MY Redemption Song.....

... sounds like the creaky chains of the porch swing

as my son and i snuggle in motion,

while watching the hummingbirds at the feeder

and the morning mist slowly lift off of the mountains.

it sounds like the screech owl,

crying out from its moonlit perch by the edge of the creek...

the shrill call echoing through the dark vale.

it sounds like familiar voices of family and friends...

milk and honey flowing from their lips,

a soothing balm of comforting words.

it sounds like the strains of a fiddle,

the tapping of feet,

the crackling of an evening fire...

laughter at dusk.

sometimes it is barely audible, yet still tangible...

felt, more than heard.

in the quietness, i can still detect the faint melody.

so as the morning mist loosens its nightly hold on these hills,

this blanket begins to relinquish its smothering grip on my heart...

and new stanzas are written and imprinted

on this fallible, hopeful human soul.

The Solitary Reaper

Behold her, single in the field,
Yon solitary Highland Lass!
Reaping and singing by herself;
Stop here, or gently pass!
Alone she cuts and binds the grain,
And sings a melancholy strain;
O listen! for the Vale profound
Is overflowing with the sound.

No Nightingale did ever chaunt
More welcome notes to weary bands
Of travellers in some shady haunt,
Among Arabian sands:
A voice so thrilling ne'er was heard
In spring-time from the Cuckoo-bird,
Breaking the silence of the seas
Among the farthest Hebrides.

Will no one tell me what she sings?
Perhaps the plaintive numbers flow
For old, unhappy, far-off things,
And battles long ago:
Or is it some more humble lay,
Familiar matter of to-day?
Some natural sorrow, loss, or pain,
That has been, and may be again?

Whate'er the theme, the Maiden sang
As if her song could have no ending;
I saw her singing at her work,
And o'er the sickle bending;--
I listened, motionless and still;
And, as I mounted up the hill
The music in my heart I bore,
Long after it was heard no more.

-William Wordsworth

After a day of cloud and wind and rain

Sometimes the setting sun breaks out again,

And touching all the darksome woods with light,

Smiles on the fields until they laugh and sing,

Then like a ruby from the horizon's ring,

Drops down into the night.

- Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Travel and Transition.... these will be the theme words for my summer. And thus, I'm afraid I won't be blogging much. But I wanted to part with this photo of the sunset from my deck. It is quite representative of my journey right now, but with hope that the dawn will be even more glorious.

I may be able to stop in here and there. And you can also e-mail me through the address on my profile if you'd like to keep in touch that way. I will miss every one of you and wish you all a wonderful summer!

Speaking of Brave....

The little kitten tops that list. I thought I'd give an update on her after all the comments from the last post. Colleen apparently had some uncanny insight, as she left a comment saying that it seemed the kitten was a metaphor for our throw-away society.

After examining her, the veterinarian concluded she had blunt head trauma, most likely from being thrown out a car window.... and she'd probably have permanent neurological damage. I must have happened upon her right after she had been thrown out, thus her dazed and disoriented condition. They kept her at the clinic to observe her for 2 days and then I picked her up and brought her home. She was at least partially blind, not responding to visual stimuli. She couldn't walk... she would walk in circles and tumble down on herself. And she was having seizures about every 10 minutes. I really didn't think there was much hope for her.

I kept her in a crate in our utility room (i'm not supposed to have indoor pets) and tried to make her comfortable, but knew I'd have to make a decision about euthanizing. If her condition stayed the same, she would have a miserable life. It pained me to watch her try to walk and topple over backwards in the effort.... and how she huddled in the corner with a look of terror in her eyes before each seizure. The only hopeful sign was her appetite. She was a little piggy, and thus I nicknamed her "Miss Piggy". She also had a loud motor and purred contentedly when I held her or pet her.

We had plans to go out of town for the weekend, and Fiddlegirl agreed to keep kitty for us. When I was driving her there, Miss Piggy had the worst seizure yet, and my heart sank. I worried about her the whole weekend and knew the decision I'd probably have to make when I returned.

