and unable to care for himself. There's also a barn, a smokehouse, several outbuildings, and an old store that the coal company used to run. Ro and Lee keep their deep freezers in the store, along with most of their tools and yard implements. When they were describing the old store, I kept hearing the Tennessee Ernie Ford classic "Sixteen Tons" in my head. "I owe my soul to the company store..."

They also have eight or nine of the prettiest highbush blueberry bushes we've ever seen in our lives. They built a timber frame around them and covered it with deer netting, which keeps out the birds and deer and coons and groundhogs and coyotes and, yes, the bears. Since the bushes are so well-protected, they produce prodigious amounts of blueberries. We spent almost an hour picking the beauties, at Ro's insistence. Here's MeeMaw with her bucket harness, goin' at it:

Speaking of "harness," when Ro and Lee brought the contraptions out, I thought I'd quote a bit of Shakespeare. So I dug down in my memory and came up with a nugget from MacBeth: "Come winds - blow, wrack! At least we'll die with harness on our back!"

The three of them stared at me. Somewhere off in the distance, a hawk shrieked. And then MeeMaw cocked her head and said, "Did you just make that up? Or did you get that outta some ol' book?" They all walked away from me, leaving me to smart in my shame.

While we were picking blueberries, Ro and Lee were preparing bread dough. They built a brick wood-fired oven outside the smokehouse a few months ago and have never used it. They had started a fire in it just before we arrived that morning, and by the time we were done berry picking, the loaves were ready to be put in. Ro raked the fire out, brushed the floor down, and it was time.
And no, that's not the world's largest beer in Ro's hand. It's a pitcher of very good iced tea that Lee makes. You can see the raw loaves on the board she's carrying.
Lee placed the loaves on this homemade table that Ro fashioned from a discarded restaurant table. It's very handily located, and he's used the table to dress out meat from his hogs and cows in the past. Easy to clean and sanitize. The bottoms of the loaves are coated with coarse cornmeal.
Here's Ro as he prepares to load the loaves into the oven. The large paddle he used is called a "peel."
We didn't have a thermometer for the oven, but from resting our hands on the bricks and thrusting our arms into the oven for just a second, we estimated that it was near 500F.
In about 30-40 minutes, the loaves were done. And they were exquisite. Light and flavorful, with a crunchy bottom crust. Lee sprayed them with water and sprinkled them heavily with coarse kosher salt just before they went into the oven, and this added greatly to their taste and texture.

After the loaves came out,we sat down outside under the shade of the porch on the grandpa house and enjoyed some tea. Ro also served some of his homemade wine to those who cared to imbibe, and he produced a most marvelous snack. I'll tell you about that in a few minutes.

Ro cut up some organic chicken and put it on the grill while Lee prepared a salad. While everything cooked, we sat and talked and sweated. The heat wasn't the worst thing. The worst thing was the lack of any breeze; it was absolutely and utterly still. The moisture hung in the air and all over us, uncooled and unevaporated. It was brutal and miserable, but we sat out there and ate when everything was finished. The chicken was some of the best we've ever eaten, and the bread and salad were so fresh, they tasted unreal. As soon as we were finished eating, we gathered everything up and dashed inside and turned on the a/c. Here we are gathered around the dining room table:

We talked for a while, and then Lee brought out her Celtic harp (she taught herself to play when they lived in a cabin in Alaska) and played hymns and lullabies for us. The harp is living artwork, functional and beautiful. It's tone is warm and resonant, and watching Lee coax the notes from the strings with her delicate plucks was like watching poetry in action. She let me pluck at it when she was done. There is something very interesting about having the soundbox leaning back against one's chest, absorbing the vibration and color of the tones. No wonder King Saul sent for the young David and his harp when the black moods took him.
After she finished playing, we realized that we' d been there all dang day, so we said our goodbyes and left - heavy laden with gifts, as usual.

When we got home, MeeMaw washed the blueberries we picked. You can't really tell it from the angle of this picture, but that big stainless steel bowl holds about three gallons, and it's full to the brim. You've never tasted berries like these, and that's not hyperbole.
I mentioned a special snack earlier. Ro asked me, "Do you like sardines?" Well, this made me want to laugh because it reminded me of my favorite scene from the old movie "The Burbs." But I kept a straight face and replied in the affirmative. Ro broke out a packet of King Oscar Mediterranean Style Sardines, soaked in olive oil, garlic, dill, pepper, and black olives. He broke out a box of Triscuits made with olive oil and rosemary, heaped a sardine on one, and took a bite, chewing with gusto. He bade me do the same. As I did, I made faces and loud noises for MeeMaw's benefit. She was also remembering that scene from The Burbs and was trying not to laugh. But in truth, these were the most magnificent sardines I've ever eaten. Before we left their house, Ro handed me a packet of them and whispered conspiratorially, "Put those in your pocket." I felt as if I'd been handed some cigarettes or prophylactics. I will treasure them for a while, and then will eat them with praise and gratitude.
We were also the recipients of about four gallons of black walnuts from their trees in the back. After I get them shelled, MeeMaw will freeze them and will use them to make muffins, brownies, cookies, etc. I may just eat 'em by themselves. Like blueberries, black walnuts are a "superfood," full of antioxidants.
And before we left, I asked Ro if I could have a piece of coal from his coalpile outside the house. I explained that I wanted to coat it with polyurethane and use it as a paperweight or put it on a shelf as a knickknack. He helped me select several nice pieces, including some with dramatic strata showing. "Bituminous" is one of those words I like to say just for the heck of saying it. It has a good mouth feel. Here is our possum examining the bituminous coal:

I also forgot to mention that I helped Ro dispose of a large hornet's nest. I say "helped" in the sense that I dropped it into a barrel and he poured hot embers from the brick oven all over it. I had nothing to do with the heroic part of the capture. Ro had gone out the night before in the dark and swooped a big plastic bag around the whole thing, tied it up, and put it in a garbage can into which he had previously sprayed a lot of hornet/wasp spray. When I think back on Joshi-O and me, with our flaming attempt to destroy the hornets at Possum Cough, I feel ashamed. As if I'd just quoted the Bard and been stared down into silence.

Rest well, loved ones.

10:32 pm

2009-08-02T22:37:00.006-04:00

What a beautiful, special day it's been and how I wish you could have all spent it with us.

The day started off gray with swirling clouds and little wisps of fog over the mountains on the way to church. The sun did come out this afternoon and it was pretty hot and steamy but all in all, it was a very pretty day.

In this morning's worship service, Peepaw was installed as a ruling elder and our friend, Ken, was ordained and installed at the same time. Y'all will recall that Peepaw and Jason were ordained and installed as elder and deacon, respectively, on the same day in Texas back in 2003. What a sweet day that was!

The ceremony was very beautiful. John, our pastor, had Peepaw and Ken kneel before the congregation after taking their vows and the other elders laid their hands on them as John prayed. I was taking photos and noticed that Peepaw had reached for Ken's hand and it made several of us cry. (Peepaw mentioned that Ken was trembling - he's a very sweet, emotional man.) After the ceremony and the service, a lot of our fellow church members came up and hugged and/or shook hands with Peepaw and Ken and congratulated them and said they would be praying for them as they serve the Lord. Peepaw was happy that the last hymn chosen for the day was one of his favorites, the warlike "Lead On, O King Eternal."

After dinner, we took a nice nap and then for supper, we ate grilled cheese and tomato sandwiches and homemade nachos. We then messed around with our new cell phones (Verizon - we'll send you our #'s when we get everything set up) and have just been relaxing. Our little garden is producing lots of tomatoes and it's been so neat to eat our own little crop.

I'll leave you now with all of our love.

5:15 pm

2009-07-26T17:20:00.005-04:00

It's been a sad weekend here at Possum Cough. We had to find a new home for Dixie. She got more aggressive and "wild" and it just didn't work out. We will be praying that God brings us just the right dog to be Peepaw's little companion.

Yesterday, we decided to get away for a few hours and so we headed toward Sevierville and stopped in at the Smoky Mountain Knife Works store. Man...is it ever huge! It was very similar to Bass Pro Shop but instead of fishing and sporting stuff, it was mostly all varieties of knives and lots of kitchen gadgets, which I loved. I tried talking Peepaw into buying a neat sword, but he decided against it. They even had replicas of the ones from Lord of the Rings. We heard some folks saying they were going to look at "the bears" so we hurriedly followed them only to find two dummy bears playing guitars and singing. At least we didn't find real bears down in a pit, looking up at us and hoping we would drop a morsel of food down to them. There is a souvenier shop in Pigeon Forge that has one of those "bear pits" and I was going to post a picture of it, but it's just too sad. We also went to a Lodge Cast Iron store because I needed some little pot holder thingys to put on the handles of my skillets because they get so hot. I'm glad I threw out my non-stick cookware and started just using cast iron and stainless steel. It's a little bit of a challenge to learn how to cook eggs but I found the right combination of heat and cooking time and I think I've got it licked.

After we got home, Peepaw popped some popcorn the old fashioned way and we poured butter all over it and watched Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde - the musical with David Hasselhoff. I know it sounds weird considering who starred in it but it was actually very good. It was a nice end to the day and the popcorn tasted just like movie popcorn.

