Fish . . . or Foul? A My Town Monday Post

This lovely, serene spot on Watts Barr Lake less than 1/2 mile from my Kingston, Tennessee, home might seem the idyllic place to rest, reflect, and fish.

We even caught these dozing turtles resting on a large log:

Then, we noticed the sign. Translation: Throw All Fish Back!

I wonder, were one to catch a catfish or a bream, would one risk eating it? Not I. Not even one meal per month. (The homophone in the title of this blog post was intentional; now you know why.)

Mud and Wild Onions

We drove all over East Tennessee today, it seemed. Through the pouring rain, low fog, and construction zones, I could still see spring blooming everywhere: daffodils in nearly every yard, yellow forsythia bursting on its branches, Bradford pear trees with thick white coats, redbud trees in purple bloom, and two-tone StuffMart potted pansies neatly encircling every little tree in every fast food restaurant and convenience store parking lot. Why, then, is my yard filled with nothing more than mud and wild onions?

It makes me yearn to garden, then I remember, I do not have a green thumb. I recall the Chinese evergreen my girlfriend bought me for Christmas. "Even you can't kill that," she said. Wanna bet? I forgot to water it -- at all; dead by February. Again, another case of sheer neglect. I'm so ashamed. I'd love to have roses, but I dare not.

Still, my yard looks awful--pools of muddy sludge and sprouts of wild onions growing taller with every raindrop, sparsely dotting the landscape (or lack thereof) in front of my house. I'll make a good effort as soon as the ground hardens a little bit; mow down the onions and spread some sod. I think I'll buy one of those roll-out flower beds and lay it down in front of my house to see if it blooms. Just my luck, the rain will stop and I'll be forced to remember to water it.

Trucker News

MyHusbandTheTruckDriver was headed home from Chicago Friday on I-74, on what should have been a fairly easy trip, getting him home by noon on Saturday. Just his luck, thousands of other people decided to converge at the Shelbyville, Indiana, exit just as he was approaching the area. So what tied him up for 3 hours or more and caused him to travel 5 miles in the same time frame he should have been able to travel over 150 miles? The long-awaited grand opening of the $200 million casino at the Indiana Downs racetrack. Somehow, he didn't feel it was worth the wait.

Wordless Wednesday - Random Photos from My Cell Phone

Fort Southwest Point - A My Town Monday Post

Not unlike many key cities in the South, Kingston, Tennessee, has a famous fort. Called Fort Southwest Point, it is the only Federal era fort in Tennessee being rebuilt on its original foundation. Now completed are a barracks, a blockhouse, and 250 feet of palisades walls.

Fort Southwest Point began as a militia post known as the Southwest Point Blockhouse. The Blockhouse, which included a stockade, was built by militiamen in 1792 and commanded by Brig. General John Sevier. Constructed high on a bluff at the mouth of the Clinch River where it enters the Tennessee, it was located at the boundary of the Southwest Territory (Territory of the United States South of the River Ohio) and the Cherokee Nation, on the only east-west road between Knoxville and Nashville (known as the “North Carolina Road” or “Avery’s Trace,” constructed in 1788).

Sevier’s militia used the Blockhouse as a base from which to curtail hostilities between the Cherokee and Creek Nations and the white settlers heavily migrating into the Tennessee. In 1793, an attachment of regular Federal troops joined Sevier’s militia stationed at the Blockhouse; and by 1794, it was their duty to provide armed escorts for travelers journeying west through the Cherokee Territory from the Blockhouse to Nashville via Avery’s Trace.

With additional Federal troops being sent to Tennessee to control the escalating territorial disputes between the Euro-Americans and the Cherokee Indians, who still claimed the majority of what is now East Tennessee, Congress authorized the construction of much larger fort about ½ mile down-river from the Blockhouse. Completed in 1797, one year after admittance of Tennessee to the United States, the Fort was commanded by Colonel David Henley as agent of war and housed over 400 troops at its peak.