But amazingly, when we returned, Fiddlegirl told me she had a seizure the first night, but had none since. And she was letting the kids hold her, and was walking better. I took her home and observed the same. She was still a little wobbly, but could walk without falling over. And over the next week, she continued to improve. She still couldn't see well, but she would find me by my voice. I'd let her out of the crate when I'd be outside, and she would trot underfoot, and run around and chase Sir Laughsalot. And the seizures had completely subsided. You wouldn't have been able to guess that she was the same little kitty that I found limp and lethargic on the side of the road. I could barely keep up with her newfound energy and playfulness..

We can't have inside pets, and I knew she needed to be inside because of the blindness. But it just so happened that a local animal rescue organization was having a pet adoption fair this past weekend and told me to bring her. So I did..... and to my heart's delight, a young married couple fell in love with her there, and adopted her on the spot.

A small miracle, that reminded me about hope.....

A breech in the dam.....

it was the kitten. it triggered the floodgates to open. i saw it lying on the side of the road, looking disoriented, and on the verge of getting run over.

it was early morning and i had just dropped my son off at school. i pulled over, a little haphazardly, and ran to get it before a car hit it. i picked it up, and its body went limp in my hands. its eyes were open, but not seeing. it was breathing, but it was a strained breathing.

what do i do? there was a vet's office on the way home, so i hurriedly drove there, not knowing if the kitten would make it, even that short distance. i brought it in, wrapped in a blanket, and asked what to do. "we can't look at it unless you are going to adopt it and pay all the medical expenses." what? it's hurt.... i couldn't have left it lying in the road to get hit.

"sorry", they said, "we can't do anything if it doesn't have an owner". i looked down at the lethargic kitten, with it's labored breathing. it was so tiny and pitiful. and then i felt it..... i felt it deep. i knew it had been shoved down for a long time. it came up in bits and pieces sometimes, but i was always able to push it back. i prided myself on my composure. i prided myself on being brave and strong.

but this little kitten suddenly triggered the floodwaters. all the loss, pain, sorrow, hurt..... it somehow became a symbol for that. and it happened right there in the middle of these strangers in a veterinary clinic. the saltwater trickled down just a little at first, but then came tumbling down in torrents. as hard as i tried, i couldn't close the floodgate.

"i'm sorry", i kept saying. "i don't normally do this." i could barely speak. i was just standing there at the counter, sobbing, and holding the almost lifeless kitten, with everyone staring at me. i think then they had sympathy, and agreed to look at it, if i'd sign a waiver giving permission to euthanize it if needed. "the vet doesn't like us to do this" they said, "but he's not here yet.... we'll see what we can do." they asked for all my contact info, and i had to repeat it several times for they couldn't understand me through my faltering voice.

i couldn't leave soon enough, and when i got in the car, i let the rest of the waters flow, until the dam had been thoroughly breeched. of all places, i thought to myself. i guess that's what i get for holding it in so long. i don't know how long i cried in my car..... i stayed there until my vision wasn't blurred anymore.

the sadness stayed with me all day. but i know i found the kitten for a reason. someone knows it's too much.... to be brave all the time.

Oh my, oh my..... how time does fly!


It seems just weeks ago, I was watching this little, snaggle-toothed boy walk through the double doors, into his first year of school...... and feeling as if my heart were walking away from me.

This mama had a harder time transitioning to this life change than he did. I remember agonizing during the year leading up to school about the best way to educate him.... should I homeschool, put him in public school, find a private school? I wanted him to have the best possible start for his "official" education.

Now, his Kindergarten graduation is coming up next week, and I wonder how it came so soon. I'm grateful for his little, country school that gave him a great first year.

Just last week, I came with my camera and took all the kids' yearbook pictures...... and I saw in their faces and smiles, the results of a small, close-knit community school.

