The Blizzard of 2008 - Blizzard with a capitol B. is upon me and I am so weary of being indoors. It is the worst in March ever, I am told. The only one I remember being worse is from 1977 when I was in Harrodsburg, Kentucky.

I walked to the end of our neighborhood, down to a tree line to sit under a big oak and watch the snow falling in a cornfield. Vainly I hoped to see deer, or perhaps a lone coyote wandering through in search of food. As I sat the snow was so very heavy. I couldn't see more than 500 feet.

It was wonderful, mystic and scary at the same time. I walked a path that normally would take me 5 minutes... it took nearly 15 to walk down and 20 to walk back. I couldn't see my path on the return trip. I thought of those brave mountain folk who settled the hills of Appalachia, those ancestors of mine who braved the trip and for some reason loved the rough mountains rather than going to the plains of Ohio or the Bluegrass. I used to wonder why they would have their barns so close to their cabins. Today as I reflected, I realized that it served a good purpose, a barn, shed or outbuilding needed to be close in weather such as this. In the short half mile I walked, I found myself off the street and into a backyard before I knew I had wandered. What if they had to make a trip out to get more firewood, to milk or feed livestock? A hundred yards could mean danger on a day like today.

I would love to be in my cabin in the mountains just now. I would sit and watch out the window at the snow, wondering what the world was doing as I sat warm from my stove. Perhaps I would make some bean soup on the top of the stove, letting it simmer for hours. Perhaps I would walk, as I did today, to see the glory of the woods round that little cabin.

Or perhaps I would dream.

I still am not ready to give up easyjournal for my story blog, but want to get more involved here to strengthen my online presence as a storyteller. To read my stories - several years worth, you can go to www.mountainstories.easyjournal.com. I have several years of stories, old ragged verse and musings on easyjournal.

This year is the big double nickles for me - 55 on March 16. I haven't been doing as much storytelling as I would like, sometimes I would love to take the cue from several friends in the storytelling community and go full time. It is just not my time to do that yet... kids in school, mortgage, etc.

I am amazed that my first post on here is 2002.

More later... life calls

Autumn Song

I revel in the fall.
I shout at the hills
Telling them it is here.
I want to dance
Through the hollers
Down the weary paths
Round the oak and hickory
Singin' the trees a lullaby
Tellin' them to rest, sleep
Wake up in the spring.
I want to reel and waltz
Round an' round
The mountain laurel
Down the deer trail
Twirlin' about
As the mornin' mist
And multicolored leaves
Swirl round my dancin' feet
As the clefts an' rises
Echo my call
Repeat my song
It is fall.

Necklace

Simple spiderweb
Damp with dew
Glistens like diamonds
On a necklace
On a backdrop
Of midnight blue sky
Hanging just beneath
The sleepy moon.

Hidden Treasures

I walked into the coolness of the woods
To get away from the heat of noonday
Following a narrow path
Winding round oak, hickory and maple
Not goin' anywhere, just walkin'
Feelin' the quiet breeze on my face
Whisperin' for me to go on
Move in, follow the path.
I paused for a moment,
Looked up into the trees
Noticin' they were already
Droppin' leaves onto the floor
Of the autumn woods.
When I walked on,
Takin' my time, drinkin' in the stillness
Feastin' on the richness
Of the day.
I walked across a narrow footbridge
Stopped in the middle
Looked down the creek
That lay below the bridge.
Minnows ran back and fort
In glee, laughin' as they fled
Playin' an everlastin' game of tag.
Leaves had already begun to fall
Layin' quiet on the surface
Of the creek, still, not movin' at all.
Water skippers danced on the water
Skating as if on a frozen pond.
I leaned on the rail, hypnotized
Wantin' to jump in and cry
"Tag, you're it."