"They're in for a Pep Talk"

Yep, it's Sunday, one of those rainy Sundays. It's funny that when there's rainy days it always seems to land on a Sunday. I guess it just feels like being contrary to its name sometimes. What? You've never felt like that before? Anyway, today was one of those pretty much none stop angel-crying days, but that doesn't mean it has to put a sour mood on the day. The angels can cry all they want to and you can still have a happy day. Because of the none-stop rain, I didn't really have a chance to go on my longed for walk (or run) down and up our dusty gravel road (wait, did I just say “dusty”? Yeah, lately that is as far from the truth as calling a tree a gas pump). Those times are the best. It clears the head and leaves you feeling refreshed. Yeah, I'm talking about feeling the slipping and sliding rocks underneath your feet, feeling the breeze swipe any stray pieces of hair from your face, hearing the peacocks “mee-aw”, the goats whine for more food (more on that in a little bit), or a hawk screaming it's war cry in the sky, seeing the long gray/blue road stretch away in front of you, seeing the neighbors picture-perfect fence lined with cute creatively designed birdhouses, hearing a Shop Vac sucking up every last piece of dirt in a car, smelling all the competing outdoors smells: smoke from the neighbors' furnace or from a fire outside, sizzling hamburgers on a grill drawing all the party sensations in you, the sweet Honeysuckle nectar that tastes like, as a friend once said “What water will taste like in heaven”, waves from a cow pasture or chicken barn, earthy starchy dead leaves hugging the ground, and then there's almost always the droning of an airplane flying overhead, and maybe even seeing a Scion or Saturn or other vehicle stir up dust passing by and wave back to the drivers. Then coming down to the tricking or roaring, muddy or crystal clear creek, depending on the rain frequency we've had and there's something about hearing the soft whispering of the creek in your ear, seeing the minnows doing acrobats underneath the water surface and watching the water striders jerk barely past your reach when you try to give them a dunk (ahem, did I just suggest I did that? : / ), feeling the icy cold bracing water on your feet before it laughs on down the stream, and seeing the sun sparkle brightly on the water that leaves you feeling so carefree and wishing you could stay here forever far from the complications of life elsewhere, wishing you could just be one of those minnows swimming about with not a care in the world, wishing you could fly effortless over the rocks like the never-stopping creek racing to bigger creeks and than to rivers that join other rivers all on one goal for the seemingly endless blue or gray or green salty cool ocean. 

Well, on this particular day I didn't get to enjoy all these treats but, at the near end of the day tired of not being outside very much, I decided to venture out even though it was still drizzling. I donned a gray hoodie and raced out the house and into the damp darkness of the end of a soggy but warm winter day. The rain quickly made a crazy wreck of my already crazy hair. The rain-drenched leaves from last year's fall squooshed under my feet. The muddy and slimy ground tried to get me to join it but, don't worry, I didn't give in. And where, you might ask, was I going on this tearful evening? My feet carried me down the steep ivy-entangled hill, over the mushy moss, and leaped over fallen brush through the woods to a clearing with a shed: yes, a long overdue visit to my much missed friends, Nancy and Peggy Sue, our next door neighbors: the goats. I wasn't planning to actually go into the fenced-in area but upon seeing my friends that I hadn't seen in forever “bah”-ing and begging me to come on in, I couldn't resist the temptation. What I discovered in going in is that it was high-time we had a pep-talk. Peggy Sue, who could always stand to lose a little weight, had definitely put on some pounds and my good ol' Nancy, who's pretty much always been a good weight was just as fat as Peggy Sue! Our pep-talk ended with me setting goals for them: stop eating so much and get out of their stuffy pen and run around while at the same time running my hands through their soft white, tan, and brown hair. Regretfully, I finally left them and rewired the gate after slipping through and onto to the other side where the orange mud oozed through my toes. If you can't tell, I miss going down throughout the week to take care of my friends. It's one of those things in life that's calming and invigorating and clearing. I leave that for another post but, for now, I'll leave it at arriving back at the house after (yes, Mom) washing my feet. And so ended my night outdoor head-clearer.

Pc to Lyd

Hey, I actually took these. Can you believe I actually take pictures!

Pc to Lyd

Pc to Elisabeth along with the rest of the pictures.

In remembrance of when they were little. 

Reminiscences

 She raced out of the “White House” as it was named and made one leap down the stoop steps, across the gravel parking lot, and up the hill. Her bare feet crunched on the dead winter leaves spread like a golden carpet across the landscape. In no time she reached her destination: the “giant” swing as they called it. Hooking the cable swing up to a metal link tied to a worn and frayed yellow rope broken many times through the years evidenced by the many knots that hold the rope together, she grabbed the first splintery old board nailed to a small Maple. Making the 15-foot climb and rope-pulling 18 seconds this time, she pushed back on the old Cherry log swing and let the swing carry her away. The wind rushed in her ears and pushed her hair swiftly from her face. Oh, yes! That lovely belly-drop that comes with the first outward-going swing. It was another warm winter day, typical of NC. It had gotten up into the high 60's that day and she hoped the warm weather would keep her company for a few more days at least. She wiggled her toes and let her feet rake against the ground making the cable slow down to a near stop. It was quiet and peaceful broken only by sounds (that were meant to be there) that added to the blissful rhythm of a woodsy evening. A nearby gunshot reminded her that it was just two days after Christmas, a perfect time for target shooting, and she secretly hoped they'd invite her to join them. The wind rattled the few remaining Oak and Beech leaves and an occasional squirrel scurried off to dinner. Dinner? Hmmm, she should be going in soon. A distant car whizzed by on White's Chapel and an airplane droned overhead. The bare trees stood silhouetted against the sunset. The sunset! Oh what a glorious sight! By now the sun had disappeared behind the ridge line leaving it's tattle-tail marks behind. A cool pink/gray faded slowly into a stronger pink. An obstructing cloud turned a smoky purple and then gradually fluffy pink and faded orange. The sunset gently faded into the vast grayness of the rest of the sky. A typical winter sky. You could almost imagine it was snowing, except for the fact of the comfortable breeze blowing across her feet and face. She cast a glance at the volleyball net. It stood pitifully, a few yards away, pleading with you not to notice it's half-torn black and blue net and make its court ring again with the bang of the ball against fists and the shouts of kids playing. From far off, a pitched voice yelled, “Mo-o-o-o-o-o-m!” reminding her that her own Mom might soon be calling for her to come in. Yes, it was getting late! She should leave this winter day to itself and take a shower. As she slowly walked back to the house, the darkness crept ever nearer. It was the end of another beautiful winter day.

The sunset pictures are taken by an amazing photographer, Elisabeth.