Yesterday, I gathered with other school moms and community members, and peeled apples, and baked apple dumplings and pies all day in the school cafeteria in preparation for the school's annual Ice Cream Social. Everyone knew each other, and the 9 hour day of baking didn't seem tedious in the least bit, with all the conversation, laughter, and shared work. Students came in and out to help.... they made signs, and decorated the school. Community, as it was meant to be. Education, as it was meant to be.... a joint effort between parents and teachers, and the local community.

And I ended my day.... and I will end this first school year.... with gratitude.

feelin' the love......

I was loved on twice yesterday by two fellow bloggers. First, I received this awesome homemade citrus soap in the mail from Brandy, a gift to celebrate the opening of her new online Etsy shop. She trepidly contacted me to ask for my mailing address last week, not sure if I would give it to her. I assured her that I didn't mind, and that if I were to have a stalker, who better to have than a knitting, baking, soap-making mama who sends me free things in the mail. :) I encourage you to check her new shop out.... she has soap, cloth napkins, seeds, reusable bags, and felted goodies, with more to come. All are handmade.

Then, to add to the beauty of my day, I was contacted by L.L. Barkat, letting me know she put up this post about me. I clicked over and was moved to tears and extremely humbled by it. If that is all that ever came from my music, it would be enough.

So much love from this little blogging community of mine.... I never would have dreamt it when I put up my first post a little over a year and a half ago. Thank you, ladies... and thank ALL of you who have come into my life and moved me and encouraged me time and time again.

Why...

why did you knock,

but not enter?

why did you whisper in my ear,

knowing it would echo

as a shout in my heart?

why did you find me beautiful,

only to leave me ugly?

why did you come,

only to go?

you came,

my heart to accost....

i once was found, but now am lost.

Stars

Here in my head, language

Keeps making its tiny noises.

How can I hope to be friends

with the hard white stars

whose flaring and hissing

are not speech

but a pure radiance?

How can I hope to be friends

with the yawning spaces

between them

where nothing, ever, is

spoken?

Tonight, at the edge of the

field,

I stood very still, and looked

up,

and tried to be empty of

words.

What joy was it, that almost

found me?

What amiable peace?

Then it was over, the wind

roused up in the oak trees

behind me

and I fell back, easily.

Earth has a hundred

thousand pure contraltos--

even the distant night bird

as it talks threat, as it talks

love

over the cold, black fields.

Once, deep in the woods,

I found the white skull of a

bear

and it was utterly silent--

and once a river otter, in a

steel trap,

and it too was utterly silent.

What can we do

but keep on breathing in and out,

modest and willing, and in

our places?

Listen, listen, I'm forever

saying,

Listen to the river, to the

hawk, to the hoof

to the mockingbird, to the

jack-in-the-pulpit--

then I come up with a few

words, like a gift.

Even as now.

Even as the darkness has

remained the pure, deep

darkness.

Even as the stars have

twirled a little, while I stood

here,

looking up,

one hot sentence after

another.

~Mary Oliver

You are my ship

that didn't come in,

sailing on the waves

of what might have been...

Wordless Wednesday
"Boys Just Wanna Have Fun...."



(for more wordless wednesdays, go here)

The Don Shows His Hand........

THIS is why we can't get anything done about the devastation being caused by the coal industry in our state:

As you can see, our politicians in WV are mostly bought.... and not just our politicians, but our states' DEP. Despite all of this controversy, Spike Maynard is running for re-election. And on the Republican ticket, running unopposed, is Beth Walker, wife of the Vice President of Walker Machinery, the company that makes millions of dollars selling equipment for MTR sites.

And Don Blankenship, the CEO of Massey Energy, who attacked the reporter in the video? He just told the Wall Street Journal that his goal for the upcoming year is to open a new mine every 17 days. Denny posted about it on our End MTR blog here. It's absolutely maddening...

