big little things

SO MUCH feels uncertain. Economies teetering, the world shaky. Lives changed in the blink of an eye.

Which makes anything of routine all the more welcome.

The hummingbirds returned to our mountain this week.

One, then two, then three, then four. Timid at first, just a quick nip from the feeder. Then more, the nectar sweet after a winter away.

And sunshine, green, and Spring was here once again.

It’s something about which we are keenly aware on this mountain. We watch the seasons like it’s a religion noting every change, every turning, every remarkable bloom.

And every time,

every single time–

we feel grateful.

XXOO

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The Post That Is Really A Photograph

We have a nearly perfect east to west view at the top of our beloved mountain. Which means as the light moves–which it does every minute, of course–we can actually watch the world around us change.

It makes for some pretty spectacular photo ops. But I have to say I’ve never seen anything quite like the one that presented itself to us at sunset one afternoon our last visit there.

I was busy, busy, my attention elsewhere, just working away when I happened to look up and out.

And there it was: the most astounding alignment of earth / valley / mountain / sun / sky. A breathtaking landscape that offered a perspective I’d neither seen nor considered.

It’s something that comes along once a year, is what I’d guess, and lasts less than a minute.

How lucky we were to experience it. How open my heart feels just remembering through the images!

XXOO

ps: May I also mention it was about 7 degrees when I ran out with the camera but with no coat or hat or gloves? Which makes the fact the scene was rare and fleeting a double blessing 🙂

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When Brrrrr Does Not Describe It

Okay, so we weren’t really supposed to be here. I mean–not really. Winter at 5000 feet can be brutal and that’s why we closed up the mountain place and kissed it goodbye, for a while, at Thanksgiving.

But then January came, and an opening on the calendar. And we looked at each other with the very same thought and before you knew it here we were unloading groceries and bags of thick sweaters and stacks of new books and lickity-split the whole place was DE-winterized and we settled in.

We were delighted.

The views are spectacular any time of year but there is something really special about January. The air is brisk and clear and the weather is constantly changing. Not to mention there is overwhelming joy in providing for hungry winter birds.

Nights were cold, but days were reasonably mild, and we delighted in our wonderful decision.

Then Saturday came, and Sunday, and Monday.

It was not a surprise, I will say that, us monitoring the weather up here like it’s our JOB and also our RELIGION. We closed-off rooms and taped-off doors and hunkered down, ready for the epic freeze.

And it came. Oh, how it came.

First there was wind, then all-day snow, and we watched as the temps dropped to 30, to 20, to 10. It was somewhere around 4 degrees when we went to bed Sunday night, figuring overnight it hit 0 or below.

And that’s not accounting for wind chill which believe you me can get mighty significant up here.

Morning did come, along with eventual sun, and we sprinted from window to window. Is there still snow? Hey did you see this? Come look now! We were kids in a candy shop, kids with a warm roof and a giant fireplace and a backup generator, kids who got to enjoy the spectacle of The Great Weather Event from our warm, cozy inside.

looking toward Asheville
Grandfather Mountain, in the distance
not quite as excited as we are

We even got a quick, cold, magical look at the Super Blood Wolf Moon.

XXOO

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all the leaves are brown

WE’VE COME TO THE MOUNTAINS for a long, slow holiday week. My sweet Eliza is here, a glorious treat, along with Ellie, the dog; Little Bit, the dog; and Tim, husband extraordinaire. We’d hardly gotten the groceries put away (this took a minute–there was a car load) when Eliza announced she was headed for a walk with Ellie and any takers were welcome. Of course I grabbed my boots and coat and off we set, we three.

We didn’t talk about anything in particular. There has been time for that lately, my adult child making the difficult decision, recently, to move on to a new job in a new city. There are new priorities. How grateful I am for the honor of helping her work through that process; what a gift that is to a Mom.

 

 

Ellie ran. And ran and ran, in the cold crisp air. We marveled at her strength, her excitement and spirit.

 

two sweet girls

 

 

OF COURSE WINTER has come to this high ridge. The trees are bare, the colors are browns and greens and grays. We were making our way back toward home when I happened to glance right, down the old Ogle Meadows Trail. It’s a view I’ve seen a million times, a trail I’ve walked a hundred. But in this moment things seemed different, somehow, the offering something new.

 

 

It called to mind a blessing I hadn’t considered in a while.

How lucky we are that seasons change.

That leaves fall and light shifts and a new view opens before our very eyes.

 

yes, how lucky we are

 

It’s something I want to remember as we move through these last days of November. As we approach the reverence of Advent, and December with its sparkle and expectation. I want to notice as the world offers itself anew in a thousand different ways, large and small, grand and ordinary.

I will keep watch.

 

XXOO

 

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It’s all in how you look at it.

