Delay

Black Mountain Trail in the Grassy Cove Section of the Cumberland Trail. This trail was scheduled for Father’s Day 2011 and on that day we were rained out. A forgotten camera, which seemed to be a delay in our day, saved us from being miles from the car when the bottom fell out. We were soaking wet quickly, protecting our cameras we continued along very carefully with the certainty that rushing may result in being wet and muddy. We trudged, listening to the fierce drops, marveling at a storm, which was promoted as a 30% possibility; we knew that the forgotten camera was part of the big picture for that day and the hike was to be postponed. Fast forward to Saturday, January 7, 2012. Rain, followed by cold temperatures and a small snowfall earlier in the week created a picturesque and unique day for our return. We ascended by car to this trailhead situated at the top of the mountain and were anxious to begin. From on top of the rock outcropping on this clear winter day, the valley laid out before us. The snow-covered ground was a blank canvas showcasing the landscape. We descended. Black Mountain was still, the water clear and the experience was rich. It was so quiet. Without much sound, our eyes feasted on textures of bark, green moss, plentiful rock formations and a deep sky. We could see deep into the forest and the snow created a unique experience, as our snowfall is infrequent. My thoughts returned over and over to the contrast of that day in June in which the atmosphere was turbulent, the weather warm and wet. When we were rained out in June, it was disappointing but the day we returned was spectacular. It was worth the delay.

Intent

Have you made plans that you never seem to follow through with? It’s what we do. Good intentions are assaulted with competing hours or waning willingness. Sometimes an overactive imagination lacks perspective, we have high hopes of getting much accomplished; the willingness is there, but we just run out of gas or the day runs short. My Dad, and I have planned for years to expand our traditional December 23^rd hike to a quarterly event.  You know the story; we plan and talk, but so far it is a theory. As his birthday approached in November, I pondered what to get the man who “has everything”; I devised a plan to walk each month during this 80^th year of his life. The goal is to walk 80 miles along the Cumberland Trail. We may or may not meet our goal but we have a goal, we have moved beyond the talk. Hiking is a beautiful rhythm in nature, demanding at times on the body and richly rewarding to the senses. There is balance for the physical and spiritual. As muscles are invigorated by demand and oxygen; souls are stirred as we examine delicate plants and majestic trees. Minds bathe in wonder and greatness of all that is larger than our daily lives. Wandering, we ponder nature, health, and relationships. We speak much of God, the joy and mystery of our spiritual natures, winding through cathedrals of nature. We have begun; December 23^rd and foggy, I cannot think of a better start.

All is Bright

The lights of the holidays have become one of my favorite sights. A plate of homemade cookies and a well-decorated home run a strong tie for seconds, but the lights capture my heart each year. As the daylight wanes I begin to notice eaves, bushes and yards.  These otherwise dark elements are bright and shining encouraging us to get in the spirit of the holidays. It brings me joy. I appreciate the dedication of the obedient husbands; time stretched single parents and reluctant teens for their efforts. Certainly there are exterior light artists who just are passionate about their craft and just tackle the project in full force – Bless You, Bless You, Bless You. If you ever wonder if anyone appreciates all you do, the answer is absolutely affirmative. I appreciate you! I know it takes initiative, creativity and energy to grab the ladder, staple gun and extension cords. It takes time to climb up and down, hang halfway off the roof, and wrestle the bushes and trees while pondering the pros and cons of more lights or a smaller electric bill. During this season we make our annual pilgrimage to neighborhoods; find ourselves looking for shortcuts on busy errand running days and taking random detours looking for the Griswald’s, we celebrate your commitment to make the season sparkle. My favorite spot as a last stop lies at the end of a cul-de-sac on top of a hill in the back of our neighborhood. It is a nice spot to drop in and visit before going home for the night. Quiet. Peaceful. I put the car in park, survey the lights, quietly thank the parties involved and commit to writing a thank you note.

Thanks!

As the Thanksgiving weekend comes to a close and I am eating the last of the pumpkin pie, I’m grateful for trails. This holiday weekend was rich with wonderful walks enjoyed by all members of visiting family members, even our greyhound Calypso got in on the activities.  Last year we began what is now, I hope, a tradition of walking trails over the Thanksgiving holiday. We are lucky in our town have parks and trails maintained in unison with the city and strong volunteer organizations, such as Friends of Warner Parks.

Thursday morning we drove over to Edwin Warner Park and enjoyed walking along the the paved road. There is something therapeutic about walking along a trail with a trusted friend. Thoughts come up, talk begins and the richness of the earth affords an environment for good deep conversations. Visually,  this particular season affords your eyes deep look into the woods, each year I seem to spot giant trees that I do not recall from years gone past.  We walked over the new sections of road that cover the damage from the May 2010 flood, spurring conversation of  ”where we were” last year. Catching the tip of a young doe’s tail bouncing through the woods in our sights we became excited, wanting the other person to spot this beauty.

