Snow Pictures 1

These were taken prior to the more recent snows. This was the foggy-snowy-rainy-icy day.

This first pic is looking up the driveway; you can see the slushy mess in the tracks.

The ice wasn't thick but it was and still is beautiful. The weather hasn't warmed up enough to melt it off.

Here you can see the thick fog hanging over the ridge. It was actually very pretty.

Ice-covered spirea looked like red lace.

Pine boughs still tied to the porch rail were a pretty, pretty sight.

It's an icy, snowy track out of Joe's Run. To the right over the bank is the lake. No one wants to go sliding at this point in the road.

The late Orville Hartley's home. It is mostly unoccupied but still maintained by his son. I love this little place; looking at it is a trip back in town. Note the well to the left. Joe's Run was up and muddy because of the pouring rains that changed to pouring snow.

Greater downtown Gay, West Virginia, looking like a Norman Rockwell painting. Pardon the blob on upper right of the picture--that was rain on my camera. This small community was once quite a thriving place, but has dwindled since the major roads took different directions over the year,s leaving the community fairly isolated--but still the main route of travel for people who live in the very rural ares surrounding it. The road to the left is Peniel Road; to the right is Elk Fork. Both lead into Roane County, but one comes out on US Rte 33, the other after a winding way through the country on Rte 119. Where you reach 119 depends on which choices you make on the back roads.

Traveling the driveway is good for an adrenaline rush these days. I'm proud to say my little Buick Rendezvous has been up to the challenge so far, even though it does scrape a little in the center. More snow today will make the trip home interesting.

March in Snow

My oldest son sent me an email last Monday telling me that the amateur weather groups he's in were predicting a major snowfall for this area by the weekend. It was odd to read that after spending the day telling stories at a school and enjoying the drive home in 70-degree temps--no coat even!

My son and his friends were right. Where I live, just east of the Ohio River in West Virginia, got between 4 and six inches, but it's hard to measure for certain because the wind is blowing fiercely.

Orville Hartley's old home, root cellar and wood shed.

We had to go to town this morning in the thick of it, because our hot water heater decided to die and we needed to get the stuff to hook up a new one, and we needed to get straw and feed for the pigs we're supposed to pick up tomorrow. (Key word--supposed. In this weather?) The roads were icy and snow-covered, and the 4WD earned its keep one more time. By the time we got home, the snow seemed to have stopped, but it came on again later in the afternoon.

And of course the electricity went out. That didn't bother Larry at all since he was messing with 220v wiring--he was happy the juice was really, truly off. (Even turning off breakers doesn't make me feel comfortable about it, but complete loss of power? Can't argue with that).

I put chili on the wood stove to cook, a kettle of water on to boil to make drip coffee, dug out the candles, filled the oil lamps and trimmed the wicks, got out the battery radio and tuned in to Prairie Home Companion and got ready to settle in for the evening. Larry drove off to check on son #5 and grandson #1 who are batching it in son #3's house while he's in Iraq. They too had snugged in with the gas logs going, lots of quilts and hours of conversation on the couch.

The power came back on after 5 hours. It's still snowing lightly and blowing profusely. I am in high hopes that there will be drifts on the ridge, something we haven't seen in a long time. If they're there, I'll be on the hill with my camera. (I remember about 20 years ago when we had "snow rollers." Does anyone have them this year?)

In town today, people were complaining about the snow. They want winter to be over. But March 20, the last day of winter, is still a couple weeks off, and winter never leaves willingly. I say enjoy each season in its glory, and look forward to the beauty of the next.

Snow plow

In response to a prompt at First 50, I wrote the following:

The trees are budding, the robins are home.

The roads are muddy, the bees building comb.

March winds blow softly, how could we know

that by the day’s end, there would be inches of snow?

Boots and warm mittens, scrapers and shovels

move all the white stuff that causes such trouble.

Some long for the sunshine, and warm balmy breezes

instead they get icicles and buns that are freezing.

The power goes off, no word on the cause,

the wood stove is glowing, the day at a pause.

We gather the candles and trim all the wicks,

chili’s is cooking and day’s fading quick.

But just as we’re ready to bask in the quiet

the lights flicker on, end our power-less diet.

I secretly wish they had waited til daylight

so I could in silence continue to write.

Moon, Stars, Snow and a Wandering Wondering Mind

(Don't forget: Tonight is the Quadrantid Meteor Shower Peak, 2 a.m.)

The waning crescent and Venus light up the morning sky as the sun stains the horizon
(click on the photo to see a larger version)

This morning/imagine:
inches of light snow
air so cold your breath seemed to freeze as it left your lips
every weed and blade of grass coated with heavy, sparkling frost
that glittered like millions of tiny carved facets of glass
A rim of red and gold edging the frosty edge of earth
and up in the sky, a shining moon
one silver-bright star nearby.

I stopped to take one picture but that was all there was time for today. Work beckoned an hour away.

As I drove I wondered about snow, moon and stars. What if a person were to have a dream with any one of the three? (When I got home, I looked it up. According to the Dreamer’s Dictionary, to dream of the moon is a favorable sign. A new moon over the left shoulder means luck is ahead, and a bright, waxing moon means an exciting new project is on the way.)

Stars are also good things to dream about, especially shooting stars—these mean that success is coming although not as soon as expected. To dream of bright, twinkling stars means you will be aided to success by a powerful person of the opposite sex.

I tried to remember if I have ever dreamed of moons and stars.

I could not recall any such dreams, but I know I’ve dreamed about Orville Hartley, and I was reminded of him when I saw his former home.

That reminded me of the photo I took of it last year.
Which reminded me of this poem I wrote about Orville a couple years ago. He is gone now, but he was one of the most courteous and happy people I’ve ever met. He danced the old flatfoot style in classic style.

Orville’s Dancing Feet

Orville danced every Fourth of July
standing just to one side, in front of the stage
smiling, felt hat pulled low over his eyes
his feet seemed to move with no thought from him

Didn’t matter, the music or beat
country, rock or bluegrass were all the same
to Orville’s dancing feet
he moved from knee down only

His feet flying, a blur in perfect time
rhythm and music melted
in the hot July air as hundreds
of people watched

And wished that they had learned to do that
to dance like that
back when they were young and nimble
and dancing was the natural way to move

I always called him Orville
he called me Mrs. Ford
even after I remarried
and that no longer was my name

He danced until he was in his eighties
a polite and proper man
who did not want too much attention
for his accomplished feet

He only wanted to dance

I thought I saw him last year
standing on the grass
just to one side of the stage
his feet were flying in the shadows

His soft gray hat hid his face
and the rising darkness swallowed him
as I moved forward to say hello
I found only a worn spot in the grass

He only wanted to dance
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Somehow, I made it to work safely and on time. So if you ever wondered what I do during the hour I'm on the road in the mornings, now you know.