As the territorial wars were ended, the U.S. government shifted its role to that of protectionist with the Cherokee. The troops became the peace keepers as they escorted travelers across Cherokee territory, less in an effort to protect the migrating settlers from attack by the Cherokee and more to ensure the travelers did not illegally settle on Cherokee-owned lands. By 1801, the need for Federal troops was greatly reduced and Fort Southwest Point became the headquarters for a newly-appointed Cherokee Indian agent, Colonel Return Jonathan Meigs, who also served as military agent for Federal troops in Tennessee. By 1807, Fort Southwest Point had lost most of its more important functions but remained in use until around 1811, primarily as a supply depot for handling shipments passing overland from the east and then down-river to other posts along the expanding American frontier.

Fast-forward 150 years to the first archaeological investigations conducted at the site by the University of Tennessee in 1974 and 1975. The digs exposed portions of the foundations of six-foot buildings and netted a large cache of fort-period artifacts, as well as evidence of prehistoric habitation, including infant burial, storage pits, and sherds. The remains of a massive stone wall at the west end of the structure was also uncovered.

In 1984, the recon-struction of the Fort on its original site was begun as a cooperative effort between the Department of Conservation and the City of Kingston. As a result, the location of 13 buildings were positively identified and the Fort’s general plan was approximated. The most recent study done in 1996 by students from Roane State Community College along with the Department of Conservation revealed the details of a third major building, now known to have housed administrative and storage facilities.

Today one can visit the site of the reconstructed Fort owned and operated by the City of Kingston.

Situated high above the Clinch, Emory, and Tennessee Rivers, it offers spectacular views of Watts Barr Lake and the surrounding area. Visitors can picnic on the 30-acre site and see history come to life through candelight tours and period-dressed interpretations of life on the frontier.

An authentic 18th Century cannon is often fired at its events.

The Visitors’ Center examines the Fort’s vital
role in the westward expansion of America through an orientation video and many interpretive exhibits. The Fort today offers a learning adventure for all ages, with scheduled tours and special weekend events for the whole family; and it is free to the public (though donations are gratefully accepted).

And if you’d like a keener look into the past, keep your eyes and ears open for a ghost or two. Whether the spirits of some fallen soldiers on the frontier or the ghosts of some early settlers returning to stake their claims, they have at times made a surreal impression upon a few astute visitors who claim to have felt unseen presences or heard faint whispers and gunshots in the background.

---

“History of Southwest Point.” 21 Feb. 2009 <http://www.southwestpoint.com/>.

Smith, Samuel D. “Fort Southwest Point.” The Tennesee Encyclopedia of History and Culture. 2002. The University of Tennessee Press, Knoxville. 21 Feb. 2009 <http://tennesseeencyclopedia.net>.

"Fort Southwest Point." Wikipedia, The Free Encyclopedia. 16 Jan 2009, 07:28 UTC. 22 Feb. 2009. <http://en.wikipedia.org/w/index.php?title=Fort_Southwest_Point&oldid=264422274>.

2002-2005 John Norris Brown. Part of John Norris Brown.com. 21 Feb. 2009 <http://www.johnnorrisbrown.com/paranormal-tn/sw-point/>.

*Fort sketch from:
Smith, Samuel D. (Editor) 1993 “Fort Southwest Point Archaeological Site, Kingston, Tennessee: A Multidisciplinary Interpretation.” Tennessee Division of Environment and Conservation, Division of Archaeology, Research Series No. 9., Nashville, Tennessee.

A Bargain at Any Price?

I saw this article on Yahoo! Sports today: Baseball granny cashes in big with sale of rare 1869 card. It first interested me because it was a Cincinnati Red Stockings baseball card (before they were just the Reds), and I’m from Cincinnati. Then, I noticed the card sold for over $75,000 on Ebay! Now why can’t I find something like that?

My husband is always watching Antiques Road Show, and he repeatedly says the same thing: “Why can’t we find that rare relic in our attic?” (We don’t have an attic.) Sometime ago we lived in a house that was nearly 100 years old and found the walls stuffed with newspapers from the early-1930’s, used for insulation I assume. They weren’t worth anything.

Some folks know I have a small Ebay store called The Whatsoever Shoppe (banner to the right). While I’d like to say I’m a Power Seller, I’m not; but it is fun, and I have made a buck or two. Once I bought a used autoclave for $100 from a permanent makeup artist friend of mine and sold it for $650. Not a bad profit.