Friday morning we headed over to the Hidden Lake State Park, part of the Harpeth River State Park.  We walked the trails to ridge tops,  theorized about the people who danced on the ridge top dance floor; we took the rock stairs to the bottom of the cliff and explored the edge of the swimming hole, talking of various fresh water polls from our own histories.

Lastly, on Saturday Dad and I tackled the red trail at Percy Warner Park. If you have walked this trail, you know it is as strenuous as it is beautiful. You climb in silence and marvel at the lovely ridge tops as your heart rate returns toward normal. We relish this last walk of the weekend, soaking in this lovely 55 degree November morning.  We talk about future hikes, maybe attempting to meet up throughout the year and walking a good portion the Cumberland Trail in 2012. As we make the turn on the connector trail we close in on the end of the trail in silence. We are physically tired, but our hiking heart wants to continue in the richness of relationship and earth. Thank you family for walking with me.

Honeycrisp

This summer I was talking apples with a friend at work, she excitedly told me about her favorite apple, the Honeycrisp. She loved the Honeycrisp, it was so crisp and juicy and just had the best flavor – ever.

This apple variety was news to me and since I considered myself somewhat of an snobbish apple consumer, I ready for my own private taste test, “We will see about these Honeycrisps” I thought. I awaited the fall harvest. Finally September arrives and I peruse the abundance, seeking out this new variety.  The Honeycrisp did not disappoint, I became a quick fan of the crisp, sweet fruit. I abandoned my favorites as if suddenly they were “so last year” and returned to the Honeycrisp on each weekly trip to the farmers market. I will admit feeling a bit bad about not adding variety to my basket each week, there will be time for Gala’s and Fuji’s I justified. Alas the time for Honeycrisps will expire and the apple diet will consist of year round favorites, mostly the Fuji and the Gala. I hope you had a chance to check out the Honeycrip harvest this year, they were delicious.

For more information about apples as a fruit check out Orange Pippin and yes, “Isn’t that an interesting name for an apple website!”. Here you will learn that England’s most famous apple variety, widely regarded as the finest of all dessert apples is the Cos’s Orange Pippin.

Fog

I like fog. Mysterious, magical, cool and creepy. In our neck of the woods it really is a fall thing. The moist air and cool nights generate the environment ripe for fog. It lays over the rivers early in the morning just waiting for conditions to change and drive it away. Wikipedia defines fog as collection of water droplets or ice crystals suspended in the air at or near the Earth’s surface. Water suspended in air – makes me think of those cool special effects in the Matrix movies.  Water suspended in air – this just sounds magical. The reason I like fog is the atmosphere that it creates and the impermanence of the whole experience. Here one minute and gone the next. You realize it is foggy, so you get yourself situated to enjoy it. Find a nice window seat, head out on the deck or get yourself together to get out in this weather.  Wandering in the fog is like a whole new adventure in the same backyard or park, somehow the whole fog things makes it a new experience.

There is a great river that twists along the highway to my parents home. The Caney Fork River.  When I drive along I-40 early in the day and it is fog season, I want to stop at every bridge and just watch the fog. I know it is temporary and I want to watch it lay, because I know it will lift and be gone, possibly before the next bridge.  Fog is impermanent, that is what makes it cool. It is here and then it is not here. So as I enjoy fog, I am in that great place of accepting the impermanence and temporary nature of fog. I am in the moment, enjoying the beauty and experience that is just here now, at this moment.

This fall the fog has been laying heavy along the Cumberland River that twists around Nashville. This is a treat to see the large billowing cloud like fog that lays along the cumberland just off Charlotte Pike as I head to work, makes me want to play hooky. This image along the Clinch River below Norris Dam, it was August, a hot day lay ahead. But in this cool still morning, I wandered around in the fog and caught a nice image to share just before it was gone . . .

Sentiment

I  used to throw away things that were broken. Last year the handle to a treasured coffee cup scattered across the counter. Oh Chanella, I gasped. The cup was a gift from a dear friend, Chanella, several years ago. She had since passed and I still felt that hollow feeling when I thought of her laugh. On mornings when I select this cup,  Chanella and I would have a little heart to heart over coffee in that still,  early part of the day. Now the handle was in pieces, oh my. I washed and rinsed the cup, gathered the handle segments and placed them in the cup.  I could not complete the thought of tossing the cup away. I doubted any glue to restore wholeness or reasonable usefulness. I apologized to no one in particular, but addressed the apology to Chanella. The cup read “Celebrate the Day”. I would hear “Girrrrl, you know it is up to us to celebrate this day!”, always in Chanella’s voice. When she gave me the cup she repeated this several times, now this tape plays whenever I rest my sight upon the cup– it is a lovely memory.