 

You know I do love my South Carolina birds, the bluebirds in particular. They are elegant, tasteful, devoted.

 

 

But let me tell you, up here in these North Carolina mountains the world is quite different. We’re learning a great deal about a lot of new things, a new collection of feathered friends among them.

Take this guy, for instance.

 

 

He’s a house wren, of course, but since we’re more familiar with the gentler Carolina version, I didn’t know much about his…ummm…habits. Then a friend (who happens to be an ornithologist) stopped by. I excitedly pointed to the nest and he was quick to explain these are not great neighbors. They make a mess, are not considerate, and they make a practice of visiting other’s nests and poking holes in their eggs (oh my). As if that were not enough, there are lots of shenanigans that go on between the Papa and the Mama which are generally unbecoming.

 

may not be the brightest bulb in the box?

 

It all just broke my heart.

 

 

We didn’t disturb the birds, of course, and we’ve returned to the mountains to find they’re still right there. But these days the Papa is spending his time hopping hopping hopping all along the top of the nest box, here, then there, belting out a beautiful (albeit insistent) tune.

 

 

He’s fiercely defending his territory, is the truth.

 

 

 

But I’ve decided I will look at it differently.

I’m going to let the sweet song bring me joy.

It’s his heart that’s overflowing, that’s what I think,

and in this happy state he can’t help but share

his own joyful news

 

 

the babies have been born!

 

XXOO

 

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Here, and There

It is a fascinating thing to experience spring in South Carolina’s midlands, then to climb high into the mountains of western North Carolina where nature reveals herself in a completely different way.

What I mean is here at Bickley’s Pond–where the land is flat and the days are already scorching hot, the golds are gone and world is lush with every green imaginable. The earth bursts to life with an immediacy and an intensity that demands you sit up and notice, right away.

 

It is different high in the mountains. The changes come not only later, but more slowly, the earth revealing her beauty in tiny, quiet bits, taking her time, giving you the chance to relish every sweet moment.

 

 

There’s something lovely about that pace and the space it allows for dreaming;

 

 

for watching the green climb slowly up the mountains;

 

 

for spotting one wildflower, then two, then three.

 

 

How lucky Tim and I are to get to experience both.

 

 

How lucky we all are (aren’t we?) to live in a world where seasons go,

 

 

and come.

 

 

XXOO

 

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winter, and spring, and winter

It’s a funny thing to spend time in two locales and to experience a mix of seasons. We left South Carolina two weeks ago in full-on Spring: shorts and tshirts, blooming trees and flowers, birds all a’flutter with loving on their minds.

We arrived in the mountains of North Carolina to full-on winter. In fact, we’ve been completely delighted to achieve our dream of “snowed in” not just once, but twice.

The temperatures have hovered in the teens and twenties (it is seriously cold, y’all) and our response to that has been to bundle up, go for a hike and then huddle before a roaring fire in the big stone fireplace.

It has been dreamy.

Today, the sun is shining and all twelve inches of snow have melted. And right there at the top of the meadow, beside the steps, just about where we spotted the bunny tracks,

was this.

 

Isn’t the earth beautiful?

 

 

Isn’t this life remarkable?

 

 

Isn’t it awesome to always have something to look forward to?

 

sunrise 3.16.18

 

XXOO

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Fear and No Loathing

I’VE TOLD YOU BEFORE what a scaredy cat I am, a situation that seems to be getting worse with age. This is not categorical fear–just to be clear–but rather a defined, easy-to-spot, anxiety-producing one that seems to center rather neatly around things and situations that have inherent potential for bodily harm.

To demonstrate.

Start a new business? I’m your girl.

Speak or read or sing in public? Count on me.

Try something new that I am sure to be terrible doing? I am all in.

Zipline in a jungle? Kayak in a shark-filled ocean? Go for a hike where there are Black Bears* and Rattlesnakes** and Long Dark We’re Lost Nights***? I will respond, categorically: Yeah thanks, but no.

(*seen em **read about em ***had nightmares about em)

I write it off to rational thinking, you bet I do, a realistic approach for someone who Loves Life and who wants to hold on to as much of it as possible.

Still.

It is a rather limiting approach, as a rule.

 

AND SO I HAVE BEEN WORKING on some of these fears, a little at a time, working my own plan in baby steps. (I will not bore you with the litany of things like that night I walked in the dark from the studio to the house, or the three times I took the dog out at 3 am by myself. THERE ARE COYOTES IN ADDITION TO THE BEARS, YOU GUYS.

And then last weekend Tim asked me to go with him on a real-live, on-a-trail, up-a-mountain hike. And I said yes, and I carried through, and I did it.

Swear.

“The mountain to the climber” and all that. We hiked the peak there, Big Butt.

 

the innocent looking trailhead

 

Up and up and up we climbed!

