Seeing the De'il

Late one night just before going to bed, I walked outside for some air, and on my way back in, someting sinister caught my eye. There was a bat flying back and forth from our kitchen to our living room. Time. Stood. Still. Until that moment I would have told you that I wasnt afraid of bats, oh no, I just love to see them flying around at night when we're camping. Outside. At a safe distance. Inside, is, I find, another matter. I discovered that I am actually quite terrified of bats when they share the same enclosure with me, and are in close proximity to my hair. I have alot of hair. Upon sight of the bat in my house, I immediately imagined the bat (the HUGE bat) tangled up in my tresses, fighting to escape, and biting me repeatedly in the process (thus giving me rabies, and the plague, and every other disease known to man) so instead of entering and bringing this idea to reality, I began shouting for my husband, who had already gone to bed. During the time I was waiting for him to come save me I propped the door open in hopes that the bat would rather be outside than in, thus flying out by his own accord. In the time it took my husband to get up, wondering groggily what was going on, the bat was nowhere to be found. He assumed that the bat had flown out while I wasnt looking. I assumed the evil vermin was hiding in the curtains, so we made a thorough check of the house, shaking out curtains and rattling couches, looking in closets, and in every dark corner. No bat. And though he denies it, I think my husband thought Id finally lost it. Too excited to go to sleep, I laid down to read. Just as I started getting sleepy I heard our ceiling fan making a strange whooshing sound and looked up. The black devil! He wasnt just in my house, now he was in my inner sanctum! I did the only smart thing there was to do; I covered my head and screamed to the top of my lungs that he was back. My husband jumped out of bed (no choice but to believe me this time!) and chased the bat from our room. From across the house I could hear my daughter worriedly asking, "Mom? Whats wrong?" but before I could tell her to flee from the house and save herself, she began screaming to the top of her lungs. The bat had made its journey from our bedroom, through our boys' bedroom, and into hers. It travelled this path for about an hour. Or, ok, more like a minute (lets face it, in 'bat in the house' time, this does indeed equal an hour. At least.) Finally, my husband was able to get it closed out of the bedrooms. I layed there in the darkness, head still covered, and completely petrified as he worked on shooing it the rest of the way out of the house. He returned a few minutes later and assured me that the problem had been taken care of as he'd 'heard it whoosh by his head after opening the door, and then saw it fly by as he stood outside'. Good. No sleep in sight, I pulled my book back out and began to read again. Oh, the evil wing'ed deceptor. Just as I was dozing off I heard the 'fan' noise again, and turned to see that Draculla had indeed returned for blood. This time my husband jumped to action just in time to see him fly into the boys' bedroom and hit my oldest son squarely in the forehead as he sat up in his top bunk. My son's reaction to this incident? A sleepy mumbling of the words, "He hit me." after which was proceeded promptly by his laying back down and going directly back to sleep. (Teenage boys. 'Nuff said.) Once again my husband returned to the bedroom uttering the uber reassuring words, "Im almost sure this time!" Great. I read for another hour. Nothing. Another 30 minutes. Still nothing. So I finally went begrudgingly to sleep, and managed to stay so for what was left of the night. And this, is how the story ends: Recently, with the weather cooling we've been having critter problems; spiders that want to snuggle up with us in the bed, mice unwelcomely making themselves at home in our home, etc. so we have mouse traps set for the larger of the afore said beasties, and the next morning when my husband awoke, he came to me saying, "Well, guess what was in the mouse trap?" It wasnt a mouse.

Putting in my two scents

Someone asked what my favorite scents are, and when I starting thinking, I could clearly smell them, one by one. Scents are a big deal to me. Sometimes, I'll catch a whiff of something that immediately jerks me back to another place and time in a flash, with no regard as to whether that place was good or bad. When its a good memory that Im pulled into, I hold on to every detail of that precious re-visit for as long as I possibly can. Scents can also lighten my mood intensely, or, no surprises here; have an intense allure. Isnt that why we wear good smelling things for our mate? Its all very instinctive and well planned out by our creator. Sometimes my sensitivity to different smells is even mildly useful in regards to health; I can smell when I have a cold coming on, and sometimes I can even smell sickness in someone else before theyre actually feeling ill. Obviously I cant prevent an illness by knowing its there, but I can prevent giving or getting a cold with this nifty pre-symptom information.

Im sure most of us are similarly affected by our sense of smell, but have you ever thought about what made a certain scent special to you, and why? It sounds simplistic and it is, but Ive learned alot about myself by doing nothing more than being a little more mindful of the inner workings of my body rather than taking them for granted.

Here are a a few of my favorite scents; crab apple blooms, honeysuckle, the breath of someone when they first come in from being outside on a cool day, line dried clothes, cloves, cinnamon, apple cider in the making, smoke & honey mingled together on a warm day (Ive grown up around bee keepers), newly fallen leaves in autumn, the skin of someone I love, apple or pine wood fires, sassafras or spicewood tea brewing, and fresh mint.