Now the handle to the cup is in pieces, oh my, what do you do? I couldn’t bear to throw away the cup. I realize I was not throwing away Chanella, but there was some type of emotional conflict as I pondered the cup falling in to the garbage can. We lost her too soon in my opinion, I wanted to keep the cup. Gorilla Glue. The alignment is off a bit and care must be taken as I grasp the handle; however, I am grateful to have preserved the memory and certainly do “Celebrate the Day!” I suggest you do too.

Tomatoes

I like homegrown tomatoes. The word tomato brings to mind the feeling of a homegrown beauty in my hand, the weight, the slight softness and most certainly the delightful unmistakable scent. My mind wanders to the flavor, the sweet and slightly sharp distinct tangy taste. Summertime at the farmers market has me heading straight for the Beefsteak, Big Boys types. These are my favorite summer varieties. However, this year I really have enjoyed the Cherokee Purples. The color is a beautiful deep red, purple and sometimes a bit of green speckled in. The flavor is rich. Try one out, if you can get your hands on one, you might just find a new friend. Tomato season triggers a time of planning for the Tomato Canning Event in Guthrie, Kentucky. This is one of my favorite summer activities. A date is set, Catherine will purchase several boxes of tomatoes grown by the local Amish, I load quick and easy meals and head north. The workflow has become a natural part of our friendship, the washing, boiling, peeling and cutting of the fruit; the washing and sanitizing of the jars and lids. The process is comforting. We put on appropriate canning music and just begin the day, moving through each step. We catch up, gossip and laugh until have to break for tissues or . . . At the end of the afternoon we have before us a lovely collection of jars filled with memories and some of the best eating that Kentucky soil offers. The Event has come to a close, our feet and backs are tired. Now it is time to sit on the porch and see how the outside has fared this hot day as we enjoyed the comfort of air conditioning and tomatoes. Our hands are pink and soft, beneficiaries of the passive spa treatment for this day’s labor. It’s a lot of effort, but all tasks with a friend will offer comfort as time passes at an easy pace. The fruit in our jars is as lovely as the fruit of a great relationship. Thank you Catherine.

If you want to learn more about canning, Ball is  good place to start. Their Ball Blue Book is an excellent guide for canning.

Lessons

My father is alive; we enjoy sharing photography tips, hiking and talking about how God shows up in our lives. David, or Dave is a true disciple, he praises, teaches and serves. His faith is center to his life and being around him, you know there is this “something” you may not be able to determine what “it” is, but you can sense something, and it is good. “Dr. Dave’s” career as a professor is woven in him, it is what he does; even in retirement it is his calling. He writes and speaks in outlines – this trait makes me smile, he is ever the teacher. My father introduced me to photography. The simple act of sharing his camera with me has stirred a passion for creating that I now share with others. Dave is a gardener, he grows fruits and vegetables for his family, the neighbors and always plans to grow extra for the Hungry Helper Market at their church. His blueberries are legendary in and sought after in their circles of friends. I was taught to plant and harvest from a young age, skills that serve me well today. Thank you Dad for being our teacher with words and deeds for all the lessons, oh yeah and the blueberries.

Here are few quotes I found on line about fathers, which ones fits yours?

My father didn’t tell me how to live; he lived, and let me watch him do it.  ~Clarence Budington Kelland

“Small boy’s definition of Father’s Day: It’s just like Mother’s Day only you don’t spend so much.” ~ Unknown

Fatherhood is pretending the present you love most is soap-on-a-rope.  ~Bill Cosby

Sometimes the poorest man leaves his children the richest inheritance.  ~Ruth E. Renkel

“A father is a guy who has snapshots in his wallet where his money used to be.” ~ Unknown

By the time a man realizes that maybe his father was right, he usually has a son who thinks he’s wrong.” ~ Charles Wadsworth

Odysseus

Greyhounds. Fast as lightning on the race track, power nappers in the home. Ody was our third adopted greyhound and second male, he passed over the rainbow bridge this week, he was over 13 years old. Ody was just a cool dog, his racing name was Oshgosh Gorilla and he truly was a gentle giant. He moved with ease and grace and loved to nap.  He taught me to deal with anything that happened with a sigh and acceptance. He was the only one who could put the alpha sister greyhound Nellie in her place without being aggressive, he just looked at her with an innocent inquisitive look, as if to say “and . . . “. He was such a caretaker for Bunny, our beautiful tabby as she aged, I will always remember how he could so gently lie down to share the sunny spot, taking care not to disturb her.  This is one of my favorite photos of him. Those “flying nun ears” were just so festive when he perked them up – that always made me smile.  I encouraged them to perk up often. My dogs are teachers, reminding me to slow down and take pleasure in the simple things, coming home, a touch, treats and the sheer joy of a quick sprint to see how fast I can run.