Saturday, January 13, 2018


   Yes it's cold; and not just a little cold! 
   But all it takes is a dash of morning sunshine over the tall valley trees to turn their highest branches into gleaming crystal, created in yesterday's freezing rain. 
   I'm always happy to notice such things in their moment; a slight shift of the morning sun, and they couldn't be seen.
   Don't let the moments of beauty fly away unseen. They are among life's consolations.



Friday, January 12, 2018


LIFE IN THE BOG, now that daylight is here, is dark, ugly, wet, sloppy and muddy!
Atop the ground on over-saturated soil, inches of water lie like an over-all lake. Big Dog and I walk down the drive to the newspaper box, under a steady cold rain--careful not to raise our faces skyward and DROWN!
The propane man arrives, climbs down from his truck, and already he's soaking wet! He slogs down the watery slope to the tank on the lower-ground level, and I hold my breath and pray he doesn't end up sliding the rest of the way down on his back!
Big Dog carries with him--quite proudly--a fetching "Parfum de Wet Dog" aroma as he and I gratefully re-enter the warmth of the house.
This will not be a day for outdoor activity; at least not by choice!
NOW TELL ME--how's the weather at YOUR place?!

Thursday, January 11, 2018


They predicted Fog, and indeed I watched as Fog, that veiled lady, rose up above the ice-cold waters of my creek, into the spring-like air. 

She moved along the water course, her veils growing all around her until the water and the woods were no longer visible to us. 

Then came the rains, and Fog, the veiled lady, made herself a part of all that cooling moisture, and in the growing shadows of her veils, the temperatures grew colder, slow degree by slow degree.

Soon she made the world invisible to us, but we could see quite clearly what lay ahead the next few days for us.

Fog was the escort who would bring the bitter Winter back, to resume its proper place with January and the season...


I didn't realize how thickly the trunks of the trees in my woods had been glazed by the recent freezing rains. 

And then I looked out a few minutes ago and saw how the morning sun had put a high gleam on them all! 

So much ice still there melting, despite the warmth of the past few days!

Tuesday, January 2, 2018


     I went into the cold, clear night, with that big moon the only light I needed. Surprisingly it left great areas of darkness that hosted quite a splendid splash of stars. It was worth the cold; I just had to see that sky!
    Already it was 4 degrees, and growing quickly colder. 
    Earlier my dog and I had watched a splendid sunset as it spread its light upon the snowy-pasted, tall tree tops, and zapped some neon onto joyful jet trails, in the clearest sky you'll ever see in our Ohio at this time of year.
     That, however, was enough for my pragmatic dog. He had gone into the house and crawled into his bed where it was warm, and he had fallen instantly asleep. 
      It was I who later bundled up and stood out in the cold and watched the stars alone. 
     Each of us in our own way had ended up our day in the way we found most satisfying.

Sunday, December 24, 2017


For me, a most spectacular childhood memory of Christmas was a crimson Christmas bell that appeared before my sleepy eyes one early Christmas-season morning when I was six or seven.

I had come downstairs for breakfast, and there it was ; and I knew it hadn't been there when I had gone to bed. Its splendid glowing red was framed within the wide wood doorway between the living room and dining room. It seemed so big and beautiful and magical, crafted as it was by a creative mother who had wrapped some crimson fabric around a wire form, while her children were asleep.

AND THEN I RECOGNIZED that heirloom fabric, and I was stunned. It was my mother's special shawl!
I had never seen her wear that shawl, nor had I ever known that it existed until one day I saw her pull it from a dresser drawer with careful hands. When I asked to see it, she let me hold a corner of its softness to my face and then returned it to the drawer.

Sometimes after that, I would open up that drawer and peer in at the shawl and touch it, but I never let my mother see me do that. I pondered on the mystery of that shawl.

Mom would never say from whence it came, only that she'd had it for the longest time, and I could see she loved it. It was a talisman; a thing of beauty for her. In years to come, I would make up many stories in my mind about that pretty piece that seemed to hold a special meaning for my mother.

And when that morning, in the week of Christmas, I saw the special decoration Mom had made from it, I was shocked at the enormity of her sacrifice.

But then I looked more closely at my mother and I could see her eyes were smiling at the pleasure that lovely Christmas bell would paint upon her children's faces.

Despite the Christmas tree nearby, the bell was all I seemed to see that year. It could have been a year without a tree, and I would not have known it.

Thursday, December 14, 2017


What a job, slogging through deep snow as Mick carefully looks for a spot in the woods where he can do his duty without burying his butt in the snow! Finally he finds the right spot, under the hemlock at the edge of a slope.
He positions himself, and just at that moment the big ODOT plow truck comes roaring and rumbling into the valley, big lights flashing and spreading their drama around in the darkness. Mick rolls down the slope and is buried in all that cold whiteness!
He gives up and heads for the house. We'll have to try later.

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Rose Moore
Rose Moore 4 a.m., 20 degrees. Our outdoors is muted in snow deep on the ground and still falling. No wind and no sound whatsoever. Except for that big ODOT truck!