Bought several Fitz and Floyd Glass Fishes at an auction for $3 each; sold them for between $15 and $45 each. And more recently, I sold two 1960’s Jim Beam “I Dream of Jeannie” bottles that I inherited from my aunt and uncle’s estate and they brought $26 and $36, respectively, on Ebay. More often than not, though, like I said, I make a buck or two.

I’m so glad spring is on the way and yard sale season is fast approaching; in fact, the parking lots and roadside stands are already filling up. Hunting through thrift stores and the like is fun, but there’s something exhilarating about the outdoor scavenger hunt called a yard sale. Yard-saleing is big business in East Tennessee, and I expect it to be an even busier season this year because of the economy. Buyers and sellers alike are cutting corners and employing thrifty measures to both make ends meet and to conserve less and less spendable cash. I, for one, like a bargain, and sometimes even bring home something for myself.

My Town Monday - Please Don't Drink the Water!

On a recent MTM post, I wrote about the Kingston coal ash spill that occurred in December, 2008. Now over six weeks later, still entrenched in massive clean-up activities, residents and Federal authorities alike remain concerned about the water (and air) quality here.

Late last week, the EPA released reports showing elevated levels of arsenic in the Emory River on the day after the massive spill near Kingston, Tennessee. Its report also showed initial total concentrations of lead five times above normal and slightly elevated total levels of beryllium, cadmium, and chromium. As a result of this initial data, the EPA has found the TVA (Tennessee Valley Authority) in violation of the Clean Water Act.

Stanley Meiburg, the regional administrator of the EPA, wrote in a letter released on February 6th that it considers Kingston’s steam plant spill to be “an unpermitted discharge of a pollutant in contravention of the (federal) Clean Water Act." The TVA was ordered to turn in a correction plan ASAP, along with all relative data collected. As a Kingston resident, I suppose it’s comforting to know that more recent and continuing test results show air and water quality samples from the affected areas contain no contamination above regulatory levels.

Prior to publication of the EPA’s findings last week, Kingston Mayor Troy Beets spoke at a public briefing in early-January to discuss the state of the public drinking water in Kingston. In an effort to assuage the fears of Kingston residents, Mayor Beets, who has been a local resident for 40 years, assured the public that he and his family, including his grandchildren and great-grandchild all safely drink the water, and that he is absolutely confident they are not being harmed in any way. Not only have they drunk the tap water and taken baths at his Kingston home, but they use the Kingston tap water there to mix the formula for his 3 ½ month old grandchild.

And just to put his money where his mouth was, so to speak, Mayor Beets then held up a plastic cup filled that morning with tap water from his Kingston home. Finishing his drink in a matter of seconds, Mayor Beets then assured the public he was fine and no harm would come to him. He repeated he had complete confidence in the quality of Kingston water (despite the fact that the county’s [Roane County] school system has opted to begin using bottled water in its food preparation). However, this was before the EPA findings were released, so I wonder if that confidence remains today.



My family lives in the country, not so near the water in Kingston, and we have a private well that isn’t tied to the city water. So while residents with private wells or springs were first told to stop drinking the water, we were glad to learn that the most recent residential well sampling results also appeared to meet safe drinking water limits. Nevertheless, we are glad to have a whole house water filtration system, coupled with the bottled water we all regularly drink, so that leaves only bathing and washing the dog in the remotely contaminated water.

Meanwhile, the multi-million dollar clean-up continues and is not expected to be completed until the summer. How long, then, will it take to restore the natural beauty of the Emory River and its surroundings, as well as the aquatic and avian life – perhaps years.

All On a Morning's Drive

For the past several months, we have been a one car family. Aaron has been using the van since he fried his engine due to an oil leak of which he was unaware until it was too late.

So, with his going to school all day (Roane State Community College) and working all night, I have been giving the van over to him until he is able to repair his car.

As a result, I have been all but stranded in the house, and with the cold weather and snow, such as it was, it was starting to become quite confining. Finally, though, I had a rare morning of freedom as Aaron doesn’t have school on Friday’s, so I thought I would take the van and run some errands, as well as stop and see my grandson. It was a beautiful day with warming temperatures and melting snow, and I was looking forward to the drive. Imagine my dismay when I found the van on empty, actually less than empty, when the little needle hovers between stationary and the 0 mark.

