There was snow during the night, which continued through our walking time. The temperature was well below freezing, but it was the wind that concerned us. The weather station said it was 15 mph. We went out anyway, making our ice report to neighbor Joyce. If the roads have black ice, we text Joyce to be careful going to work. The wind had been quiet, but near the stop sign it began to blow. We turned and went home, enjoying the snowy neighborhood as we walked.
The little cat accompanied us half way to the stop sign and waited for us to come back. She was in hunting mode, but would pause (paws) now and then to be petted.
We enjoyed a leisurely breakfast of Egg MacMehrling and coffee in our toasty-warm house.
I made a bizarre pot of coffee while John was taking grandson David back to college. Normally John makes a pot of coffee every morning, and we both drink it. His is dependable coffee, always the same. On the recommendation of his cardiologist, he uses three parts decaf to one part regular. I have no restrictions, so I’m glad to drink whatever he prepares.
When John goes away, though, I like to brew something different. I had a bag of mocha coffee, Walmart brand. Several times I used it in the single-serving machine, and it was fine. This time I poured water to the 10-cup level in the regular pot and estimated how much coffee to put in the basket. I pushed the “on” button and went back to reading blog posts. When the lovely aroma reached the other room, I went for a cup. Oddly, the machine was still sputtering. After all that time, only four cups had dripped into the pot! I cut it off, drank one cup that was a bit strong, and left the machine to cool off.
Had I broken the machine? Where was the missing water? It had not leaked on the counter. I picked up the machine and tilted it, thinking I’d hear water if it had escaped into the bottom somewhere. I turned it upside down. No water came out. It remains a mystery to me. Coffee powerful enough to make six cups of water disappear has got to be Sponge Coffee.
For the first time in my life, there was a plus to moving the clocks ahead. We began the adjustment around 9 pm, when I changed all the clocks I could remember. I needed a running start so that I’d go to bed earlier. Despite that, grandson David and I were nodding during Sunday School. The advantage came at 3:30 pm when John and David left on the long drive to New York. I walked back in the house and went straight to bed for a nap. It was not unusual for me to wake to an empty house, so that cushion of time eased the ache of waving goodbye.
Last week, when neighbor Bob said he should begin walking again, John told him I’d be leaving the house around 7:30 on Monday. If he and Logan walked with me, that would put them at the bus stop at the right time. I was not sure it would be light by then because of the clock change. Regardless, John texted me from Pennsylvania as my alarm went off, asking if I were going to walk. Instead of going back to sleep, I looked at the weather forecast. The map showed the clouds clearing the area, while the chart forecast 10% chance of rain. Despite the darkness outside, I walked out of the door at 7:35.
Note the prediction was for 10% CHANCE of rain. Reality was 10% rain. Water fell from the sky at 10% of the rate it COULD HAVE fallen if it had set its mind to it. I put my hood up for a short while. That limits vision, so I let the drizzle fall on my head for the most part.
Note to self: You’d need to be striding out at the appointed time. You saw the bus chug up the hill and pause for Logan, who would not have made it walking with you.
Grandson David could not get the Valparaiso Chorale out of his mind. We talked about that fantastic choir all the way home from the concert on Tuesday. The itinerary was on the brochure, and he knew the next performance was on Thursday in Charleston.
He said, “I would REALLY like to hear that choir again.” He repeated the statement several times, until I realized he had an intense longing to go to Charleston. John heard it, but like me, did not react to it. We talked about it while walking Thursday morning.
After breakfast on Thursday, John asked him if he wanted to go. Looking at the clock, he said, “That would mean leaving in three hours.”
David’s “YES!!!!” said it all.
I did my best to keep my face from showing disapproval. A four-hour drive for a two-hour concert? Nah! Not worth it! We had planned to go out for our main meal, so I had to quickly devise a menu and begin cooking. They ate and left.
Replaying the words in my head, I remembered the extreme excitement in David’s voice. When John outlined the trip, I knew John had caught David’s exuberance and challenge to do the impossible. They were dragon-slayers on a mission! I was glad I had kept my mouth shut and happy they went. Turning the focus from the past, I looked to the future. I know that David will NEVER forget the day his grandpa dropped everything to make their last-minute dream come true.
