The Big O

I’m having this dilemma about my birthday. Its coming up and its one of those that ends in a zero so you’re expected to celebrate it larger than one that ends in say two or seven. I don’t know what we have this strange thing about numbers. Sixteen is big, though for the life of me I do not know why. Nothing happens, nothing changes, but we still celebrate it in a bizarre kind of Ozzie and Harriet way. Twenty-one is celebrated but things do change, so it is a milestone worth marking. Then we get into this weird fives and zeros thing. Thirty, forty, fifty and then it just gets worse we when start celebrating being eligible for Medicare. Woo-hoo! I’m old and I’m going to need assistance, so let’s have a party! Well, I’m not there yet – but I’m not too far behind either.

Which brings me back to my quandary – what to do, or where to go. I thought I would go to a World Series game since I’m a big baseball fan and I’ve never been. But it doesn’t look like the teams that will be going hold any interest for me. And it would be quite expensive. And chances are not good my family will show up (partially due to who will be playing and partially due to the mere fact that it is baseball.)

Then I thought I could have a party here. I have this big hayloft just out my back door and we won’t be ordering hay again this year, so I could line the bales up along the edges and have…what? A dance? Bill doesn’t dance so that would be rather pointless. And really, any kind of party here would mean I’d have to clean. That just doesn’t sound like how I want to spend the weeks (and it would take weeks) before my birthday.

Or we could go somewhere. But where? We live in paradise – why would I want to pay someone to see scenery when people from all over the world come to see what we have? And besides, where could we go that would be enticing enough for our kids to come and hang out? That we can afford – I can think of many places that my kids would come to if I were footing the bill.

So now I’m just turned off the whole subject. I don’t even think I’ll celebrate. Oh, maybe we’ll go out to dinner to one of the swanky restaurants around here and I’ll order desert. First. But honestly, I could just keep my mouth shut and it would pass very quietly and nobody would notice. And then maybe when I have a birthday that ends in a two or a three or some other non-celebrated number, a team I’d like to see would make the World Series and I’ll have a big whoop-de-do. But for this year, I’m thinking I’ll just sit on the bench.

(The tree is coloring up nicely – did you notice?)

A Change in the Air

I am fortunate enough to live in the mountains of North Carolina, just off the Blue Ridge Parkway which is famous for its scenic vistas. In spring the hills are filled with wildflowers and lilies, summer shows her beauty in the outbursts of rhododendrons, while fall rolls out her royal colors as the leaves burnish a welcome for the Ice Queen blowing in with the sparkling snows of winter.  Truly we have four seasons – each one discernible by the changes nature bestows upon us. But around here, we have another way to tell the changes in the seasons.

When I lived in Oklahoma, the state fair was sure to conjure up the anticipation of the passing of hot summers into miserably cold winters. OK, maybe anticipation is not quite the adjective I would use, but I was a different person then. I’m sure it is much better now. In Key West we had Fantasy Fest , and although the weather doesn’t really change – we needed something to let us know it was happening in other parts of the world and for Key West there is nothing like a drunken half-naked parade to bring out that holiday feeling.

While I’m sure there are other areas of the world that have similar…shall we say…unique... ways of noting the passing from summer to fall and winter to spring, up here in my mountains all it takes is a drive down Highway 321.

Between the town of Boone and the town of Blowing Rock, there are two entertainment venues. Closer to Boone is Tweetsie, the railroad theme park, which you may notice by way of the entrance sign advertising what is happening in the upcoming weekends. The park itself is set off the highway up on a hill, buffered by its parking lot. A bit further towards Blowing Rock is Appalachian Ski Mountain which has a billboard advertising its whereabouts, including a giant arrow in case you don’t notice the road onto which you can only turn one direction, but some of us need the obvious. Thanks to these two attractions, you don’t need to see a wildflower blossom or a single leaf start its bittersweet journey’s end to know that indeed the seasons are changing. You just need to make that drive down 321 between our two big entertainment areas to know when the changes happen - because you see, they share a traffic light.

Right now the light is at the junction of Tweetsie Road and Hwy. 321 and it will remain there until just after Halloween, when the Ghost Train Halloween Festival, Tweetsie’s last hurrah, will signal the end of the season. Then, the traffic light fairies come in the middle of the night and like magic – the light appears at the intersection of 321 and Edmisten Road, the turnoff for App Ski Mountain, where it will stay until spring, as Tweetsie will once again begin operations and the light returns to Tweetsie Road.

Yes, the leaves are bursting out in tiny patches of auburn hues and the nights have a bit more chill to them, but the real signal for me that winter is on her way will be when the traffic light moves two miles down the highway. Then I'll pull out my mukluks and settle in for my winter wonderland and wonder what interesting ways of noting the seasons other places have...anyone else have a roving traffic light? 

NV

So I'm all envious of these women I've found who are blogging about their cooking. Envious for two reasons: One - they're cooking, and I don't mean heating up things from the grocery - I mean chopping, slicing, dicing, grilling, sautéing, blending, etc. real food that they’ve washed and prepped and smelled and fondled (hopefully in a good way) and Two – they have not only the time to cook the stuff, then photograph it (another envy point but I only have two so I’m sneaking this one in)…but then they write about it. How to prepare it and serve it and what it is called in the little town in Italy where they first had it served to them– probably outside by charming little Italian men.

I want to cook. I want to photograph what I’ve cooked. I want to write about it in such a delightful way that people share with their friends the clever things I’ve said. But I don’t. I go to work. I’ve tried to convince myself that working in a homeless shelter is as sexy as blogging about food, but I’ve not yet succeeded. It would be different, I’m sure, if I were in India or China or some other place where I love the food but don’t speak the language, but I’m not. I’m in Valle Crucis, North Carolina. Which is beautiful, and I photograph it when I can.  I mean sure, I help people change their lives – but I do it eating Weight Watchers frozen lasagna so no one’s ever going to say, “Did you check out Dawn’s blog? That woman can sure heat up a frozen entrée!” Not going to happen.

So where do they get all this time? Retired? Married rich? Lottery winners? I’m lucky to have time to actually brew coffee in the morning – and then I take it in a travel mug. I suppose I could get up at 5:30 in order to get in my prayers and meditation and THEN blog. But I’d be cranky, and the guests at the shelter do not need another cranky pants in their lives. And my writing probably wouldn’t be so hot at that time either.

Oh well. I’ll just wait for things to change…mostly my heart so that I can enjoy the blogs from my new friends over at Tasty Kitchen http://thepioneerwoman.com/tasty-kitchen/ and put the green dragon away. I really do like my job. Maybe some day I’ll go part time and blog in between. For now, I hear the beep of the microwave calling me. Now where is my camera? 

Fall Preview or Leaves it to dreamers

There is just a hint of it in the foliage. The green mountains hold bits of gold that just jump out when you least expect it. Driving to Grandfather Mountain, enjoying the green beauty of my little part of the world and then, POW! Just like in the old Batman TV show, there is a branch that has gone over to the gold, or the red, or a delicious mixture of both. Soon pumpkins, sunflowers and corn stalks will be replacing the lillies and and hydrangeas that have colored my world of late. 


Just to the right -right there in the middle - do you see them? Gold this morning, now they're more red. I'll see if I can't capture them a bit better. But what would really make you feel it is the 68 perfect degrees it is right now at 7pm. The sun is highlighting the mountain across the river while the maples in the paddocks are in full shadow from the mountain behind us. 


Time to make Alfredo sauce to go with the fresh garlic and spinach ravioli we got at the Farmer's Market from the Pasta Wench. I'll let you know how it turns out. Maybe I'll put on a sweater...nah....