Meanwhile, study after study is showing the ill-effects coal is having on people's health in the coalfields, how it is the major contributor to global warming, and how more and more mountains are being blown to smithereens to extract it. Our state is being raped daily. And when the Coal is gone, there will be nothing left. The hills that have sustained the mountain people here for generations will be no longer and WV residents will be left with nothing.

It's wrong on every level.....

Nature Art

(Taken on a Spring hike behind my house....)

Why Am I Fainting?

Hmm.... Four hours of intensive instruction each day, afternoon workshops, evening concerts, and late night jams. This low-key, homebody, mountainmama isn't used to that kind of schedule.

But the vibrant energy of the Dulcimer Week kept me going. I learned enough to keep me occupied for months and months to come..... which was exactly my goal. My wonderful instructor, Jeff Sebens (below), met us exactly where we were.... and taught in just the right way. He challenged us and took us to the next level on our instruments, but didn't give us so much new information that we became glassy-eyed and overwhelmed.

Of course, it didn't hurt that all our classes were held on the gorgeous Davis & Elkins College campus with its historic buildings and lush greenery. Our class was held in the Victorian Halliehurst building:

And this was our classroom... the parlor of Halliehurst, with its ornate fireplace, high ceilings, beautiful paintings, and old woodwork:

Spring was in full bloom and sights like this greeted me on the footpaths between classes and events:

Another added bonus was that my mom was one of the instructors, and we got to room together. We've never had a whole week together like that.

Good medicine, folks..... good medicine......

Seneca Spring.....

This was just one of the many beautiful Spring sights I saw in my travels this past week. The mountain roadsides were lush with Redbud, Dogwood, Phlox, and many other blooming trees and wildflowers. These lovely trees happened to be at the base of Seneca Rocks.... majestic in every season.

I'll post soon about the Dulcimer retreat..... after I unpack and unwind from my intensive, but fun week.

Strains from a dulcimer........


....will be flooding and surrounding my senses this week. I am off today to cash in my birthday/Christmas/Mother's day gift, wrapped up in one intensive week-long Dulcimer workshop.

I hope to come home next weekend no longer an 'advanced beginner'.... taking the step to the intermediate level.... woohoo! :) And Fiddlegirl and I, (above on Easter Sunday), will have some new repertoire.

Dulcimer is literally translated 'sweet melody'..... and it's haunting and sweet strains have been echoing through these ancient mountains since the first Scotch, Irish, and English settlers settled here. If you have a moment, stop over and read this beautiful poem from a post that a MySpace friend so kindly dedicated to me. Thank you, Little Pup.

See you next week!

Alex....

when i tried to sit down and write this last year, on the first anniversary, i couldn't.

the tears flowed so heavily that i couldn't even see the computer screen.

the words weren't ripe yet.... it was too soon.

in this season of quiet in my heart, where i have been trying to sort through some sadness in my life , the words have finally come.

i told your sister i would write about you. and now it's time.

when she called me that morning and told me, she was so calm.

i didn't believe her at first. but then i understood. i think we all knew it was coming.

all my childhood memories of us came flooding back....

the most prominent, when you really established a permanent place in my heart, was a time when we were sitting in my bedroom together.

i was crying because my big sister had locked her door and wouldn't let me come in and play with her and your sister.

i thought she was trying to steal my friends.

you put your arm around me, looked in my eyes, and said,

"don't worry, amy. no one will ever steal me away from you."

that's just how you were. even though you were younger than me, you wanted to be my protector.

we spent almost a decade together, trodding back and forth on the forest path that we had made to connect our farms.

one day, while playing in the hundreds of acres of woods, we stumbled upon our special place and we named it 'paradise'.

it was a little clearing in the woods, where water pooled beneath a small, trickling waterfall.

it was our secret spot. we gathered old flowers that people dumped at the back of the cemetery and placed them in the ground, and weaved them through tree branches.

we cleared the brush and thorns away. it was beautiful and magical to us. we spent almost every day there.

but when we were older, my family moved away. your family stayed.
our paradise got overgrown, and the thorns grew back.