I was in bed long before they came home. The trip had taken 12 hours. As we walked the next morning, John told me the highlights of the adventure. They found the church in the old section of Charleston 20 minutes before the program began. There was even parking on the street nearby! The pastor was greeting people at the door. Knowing they were strangers, he asked how they knew about it. John explained that they heard the choir two days before and longed to hear it again. During the break in the middle of the program, the pastor announced that people had come from North Carolina to be there. The music itself was a little different because it was in a different building. John and David sat very close to the front this time and could hear individual singers. After it was over, they chatted with the tour director whom we had seen on Tuesday. When the man found out David goes to Concordia Bronxville, he said he knew people there. He mentioned two names and fished for the third. David supplied the last name of the one the man couldn’t recall. And yes, David did know them.
The photo for today is of David holding a large barbecue sandwich at Haywood Smokehouse. I didn’t think he could get his mouth around it, but he did so happily.
John mentioned the forecast the night before, but I didn’t get excited about snow. I said, “Even though I love snow, I’m not pulling for it now – not with daffodils and Bradford pear trees blooming.”
He agreed with my sentiments, and we thought no more about it. I stayed up much too late, watching a screen-saver slide show with grandson David. I suggested he pull up videos of the Valparaiso choir on the computer so that he could recognize faces of singers we had just seen. He, with his young eyes, spotted them easily on his phone. I didn’t move away from the monitor quickly enough, and the old photos began their parade. We got hooked. The program randomly chooses from all the pictures I have taken since 1962. I didn’t go to bed until 1:30.
Before the alarm went off, I heard a text message ding my phone. No matter what it was, it could wait. Too bad I didn’t get up. It was a message I would like to have seen immediately. Daughter Kate texted from New Jersey that schools were closing, and she might get 10 inches of snow. Glancing out the front window, I saw white and jumped to the conclusion we were in heavy fog. When I flung back the glass door curtains, I saw SNOW! It was already sticking to the deck. I said to myself, “ Hurry! Hurry! Get your clothes on and get out there to walk!” John and I are well-matched. He was thinking the same thing.
We were half way to the stop sign when blue sky loomed on the horizon. I whipped out my phone and said I was going to take a picture, wanting to get the snow behind us and not the blue sky. In addition, I wanted friend Karen to see the hat she made me, covered with snow. I took a couple of shots and turned the phone to look at them. “John!” I demanded. “Why did you hide?”
Now John is a good husband, one who does not intentionally antagonize his wife, even about photographs. He said, “I thought you were just getting yourself. I didn’t know I was in it.”
His statement had a ring of truth. My hands were cold, so I laughed as we continued walking. He was probably thinking, “Whew! Ducked that one!”
Here is the first photo. What do you think? Did he see the camera aimed as us and take cover????
I’m convinced the clouds read my thoughts about not pulling for snow. Note to self: mentally push snow away so you’ll get more.
The blue sky did not win that battle, after all. We got more snow after we got home, and I enjoyed watching every flake. Snow blanked out the mountains as the sun beamed on the pasture. Flakes showed against the brown post. Yea, Snow!
We had a pleasant day with grandson David. I shopped at the supermarket while David and John got haircuts. They came back for me in time to go through the checkout and chat with Laura, our favorite cashier. Late in the afternoon, we ate barbecue sandwiches on the way to Asheville, and a number of people will be glad I didn’t stalk the family with my camera. There was one picture-worthy moment, sadly unrecorded. David filled our cones with free soft ice cream, swirling the ice cream to make it three times taller than the little cone. The last time I tried that, I had to catch the top with my fingers.
We don’t find Asheville to be a user-friendly city, so we went quite early to get a parking place. The reward was a free spot in the church parking lot. We were at the Basilica of St. Lawrence to hear the touring choir of Valparaiso University. David was eager to hear them, because he has been in the tour choir of his college. For him, this was a busman’s holiday. Having nothing more to do, the camera took David’s image at point blank range for a rather lethal shot.
The acoustics of the basilica were amazing. The round building, lined with tile, magnified sounds. The first piece was from Monteverdi’s Vespers of 1610. It was surround-sound, with the singers standing all around us. The loud, sustained chords were enough to make our senses reel. As the choir moved about the building, I noticed the students were wearing soft shoes. There were no clicks or taps on the floor, only a low hum as they walked. I was surprised that the footsteps filled the space with an undefined musical sound.
The choir was fantastic. All the music was done from memory, aside from one piece sung from the balcony. I took one quick photo, and only one, so as not to embarrass my men. As the applause began after the last piece, David was about the third person to stand up. We gave that choir a standing ovation that lasted until they filed out.