Given that the nearest gas station is 16 miles from my house, through winding, hilly roads with nothing on either side but farms and fields, I was praying all the way. I was sure if God could keep a jug of oil from running dry, he could keep my gas tank from running dry (1 Kings 17:8-16 NIV). I did make it all the way there, and relieved to have a full tank of gas, embarked on the second leg of my freedom flight. Then, midway to my son’s house, without a care in the world, I noticed the tell-tale tic, tic, ticking of an engine without oil. Oh my, we certainly didn’t need a second car with a blown head gasket!

Son No. 1 had a spare quart of oil and fixed me up, but it was bone dry. Perhaps if I bought another quart, son No. 2 could at least put it in. All in all , it was a wonderful restorative day, despite my hungry car parts. My grandson is growing by leaps and bounds, already 9 months old, and the fresh air and cool breeze gave me the hint of spring I needed to keep going. I’ll be hunting for buds now; spring tends to come early in East Tennessee.

Returning home, I filled Aaron in on the events of the day, unremarkable in his estimation. He always makes it to the gas station on empty, and he doesn’t think the ticking of the oil pipes, so to speak, mean anything at all. “Just because 19-year-olds are indestructible,” I remarked, “doesn’t mean cars are (your car, case in point).”

Well, new engine now in hand, hopefully Aaron will have his car fixed by next Saturday when dear husband returns home from the road for this 3-day off-time. My van, and my time, will be my own again; and while I’ll likely mostly just hang around the house, as I’m a real homebody, it’s nice to know I can get up and go when the walls start closing in.

My Town Monday - A Little Snow

Given that Punxsutawney Phil saw his shadow today, prophesying 6 more weeks of winter (or winter weather), I suppose it’s appropriate that Kingston would experience it’s heaviest snowfall of the season (I had a whole 2”). The average high temperature in Kingston for February 2nd is 48 degrees; our high today was 45 degrees at 7 a.m. and it steadily dropped throughout the day to the current temperature as I write this of about 34 degrees. A few more snowshowers through early-Wednesday, and we’ll be back up in the 40’s and 50’s by the end of the week, even hitting 60 on Friday.

Winter weather is very subjective, I suppose. Here in beautiful East Tennessee (except in the Smokies), snow is becoming more and more rare. So while today was a wonderful treat to us locals who considered it a winter storm, I’m sure in comparison it is laughable to my northern neighbors in Kentucky, such as my cousin Cathy and blogging friend Chuck, where ice and snow abound and power was out for days at a time, if not longer. Nevertheless, I had my own little bought with winter weather and power outage today, at least for a few hours.

See the slanted tree in this photo?

This is the end of my drive, and the tree just happened to fall and get caught on the power lines. The power flickered several times, possibly due to the tree bouncing on the lines, then went out. Hence, no computer and no timely My Town Monday post, yet fodder for my blog. The power went on and off several times throughout the afternoon until it was finally fully restored by around 4 p.m. Why the enormous bucket trucks had to drive all the way up my drive and make a 180” turn in my front yard—twice—I still don’t know.

The snow is already melting even though the temperature is again dropping, but the light flurries expected in the morning will hopefully cover the tracks made by the bucket truck so that I can enjoy the lovely white vista for a little while longer. I might even go outside and look for the birds I heard chirping so joyfully outside my office window this morning.

This is enough winter for me. I’m afraid I couldn’t be nearly as gracious about it as some others whose stories I’ve read recently. I was born and raised in Cincinnati, and lived for over 25 years in South Florida, both extremes weather-wise. East Tennesee is a great median with moderate weather nearly most of the year. And I do appreciate the occasional snow day, as long as it doesn’t last too long, especially when I know spring is right around the corner. Even if it is another 6 weeks, with temperatures in the 50’s and 60’s, I can definitely tolerate that!

My Town Monday - Preserving History

Kingston is home to one of the only 7 remaining antebellum courthouses in the State of Tennessee today. Affectionately referred to as the “Old Roane County Courthouse,” it is listed in the National Register of Historic Places and remained an active courthouse until it was replaced by the newer and current county courthouse in 1974. It is the oldest building in Kingston and comprises a downtown city square.