Blessings dont always come wrapped in pretty packages

I grew up surrounded by old fashioned mountain survivalists, one or two bikers of the like you dont see very often these days, and just good ole, small town people in general. The kind of folk who enjoy a kind of freedom of spirit that everyone wishes for. People who value good morals. Trustworthy folk. It was a life that meant you worked hard, minded your own business. People were loyal to their friends, most were kind and generous, courteous and respectful, genuine, and, not the type you’d want mad at you. I once thought the whole world was like that, but as you know, its not.

I left those good people, and times behind too early. I wanted to grow up fast, get out of this small town and live, and I did. And my life changed. When I was 15 I had a baby girl.

When I got my license I decided to go to a Harley rally. I’d never been to one alone before and had always been under the impression that admission was free, but I was about to receive a rude awakening. I was nearly 17. I strode up to the entrance in my short cut-off blue jean shorts, belly shirt, knee high moccasins, and one year old perched neatly on my hip. One cute & clueless little country bumpkin biker child & baby; check. Pervy 30something gate keeper unashamedly gawks at me & asks for my $20 entrance fee. When I tell him I dont have it he rubs his chin and contemplates for a moment, “Well give me a tit shot, and I’ll let you in anyway.” How kind. And unfortunately, already having learned by that tender age what monsters men can be, I was only momentarily shocked, and I gave him instead a good look at my back side walking away. As I was going I felt an arm slip through mine. I turned around, ready to fight, and looked up into the face of a warmly smiling, older, red-headed, wooly booger of a man who simply says to me, “Come on, I’ll walk you in.” I’d noticed him standing by the gate, but never wouldve guessed he would be like one of the men I had adored in my childhood. As we approached the man who wanted the 'tit shot', my escort flared his nostrils and glared daringly at him. No words couldve been as effective as that look that clearly asked in its silence, “Do you want to say something now?” The previously bold man melted into a speechless stupor, and my companion and I passed through the gate, arms linked, no further confrontation necessary.

That was the just the beginning of one really great day. To make the story short, the gentleman who escorted me in was the president of a Biker club. My daughter and I were treated like VIPs all day. We went back stage and met the bands, we were fed and looked after and entertained greatly. At the end of the day this man gave me his number and asked me to keep in touch. He also offered me gas money, which I refused. Then he and his friends offered to follow us as far as they were going on our route home to make sure we made it back without any problems, and they did. These were the kind of people that I had known as a little girl.

That day I decided maybe I could start trusting people again, my already tired faith in humanity had been greatly restored. A beautiful soul is a real treasure, often well hidden beneath a burly, mean looking shell. Its an old lesson, but one worth repeating; its unwise to depend solely upon your eyes to guide you. And for heavens sake children, dont try to grow up so fast. Learning everything the hard way hurts.

The Little Moments That Define Life

Photo by Masahiro Miyasaka

I went to my brothers place just after dark tonight to take him a plate of food from the 'way too big' supper I'd made. (His comment this afternoon when I asked him to do yoga with me ((he responded "Huh? Oh, I like blueberry yoga")) let me know he probably wouldnt object to a home cooked meal! lol) His lights were off so I knew he must be napping, but I decided to leave the plate anyway.

As soon as I turned the jeep off & stepped out, I noticed in the back field of my grannies old place the black silhouettes of people laughing & having fun in the shadow of a magnificent orange bonfire. High in the sky above them were almost constantly pulsating bright streaks of silent, distant lightning creating a magical fireworks show.

As my eyes adjusted more to the darkness I paused to take in even more of my surroundings. I saw that closer to my brothers place, around the outskirts of the fields & on the dark mountainsides beyond, the trees were so full of dancing lightning bugs that it looked like Christmastime.

Playing in my loose hair was a cool, refreshing breeze that begged more attention, so I closed my eyes & took a deep breath. I was rewarded with the fresh sweet scent of the new hay that had been mowed in the heat of the day and was now beginning to dry.

The silent gaps between the far away laughter at the bonfire were being filled with the melodic love songs of the crickets & frogs & I thought to myself, this is bliss.

Out of nowhere at the end of my day came this unexpected, unfathomably perfect moment & it felt like I was being allowed to observe a little piece of what heaven might be like. God really knows how to pick a great gift.

5-28-2010

True Love

(right click here to listen to the song 'Buckets of Rain' in new tab.)

The photo above pictures a young couple in love. Not just any young couple though; this is my granny & her fiance, Frank, back in the early part of the 1930's. They lived in Tennessee & since times were hard, Frank often had to leave town in search of work. He did his best to save up enough money for he & my granny to get married & start their new life together, but on one of Franks long out-of-town trips, something happened.

My pawpaw came along.

