GIFTS

GIFTS

Sometimes the greatest gifts you receive are the unintentional ones. I never ever thought I would own a Beagle. Then Joey came into my life. A couple of years later Joey found Ralphie emancipated in a briar patch. They are old and winding down now; but they both still have the heart they have always had. Poor Joey was down in the back and legs all summer. I had to carry him around everywhere we went. That was from May until September. He has been doing pretty well since then until this week. He has been lame in one back leg.

We stopped at a place where we normally go for walks about 52 times per year. Anything to be seen there; we have already seen. I left the camera in the truck this time; of course. We walked awhile and got to the waterhole they always get a drink from. There was a WalMart bag in the water; therefore Joey would not drink from it. He wanted to go to the river so there we went; him limping & hobbling down the steep rocky hill to the river. While he was drinking his head suddenly came up. He smelled something and they both started sniffing & snorting around. Joey insisted in heading upstream; so we went along with him.

They were trailing something as they always are on 30 foot leashes as always. Joey is limping and sniffing. Ralphie is getting hung up as always. Joey went over one log; Ralphie went under the same log, so I’m untangling again. I see Joey 25 feet ahead start over top of a BIG log and he lets out a high pitched scream. I thought that was it he either just broke his back or his hip had come out of its socket. Figured Oh, Shit. Then Ralphie bellowed and Joey was full steam ahead. I was running behind them for about 150 yards until Ralphie got tangled in the rhododendron really bad. I had to get him undone as a one point he was hanging by his neck and still bellowing and trying to go. I had to let go of Joey’s leash at that point.

I got Ralphie loose from the tangle and could still hear Joey screaming up ahead. By the time we got to Joey again..He had a 200 pound bear up a poplar tree..They screamed at the bottom of the tree and Joey yes, crippled up joey was climbing 6 feet up the tree with every attempt.. They got tired and couldn’t bark any more and we went limping & hobbling back to the truck. The chase only lasted about 300 yards before Joey treed him!! I looked back when we were about halfway to the truck and saw the bear cross the road and head to higher ground. The photo is from when we got back to the truck, They don't appear to be any worse off than when we started out & I'm the only one bleeding! So all is good.

Yep, some gifts you do not plan on ever getting..But, they happen anyway..Merry Christmas..

WHEN ASTERS BLOOM

WHEN ASTERS BLOOM

I really enjoy the period starting, now. The waning days of summer are some of the best days. Not too hot and not too cold; days and nights feel about right. The hints of fall are more frequent. Summers’ bounty is put away and cover crops are sown. It just feels good when leaves on the mountain begin to glow. I know what is in store; but that is two and a half months away. I don’t look forward to that. We will most likely pay for the previous mild winter. We will not get lucky two years in a row.

New England Asters are one of my favorite wildflowers; they tend to brighten your day when not much else is going on. These late bloomers are a sure sign that autumn is near. Flowers of purple or pink blowing in the breeze; often side by side. Pick a favorite color, it’s a hard choice; but both are prettier than goldenrods. Yes, they brighten the roadsides and fields as most other flowers fade away. We used to have a beautiful stand about a half of a mile away from my house. They were always a stunning sight against a cut stone wall. Purple and pink flowering plants were nicely intermixed. The state road cut them down a few years ago; just as they were beginning to bloom. They never came back, nothing there now but the cut stone wall. Yep, like I always say; can’t have nothing good around here. Oh, well; there are more out there. Just like everything else; you just have to go find them. Nothing stays the same; especially in these parts.

I have been getting that sick, deep in the gut feeling more and more. Every day I see more open space where trees once stood and critters actually lived. I am referring to the beginnings of the construction of Route 48 in Tucker County. Yes, it makes me nauseous to see the destruction in one of the few undeveloped regions we have left. I really don’t like to think about where I believe it may go once it crosses Rte. 72. Yep, every time I find an area to my liking; something happens to it. That something is never good. I’m really glad that I’m getting old enough to not let this stuff really bother me. I am also glad that I was able to enjoy the things the mountains had to offer; decades ago. I guess I’ve been there and done it. I’m grateful I did. I really do not see good things ahead. I only see a wind-swept road that will never be able to be maintained. That is it.

Truthfully, in the grand scheme of things ahead I do not worry much about what is going to happen. I just hate the destruction of reasonably pristine areas in the name of progress. I just ask who the progress will benefit. I still cannot see who benefitted from all of the windmill projects. I imagine if someone actually did; they live far, far away. They sure do not have to stare at the cluttered skyline every day.

Oh well, enough is enough. The way I figure it now; no matter if you are looking at a season in the year or a place in your life: When The Asters Bloom; is not a bad place to be.

This is my September 2017 article for Two-lane Livin (c)2017 High Virginia Outdoors All Rights Reserved Photo (c) High Virginia Images All Rights reserved

A SHINY NEW YEAR

A SHINY NEW YEAR

Once upon a time, long long ago I used to live in three distinct regions every year. I did that for quite a while, too. The worst part; other than packing and driving, was regional dialect adjustment. It usually took me a couple of weeks before I could understand the locals; wherever it may have been. My normal route would take me from Appalachian American to the Deep South and then to the salt marsh dialect of the Maryland and Virginia Eastern Shore. Major adjustment was needed with each stop.