Built between 1854-1855 using native lumber and bricks made on-site by slaves, the original structure was raised using no nails. It served as a hospital during the Civil War and was used by both Union and Confederate soldiers. Still today, one can see graffiti written on its walls by the soldiers hospitalized there. For decades it was the center for dances, picnics, and courtroom trials, as well as hangings on the courthouse lawn. (There is a rumor that gallows were built inside the courthouse for indoor hangings. The gallows are there, but for decoration only; there were no indoor hangings.)

The courthouse has had many renovations over the course of the past 150 years, from having had a new roof put on in 1882 to the two-story rear addition that was constructed between 1936-1937. Now owned by the Roane County Heritage Commission, it has been undergoing a total reformation for some time. It houses the Roane County Museum of History and Art, which has preserved much of the history of Roane County’s early settlers, and the Roane County Archives Library.

Two of the rooms on the first floor of the courthouse house museum exhibits dating back to prehistoric American Indian times. Stone bowl fragments, grooved axes, and photographs of excavations reveal what Indian life may have been like in our area thousands of years ago. There are two large display cases devoted to Civil War artifacts, when Kingston was occupied by both Northern and Southern armies. Other displays exhibit mementos and historical photos documenting the founding and history of Kingston and other Roane County cities. The largely German heritage of Roane County is illustrated through black-and-white photos depicting everyday life of its 19th century citizens. Visitors can continue their walk through history from the turn of the century (20th) through WWII.

The Archives Library contains a large collection of original court papers such as marriage certificates and land records dating back to 1802, so rare in the South where so many original documents were lost during the Civil War and other causes, such as fire. (Amazingly, the old Roane County Courthouse has never experienced a fire.) As a result, the Archives have become very well known and draw genealogists and researchers from all over the world.

Outside in front of the courthouse stands the commemorative plaque denoting Kingston’s somewhat jaded distinction of having been the State capitol for one day on September 21, 1807. In a bit of political hokey-pokey, the City of Kingston entered into an agreement with the Cherokee Nation to become the capitol of Tennessee in exchange for its ceding Indian land that is now known as Roane County. Kingston honored the agreement on that date, but the Assembly resumed meeting in Knoxville the following day, where the capitol remained until 1926 when it was moved to Nashville.

Only the first floor of the old courthouse is used today due to current fire codes. The new renovations will include sprinkler and fire alarm systems so the upper two floors can be used as well. It will include a transportation museum showcasing Kingston’s importance as a crossroads of highway and river transportation during the westward expansion as people passed through its gates headed to Memphis and Arkansas. The museum will display historic photographs that document steamboat, early rail, and automobile travel in Tennessee. It is even expected to include the whistle from the Joe Wheeler, the last steamboat to make the regular run from Kingston to Chattanooga. The building will also have a visitor’s center and an elevator.

While the renovations and modern amenities to the courthouse will make it safer and more accessible, they will for me diminish some of its charm. There’s a wonder about it now as one walks the small rooms and narrow hallways, stepping into the past and experiencing the history of my home town first hand. However, merging old with new is the price for preserving history. The Old Roane County Courthouse and the history it continues to protect have withstood the tests of time, war, natural disasters, and the threat to turn it all into a parking lot.

My Town Monday - The Watts Bar Belle

The official logo for the city of Kingston, Tennessee, features the beautiful Watts Bar Belle, a true split wheel paddlewheel riverboat built in the year 2000 and operated by Skipperliner Industries of LaCrosse, Wisconsin. Formerly known as the La Crosse Queen V, it was acquired by the Watts Bar Riverboat Company in Kingston in 2005 and renamed the Watts Bar Belle. The Belle has since offered residents and toursits alike everything from historial and scenic tours to luxury dinner cruises and private charters up and down the waterways of the Clinch and Emory Rivers, which join together, and the Tennessee River, all part of Watts Bar Lake and forming two sides of the City of Kingston.

The Belle, docked in Kingston, lent an air of old-fashioned charm and true Southern style to the city that was once a major steam boat hub on the Tennessee River. It has been a fixture in Kingston for several years and, although a small family-owned business, represented a lot of business to a town of around 5000 people. How sad, then, to think of that big paddle wheel churning up the river to another location in search of cleaner waters. Why?