We had a nice but short visit with our friend, Doug. He stopped here Wed. night on his way to the D.C. area to start a new job. It was nice to see him and he loved it here. We sat outside until pretty late and at one point, Peepaw and I heard this very weird noise. It sounded like a shrill ghost whistle and it got closer to the edge of the woods and then another one answered it down the valley. Then we heard it go back up into the woods and shortly after that, a regular owl hooted. We were thinking (and hoping!) that it was some kind of a weird owl or bird. I don't think it was a four legged animal because we couldn't hear any rustling in the leaves. Sadly, though, Doug couldn't hear it at all because he's partially deaf. Oh, on that same note (Jason, you'll get a kick out of this), Doug decided he was going to pet Butters. So he started rubbing down her back rather vigorously and she promptly started in with that real low growl and bless his heart, he couldn't hear her. So Peepaw jumped in and told Doug that he really might really want to stop. I think we saved him from having a bad memory at Possum Cough.

I will leave you now with all my love. All of you hug and kiss each other for us, okay?

Mom

6:11 p.m.

2009-07-19T18:15:00.006-04:00

I know y'all thought this blog was dead, but we're reviving it and will make a more concerted effort to keep it updated.

We have had the most gorgeous weather here this weekend and y'all will be jealous, I think. It was in the high 60's/low 70's and in fact, Peepaw and I had to put on jackets yesterday afternoon as we sat outside with Dixie. I know - y'all are mad at me for telling you, huh? Well, it will warm up this week but we were so glad for the reprieve from the heat because our a/c was acting weird all last week. It would come on and then after a few minutes, it started moaning so we would turn it off. Then we tried a few minutes later and it wouldn't blow air. Then the next time it was fine. So we just turned fans on us and left it off for the most part and then tried again Friday and it was fine. My imagination was running rampant with thoughts of some kind of varmint in the duct work or a big chunk of dirt and stuff blocking the fan but in any case, maybe "it's" gone, whatever "it" was. I imagine a call to the local a/c guy will be next.

We're really enjoying Dixie a lot. I did have a bit of a meltdown the other morning, though. I had forgotten how much work it is to train a puppy and since I take her to work with me, too, I was kinda burned out and needed a good cry. I had gotten up early and taken her outside. The mornings are when she is most active and she was flipping head over tail, spinning in circles, carrying her leash in her mouth, and biting everything that came in contact with her little mouth while we were out for her morning constitutional. I was half asleep, tired, hot, and not in the mood for all that foolishness. So I came in the house, sat on the couch and started crying. Peepaw was very concerned and asked if we needed to find her a home. I told him that I didn't...I just needed to cry a little bit. After he left for work, I sat down at the computer and started looking at sites for housebreaking puppies. After learning that we were doing really well and she was actually ahead of her game, so to speak, for her age, I felt really encouraged and and that seemed to do the trick. So I adjusted my own attitude and we've had smooth sailing ever since. She goes to bed at 10 every night and last night, she went out to tinkle, came in and got a drink of water, then ran to her little kennel and pulled the door open, hopped in bed by herself (!) and was ready to go to sleep. We were so proud of her and we talked about it all day. She can't replace Sophie in my heart, but there is definitely a space reserved just for her.

We're amazed at how much she's growing. We haven't yet captured just the right photo, but her legs are three times longer than they were just a few days ago. She looks like a brindled deer.

We're waiting for Dixie to try this with Butternut because the outcome will be much less peaceful.

We have sure been enjoying the bounty of summer around here. We've eaten lots of squash from our little garden and the tomatoes are now turning red. Peepaw has a very sweet and generous co-worker that sends tomatoes home with him about twice a week, so we've been well supplied. I also got some Peaches and Cream corn at the store recently and froze a lot of it. Mmmm...we LOVE fresh corn. We also have some friends that came to visit us and brought a huge bucket full of fresh blueberries that they had picked from their yard that morning, so I've got about 6 packs of those in the freezer. I'll tell you...getting stuff like that is more precious to me than if we were given a box of steaks, don't y'all agree?

As you can see, Peepaw and Dixie are plumb worn out from the festivities at FunFest.

By the way, we had a congregational meeting at church this morning and Peepaw and one other man were elected as ruling elders. Since Peepaw is already ordained, he will be installed while the other fellow will be ordained and installed. This will happen either next week or the week after. Our church family was very gracious and seemed to be very happy that Peepaw will be serving in this capacity. We love them and are glad to be there.

I leave you with all of my love until next time.

6:04 pm

2009-05-02T18:05:00.005-04:00

This afternoon, I took a short tour around Possum Cough for y'all's edification. The rains returned, though, and drove me back inside.

Rest well, loved ones.

MeeMaw, the homeplace isn't cozy without you. I miss you and love you.

9:41 pm

2009-05-01T21:39:00.002-04:00

We miss MeeMaw!!!!

All we can do is sigh, pine, mope, and listen to old Gilbert O'Sullivan songs.

Thanks be to the Father for getting MeeMaw to the grandbabies safely. May He grant a sweet visit, and a safe and joyous return.

Rest well, loved ones. It's quiet and lonely here tonight...

3:55 pm

2009-04-26T15:56:00.005-04:00

Yesterday, dawn. If you look closely, you'll see Shorty's satanic eyes glowing in the lower right quadrant of the photo. And Domino is off to the far right.

When MeeMaw left for work, I kissed her goodbye, whispered a traveler's prayer after her taillights, and went back inside to lace on my boots. I picked up my stick and headed west down the driveway. I saluted the Confederate soldier who rests in the cemetary and whispered, "Hello again, Jesse Lane. Thank you again for what you did for our people." Then I climbed the cemetary hill, stepped over the electric fence, and plodded the steep hill to the top of the other side of the holler. When I turned to look down, the rising light had sharpened the floor of all things.

Near the crest of the hill, I noticed how Mr. Davidson's barn was framed by the oaks. When postmodern men sneer at poetry, they betray themselves: I know that they have never been alone in such a scene, with such air filling their shallow chests.

A single stalk of coffeebean plant reached up to catch my attention as I sat on the hillside, catching my breath.

And then, not many minutes afterwards, I could see Possum Cough far below. I love this photograph, because it exhibits true perspective: how small our little farm is beneath the majesty of the Clinch Mountains. I like the colors of the woodlot behind the farmhouse, and the layers of timber in the rising slopes behind the place where we live our quiet lives.

Up there, up at the top, sits the most natural pulpit I've ever seen. A felled tree left a slab of its form standing upright on the flat platform of what used to be its trunk. One would have but to step up onto the surface and lean back, using the upright portion for support, fill one's lungs, and bellow out across the valley. I did all of this except the bellowing. But I think I preached just the same. And my congregation was silent, brown-eyed, and dew-cooled.

The recent violent winds felled an old tree at the pinnacle. It now rests on a massive rock, a rock which looks like a half-buried dinosaur, with smooth hide and undulating movement that will never again show forth to living eyes. I sat on it and thought and talked for a while, and then it was time to return to the farmhouse and cook something.

Headed back up the driveway, the greenest tranquility was sitting there, bird-sang and donkey-brayed. Home is the sailor, home from the sea/And the hunter, home from the hill...

MeeMaw's miniature azalea and the unnamed blue groundcover looked ethereal in the early light.

And later in the day, Ernie came over, unasked, and mowed the front (west) pasture for us with his tractor-mower. MeeMaw baked him and Helen and Gabriel a pan of brownies as thanks for the kindness. The pasture looks good, but we pray that someday it will be just as closely-cropped by mammal mouth, and not by internal combustion engine.

Someone once said that all men who love their families cast a long shadow. As I stood on our country road and looked down to where my loved ones always disappear from my view, I saw my own shadow, and I wonder how long it will live in your collective memories.

Rest well, loved ones.

6:34 pm

2009-04-19T18:35:00.004-04:00

I'm just in from a walk in the rain. Sounds like a line from a personal ad, doesn't it? "I am looking for someone who likes to take long walks in the rain." Have you ever noticed that when it rains, you usually don't see lots of folks out walking in it, particularly people who are on a date? Rain is seen by the postmodern world as a bad thing, no matter what people might say in a personal ad or an internet profile. Just watch people walking across a parking lot when it begins to rain. Most of them (particularly men, which irritates the living crap out of me) will duck their heads and hunch their shoulders, as if the rain were made of hydrochloric acid. I rarely see men walk through rain with their heads held up. They flinch from the rain as if from a beating. And when it does rain - even in an area like this which has been beset by severe drought for two years running - people invariably whine, "Oh, it's raining. I wish it would stop. I was hoping it would be clear for the weekend." Yes, it's quite a burden to endure when one has to activate the windshield wipers when one is heading to the mall or to some sporting event.

Well, it's raining here today, and we are enjoying it thoroughly. It was clear yesterday, though. Very sunny and warm. It started out that way for breakfast:

And it continued on through the afternoon. While MeeMaw slaved away, setting out vegetable seedlings in the raised beds and while PeePaw slaved away, cutting the grass and making compost, the two nonproductive members of the farm busied themselves in their usual fashion.

MeeMaw and PeePaw had the decency to postpone our naps until this afternoon. The rain does make for a nappish atmosphere.

I took this photo when I came back down from the woods. If you look carefully, you'll notice a new object sitting next to the yard barn.