I loved David’s enthusiasm. We talked about the concert all the way home. The fellows mentioned individual singers that I hadn’t even noticed. We felt the choir was superior with dynamics, diction, animation, and precision. What a winner! David longed to hear the choir again in South Carolina. He compromised by playing YouTube videos for hours after we got home. (Search for Valparaiso University Chorale on YouTube)
Grandson David expressed interest in seeing waterfalls during his Spring break. He and John looked through a waterfall book to find some that would be easily accessible. Shunkawauken Falls, near Columbus NC, was the first. Oddly enough, it started at the top of a mountain before going under the road.
David and I were looking only at the falls as we walked up the steep road. The spectacular view was behind us. We walked across the road to see where the stream flowed and saw the vista below.
We ate lunch at a small restaurant in the town. The waitress said the fish was excellent, so John and I ordered catfish. We were not disappointed.
Key Falls was on private property behind a bed and breakfast place. Its sound was as sweet and gentle as a lullaby.
Looking Glass Falls is beside the highway and probably the easiest one to see in the area. John and I have seen it numerous times. I stayed at the top, while David went down the steps to the base of the falls. His blue jacket is easy to spot.
We stopped for falling water that had no formal name. Ice had formed on leaves to the left of the falls, and icicles dripped from a rock. David estimated it to be about 8 feet tall. After looking at it for a minute, David exclaimed, “This is where Uncle John and I filled our water bottles the time we went camping!”
From a distance we saw Bubbling Spring Branch Cascades. David wants to hike to it some day.
Our tour ended at my favorite, Sunburst Falls. It’s the closest impressive one to our house. I liked the photo with David out on the rocks, showing how tall the falls are.
I have the most marvelous hat. Friend Karen, an expert knitter, made it for me and brought it when she and Al came for their 62-hour visit. I didn’t tell her that I looked for one for two years after we moved here. I settled for one, which was better than nothing. John and I walk in rather cold weather (this season once at 0 F or -17.7 C). I have plenty of hair, but not enough to keep scalp and ears warm. I clapped this gift on my head to model it for her. If rain had not been pouring down two mornings, she would have gone walking with us to the creek on those days. I would have proudly worn this precious hat. After those rainy days and a morning of heavy wind, I finally wore it for real. First, though, came a photo with Nathaniel’s lowered mirror to show the back.
The creek is a mile away, and the temperature was 26 degrees (-3.3 C). My face wasn’t pinched with cold, even though I stopped to talk to neighbor Marla.
Wearing a hat made for me with loving hands is like having head hugs. This experience is like nothing else, AND it will last a long time. Thank you from the bottom of my heart, Karen.
Jonathan Creek wanted to strut his stuff, so here is his photo showing high water after the rains.
My shadow is there, with the head just touching the bank.
As you might guess, my unwelcome visitor was not a human being. It was our harbinger of Spring, Mr. Robin. We’ve seen many robins the last few days, and I accepted them peacefully at first. From another room I heard thumping and checked the front door to see if a neighbor was there. No one was on the porch. The next series of thumps led me to the sliding glass doors. A filthy robin was hurling itself against the glass, leaving watery poop oozing down. I did NOT take a photo, but I did wash the doors immediately when it was one degree below freezing. There are eleven splatters of poop below the glass, so I’ll be taking a giant step forward when I go outside. I’d love to flash that bird with a huge picture of an owl, or whatever else would frighten him. Nasty bird!
I have a new system for catching up on blog-reading. My choice is always to be with living people over recorded messages. Blogs will wait patiently until I am alone. I chose to spend every possible moment with our friends Karen and Al, who were here only 62 hours. John delivered them to their home after a sleepless 13 hours of driving. It’s good that John didn’t sleep, but they stayed awake through the night, too.
It would have been discouraging to count the posts, so I scrolled down to the last one I read. My new system is to read five posts each time I change activities. I needed a plan to keep track of those read. For the record, I can still count to five, but I can’t remember which number I’m on if I wait three minutes between numbers. This sounds like the beginning of a dratted story-problem, doesn’t it? Relax, it isn’t. Scattered about my messy desk were five items. I put them to the left of the keyboard, moving one to the right each time I finished reading a post.