Although business was already slow, the pending move is primarily due to the toxic coal ash spill from the Kingston fossil plant in late-December, 2008, the result of more than one billion gallons of toxic materials bursting forth from a failed holding pond on its property. It is estimated that 400 acres of the beautiful Tennessee valleys and rivers were flooded with up to 6 feet of ash sludge, the byproduct of burning coal. Power lines were toppled, roads covered, gas lines ruptured, homes knocked off their foundations, and our beautiful waterways, rivers, and air quality all contaminated; fortunately, there have been no human casualties.

However, the damage to Watts Bar Lake and surrounding waters brought riverboat business to a dead standstill. Unable to operate since the December 22nd spill, the riverboat has been tied to the dock. Water from the Lake is used to cool its engines and a generator, and it cannot operate safely amidst the sludge. The Belle lost much revenue from two cancelled New Year’s Eve cruises and its sightseeing and dinner cruises are continuing to lose money because of the contaminated area. All around, its bad for business.

While massive cleanup efforts are underway by the TVA (Tennessee Valley Authority) and other agencies, The Watts Barr Riverboat Company cannot afford the operating losses for what may be several months or more. In order to keep operating, the company has decided to relocate the Belle to the still-clean Fort Loudon Marina, at least temporarily. The owners have notified Kingston City Officials that the Belle “still belongs to Kingston.”

Let’s hope so. Losing the Belle would adversely affect Kingston in far many more ways than just having to change the city’s logo.

Rain, Rain, Go Away (And the Mud from My Front Yard, Too!)

Fa Ra Ra Ra Ra, Ra Ra Ra Ra

Christmas dinner is a time-honored tradition. Undoubtedly like most Americans, I can remember childhood Christmases where we gathered the whole family for a huge dinner, turkey, dressing, cranberries, potatoes, candied yams, green bean casserole, rolls, pumpkin pies, the whole nine yards. Sometimes at our home, but more often at my aunt and uncle's home in another county in my home state of Ohio. Both my aunt and uncle were wonderful cooks and there was always an abundance of mouth-watering holiday dishes.

As the years passed, and cousins and siblings went their separate ways with their own families, my family carried on as many of the traditions as we could. But our fesitivities were always much smaller as we were generally living far from our Ohio homeland and unable to do much traveling. Funny how we always seemed to make the same amount of food, though, despite the fact that we had far fewer people to feed.

Now that my children are grown, our holidays are much simpler but just as delightful. This year, my eldest son and daughter-in-law and my grandson visited us on Christmas Eve. My grandson Drake's first Christmas--he is 8 months old.

What a joy to watch him, entranced as he was by the ribbons and bows and lights...more on that later.

We had our big Christmas dinner on Christmas Eve since we would all be together, the three of them, my husband, myself, and my youngest son who still lives with us. Same traditional foods, but I did manage to force myself to make just a little less than I had done in Christmases past. We had a wonderful time.

Christmas Day was uneventful for the most part; our youngest spent the day with his girlfriend's family, which left dh and I to fend for ourselves. With no big dinner to prepare for the first time -- ever -- we decided to go out to dinner with our dear friend Inez. I don't know about other parts of the country, but here in East Tennessee, NOTHING is open on Christmas Day. We had a choice between the local Chinese Restaurant and a Waffle House. We chose the Chinese Restaurant.

Do you remember the movie "A Christmas Story," made in 1983 with Darren McGavin? It takes place in a 1940's fictitious town in Indiana (filmed primarily in Cleveland) and centers around little Ralphie Parker's desperate attempts to convince his parents, his teachers, and even Santa, that the Red Ryder BB Gun would be the best Christmas present in the whole wide world. It's a wonderful movie filled with many of the wholesome traditions we all remember (but mine are from the 50's and 60's, not the 40's), shopping for a Christmas tree, standing in line to see Santa, presents under the tree, staying up late to put them together, and getting up early to take them apart, and most of all, Christmas dinner!

Unfortunately, those folks didn't get to eat their Christmas turkey because a pack of neighborhood dogs somehow got to it first, and as Ralphie explains in the movie, "The heavenly aroma still hung in the house. But it was gone, all gone! No turkey! No turkey sandwiches! No turkey salad! No turkey gravy! Turkey Hash! Turkey a la King! Or gallons of turkey soup! Gone, ALL GONE!"