I'll never forget my granny telling me the story of how she & my pawpaw met. He was working for the forest service & came to her town for a job while Frank was away (ironic huh?). He was good looking & charming & all the girls were after him, she said. But he was only interested in one. He swept her off her feet & they fell head over heels in love in just the couple of short weeks he'd been there, but because he lived here in North Carolina & his job in Tennessee was ending soon, the only way they could keep seeing each other was if they got married. So that's just what they did.

My grandparents lived a long & happy life together. They built a house & had a farm & raised four children together. And after they'd spent all those long years together, when they were in their 80's, my pawpaw passed away.

That might seem like the end of the story, but it's not.

A few weeks later the phone rang, it was Frank. He'd been married too (his wife had also recently passed) & they had a family, but he just never quite got over my granny. He'd kept up with her for all of those years and had seen my pawpaws obituary in the paper. He offered his condolences & asked if he could keep in touch. He called once or twice a week for a couple of months before asking my granny if he could court her again. (for those of you who may not know, 'courting' was the term for dating, back in the day.) She accepted his offer & the next day he came all the way from Tennessee to see her. He made the trip home that night & came back again the very next day, and over the next few weeks, that became the routine, even though this man was in his 80's! I guess love lent him the energy :)

They only 'courted' for a few weeks before he asked her, once again, to marry him. She said yes & they were married shortly thereafter & spent the last 2 years of his life together, loving each other like the teenagers they were the last time they'd known each other. Talk about undying love! Ive always thought that was one of the most romantic stories that I've ever heard.

It says alot about the power of love.

Concerning Boys.

(right click here to listen to 'Bad Little Boy' in a new tab.)

When I was growing up, my parents liked to use the boogeyman as a kind of scare tactic babysitter. They'd say things like, "If you go out of the yard the boogeyman'll getcha!" and that usually worked pretty well to keep us where we were supposed to be. Yep, usually.

When my brother was 3, he was like most young boys are; insatiably curious. That makes for alot of excitement in a mother's life. One day after he'd gone out of the yard for what seemed like the hundreth time, my mom decided it was time he learned his lesson once and for all, so she went inside & got an old fur coat. She snuck out into the woods close to where she spotted him hiding out, got down on all fours & covered herself with the coat. She then began crawling toward him making horrible, frightening sounds. He ran away, so she thought she (and the boogeyman) had won. She was wrong.

A few moments later (before she even had time to pull her make-do disguise off) my brother came running back as fast as his little feet would carry him, pitchfork in hand, screaming "IM GONNA GET THE BOOGEYMAN!!!"

All I can say is, its a good thing mom was so agile.

One day, not too much later, mom looked up from washing dishes & didnt see my brother in the yard so she made what she thought would be a quick trip outside to check on him. He was nowhere to be seen. She began calling his name, but got no answer. She yelled louder, still nothing. At that point she frantically began screaming for him & ran over to the neighbors house to ask if they'd seen him, but no one had so they began searching for him as well. More people in our neighborhood soon came out as they heard the commotion & joined in the hunt for my brother, but just as my frightened & distraught mother had given up finding him quickly & headed back to the house to call the police, my brother crawled out from under the house where he'd been hiding, and laughing hysterically, pointed & said, "Mama went that way, and that way, and that way!"

Boys.

(Ok, maybe I wasnt an angel myself, but us girls, we do things a little differently- but thats a story for another day)

The Gift

(right click here to listen to the song 'Wild Mountain Honey' in a new tab.)

My pawpaw (or grandfather, to those of you unfamiliar with my southern dialect) was a beekeeper. He died when I was 8 & that is one of the few things I remember clearly about him, his bee 'charm'.

On a summer day about 4 years ago I walked outside & heard a low rumbling drone- I followed the sound to the edge of our yard & saw that in one of the top limbs of a huge poplar tree was a fat black mass of bees. I was in awe. I sat on the front porch for hours waiting to see what they were going to do & they never moved.

I ended up forgetting about them until about a week later, when we discovered that they had taken up residence in the wall of our old barn; we only use the barn for storage these days & I was ok with them being there as soon as I found out that they were honey bees. I kind of felt like my pawpaw sent them to me.

They stayed there peacefully for 3 years before my brother decided that he wanted to try his hand at beekeeping, and came to get them. I was heartbroken about disturbing them, but I felt like I should let him have the chance, so he came with a couple of his friends who keep bees & pried open the wall of the barn to find that the whole wall was filled with honey. I can still close my eyes & smell the heavenly aroma of the warm honey mingled with the beekeepers smoke- no perfume could ever begin to compare.

Everyone had on bee suits but me & they got stung several times, but I guess I have my pawpaws bee charm because I never did. Of course I wasnt freaking out when they buzzed by me like my brother did either haha!

To make this story short I will cut to the end & tell you that sadly, the bees did not live once they were moved. But I still hold onto the idea that they were a gift from my pawpaw, and so I can still smile.

I still have a ton of the honey they left behind too :)