we talked regularly, wrote letters, and visited. we grew up.

you grew into a tall, handsome, caring young man.

but we both struggled with inner turmoil and poor life choices in our later teen years.

during those years, i thought the best way to deal with my problems was to run from them.

i ran away from home, and ended up on your front porch once.

your family took me in, and provided comfort and reassurance. my parents knew i was safe there.

once again, you acted as my protector.

we spent long evenings on the couch, talking into the wee hours of the morning.

we talked about the realities of growing up, our disappointments, the bittersweetness of it all. we longed for our innocent, carefree days of childhood.

one morning, after a very late night, i awoke to hammering.... and found you outside, hammering a dent out of my car that had been there forever.

you wanted to surprise me before you left for work.

you tried to give me your hard-earned money during my stay, because you knew i had little.

you brought me gifts to cheer me up. you wanted to know i'd be okay.

eventually, i garnered the courage to return home. i was able to sort through my problems, heal, and take control of my life again.

but, dear alex, you weren't so lucky.

i'm not sure what the difference was.

i guess big boys don't cry.... they just turn reckless to hide the pain inside.

you fell into the oppression of that area where we grew up.

you turned to drugs.

and the next time i visited, i found you in a place that scared me deeply.

all i could do was plead with you and pray.

shortly after returning home from that last trip, i received news that you were in jail.

i wrote to you..... probably one of the longest letters ever.

and you wrote back, and sent me a picture of you and your family.

you said it was the only picture you had with you in jail, but you wanted me to have it.

you ALWAYS wanted to GIVE...... that was your true heart.

we wrote regularly during that year.

you wrote of your regrets... and your hopes and dreams for when you got out.

you were confident that you could reclaim your life, and i believed you.

those letters were our last regular correspondence. you got released early for good behavior.... and you started your own roofing business. you began carving out a life for yourself, and working to find inner peace. but you were never quite able to find it. but it wasn't drugs anymore.... it became speed. your dad warned you about your motorcycle, and your recklessness on it.

he even called my dad and voiced his fear for you.

and one evening, almost two years ago, your dad's fears were realized. a beautiful soul, taken too soon.

' i got the call today....

my childhood friend has gone away.

he took that ride that took his life...

friend, i hope you've found your paradise.'

Alex (1978-2006)

Rest in peace, Alex....

YOU

I finally told someone about you.

I said your name out loud.

I whispered it into the universe....

and I told my closest confidante.

It made us real.... not a figment of my imagination.

Not a secret to hide.

It felt good.

But when I got home, you were gone.

And it made me sad.

But now someone knows about you.

They know you came and perched on my windowsill,

even though it was only for a short while.

They know that somehow you made me believe that I'll fly again...

that I may be able to find my song again.

And that's how I know you were real.

The best pick-up line, EVER!

or 'How you know you're raising a country boy'......

Sir Laughsalot, my son, takes great pride in our compost pile. He has put himself in charge of emptying the big yogurt container that I use for kitchen scraps.... and if he catches me trying to throw any organic matter in the trash can, he intercedes, saying in an exacerbated voice, "Mommy! You can COMPOST that!!!"

He spends hours gathering grass, pine needles, leaves.... and adds them to the pile and stirs it faithfully with a big stick.

Sir Laughsalot also loves waitresses. Everywhere we eat, he befriends the waitresses with his charming good-looks and friendly banter. Recently, one young, friendly waitress particularly caught his eye.... and when she sat down at the counter to take a lunch break, he saddled up next to her...leaned in close.... smiled, and said with all sincerity, "You wanna share my compost?"

Wordless Wednesday

"Children and Nature"...

"Let them once get in touch with nature and a habit is formed which will be a source of delight and habit through life."

-Charlotte Mason

(A great article on what has been termed 'Nature Deficit Disorder' in kids is here..... a worthwhile read, especially for parents and educators. For more Wordless Wednesdays, go here.)