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Summer’s End
For the first time in my entire life, the end of summer has sparked within me a feeling of melancholy. Time was, I would rejoice at the end of hot weather and welcome the cooler temperatures. But this year, the approaching winter is heralded by the awareness of many things new to me, things of which I have become aware, things that leave me sitting for long stretches with head down and eyes unseeing. This is the world, and I must, as Dylan Thomas admonished, have faith. Goodbye, summertime of this year. You will have passed forever in just a few more thumps of the heart. And Happy Birthday, Weia…
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We Command You To Have a Merry Christmas
Over at The Thinking Housewife, Laura Wood has posted a lively and encouraging message about this year’s Christmas celebrations. Read and heed. ~ S.K. Orr
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The Bales Of October
We were up this morning in the silver moonlit dark of a mountain October, Mrs. Orr preparing the dogs’ breakfast and the coffee. We watched the dogs with some wariness, as we had an incident last night. Each evening about 830 or so, I take them outside for what we call the biscuit run. They do their business in the backyard, and then tumble back inside to await their treat: a dog biscuit for Jinx and a half-biscuit for Dixee. Usually, it’s a mellow time. But last night, Jinx was snuffling up a few crumbs from his biscuit when Dixee decided to come over and insert herself between him and…
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Cold’s End
And it came to pass that yesterday was a chilly but gorgeous day, and I was as a stranger unto my wife, for I spent long hours of the day outside with the red-spotted dog, starting with a long walk just as the sun was peeking up over the eastern ridge of the Clinch Mountains. Mid-morning, I took Jinx for a ride to the county trash dump. He still has considerable fear of riding in vehicles, but I’ve learned not to try and coax him inside. The cajoling only makes him more skittish. So I just opened the door in advance, and went and got all the trash I was…
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A Capital Spring Day
Rarely have I seen a season on this spinning earth make its entrance with such perfect, almost stereotypical grandeur. Yesterday was gray and raw and sparse, the birds and beasts and even the rocks themselves seeming to flee from the scudding clouds, riding the wind. The night came, and all was silent. And then this morning, it had all changed. Remarkably warm, the day began in the dark with the birds gathered in a holy choir loft that very much resembled a bowl of trees and fences. They sang the sun into the sky, and they spent the day announcing their joy, their intentions, their meditations, their feathered vocations. When…
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Sands, Running
We’ve had a respite from the August heat for a few days. This past weekend, it was so chilly in the mornings and evenings, I had to put on a light jacket in order to sit outside comfortably. This coming weekend is supposed to be more typical of late August, with temperatures back up in the mid-to-high 80s. But the sphere is tilting and the sands are running through the narrow neck, and the effects, while slight, are most definitely there. The crickets keep up a steady chorus. The little things that migrate are extra-busy, flitting and feeding constantly. The leaves are applying their grown-up makeup. The late afternoon sun…