This is our new superduper fancified compost bin. Not long ago, it was a nine dollar trash can. After about ten minutes with the drill (you may notice the dozens of holes in it if you look closely), it was quite perforated.

My dear friend Doug is a gardening/composting dervish. He uses this type of system to make compost in a relatively short period of time. "Get a 32-gallon trash can and a pair of bungee cords. Drill holes all over the can. Put in approximately equal parts of manure, grass clippings, and other organic matter. Sprinkle it with water until it's as moist as a wrung-out sponge. Put the lid on it. Affix the lid with the bungee cords. Tip the can over onto its side and kick it. Kick it and roll it across the yard several times to mix the contents. Stand it up. Leave it alone. When you check on it in a day or two, the composting process will be well underway."

Well, I did everything the way he told me. The contents of the bin are pretty much equal parts Domino & Shorty manure, pine straw, and grass clippings. Also, some potato peelings, cabbage leaves (minced) and coffee grounds. I wet it down, rolled it around, and left it alone. Just now when I came back from my walk, I took the lid off and here's what it looked like:

The sporty thing about it is that it's already heated up. The microbes are doing their job, and the whole mass has compacted down to less than half of what it was originally. There are some splendiferous red earthworms in the batch, too, and I know they're loving what they're in. Doug says that if I kick the can around for about 30 seconds once a day and make sure the contents stay slightly damp, it'll be useable compost in less than two weeks. We'll see...

We've come to some sad but necessary conclusions in the last week here at Possum Cough. No matter what our plans or enthusiasm called for, we've realized that there's just no way we can accomplish everything this spring/summer that we'd hoped for. If we were able to do this full-time, we could do it. But with both of us working, we simply don't have the time to do everything. After a nine-hour day at work, I have limited energy and daylight hours for doing things during the week, and Saturdays just don't have enough time in 'em. So we've prayed and talked and made some decisions. For this year, it looks like the priority will be gardening. We need to get a good feel for how productive our land will be, and this is our learning curve. We will try to fence off the raised bed section of the yard, and will also fence off a plot up in the south pasture after Gabriel plows it for us. All this fencing will involve quite a bit of time and effort. I'll have to dig post holes, cut posts (I ain't about to pay eight bucks per post for storebought fence posts!), mix concrete, set the posts, run and stretch fencing, build and hang gates, etc. And this doesn't even include the other plantings, weeding, watering, etc. that will be part of the package. So the goats, bees, etc. will have to wait until another time. My friend Harry has offered to provide us with some laying hens, so I may try to build a chicken coop and run for them. If I can get that done, we'll take four to six hens from him so that we can have fresh eggs. And we also need to put a line of fence across each side of the house, separating the front from the back. This is so that we can get a puppy at some point and begin training him/her to be a farm dog...in other words, a working dog, not a worthless "pet." Like two cats I could mention.

God willing, we will, at some point in the future, have more critters and more projects going on. But we don't want to fall into the trap that so many folks have talked to us about: immersing ourselves in too many projects and finding ourselves unable to keep up with what we've committed to doing. For now, Possum Cough will continue to be a slow learning experience for us. And it's a beautiful place to learn.

The previous owners of our land left a considerable amount of trash up in the woodlot. Old tires, discarded vinyl siding, etc. This coming Saturday, while MeeMaw is working, I plan to take the wheelbarrow up there and clear some of it out and take it to the landfill. Some of it will be useful for projects in the future. But that which is truly trash (including a disturbing number of bottles and cans....why on earth would someone litter his OWN land with trash???) will depart these acres.

My frequent walks up in the woodlot are always soured a bit when I see a beer can or a Coke bottle lying in a bed of ferns. I prefer to see a mild pathway. It's the better way.

When I got back from my walk, MeeMaw and I were sitting in the family room and talking. All at once, two hummingbirds swooped down on the feeder out front. MeeMaw only put it out yesterday, and they've already discovered that Possum Cough Cafe is open for businesss. From what we've read, hummingbirds return to their favorite places year after year, and they "tell" each other about places to feed on the migration routes. We like the idea of being a topic of discussion.

MeeMaw almost has supper ready (fried chicken and mashed taters!), so I must attend to my gustatorial duties.

Rest well, loved ones.

8:16 am

2009-04-18T08:17:00.005-04:00

Up this morning before dawn, I put on a pot of coffee and dressed as quietly as I could in the gray silence of the house. I wanted MeeMaw to sleep and rest. With the Folgers bubbling into the Pyrex, I slipped out of the house and went up into the woods. The sky was brightening with every second, and I was trying to be both swift and stealthy as I ascended the hill. I stopped by the northeast fenceline and looked into a sky of expectation:

By the time I reached the top of the woodlot and looked due east, the slightest flicker came across the top of the horizon, like an ember in a woodstove, recreating fire from the night before.

I never tire of marveling at how all of Creation seems to know when dawn is arriving. There is a hush that comes across everything, signaling something grand. And then, softer than an infant's breath, yesterday is forever past and today has come.

Retreating west into the woods, I saw one of the dogwoods lifting its blossoms to the still-young sunlight.

And the apple trees are leafed out and ready to begin producing a feast for bee and horse and deer and Southerner.

Back down at the farmhouse, sleep still reigns. Such peace is precious because it is so fragile and fleeting. This very day may bring tragedy or gloomy sameness before it closes. But right now, at this moment, time is kind and quiet.

Finally back inside, I pour a cup and carry it and the old book outside, where I will read and sip and watch and listen.

Always, I am listening.

Make the most of the day, loved ones.

9:37 pm

2009-04-13T21:38:00.005-04:00

Resurrection Sunday is come and gone. So is Ishtar, come to think of it...

MeeMaw and I decided not to attend the sunrise service at church. What with getting up to be there at 630, THEN breakfast at the fellowship hall, THEN Sunday School class, THEN regular worship...it looked too much like the sort of rush-rush-rush, pack-as-many-frenetic-activities-into-one-Sunday-as-possible sort of day that MeeMaw and PeePaw eschew as much as possible. And we were so glad we did. The extra rest did us good. And no once-yearly service can top the tranquility we have on our few acres every Sabbath morning.

Speaking of church, I found this essay very thought-provoking. It deals with today's common practice of selecting pastors from outside the local congregation.

We were talking about Easters in our childhood, and both MeeMaw and I have similar memories about dressing up, going to church, dyeing and hunting eggs, etc. Mother always dressed me in a little suit and suspenders and bowtie, and I always had a little hat, like a beanie with a bill. Photos from those years show a smiling boy, squinting into the sun, cornsilk blonde and trusting to a fault. Easters in the delta in the early 1960's were always a bit chilly, but always with that hint of the warm, green months to follow. MeeMaw remembers Texas Easters in patent leather shoes and teeny purses and crinoline and white gloves snapped at the wrist. Texas, where the toughness of lariats and life meets the softness of a girl's hair and a horse's forehead. Our unified memory-world is one that will never exist again, except in our quiet, whispered recollections in the evening shadows of Virginia.

One of my favorite cartoons of all time is an Easter cartoon. Never fails to make me laugh.

I do get weary with the whole concept of Easter, though. So much vileness out there. For example, look at this.

There are some good things about Easter, though, even from repellant people like John Updike. Here is one of his best poems, which I think perfectly captures the hope, the need for reality in Christian faith:

Seven Stanzas at Easter
by John Updike

Make no mistake: if He rose at all
it was as His body;
if the cells' dissolution did not reverse, the molecules
reknit, the amino acids rekindle,
the Church will fall.

It was not as the flowers,
each soft Spring recurrent;
it was not as His Spirit in the mouths and fuddled
eyes of the eleven apostles;
it was as His Flesh: ours.

The same hinged thumbs and toes,
the same valved heart
that — pierced — died, withered, paused, and then
regathered out of enduring Might
new strength to enclose.

Let us not mock God with metaphor,
analogy, sidestepping transcendence;
making of the event a parable, a sign painted in the
faded credulity of earlier ages:
let us walk through the door.

The stone is rolled back, not papier-mache,
not a stone in a story,
but the vast rock of materiality that in the slow
grinding of time will eclipse for each of us
the wide light of day.

And if we will have an angel at the tomb,
make it a real angel,
weighty with Max Planck's quanta, vivid with hair,
opaque in the dawn light, robed in real linen
spun on a definite loom.

Let us not seek to make it less monstrous,
for our own convenience, our own sense of beauty,
lest, awakened in one unthinkable hour, we are
embarrassed by the miracle,
and crushed by remonstrance.

Potent stuff.

And one other piece of good Easter writing, this one by a good friend of mine.

We continue to work slowly (and I mean slowly) toward getting the goat shed ready to house actual goats. I do hope we don't get one like this fellow:

Here I am up on the roof of the shed this weekend, repairing a hole in the sheet metal. It's almost completely waterproof now. I plan to get a couple of bales of hay to spread on the ground (after I put down some diamotaceous earth to control pests) so that Frito will have a warm, dry place to birth her kittens. She's getting bigger by the day.

My good friend Harry has been giving me some good goat advice. He has several (Nubians) and is trying to sell me some of them. He says if we both have Nubians, he will buy a buck ("billygoat") and we can share him throughout the breeding seasons. That way, we can avoid paying a wasted stud fee, and we can coordinate with our schedules. It's tempting. Except that he says that at least one of his Nubians is part kangaroo and can jump over a five-foot fence from a standing start. That would NOT be good here at Possum Cough. I'm not putting in six foot fences. Too costly.