It has been fun to use these little dust-catchers mementos. The train and rabbit came from our trip to Colorado. I bought the polished stone in Dillsboro NC and picked up the free toy army figure at a pottery in Tennessee. The fighter is to remind me to pray for our military people. The marble belonged to my dad. I have no idea how it landed here, but it can’t be contained easily – just like him when he was alive.
I told people we had one day to visit with our friends Karen and Al. They traveled with John on his ferrying missions between visits of grandsons Nathaniel and David. They arrived in the wee hours, relaxed the next day, and headed back to New York mid-afternoon of the third day. What a whirlwind! Our one full day began at the breakfast table.
Red slices on the plates are blood oranges.
They had angel biscuits the last time they visited, but this time the bread was made with White Lily flour. I doubt I’ve ever made lighter or fluffier biscuits. Perhaps the real test would have been comparing regular biscuits the day before with the yeast biscuits this day.
Knowing Karen knits all the time, I pushed a trip to the nearest yarn shop. When other alternatives were presented, her eyes lit up at the mention of a thrift shop. I was eager to share the one Nathaniel and I went to. We left John at his computer and Al smoking a cigar on the porch. On the way to town, Karen mentioned that she would look for a sewing machine. It sounded impossible, but that was one thing she would like to have for repairing things at home. We poked through all the displays of dishes, glasses, candle holders, small appliances, plumbing supplies, cookbooks, speakers, bake ware, and jewelry. I learned my lesson the last time, to not argue with myself about buying something that caught my eye. I loved two cordial glasses with angels on them and didn’t buy them. The next day Nathaniel went back with me to get them – a steal at $1 apiece! This time I picked up a cut glass cruet, a small mug with red hearts on it, and a 100-piece jigsaw for Logan.
Karen asked the wonderful volunteer behind the counter if they might possibly have a sewing machine.
“Oh, yes!” she said. “One came in yesterday, and its a really good one. Come with me.”
The woman picked up something I thought looked like a toaster. She put the tiny Elna sewing machine on the counter with a flourish, saying she knew it ran. Karen’s mind worked like lightning. It cost less than anything brand new she had seen on sale, and she would not drive down from New York if she didn’t buy it and changed her mind. The volunteer was shocked to be asked to pose with Karen in the shop. She said, “That’s a first!”
We came back home crowing about our finds. The machine worked, and Karen easily found the instruction manual on line.
Has anyone else had trouble finding good decaf coffee? Ingles discontinued Karen’s and my favorite chocolate-raspberry flavor. The fellows went with us to Smoky Mountain Coffee Roasters. I knew neighbor Connie bought decaf there, so we went with high hopes of finding something for them to take home. There were only two choices, and Karen took the Organic Peruvian Blend. My fingers are crossed that she will enjoy it.
Karen loves barbecue as much as I do, and the men were amenable to lunch at Haywood Smoke House. The restaurant has a rustic décor, although décor is too fancy a word to use in this context. When Al’s wine came in a jelly jar, I asked the men to pose while making a toast. A jelly jar, of all things!!! The food was solidly good, as always.
John asked if we wanted to go anywhere else, and Karen seconded my suggestion that we go up on the Blue Ridge Parkway. The rain clouds were low, but you never know if something beautiful will present itself. I hadn’t been up there since the beginning of December. We jumped out and took a photo of a distant waterfall. We could even hear its roar! Unfortunately, that was the ONLY view we had. The rest of that section was fog-bound. Every time something was not to our liking, we kept telling them they had to come back.
The last half day of their visit was low-key. Rain kept us from walking, so we talked instead. We ate chocolate chip-pecan coffeecake made with Angel biscuit dough for breakfast. Karen asked about the air fryer on the counter. When I found out she and Al would eat okra, I threw some frozen breaded okra in it to go with our left-overs for lunch. It was overcooked, but we ate it all, anyway. The acorn squash filled with apple was our vegetable/fruit/dessert. They needed to eat lightly, since they were soon going to have BBQ at the Due South restaurant in Christiansburg, VA.
Pushing back his chair, John said, “We’d better get going.”
“I don’t like those words,” I said.
Al suggested, “Come with us on that long ride.” He bounced up and down in his chair as if riding on a bus.
I applied the same response, “I don’t like those words.”
I hated to see them go, but we had a joyful visit, creating lots of lovely memories.
My name is Suki, my human is a writer, and this is about my world. The world according to Suki The Cat. My humans smell funny, look weird, and I can't understand a thing they say, but they feed me, so hey, what are you gonna do?
Mehrling Muse 