 

following the white diamonds

 

A selfie for Eliza! (She was duly impressed.)

 

view to the smoky mountains

 

back down again!

 

We went a mile up and a mile down, 1000 feet in altitude each way, and we experienced exactly ZERO bear sightings and ZERO snake encounters. Plus Big Butt was not nearly as scary up close as it is from a distance. (You may be thinking bears and snakes hibernate this time of year, and yes, yes they do, I’m no dummy.)

Still it was a big giant step for me. And it was a really fun one.

So now it’s got me wondering:

What

will

be

next?

 

XXOO

 

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Day 1: Gathering

And so it was his birthday, my sweet husband’s, the big 6-0. And his greatest wish was to spend it at our mountain retreat, 5,000 feet of altitude and 200 miles from our regular, beautiful lives.

But we’ll be all alone, I reminded him, something that suits the introvert in me just fine but that might not be what his big extroverted heart actually desired.

And before you knew it our dear Richmond friends agreed to come for the birthday and the holiday, and our precious mountain neighbors said yes to an invitation for turkey dinner, and Eliza and her sweet beau agreed to make the long drive from Atlanta, and Tim’s brother, John–one of the Island Monettis–made plans to fly from Florida to Asheville creating the greatest, most joyful birthday surprise of all.

It has been one beautiful week, that’s my point, one of those times in which you can hardly hold it all, the gorgeous moments coming so fast and furious.

 

Proof John can, in fact, find sunshine anywhere

 

our giddy Thanksgiving crew: Doug, Jim, Tim, Preston, Jessie, Vickie, me, Eliza

 

And then we had this sunrise, one I want you to see and feel and experience with me, one that took my breath away.

 

 

AND SO DAY ONE is a big one, bursting at the seams–a cumulative, week-long celebration of the best things in life: love, and family, and friends, and food; of God’s great reminder, new every day, that every moment offers the chance for great, surprising joy.

30 Days of Joy

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it’s always there

IT’S ONE OF THOSE TIMES that makes you realize you never really know the joy life will bring, one moment to the next.

First there was the fact we had a slew friends staying with us in the mountains for the weekend. Then others were to arrive late Saturday afternoon, our plan some happy time out on the deck, followed by a big, casual, family-style dinner.

Then Jessie called.

“You can say no,” she said, “and I will totally understand.” She totally meant it, too.

But I said yes, and that’s how it came to be on a gorgeous Saturday afternoon in October I was standing, camera in hand, just up the way in a lovely mountain meadow photographing the prettiest wedding I’ve ever seen.

I am not a real photographer, let me be clear about that. Plus there were three or four guests intentionally snapping away–each of us aware the professional had cancelled at the last minute and that surely–surely between all of us there would be enough good shots for a proper album.

Still. It was a wedding.

None of this is even the point of this post. I merely want you to understand how it was I found myself in a meadow on a mountain on a picture-perfect afternoon in October, a witness to the sweet, sweet wedding of a couple I’d never ever met. And I want you to feel the surprise that experience–unexpected as it was– brought to me. Turns out it was one of the most love-filled, light-filled, joy-filled afternoons of my life.

 

FIRST MY FRIEND and soul brother, Jay Coles, was visiting and offered to give me a ride up to the wedding. He knew I was anxious (!!!) and graciously agreed to hang around, bringing his camera as a backup. The two of us fussing around getting our “gear” ready so tickled our crowd that someone demanded a photo.

Thank heavens I am not sporting a camera in this shot!

 

Then Jay and I arrived and went to work, doing our best to capture each thoughtful detail.

 

IT’S AN ODD THING to attend the wedding of a couple you don’t know, even more so when it is an intimate gathering of family and dearest friends. I felt removed but also all up in it, every unknown face coming to me through my camera’s zoom lens. It gave me the opportunity to look and see and experience the color and shape of every emotion in a heightened and powerful way.

There was so much love.

Sister and sister.

Mama and daughter.

Father and bride.

Brother and brother. And brother.

Bride. And groom.

Oh, this bride and groom.

Their joy overflowed in a way made manifest, I swear, by the wide open setting, the colors of autumn, the October sky. They blushed; they laughed; they cried. As did the Justice doing their marrying (who I think may have been the groom’s brother). As did everyone else in attendance (but for those ADORABLE children).

As did I.

I stood there, my lens trained on the love-filled faces of these strangers, and tears rolled down my cheeks.

 

LOVE IS ALL AROUND is the point I’m trying to make, love is present and moving in a hundred trillion ways you never see or even know. Love is flowing, good and strong and remarkable, all across the globe, in every country, three states away, just a little ways up Ogle Mountain.

Even when we forget it. Even when forces divert our attention elsewhere, and we’re unaware.

Love is all around.

 

XXOO

 

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