One conversation that really stood out was a park ranger telling me about the zinc he put in his house. The best I could get out of what he was telling me was that he spent the weekend painting his bathroom or kitchen with zinc. My mind was trying to get sense out of the conversation and the best I could come up with was that maybe it was something people on the Eastern Shore did because of the marshy environment. I had him painting his walls and floor with some kind of zinc paint. I came to find out that all he had done was replace a kitchen sink. My ears were hearing one thing and my mind was trying to get something logical out of what I was hearing.

The Deep South never gave me as much trouble; except for certain words or phrases I had to figure out. One was the pronunciation of Albany, GA. One of the people I worked for pronounced it Al-BANE-EEE. I never could get used to that. The one bright spot I had during my time down there was that I worked with a Cajun from way south of New Orleans and he didn’t know what anyone was saying, either. We spent a lot of time trying to figure stuff out. I’m not even going to go into the Cajun stuff other than to say that I sure do not need the captions they show on Swamp People.

Our boss was a Florida cowboy, ex-professional bull rider who was highly excitable and had a sharp high pitched voice. His family had sold their orange groves and moved to Alabama when all the Yankees started taking over Florida. I think you are getting the picture, now. The Ragin Cajun & I are down there7 months out of the year trying to pick words out from a central Florida cowboy and a bunch of central Alabama residents; both Caucasian and African American. I know many of them thought we were complete idiots. The reality was we had to figure out what everyone was talking about; before we could react. The understanding would eventually come and as the years went on it got a bit easier. But, still the first week or so on new turf was usually fairly tough.

There was one word that we could never figure out and the cowboy used it in a phrase quite often. It was always preceded with That’s a and ended with one. We could never get that 3^rd word. It became frustrating and was our inside joke. Every time he would say it; we would just grin and shrug. It could come out at any time, too You could be handling money, a car might pass by, a pretty girl might walk by and he would say it. I finally asked his brother; whose speech was slowed down a bit from falling off too many bulls. He said its Shiny (as in shiny new, new or pretty). Mystery solved.

I Hope You All Have A Shiny New Year

This is my January 2017 article for Two-Lane Livin (c) High Virginia Outdoors ALL Rights Reserved Photos (c) High Virginia Images                                                                              

MARCH MADNESS

Yes, March makes me mad. April usually does, too. You start hearing how many days it is until spring; before January is over with. I just crunched a few numbers and I have actually lived around 31% of my life where spring actually happens on March 20. That doesn’t happen within 800 miles of here. We can only wish or hope, but neither ever gets us too far.

We tend to get a little excited when we hear the Wood Frogs and Spring Peepers. But, we always know they will get frozen over. Yes, it happens every year there are signs of life for brief periods and then all is white again. Pussy Willow catkins are soft and fuzzy; covered with yellow pollen. Honey bees are busy in the afternoon sun and then the next day all is encrusted in ice. The poor little catkins hang on; damp and droopy. They never look happy again.

Skunk Cabbage is pretty tough and it keeps on trying to show its true colors. Try it does until it succumbs to the freezes. Often it just wilts into the mud and waits. Freeze, thaw, freeze and thaw over and over; it takes a toll on all involved. Spring will come if we can all hold on. The wait is excruciating. When will it stick and stay? Nobody knows.

Sometime during the month we will get that perfect 5 day period. The fishing rods and rototillers will emerge from hibernation. We want to believe that the cold is over. We hurry up and plant some sugar snaps. We hope the cold doesn’t get them before they get a chance to germinate. The cold always wins. Poor little broccoli and cabbage plants sit in a snowy dormancy; waiting on some sunny days. They never come and we plant again or deal with stunted plants that have given up.

We hit the trout streams hoping for some action. The fish are there; seemingly stacked upon each other. Lethargic fish that is. You can stand there for hours bouncing bait off their noses. They will not move. When it is warm enough to fish it is also warm enough for that dreaded snow-melt to be flowing into the stream. Oh well, it was a nice day for a ride into the mountains and you don’t have to worry about cleaning fish when you get home. On the bright side; at least you could afford the gas without feeling guilty about driving so far.

March is about waiting for better things to come. Serviceberries will be the first to bloom and then the cycle will begin. When? That depends; it might be March or it may be April. The only thing we can do is wait and wait we do. One day we will look up a steep hill and see the real spring green as the ramp leaves glow in the sunlight. They will come as they always do. We can only wait.

Sometime soon the woodcocks will be displaying in the evening sky in a clearing near you. The turkeys will gobble and bloodroot will bloom. I love springtime when it finally happens and I know you do too. But, for now all we can do is wait..

This is my March 2016 article for Two-Lane Livin

(c) High Virginia Outdoors Photo (c) High Virginia Images All Rights Reserved