Harry also says he'll give us some laying hens if we want them. It's amazing how the time has gotten away from us. Here it is, mid-spring, and I don't have half the things done that I had hoped to have done by this time. Ah, well. We do things at our own pace, in our own way.

And always with a Southern accent.

Speaking of accents, here's a good clip of young Lori Watson, playing Scottish borders fiddle music. Listen and see if you can discern the origins of bluegrass and mountain music.

Here's a cute shot of MeeMaw up in the woodlot on Saturday. In addition to Domino and Shorty, you can see Fergus (the rogue bull yearling) in the left side of the background.

I was up on the roof doing some repair work to some of the vent flashing, and I took this shot of the front yard and pasture. Looks all Irishy.

MeeMaw found some tiny cherries on one of the wild cherry trees in the woodlot. We're hoping to put some netting on at least one or two of them this year so that we can enjoy some cherries, instead of donating every blasted one of them to the birds like we did last year.

MeeMaw has the seedlings flourishing. This is just a fragment of what we have a-sprouting in the back bedroom.

I love this woman. No man ever had a finer wife or a better friend or a more valuable counselor. Fergus seems to favor her, too.

Here's PeePaw, convinced that the guvmint is planning to hang him from this cross-branch.

We found this pretty setting of vine-framed honeysuckle. The terrycloth moss is sublime to the eye and the fingertip.

My favorite lady engaging in my favorite activity: preparing PeePaw a pie. That's her mother's (Grandmommy's) cookbook open before her. Talk about an heirloom treasure.

We love you all. Rest well, loved ones.

1:28 pm

2009-04-11T13:29:00.004-04:00

An update...MeeMaw figured out that the yearling bull was coming through the one temporary gate adjacent to the goat shed; there are only two strands of barbed wire there, and they're not really taut. So I improvised a stub-gate and added three strands, so now it's a five-strand.

And since I fabricated the stub-gate, I didn't need the two temporary wire latches, so I moved them over to the larger gate opening (next to the yard barn) and made that a tight five-strand setup, too. If Fergus can get through either of those, he's welcome to 'em. He'll probably figure a way to drive my truck, too.

To my dismay, when I turned back to the house after repairing the fences, I saw a gaping hole in the latticework under the deck. On closer inspection, I have deduced that Ernie's hound Gus is the culprit. The large dog-paw prints in the mud under the deck are the main clue I used in making this deduction.

Also, Gus is a scaredy-cat when it thunders...and he's been used to hiding under our deck for shelter whenever a thunderstorm comes up. I saw him in the yard yesterday during the big storm we had, and I'll bet he broke into the nether regions of the deck in some sort of canine panic. I repaired the breach with a scrap piece of lattice I saved just for such a contingency. I try to be understanding about such things.

But sometimes I fail. And I am laying for ol' Gus. If he tries something like this again, and if I catch him at it, I've got something for the elderly Basset hound. When I get done with him, he'll be a bb-shot-in-the-ass-et hound.

But that's life at Possum Cough.

MeeMaw's home from work, so it's time to rustle us up some chow.

Rest well, loved ones.

9:04 am

2009-04-11T09:05:00.006-04:00

Today is cool and rain-washed. The rebirth of the earth's green energy continues all around us. I stood on the front porch this morning and looked east, across the valley, and the air was as sweet in my lungs as MeeMaw's voice is in my mind.

And this is all quite the dramatic change since just two days ago. On Maundy Thursday morning, the dawn looked like this:

The snow blew all day on Wednesday and that night, and it was easy for our minds to be distracted from the reality of springtime. The creatures in the woods fell silent once more for a brief, one-day season. Even Hazel II, Possum Cough's resident rabbit, was hiding somewhere in his hillbilly hole burrow. And we waited and watched the white day roll past.

Thursday, everything cleared up. The day warmed with green herbacious force, and it was a good time for things sprouting and growing and rustling and stretching. It felt as if all of Creation were swinging its legs over the side of the vast bed, rubbing its eyes, and reaching for its house-slippers.

MeeMaw spent her day off on Thursday baking bread for that evening's Maundy Thursday service. John (our pastor) and I planned the service together, and we decided that a common loaf would be nice for the observation of the Lord's Supper. So MeeMaw made two loaves that were about the size of medium pizza doughs, about an inch or so thick. They worked very well.

The service was simple, reverent, and beautiful. There were about thirty of us there, including the parents of one our newest members, Amy. She and her husband Scott are about our age, and they are vibrant folks who happen to have some serious physical handicaps. They are a radiant couple, very down-to-earth and un-stuffy. Watching them together as they help each other and hold hands is a tonic for the heart.

John opened the service with some readings from the Word while the pianist and organist played in the background. Then he stepped down and stood behind the table. He divested himself of his coat and rolled up his sleeves while telling the story of the night in which Christ was betrayed. He poured water into a basin to illustrate a point, and when he got to the passage in John where Judas goes out to betray the Lord, he read the words, "And it was night." At that point, our friend Chris turned out the lights in the meeting hall. There were candles burning in every window, so the muted lighting was very effective in setting a somber mood.

The elders remained seated for a change, and John himself brought the elements to each member. We tore off our own piece of bread from the common loaves prepared by MeeMaw. After the sacrament, Chris and I came down front, and he and John and I did a three-part choric reading. John would read from one of the messianic prophecies (mostly in Isaiah), and Chris would respond with a New Testament fulfillment. Then John would read another prophetic passage and I would respond with a verse or two from the Passion section. It's interesting how difficult some of those portions are to read ("...and they struck Him...")

At the end of the reading, John very quietly sang a portion of "Man of Sorrows, What a Name," intentionally leaving the lyric hanging, "Lifted up was He to die, 'It is finished!' was His cry - "

And then Chris and I walked down the aisle and out the door, signalling the other congregants to dismiss in silence. At the beginning of the service, John had announced how the order would be done, and he exhorted the worshippers to leave the building in reflection on what Christ endured...and what He accomplished for His people. Lovely service.

On the way home, MeeMaw drew my attention to the moon. It was full, and was tinged a sorrowful orange-red. She took this photo over the mountains to the east. It doesn't do justice to what a dramatic and profound sight the moon presented.

I've thought a lot about heaven lately, particularly the new heavens and the new earth. I've said before, many times, that Christians tend to think of heaven as some abstract concept instead of a real place. If we have an airline ticket to Dallas, we have a real expectation that we will leave a certain city and arrive later in a distant but real city. So it is with me: I will leave this place one day, and I will arrive at a very real destination. Not drifting through ethereal clouds and playing a harp with a dreamy expression on my face, but arriving at my real home. This comforts me. And it reminds me that so much of what drives my stumbling path here is...homesickness.

But for now, I do enjoy my home here, temporary though it may be. I was looking at the land and the field this morning and reminding myself of what a good life we have. Notice Domino and Shorty, fertilizing the verdant fields even as they are captured on digital film.

Speaking of fertilizer, I read a lively and informative essay by the ever-lucid and pleasantly-grouchy Gene Logsdon. Give it a look-see here. I think his points about today's dandified society are right on the mark, particularly when applied to men.

After our Lord's resurrection, He was encountered by Mary outside the tomb. You may recall that she mistook Him for a gardener, like his ancient ancestor, Adam. I like to think that someday, someone will mistake me for a farmer. I would never be anything but honored to be so named.

In other manure news, Mr. D's yearling bull calf (we've named him Fergus, because he acts like a contrary Scot from the Outer Hebrides) continues to be enamored of our yard. Yesterday I caught him in the goat-pen next to the goat-shed (which will someday have actual goats in it, d.v.).

He stayed there, munching with happy langour while I cut the grass (first time of the season - now I'm committed for six months...I need sheep!). Then I shooed him off.

The last I saw of Fergus, he was headed out across the western (front) pasture. But as I type these words, he's back in the side yard, cropping grass with the smug air of a landowner.

As I was typing the last part there, I received a phone call from a friend. When I used to work at the hospital, I made friends with an elderly man who was a frequent patient (he had multiple and complex health problems) named Mr. Morrison. We have kept in frequent contact through the last three years, and I have been to visit him many times.

Just now, his wife called to tell me that he died last night, just after midnight.

It's so odd...I have been thinking about Mr. Morrison for several days now, every single day. Thinking, "I should call him or go by and see him." But I didn't, and now the inexorable march of this life has shut a door between us, at least for the present.

I can remember taking care of Mr. Morrison in the hospital. He was a tough, angular man with a gruff voice and gimlet eyes. Not to be disrespectful, but he always reminded me of Statler, one of the heckling codgers up in the loge on The Muppet Show. But in his hospital gown, lying in that mechanical bed, he was frail and vulnerable, smaller than he appeared to the world.