Our trip to the Chinese Restaurant, Peking Buffet, reminded me of the next scene where Mr. Parker packed the family off to their local China Palace for a Chinese Christmas Dinner. What is tradition, anyway, without family? The togetherness in the celebration was what made it special. As was ours. Our Chinese Buffet was excellent and we had a wonderful time of togetherness.

Oh, but no one sang "fa ra ra ra ra, ra ra ra ra." And, thank goodness, I didn't have to cope with a Major Award, and there is no leg lamp, broken or otherwise, in my front window.

Wordless Wednesday - A Minor Weather Casualty in Our Front Yard

Wordless Wednesday - Still Life

When the Frost is On the Punkin

Okay, no eloquent prose here. I love autumn. I think it's my favorite time of year. Some would see it as an ending and, indeed, it is. The winding down of long, leisurely summer days, vacations, heatwaves, activity; the preemptor to the coming winter when life lay frozen in its midst.

To me, it is comforting, like warm blankets on a cold night or a tender hug. I can almost feel it wrap its strong arms around me and hold me close. A dear friend coming again to visit for a season, reminding me of friends and family and special moments. Stirring in me a childlike glee as we marvel at the majesty unfolding before us. We walk in the crisp autumn air, kicking at piles of damp leaves ever growing at our feet, gazing wordlessly as the green of summer fades to the vibrancy of autumn hues: gold and red and orange, all shades in between. We dance as God would have us to do as we delight in His handiwork.

I woke this morning to greet my dear old friend, Keats' "season of mists and yellow fruitfulness," as our first frost lay lightly on the grass outside my window. The crisp air filled my nostrils, the leaves were at their glorious peak; my heart and spirit stirred. Autumn brings nature's last hurrah before the winter settles in. It calls us to gather as the squirrels their nuts, the farmers their harvest; we gather close family and friends, and memories, and we anticipate getting together again and all the things we love to do in the fall: sitting around a campfire roasting marshmallows and telling funny stories, lighting cozy, warm fireplaces and snuggling together, walking in the woods, kicking at the leaves, opening our homes to kin and guests, family all the same, giving thanks, and some would say football.

Fall is the most special season for entertaining human folk and, as James Whitcomb Riley surmised, angels.

"When the Frost is on the Punkin"

When the frost is on the punkin and the fodder's in the shock,
And you hear the kyouck and gobble of the struttin' turkey-cock,
And the clackin' of the guineys, and the cluckin' of the hens,
And the rooster's hallylooyer as he tiptoes on the fence;
O, it's then the time a feller is a-feelin' at his best,
With the risin' sun to greet him from a night of peaceful rest,
As he leaves the house, bareheaded, and goes out to feed the stock,
When the frost is on the punkin and the fodder's in the shock.

They's something kindo' harty-like about the atmusfere
When the heat of summer's over and the coolin' fall is here—
Of course we miss the flowers, and the blossoms on the trees,
And the mumble of the hummin'-birds and buzzin' of the bees;
But the air's so appetizin'; and the landscape through the haze
Of a crisp and sunny morning of the airly autumn days
Is a pictur' that no painter has the colorin' to mock—
When the frost is on the punkin and the fodder's in the shock.

The husky, rusty russel of the tossels of the corn,
And the raspin' of the tangled leaves as golden as the morn;
The stubble in the furries—kindo' lonesome-like, but still
A-preachin' sermuns to us of the barns they growed to fill;
The strawstack in the medder, and the reaper in the shed;
The hosses in theyr stalls below—the clover overhead!—
O, it sets my hart a-clickin' like the tickin' of a clock,
When the frost is on the punkin and the fodder's in the shock.

Then your apples all is gethered, and the ones a feller keeps
Is poured around the cellar-floor in red and yaller heaps;
And your cider-makin's over, and your wimmern-folks is through
With theyr mince and apple-butter, and theyr souse and sausage too!... I don't know how to tell it—but ef such a thing could be
As the angels wantin' boardin', and they'd call around on me—
I'd want to 'commodate 'em—all the whole-indurin' flock—
When the frost is on the punkin and the fodder's in the shock.

James Whitcomb Riley. 1853–1916
(Louis Untermeyer, ed.
(1885–1977). Modern American Poetry. 1919. )

Have a blessed day!

Wordless Wednesday - Evening Autumn Sky in East Tennessee