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.
John’s aim was to get grandson Nathaniel back to Long Island in plenty of time to go to school Monday. He dropped him off at 3 in the morning. I wondered if Nate went to bed for two more hours or if he stayed awake and unpacked.
John slept a few hours before having breakfast with his sister Barbara and Thom. By noon he picked up our friends Karen and Al and began the long trek back to North Carolina. About 2 am Tuesday the three of them tiptoed in our house and went to bed without waking me. Despite the short night, Karen was already up and dressed when I came out to walk. John quickly put himself together, and we three went to the creek. The new camera is learning the drill, that the first walk of a visit should be recorded beside the stream.
Karen and Anne at the creek
Our activity of the day was walking Main Street in Waynesville. The fellows sat on a bench in the sun while we ducked into a cooking store, looking for a French butter tub. Theirs were expensive. Al spotted a sign for a bookstore in the next street, one we had never noticed before. The shop was crammed with books, nooks, and chairs. Al bought an item or so. Going back to Main Street, we looked in windows until we were almost back to our car. The men again sat outside while we went in Mast General. That store is a favorite of mine, and it was an instant hit with Karen. The wooden floors creaked with every step. We passed the clothing area and went straight downstairs for the butter tub. There were two styles, both less expensive than those in the kitchen store. That was an easy sale. On the way home, we pushed Al to go into a cigar store.
When we lived on Long Island, we celebrated Christmas with Karen and Al several days after the 25th. They always kindly said they liked our left-over menu. The food was fresh, but the menu repeated. We had that meal for old time’s sake. Chicken and stuffing was the main dish, with beans and a frozen cranberry salad on the side. The finale was a flamed Christmas pudding with brandy butter. What a delight it was to talk with them all day long!
I had almost finished cleaning the house when neighbor Logan (7) knocked on the door. We discussed things to do without coming to a meeting of the minds. His favorite game is checkers. I fell back on the slogan of my youth, “Just say no.” The saying applied to drugs back in the day, but I apply it to games of strategy. My brain never did work that way, and age did not improve it. We watched a TV show together for half an hour and came back to the old question of what to do next. He spied the balloon left in the living room a few days ago. We played with it until it landed on the plants. As Logan put his hands on it, the balloon blew up in his face, startling both of us.
“I’ll pick up the pieces. Do you want to get another balloon?” I asked. He ran to the closet, picking another blue one. It took me about ten times longer to tie a knot in it than the amount of time Logan spent blowing it up. I used to be able to do that easily. It could have something to do with the amount of saliva on it. Does anyone have a good suggestion for sealing a slobbery balloon? The answer is not to do the blowing myself, because Logan loves to do it.
We batted the balloon back and forth, trying to keep it from landing on the floor. When Logan tired of that, we just sat and talked. I have never understood more than half of what he said, so this time I explained that I didn’t hear well. I said I needed for him to face me so I could see his lips, and I needed him to speak louder. It worked like a charm!!! He wanted to communicate enough to make it work. I loved hearing him talk about this past weekend, especially the indoor water park.
With wide arm movements, he said, “I was on the TORNADO slide!!”
He also enjoyed arcade games and watching cartoons with other children in the group. When Bob came to get him, he told me a bit more about the activities. It seems it was a terrific weekend for all.
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?