When he was in hospital, he was usually too weak to do much for himself, so I gave him lots of extra attention. He was particularly fond of my shaves. I would draw a cup of superheated water from the coffee machine and immerse a little hospital-issued can of shaving cream in it for about five minutes. Then I would soak a washcloth in another cup of the same superheated water. I would spread this on his face and let him "steam" for a few minutes, and then I would remove the cloth and spread the luxuriously warm shaving cream onto his raspy face. He would sigh and close his eyes and talk to me about his experiences in wartime Europe while I sliced the whiskers from his creased face and neck. Then I would wash his face with more hot water and put aftershave on him. "You just like to slap me around, dontcha?" he would say with feigned brusqueness.

Mrs. Morrison told me that she hoped we could be at the funeral. I assured her that if it were humanly possible, we would. MeeMaw got to meet the Morrisons some time ago when I took her to the ICU to visit Mr. Morrison when he was in really bad shape, and Mrs. Morrison is very fond of MeeMaw. Mrs. Morrison asked for prayer for the family, particularly the grandchildren (all adults), who are having a difficult time in their grief. And so we will pray for them all. And I will look to see my friend again someday when my heart will no longer be clouded with care. The last time I saw him, he said, "Keep praying for me, my friend." I assured him that I would. He pointed a gnarled finger at me and glared at me with those hard eyes and said, "See that you do. See that you do."

I did, Mr. Morrison. I promise, I did.

Rest well, loved ones.

6:42 pm

2009-04-06T18:43:00.003-04:00

SNOW [from the Saxon snow] - Frozen vapor; watery particles congealed into white crystals in the air, and falling to the earth. When there is no wind, these crystals fall in flakes or unbroken collections, sometimes extremely beautiful.

~ from The American Dictionary of the English Language, by Noah Webster, 1828

That's right, loved ones. It's headed our way once again. We're slated to get anywhere from two to six inches overnight. It probably won't stick, since yesterday's sunny disposition heated up the green earth.

I spent a half-hour when I got home putting covers on the crape myrtle, the Japanese maple, the Rose of Sharon, the wisteria, and MeeMaw's two rose bushlets. They're all budding out, and we don't want them to get harmed by tonight's sub-freezing temperatures.

Anyway, I thought y'all should know that it is going to snow again.

Rest well in the air conditioned comfort of your homes, loved ones.

8:30 pm

2009-04-04T20:30:00.004-04:00

So.
Very.
Tired.

Here's a list of what I did today:

Transferred half the soil from the first raised bed to the other.
Added spanghum peat moss to each bed.
Added topsoil to each bed.
Added composted manure (thanks to the donkey and horse duo) to each bed.
Destroyed the giant nest in the grill, and cleaned/sanitized the grill.
Loaded a truck full of junk (including the old dryer) and took it to the landfill.
Collected three wheelbarrow loads (about 12 cubic feet) of new manure for the compost pile.
Emptied the front half of the goat shed; reorganized it; restocked it.
Hung all the yard tools in the goat shed.
Cut a huge pile of brush.
Burned the brush and the Christmas tree (which was still green, incidentally).
Cut down half the blackberry bushes; pruned the other half.
Pruned the hawthorn bushes adjacent to the fenceline on the north side.
Partially hung a door on the goat shed (ran out of screws; too lazy to go to town for more).
Cleaned and filled all bird feeders.
Sharpened the shovels, the hoe, and my pocket knife.
Built a new, small bed for MeeMaw right next to the deck (possible herb garden site).
Patched some of the goat shed walls.

One thing's for certain: I'll be paying for today for the next few days.

We were up fairly early. We might have slept in just a tiny bit, except for the yaller cat who was jamming her paw under the bedroom door and yowling for some attention. So we got up and MeeMaw fixed a nice country breakfast (including biscuits from scratch, made in Mother's cast iron skillet). We ate and then turned to the day's chores.

MeeMaw cleaned house and redecorated a bit while I worked outside.

She caught a shot of me daydreaming and watching the cows stroll past while I was supposed to be shoveling manure.

MeeMaw sorted seeds and made ID markers and planter flats, and started some of the seeds going.

It won't be long before the seedlings will be up, and then it'll be time to transplant them into the raised beds. Don't the beds look great, all full of rich material? I used all the manure Jason and I harvested back around Christmastime, then partially filled the bin again with three loads I scooped up in the woods this morning. I added some leftover cabbage, potato skins, banana skins, and assorted peelings. It'll make a good batch. The batch I put into the beds this morning was a good batch, believe me. It was so loamy and crumbly and sweet smelling. All the manurelike smells, etc. are gone and it's just rich humus.

I did see something interesting when I was replenishing the compost pile. A brick. I thought to myself, "Hmmm...the cattle in Scott County are a nervous bunch, as evidenced by this object."

Some of you may remember last year, how the blackberry bushes got out of control. The entire east side of the house on the other side of the fence was one big blackberry bramble patch, and we couldn't go in there for fear of stickers or thorn-dwelling varmints. I cut down a ton of them today and cleared a good path behind the yard barn. This will make navigating the property a bit easier, I think.

Near the end of my chores, I found something that would make local epicureans jealous. A very nice-looking Morel mushroom. MeeMaw found a couple of them last year. They love the pine straw beneath the big tree up front. I think we'll let this one grow for a while, and we may venture to cook and eat it. Neither of us has ever had one, but they are reputed to be delicious if pan fried in butter. There are groups of people who go morel-hunting on a regular basis. They're quite a big deal in gourmet circles.

Okay...I can't type anymore. I'm going to go sit down and coma for a while with MeeMaw. I'll leave y'all with a shot of what I fixed for supper on our newly-refurbished (and reclaimed) grill. Evicting birds is demanding work.

Rest well, loved ones.

10:04 pm

2009-04-03T22:04:00.004-04:00

A blessed Friday night at the end of a long, tiring, and stressful week. MeeMaw and I have spent a very quiet evening here at Possum Cough, reading and writing and listening to good Irish music and drinking good strong tea and coffee and eating grilled cheese sandwiches and rough bread with real butter and tart grapes and listening to the wind moan under the eaves and the cows calling to each other across the holler and watching the cats twitch in their sleep and the shadows lengthen across the fields of what will very soon be yesterday.

This morning, our pregnant barncat Frito met me at the breakfast dish. An animal's dependence should never make us feel arrogant. It should make us remember our own dependence and neediness.

I took off a couple of hours early today, since MeeMaw was getting off at 2:00. We met at the StirFry Cafe and had a late lunch/very early supper of sushi and lo mein. Then MeeMaw headed north to the farm while I stopped off and bought some lumber for our other raised bed, along with some peat moss and topsoil to add to the red clay in the beds.

When I got home, I cut the lumber and assembled the bed. When I was finished, I thought I might peek at the bird's nest in our grill, since I forgot to thwart the construction project. I opened the lid, and my first thought was, "Somehow, this....thing....has got to be stopped."

I enjoy the birds, but I don't want them taking up residence inside one of our cooking accessories. The last time I went by MeeMaw's clinic to visit, I stopped to say hello to our old buddies, Cromwell and Pippin. They were a-chirpin' and a-tweetin' in their big cage with the other birds. Quite a noise.

Then I went outside to look around. While strolling in the dog-walking yard, I saw some friendly canines and went over to say hello. It must have been the misty cool air or something, but I had the urge to start singing. So I belted out a Scottish lullaby.

MeeMaw was at the back door to the clinic and just happened to have her camera. She caught the dogs' collective reaction to my musical offering:

So I shut up, because I'm a quick study.

I went back inside and got to watch one of the vets do an exam on a dog. Seems I learn new things about animals all the time.

Time to read and relax a bit more before bed. Tomorrow is supposed to be a very pretty spring day, and if it is, MeeMaw and PeePaw will be very busy with farmish things.

Rest well, loved ones.

7:10 pm

2009-03-29T19:11:00.011-04:00

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.

6:45 pm

2009-03-22T18:46:00.004-04:00

It's almost suppertime, and the sun is yet high in the sky. I'm back inside now after an afternoon in the birdsonged air and the life-giving sunshine. My mind and heart feel as clean as a stone.

Something interesting happened today.

Some of you may remember Paul ("Mr. Paul," as we call him). He's the sixty-somethingish deacon who walks with a cane. He had a brain aneurism some years ago, and it affected his speech and his motor skills. He's still a very vital member of our congregation, but has had multiple health issues in the past couple of years. Mr. Paul is childlike and Christlike in a very tender combination.

Just before the start of worship this morning, Mr. Paul stood at the front of the auditorium. John (our pastor) said, "Paul wants to speak to us before we get started."

Mr. Paul spoke in his hesitant, halting, self-deprecating way. In essence, he mentioned that he has been feeling poorly of late, particularly at this past Wednesday night bible study. He said that he feels that he may die soon. He assured us that he is not afraid to die, because he has a home with the Lord. "But," he explained, "I don't like to leave y'all." He talked about the many blessings God has given him, and he spoke of his love for the Savior. He went on to say, "I might not get another chance, but I wanted to tell all of y'all that I love you. Y'all see me goin' up and down this aisle, and you hear me say all kinds of jokings and such, but I love you all. I need for y'all to know that. I love you all." As he went to sit in his pew, several of us said, "We love you, too."

What I appreciated about this little incident is that it is extremely biblical. The New Testament model is not a heavily-organized "service" as we have now. The church in the days of the apostles met in homes, and we can infer from the Scriptures that there was active participation by the members of the congregation, utilizing their gifts, offering a word of encouragement, or a psalm, or a greeting, etc. What Mr. Paul did this morning was in keeping with what we read of in the book of Acts. It served to edify his brothers and sisters in Christ; it served to draw attention and glory to God's name; it served to stir up a feeling of genuine love and affection among us all. It was quiet and simple and brief. It was magnificent.

