Captions?

I just love this. . . whatever it is,

And it seems to say something but I'm not sure what...

What does it say to you?

 

Time and the River Keep on Going

 

 

 

 

Gold in the River

I stopped at the river to take some pictures yesterday afternoon 
 and this leaf, shimmering in the shallows, caught my eye . . .

The patterns in the water . . .

The sparkles in the sand . . .

Did you know that before the Califonia Gold Rush , 
North Carolina was the center of gold mining activity in the States? 
( Some good information HERE.

Or perhaps for a few magical minutes, when the sun is at a certain slant, 
the river has the power
 to turn ordinary things to gold...

Remembering the magical pool in The Voyage of the Dawn Treader, 
I'm not tempted to put this theory to the test. . .

I'll just enjoy the shifting pattens and the thought of what might be.

 

In the Dark Playground

 Today's children, the ones who ran shouting in the sun, 

Are safely home now,
In warm houses, behind drawn curtains. 
Cream of tomato soup, grilled cheese sandwich,
A waiting bath, fluffy towels,
And bed.

Now I lay me down to sleep,
I pray the Lord my soul to keep,
If I should die before I wake,
I pray the Lord my soul to take.

 

 Yesterday's children wait for twilight,
Slipping from the shadows, they lay pale fingers on the swings.
Noiseless feet ascend the ladder
and, corkscrewing  down the slide, the little wraiths whisper their delight
In thin high voices.

Behind the curtains, nervous parents lock the doors, check the windows,
And turn up the volume on the television.
  

Morning After the Snow

 

 

 

 

Revere McLeod

Rummaging through a closet in my workroom, I came across this relic of a gentler and almost forgotten age -- a pink and silver hatbox from Tampa milliner Revere Mcleod.  

Back in the Fifties, we wore hats and gloves to church -- if memory serves,  at eleven years of age, I even wore a hat and gloves to ride the train to Camp Junaluska in 1954, the summer after the sixth grade.

 My hats didn't come from Revere McLeod -- more likely from the local Belk's -- but my mother's did. 

The only time I remember being in McLeod's was in the summer of '63, during the interesting/agonizing tribal ritual of shopping for a trousseau -- not something I really cared about but a necessary part of getting married as far as my mother was concerned. 

By then,  I had rejected hats and gloves. But within the hushed and perfumed sanctuary, Mrs. McLeod tiptoed across the thick carpet, pulling open drawer after drawer to tempt my mother and me with beautiful lingerie, waving before us lovely lacy nightgowns and peignoirs on padded hangers that she whished from behind mirrored doors.

 It's been almost fifty years so I don't remember what we bought -- I think a nightgown and peignoir set and a pretty white half slip with blue flowers embroidered round the hem. 

But I do remember almost rethinking my no glove policy as the proprietor pulled open the shallow drawers of kid gloves, each pair in its own little compartment. There were some like these below; there were some embroidered with tiny flowers -- it was a pair with a scalloping of pearls at the wrist that almost tempted me back to a lady-like lifestyle.

Not quite though.

One Crow, Two Crow

 

 

 

 

Where Would Jesus Shop?

So, I'm coming home from my writing class in Burnsville and this sign catches my eye. I'm on a highway but I'm at the top of a rise and there is no one in sight, either way. So I stop in the middle of the road, run down the car window, grab my camera and take a few quick pictures. Still no one in sight.

Yep, that's what I thought it said.  I shake my head and put the camera down. Then I see the blue lights flashing just behind me.

The sheriff's deputy asks why I'm stopped on the highway. I think briefly about saying that the car stalled but what comes out is , "I'm sorry! I just felt compelled to stop and take a picture of that sign."

The very young deputy is as nice as can be. He looks at my license. I apologize profusely for doing such a silly thing. He tells me he just wanted to make sure nothing was wrong. And that I should go along and have a nice evening.

Maybe this really is God's Country.

  

I Wish You

 

Long Time Gone

"There they are again -- Lolie's daffydills. I never come this way of a Spring but I look to see have they come back. See how they tumble down the bank -- that thick, they'll not bloom much. Come Fall, let's me and you dig some ...

Lolie's house was set back a ways from the road --just beyond that poplar -- that forky one there. Law, wouldn't a young un have fun playing horsey setting up high like that?

No, the fire didn't leave nothing of the cabin but the chimbley... and that's tumbled down long ago. Seemed like Lolie and her man didn't have a the heart to build again

How growed up it all is -- but I remember how pretty their place was, flowers all around . . .  and all them little boxwoods she'd rooted, set out in lines. 

'For the trimmin's man,' she told me. 'I mean to have cash money to buy Christmas pretties for the young uns.'

Sad, it was, what happened.  Lolie and Sim left out of here before the boxwoods made any size.  And the trimmings man ain't been around these many years.

 

(The trimmings man came around in early December and bought quantities of boxwood branches to sell to florists for Christmas wreathes and decorations.)

What's New?

 
Nothing much... 

These are old pictures from the archives.

 There is no hidden theme...

 Just pictures I like...

Maybe tomorrow I'll have something to say...