Fairy Ring

John returned from mowing down at the lower place and told me there was a fairy ring in the meadow. I grabbed my camera and we went down so I could see it.

One should avoid stepping into the ring, English folk lore says, or you may be forced to dance on and on with the fairies. When at last you fall asleep from exhaustion, you may awake to find that years, not hours, have passed.

                                                        

                     The little girls aren't worried about legends.

I stayed clear.

You can learn more about fairy rings and the many stories attached to them HERE.

 

Blue Skies Again

Yesterday's skies were blue and the air was dry -- though the ground squished beneath my feet as I went out to fill the bird feeder.

A fairy ring of mushrooms had sprung up in the pasture by the road.

And as I crossed the bridge over the French Broad at Barnard (aka Gudger's Stand for those of you who read my books), I saw that the river had overflowed its bounds and was washing into the little park where the paddlers put in.

The river is so high that none of the usual rocks show -- though the white water hints at their presence just below the surface.

Some kayakers were in the park, getting ready to set out. They'll have a mighty quick trip down to Hot Springs on the wild waters.

For those who emailed me to ask how Ethan and Aileen are doing in their new home near Atlanta where there's been so much flooding, the young uns are fine. Their house is on high ground -- but it took them an hour to get to work rather than the much shorter usual drive. Two bridges were closed and they had to go the long way round.

What an introduction to the joys of home-owning!