When we arrived back home, we scrounged up a little dinner (beef baloney sandwich with Duke's Mayonnaise, along with chips for me; mini cheese pizza for MeeMaw) and then went to the back deck. It was a bit chilly at first because of the breeze, but the sun soon warmed us. In between chapters, I even sneaked a nap for about five minutes.

When we came inside, MeeMaw piddled with framing a print, and I went up into the woodlot. I sat on a log and watched a plump little rabbit scurrying around (he is now named Hazel II, since the first Hazel disappeared last year, probably at the talons of one of the enormous red-tailed hawks who frequent Possum Cough). I saw and heard many, many birds, including quail and bobwhite. I also saw the first robin of the year.

The woodlot is still winterish looking, but the birds and small creatures are hurrying it along towards the burst of life that accompanies spring. And it is Spring, isn't it? It seems to have come early this year, and I hope the blooming and growing things are safe. We've had a killing frost in early May for the past two years. That and the two years of drought have put a damper on the local flora. Perhaps this year, everything will thrive.

Speaking of thriving, we're ready to thrive on some vegetables. Our seed order finally arrived from Heirloom Acres Seeds, a Christian-owned company out of Missouri. With the economic mess, more people are planning a garden this year than at any time in the past generation. The seed companies are way behind in their orders, and I'm glad we ordered back when we did. They weren't out of stock on anything we requested.

After receiving the seeds on Friday night, we used yesterday morning to go get some other things. We went down into town to try and find some lumber for our raised beds, but there was none to be found in our town. We did, however, run into a couple of geese who were standing on the street corner and gossipping about someone.
We headed on down to Johnson City so that MeeMaw could get some new scrubs for work. Then we stopped by the used bookstore there and browsed for a short while. And I mean VERY short for us - we're so well-stocked with books, we really didn't have much that we were looking for. MeeMaw browsed through some cookbooks, and I was searching for an old Strong's Concordance (before they started leaving out some of the words) or a copy of Josephus' Antiquities. No dice.

We headed back towards home by way of K-Port. We ended up at Home Depot (Joshi-O, orange IS your color) and bought a couple of 2X10X12s. We had decided that we'd build just one raised bed initially and then go from there. So we got our lumber and came on back home.

I broke out the circular saw and cut the boards to size, then screwed them together (which is not quite the same as screwing them up, but give me time; I'll do that, too). Got the bed built and placed in a primo place in the sun near the fenceline.

I'm planning to stop by Ralph's house (friend from church) tomorrow night and pick up my first truckload of free fill dirt. I'll dump it in the raised bed, add some sand and some vermiculite and some Domino & Shorty brand compost, and it should make some good friable loam. MeeMaw is going to start our seeds in some trays so they'll be ready to transplant to the beds by the time the weather makes its final turn into the warm season.

After I finished the carpentering, I drove Purps the Pickup down to the end of the driveway and began harvesting our current crop of fallen limbs. Within fifteen minutes, the entire truck bed was piled high. Possum Cough is renowned as being the most productive rock and limb farm in the county.
Once the harvest was complete, I backed all the way down to the firepit and unloaded. I started a fire and let the fun begin while MeeMaw provided supervision. By eventide, the entire truckload of wood had been reduced to a few bucketfuls of ashes. Those ashes will go to the compost pile, too.
I had intended to write more, but the time has slipped away. Perhaps I'll write a bit more before bedtime. If not, it'll keep until next time.

Rest well, loved ones.

9:00 pm

2009-03-15T21:00:00.006-04:00

On the Ides, I marched into the woods
To poke around and look at their condition
Past the blackberry vines, purple as veins
And pushing up to leaf and then fruition

Wolfberries and their sage-like leaves budding
Against the inevitable greening of the holler

The equines' gift, waiting to be scooped
And wedded to red clay in beds we'll build,
Will boost the soil that cradles living food

A post that might have stood in Cymru or
In Eire, but instead supports the sky
In the southerness of this southern South

This comforter of living moss upon
A log was never knot by hands like ours

The horse and donkey, in their less-than-patient
Hours, crib the bark from sapling trees,
Forgetting that their master never fails
To bring them better fare than what they've stripped

The first unnamed wildflowers, sneaking
Past the forest's carpeting of mast

A souvenier from Angus, as he sought
Relief from itching hide along the barbs

A grapevine traps a tulip poplar in
A love-knot more secure than man can tie

An Irish tangle of rooted green wood
And supple conduit feeding in damp earth

Waiting on the eastern hill, a choir
Of baritones and basses lifts a dirge

The mystery of whorls of paper, chewed
And formed as walls by mouths of deadly livestock

And near my place of prayer hangs a rack of
Cruel thorns, fit for royal apparel

Like whispered memory, a cherry blossom
Lifts from tree-joint to the warming air

Fungi on a long-ago felled log
Troop in scalloped grandeur to the ground

Moss-draped rocks, hunched like monks beneath
The branches where they chant their canticles

And finally, God's gift of bookends at Five
Pines, beside some ramps, upon the straw.

Rest well, loved ones.

7:03 pm

2009-03-15T19:03:00.003-04:00

We had a power outage at Possum Cough during the night. We awoke simultaneously at about 0500 and saw the clocks blinking their "12:00" message over and over. I got up and reset the clocks and we returned to our dreams for a couple more hours.

When we arose, it was raining and perfect. On the way to church, the mountains along the highway were bridal-capped with perfect white mist.

This morning's Sunday School class was very intense and lively. Something interesting happened at the end of John's superb sermon. John's two older children were pretty noisy and out of control for much of the worship service, and they ignored their mother's attempts to corral them. So...at the end of the service, John said, "Before I pronounce the benediction, just let me say that if you're staying for the fellowship meal, go on into the fellowship hall, and Perry will be asking the blessing before we eat. If you need to talk to me, I'll be in my office. With my two children. And now, receive the Lord's benediction...." I had to supress a smile when I looked over at the stricken, guilty faces of two little rebels who were about to receive some instruction.

The fellowship meal was enjoyable, as much for the fellowship at our table as for the food itself. But the food was fine, fine stuff. MeeMaw contributed a very colorful pasta salad and a German chocolate cake. She received many compliments.

On the way back to Possum Cough, we noticed that the Clinch Mountains were smoldering, as if a hidden fire was beneath their rolling surfaces.

And when we arrived back home, did MeeMaw help PeePaw unload the car? No. No.

She grabbed the camera and recorded a vile image of him, wearing her headcovering (because he had no more hands with which to convey it) and heavy-laden with books, bibles, cakes, casseroles, and inescapable shame.

To relax this afternoon, MeeMaw used a grapevine wreath as a frame to put together a fine Texas decoration for the interior side of the front door.

I went up into the woodlot and spent a lot of time poking around, taking photographs. I'll post those a little later.

Until then...rest well, loved ones.

11:29 am

2009-03-14T11:29:00.003-04:00

Just arrived back at Possum Cough on this misty almost-spring morning, having attended the men's breakfast at the church building. We had a good turnout of twenty men, which is about 90% of the menfolk in the congregation. Ralph and Hoyt did most of the cooking - good groceries. We had scrambled eggs, bacon, sausage, fried 'taters, biscuits, and milk gravy. Ralph said that almost half the gravy was on the floorboard of his truck. Apparently, when he was stopped at a stop sign and just about to pull onto the road enroute to the breakfast, a car came whizzing around a bend in the road. Ralph applied the brakes, the crockpot o' gravy slid forward on the seat, did a somersault, and landed upside down on the floorboard. He grabbed it up before the whole thing could spill out. And he says that he'll toss his floor mats out onto the driveway when he gets home. His hound will make short work of the gravy. I'm hoping that no one in Washington hears of this incident. I'd hate to see seatbelt laws enacted toward food items.

After we ate, the former pastor of our congregation, Larry (visiting his old stomping grounds), led us in a devotional and a time of prayer. Afterwards, we stood around talking for quite a while. I get the biggest kick out of fellowshipping with these men. They're all solid, hard-working men, emphasis on the word men. One can get quite an education just listening to them talk. Cows, wiring, drywalling, gardening...a wealth of information. And I scored one big bonus. I asked Ralph (he of the spilt gravy) if he knew anywhere I could get some free fill dirt. I've asked every man in the congregation except him, and have begun to resign myself to the fact that I'll have to dig in the rocky soil of Possum Cough to get enough soil to fill our raised vegetable beds. This will entail lots of screening and extra labor in order to separate the rocks from the earth.

But Ralph said, "I just did some excavating over at my house. I've got thirty or forty cubic yards of dirt. Now, it's just ol' red clay, mind you."

I told Ralph that red clay would be just fine. I'll mix in a bag or two of sand, some diatomaceous earth, some rock dust, a little potassium, and a generous helping of horse/donkey manure, and that red clay will make some good growing soil. As soon as we get a dry spell, I told Ralph I'd call him and let him know when I'm coming. He lives about a half mile from the church, which is more or less on my way home (small detour), so I can take a load home on several nights after work, and will be able to fill our beds pretty quickly. Good deal, Lucille.

So now I'm full-bellied and content of soul (except for missing MeeMaw, who's working this morning). I feel like stretching out and watching the world go by. But intead, I need to do some chores around the house and do some studying and reading. Speaking of stretching out and watching the world go by, I caught this shot of Biscuit and Frito lazing in the sun the other day up at Five Pines.

They are now officially barn cats. Ever since I sealed off the underside of the deck with latticework, they've taken up residence in the goat shed. I'm pleased with this, because it'll mean good rodent control once we get our goats in there. And if they can't cut the mustard, there will be other barn cats who will be happy to have the job. This is a bad economy, after all.

When I awoke this morning, the valley was foggy and wet. And for some reason, the old Gordon Lightfoot song, "The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald" was going through my head. So I had to listen to it. If you want, you can listen to it, too.

On the way back from the breakfast, I noticed how beautiful weathered gray barnwood looks in the water-drops of the mountain air.

And the sheep are grazing against the short grass, trying to will Spring into existence. I can feel all of Creation wanting to be spring. It's vibrating beneath my boots when I walk across the earth. A low, vital rumble. And soon enough, it will heed the voice of its Master and blossom up into the season of living and growing.

When I arrived home, I noticed that the caretakers had neatened up the newest gravesite up in the cemetary. Miss Nannie Hartsock, one of our neighbors, departed this life last week. She was 102 years old. And now her body awaits the Resurrection on the hill to the west of our home.

I need to go put the finishing touches on my lesson plan for tomorrow. There's a good chance that either MeeMaw or I will add something else here later. If not today, then tomorrow.

Rest well, loved ones.

2009-03-08T15:23:00.004-04:00

This morning arrived in gray, scuttling clouds and strong winds from the west. At this writing, MeeMaw and I are still hoping that the sun will pierce the clouds and that the wind will abate just a bit. Yes, you read correctly: MeeMaw and PeePaw are actually desirous of the sun, and are actually hoping for less clouds today.

Why?

Why, because we were hoping to spend the afternoon basking and reading on the back deck, that's why.

Allow me to back up just a bit...

Yesterday, we awoke to a splendid, splendid day. It was sunny, mild, calm. Every bird in Virginia was at Possum Cough, raiding the feeders and singing like little winged bagpipes. We discovered that we have a thieving clan of pirate birds here, too. A family of blue jays has taken notice of the food we provide for our barn cats, Biscuit and Frito. The jaybirds have taken to a new morning ritual, in which they swoop onto the deck railing, peer around furtively, then hop down onto the deck. They take a quick drink of cat-water, and then nick several bites of cat food, holding the final bite in thier bills as they swoop off to the woodlot and - one presumes - the family den of avian iniquity.

The barn cats themselves have occupied a bit of our thoughts lately. As of last night, Frito has been solitary for a week. She has been sitting and meowing plaintively, calling for Biscuit. The old tom has not answered her cries. Yesterday, I worked outside all day, and she sat in the door of the goatshed and watched me, sunning herself and washing. Near dusk, as I was finishing my chores, she came to the deck and called for her supper. I fed her and then went out to the goatshed while she was occupied.

MeeMaw and I had previously noticed that Frito has taken to sleeping in a corner of the shed. She is almost certain with kittens, and is probably trying to "nest." The corner where she rests is dry and windproof, but is on the bare earth. So I took an old pair of curtains which were marked for the trash, and I made her a bed. I also sprinkled a bit of catnip on the bed to make it smell "friendlier" to her.

This morning, I checked, and Frito was curled up on her new bed. She also looked quite stoned.

When I put food in the two bowls on the deck this morning, guess who showed up with Frito? I scolded Biscuit roundly for his scoundrelish ways, but Frito seemed to be all forgiving and loving. I'm sure she's relieved (as we are) that he's still alive. I will confess that I had already written him off. "Biscuit's dead," I told MeeMaw last night. So good to be wrong on this one.

We also had some other company. Mr. D's fenceline has a break in it up in the woodlot, and one of his bull calves made it through. We noticed him when we saw all the bovines gathered at the fence under the pine tree, their favorite afternoon get-together. First, we noticed that the beasts all looked like the Amityville Cows. Then we noticed that one of them was standing on our side of the fence.

This young bull has wandered all over Possum Cough for the past two days. As I type these words, he's made his way down onto the gravel road, and is grazing along the side of the ditch. Untouched greenery...like a salad bar. His herd-mates are lowing at him in envy. Mr. D will show up at some point and cuss him and corral him. But for now, he's happy in his beefy rebellion. He should be proud of himself. He's shown himself to be a regular hamburger Houdini when it comes to fences.

Houdini...that made me think of an old Gilbert O'Sullivan song, Houdini Said. I wish I could find that song on YouTube, but it's not there. A very quirky tune, that one...like something the Beatles would have written after reading some Sylvia Plath poetry.

Back to yesterday...when we got up, it was gorgeous, blue jays and all. MeeMaw made breakfast, and she included a message for y'all. Look closely, now...

After we ate, we headed south to Kingsport, where the big Home Show was going on at the Meadowview Convention Center (same place where we attended the Farm Show not long ago). We paid our four bucks, went in and wandered around, registered for scads of door prizes (including the big daddy of door prizes, a $1000 shopping spree at Lowe's), and then left. It was not nearly as much fun as the Farm Show. But we did get some nifty souveniers. MeeMaw got a bamboo plant, and we got pens and pencils and free bottled water (I love opening the icebox and seeing "American Pest Patrol Exterminators"-brand mineral water on the top shelf). Our big score was two old-fashioned wooden yardsticks, courtesy of a hardware store. My grandmother used to use a very similar yardstick to spat my recalcitrant little legs when I was a laddie. So I'm saving one of these for the grandbabies, present and future.

Re-reading that last sentence, I just realized that I make myself out to be a terror with children. This is untrue. It is very likely that I will never be able to bring myself to spank a grandchild (though I love to use the phrase "I'm gonna whip some hind-ends!" every chance I get). I don't want the little ones to fear me. I want them to know me. I look forward to sharing my experiences with them. Like the time I was asked to play a small part in a Seinfeld episode. Y'all may have missed that one. If you watch it, you'll immediately recognize me as the shirtless fellow on the far left.

Where was I? Oh, yesterday. We left the Home Show and went over to the Kingsport Public Library's annual book sale. It was pretty overwhelming to the eyes to scan tens of thousands of books, looking for something one wants. By the time we left, we had quite a haul, at less than one dollar per book.

After the book-buying spree, I took MeeMaw to Five Guys Burgers and Fries. Do they have one of these near any of y'all? Their beef tastes really fresh, and the company boasts that they use NO MICROWAVES. This of course appealed to me. The government! Potato salad!

On the drive home, we passed the Lynn Garden feed store where they've been advertising chicks and seed 'taters. We stopped and chatted up the owner for some 'tater advice. For what we want and the space we're planning to have plowed, the owner felt that Blue Goose potatoes were our best bet. So, we now own 50 pounds of Blue Goose taters, 'waiting to be cut up and planted in the south pasture. I love the way the bag looks.

Back up into Virginia, we made a detour off Highway 71 onto the Gillenwater Loop, which goes down around the Clinch River. The water is high, thanks to all the rain the Lord has sent us this year.

And while driving up into the mountains, when we were in Reed Holler, we stopped and MeeMaw took this photo of the waterfall.

Once we got home and unloaded 50 lbs of taters and 45 lbs of books (and two yardsticks), I changed into my work clothes and tackled the first warm-weather chore of the season: installing latticework around the back deck. Too many varmints, critters,and assorted mammals have tried to call the area under the deck "home," so we're putting a stop to that.

I posed for this photo so that I could tell lies to the grandchildren someday about my home improvement exploits.

But the truth is that MeeMaw did all the work, ably assisted by the Addington's ancient Bassett hound, Gus.

Gus then came over to waller around with me for a minute. Then he pooped in our yard, right in front of me, and I whipped his hind end. Lessons of life, loved ones. Lessons of life.

Before I forget, let me ask for prayer for some of those whom we love. My good friend Mark, in Florida, lost his job. He's been an I.T. consultant for the same company for 14 years, and last week, he and some other consultants were called into the office and told, "You don't work here anymore." No notice, no benefits, no nothing. He has young children, and his wife is looking to the future with a nervous eye. Also, our friends Harry and Stephanie are experiencing some severe trials these days with health-related issues. And as always, Mother needs grace and mercy in her daily situation. Please remember them when you talk to the Father tonight.

MeeMaw is stretching out for her ter-ditional Sunday afternoon nap. If it weren't so windy, I'd go outside and read. But I guess I'll settle for a book and some bluegrass hymns. Speaking of hymns, here is an old song by Don Williams. Though it was written as a country song, I think it's more honest and beseeching and genuine than anything written by the CCM crowd. The song is "Lord, I Hope This Day Is Good."

Rest well, loved ones.

8:23 pm

2009-03-01T20:24:00.003-05:00

This morning, we awoke to a frigid dampness and a gray Virginia. The phrase "bone-chilling" is an overworked one, but there are times when one can truly understand the origin of such expressions. In the early light of this particular Sunday, we felt the cold seep into our bones. We felt as if we were moving in slow motion, every small task a monumental effort.

After breakfast, we went on to church early, because a group of us were meeting to pray for the new Sunday School classes. As we were preparing to leave, icy snow spattered down across Possum Cough, driving the warmth even further from our bones.

When we arrived at church, we met an older couple who used to be members of our church. They moved away some years ago, and are now spending weekends in Bristol because they are renovating one of their houses, a house occupied by their daughter until recently. So while they are in the area on weekends, they'll be fellowshipping with us'ns. They seemed to be nice, down-to-earth folks.

We ended up missing the prayer meeting, because we assumed that the folks milling around were there for the same reason we were. Turns out that the prayer group was already underway in one of the Sunday School classrooms, and everyone else was just there to coffee-up and socialize before classes started. Ah, well.

I was a little disappointed that my class won't be meeting in the library. Instead, I was assigned to teach in classroom #4, a room about the size of our dining room and office combined. Very stark, very utilitarian. At least it had a white board and a podium. I much prefer the library, though. A homier feel, and more room.

I was very surprised and pleased to see the number of people who came for my class. We were literally a capacity crowd. There were 12 people crammed into that little room. And in short order, the body heat combined with the furnace's forced-air heat and turned the place into an oven. I could feel my face getting red as I taught, and I could tell that others were uncomfortable. I'm hoping we can make other arrangements for next week. At any rate, I was pleased with the class, and it went well. And as always, it meant the world to me for my beloved MeeMaw to be sitting there, listening and silently encouraging me as I introduced my solemn subject to a dozen souls.

When we came home, we ate a light lunch of leftovers, then did some reading. By 2:00 pm, we were both sleepy, so we put on a CD of classical music ("Great Choral Anthems"), turned down low, and MeeMaw stretched out on the couch while I did the same on the loveseat. The wind moaned around the house and the pine tree out front bowed and swayed in the high wind, and we slept for over three hours. Yes, you read that correctly.

At almost exactly 5:30, the cats came in and awakened me, since their unerring belly clocks told them that it was time for the old man to make with the vittles. I got up and fed them and the barn cats outside, and we spent fifteen minutes marveling at the length of our nap and speculating about how difficult it will be to sleep tonight as a result. But weekends are good things, and we've used ours well, three + hour nap included.

Friday, we finally got our seeds ordered for our gardening projects. The only thing we couldn't get from our seed company (they sell only heirloom seeds; no genetically-modified crap seeds at all) was seed potatoes. We're planning to plant potatoes and mangle beets (which will serve as feed for goats and chickens) up in the south pasture. Gabriel (next door) has offered to plow up a plot for us.

MeeMaw had to work yesterday. After she got home and after we finished a few oddjobs, we headed back down to Kingsport. We spent a little time in one of our favorite antique shops, "The Haggle Shop." It was a great day for browsing: gray, rainy, not very many people around. We could have spent hours and hours in there; we were both in a mood to browse and poke around. MeeMaw found a pretty little antique mirror. I saw several books I would have liked, but decided not to get them just yet. More on used books in a moment.

Then we went next door and ate at our favored Stir-Fry cafe. MeeMaw got chicken teriyaki and a California roll (sans roe, of course), and I got an order of sake-maki (salmon sushi) and a bowl of beef lo mein. I wanted tekka-maki (tuna sushi), but the waitress explained that they were out of tuna. Stir-Fry offers half-price sushi on Wednesday nights, and apparently, it's a big hit. They have some difficulty knowing how much tuna to order, as it is flown in fresh from Hawaii once a week and they don't want to get too much, for obvious reasons. Anyway, the salmon was good, and we enjoyed the meal. The only negative aspect was the red pepper sauce with which they decorated MeeMaw's plate's edges. She got a bit of it on a bite of her chicken, and her reaction was, shall we say, picturesque. She offered me a bite, and I can attest that the sauce was incendiary.

When we were driving home, we passed through the Lynn Garden area. The local feed store had a big sign out front: "Seed taters are here!" Another problem solved for PeePaw.

Speaking of things agrarian, I read a lovely essay over at Gene Logsdon's blog. The old contrary farmer offered a profile of Harlan Hubbard. I highly recommend y'all give it a read.

I mentioned used books earlier...MeeMaw found out that the Kingsport Public Library is having their great used book sale next weekend. Guess where MeeMaw and PeePaw will be on Saturday, d.v.? Last time we went, we spent eighteen bucks, if memory serves, and walked out with four or five big bags loaded down with great finds.

Also on Saturday, we hope to attend this year's Home Show down at Meadowview. Last year, we had just bought Possum Cough and were enmeshed in moving preparations, so we didn't get to go. We're looking forward to it. If it's half as much fun as the Farm Show was a few weeks back, we're in for a treat. Plus, free stuff!

The wind is still literally howling out there, and the temperatures are supposed to drop down into the teens. Our springtime ruminations will have to remain in our minds for now. Winter is still firmly settled in at Possum Cough.

I'll leave y'all with a photo of tonight's sunset, along with one of my favorite works by the great Welsh poet, Dylan Thomas. Rest well, loved ones.

THE FORCE THAT THROUGH THE GREEN FUSE DRIVES THE FLOWER

The force that through the green fuse drives the flower

Drives my green age; that blasts the roots of trees

Is my destroyer.

And I am dumb to tell the crooked rose

My youth is bent by the same wintry fever.

The force that drives the water through the rocks

Drives my red blood; that dries the mouthing streams

Turns mine to wax.

And I am dumb to mouth unto my veins

How at the mountain spring the same mouth sucks.

The hand that whirls the water in the pool

Stirs the quicksand; that ropes the blowing wind

Hauls my shroud sail.

And I am dumb to tell the hanging man

How of my clay is made the hangman's lime.

The lips of time leech to the fountain head;

Love drips and gathers, but the fallen blood

Shall calm her sores.

And I am dumb to tell a weather's wind

How time has ticked a heaven round the stars.

And I am dumb to tell the lover's tomb

How at my sheet goes the same crooked worm.

6:42 pm

2009-02-24T18:42:00.005-05:00

Yesterday evening when I arrived home, I caught a glimpse of something bright in the gloom up in the woodlot. When I squinted a bit harder, I realized that it was exposed wood. A tree near the southwest treeline had broken off in Sunday night's high winds and was lying crosswise to its trunk.

As I was a bit late and needed to get inside and call Mother before her suppertime, I put off examining the tree until today. So, when I reached Possum Cough, I changed clothes, stuffed a couple of carrots into my Carhartt's pockets, and walked up into the woods.

Shorty and Domino saw me coming, and Domino nickered at my approach. He started to trot towards me, but Shorty did an end-run around him and reached me first. Of course, the ever-courteous donkey waited for his larger friend to take the first bite of carrot, but he got his share in time as well.

The tree was a large forked maple, about forty feet tall. The southernmost fork had apparently gotten caught by a hard gust and some weakness inside had been finally and mercilessly exposed. The fork, as thick as my torso, is barely attached to the main trunk with some strips of bark and stretched wood fibers. The other day I saw a nice chainsaw for a very reasonable price.

As I stood surveying the broken tree, I was thinking about how much chainsawing I'm going to eventually have to do. And I enjoyed the thought.

If you look to the left of the tree, you'll see the green tarp that is Domino and Shorty's shelter from the elements. I've had to reconstruct it twice now, due to the winds and heavy snows. But it's in pretty good shape, and they enjoy the windbreak. Which is not to say the breaking of wind, per se.

And if you look carefully at the tree in the center of the photo, you'll see that it has a slight double fork, too. This is the tree from which I retrieved a big hornet's nest our first week here at Possum Cough. Jason and Joshi-O may each remember me showing them the nest.

After examining the tree, I turned to the fenceline and stood looking at the mountains. I do not know the irreducible minimum of happiness for any other sppirit than my own. It is impossible to be certain even of mine at certain seasons. Yet I believe I know my own visible touchstone of emotional calm. It is a mountain top against a patch of sky. If I should become crippled or long ill, or should have the horrible destiny to be clapped in some dreary jail for something I say or write or do, I could thrive, I think, given this one token of the physical world. I feed on the sight of the not-too-distant mountains here, and I have done so in every place I've ever been where mountains were part of the landscape. I believe - I truly believe - that this affinity for God's mountains is something borne in my blood. Certain places call to certain types of people. I have long known my own type, and my own calling.

Just as I started to turn from gazing at the Clinch Mountains, movement drew my eye down to the pasture. A large buck went galomping with fierce grace across the pasture towards the far treeline. I turned the camera back on to try and get a shot, but he was too fast. But a bit of patience, a bit of still staring....and along came a large doe (at least I think it was a doe; I didn't see a rack on this one, but it blended into the background a bit more than the buck did). She trotted along for a few yards, and then apparently caught my scent. She snorted and stomped and leaped and ran, all within the space of one second. I did manage to get off one click, and if you look just to the left of center in the middle of the frame, you'll see her.

And if you look with great care at the mountains behind her, you'll see the remnants of snow up on the pine-dotted peaks. And perhaps if you close your eyes and think about how the mountains look, how the trees sound when a high wind brushes through them, you'll have an inkling of an idea of how peaceful Possum Cough and her denizens are on this cold, clear evening.

Rest well, loved ones.