They're called Rifle Pits, others insist they'd been built by the Cherokee, even De Soto was suspect. Stones stacked in circles. Oddly, only four circles and none found elsewhere. Why would Rebel Soldiers build here when the Union Troops were further east. And, there were plenty of boulders to hid and shoot from behind. Then there are the breastwork, walls coming from and going to .... nowhere.
Cool stones penetrated the thin cotton blouse. Leaning back, watched the sunlight leave a mottled patterns across the litter of dried leaves. The smells of summer are sweet. Finnegan, the green eyed gray tabby, patted at a black beetle waiting for the attempted escape. Harmonious insect humming filled the woods. How easy to drift 100 years before today and be lost in the remembering. They curled up together, the girl and the cat, lazy eyes slidding shut.
Dreams of painted warriors, soldiers in blue, others grey danced through the shifting fog. The afternoon slipped aimlessly away. A crunching sound in the leaves roused them. Scratching the cat's ear he said, "Scoot over sister girl for your tired father." Stretching she asked,"Did you find out when?""Oh, sweetie, the wall was built long ago. But, LOOK what I found!"
Monday, June 13, 2011
Tuesday, June 7, 2011
Muscadine Squirrel Hunt
Throwing the door open to the early morning coolness, two startled squirrels leaped back onto the old wild grape vine wrapped among the pine limbs. Little beggars are overly brave and daring. Watching their antics while enjoying Irish Oat and Barry's tea, recalled a warm September afternoon under ancient Muscadine vines during Squirrel Season on Watts Bar Lake.
Well, it was hunting season, you see, and we had to go hunting. Actually, if we weren't fishing it had to be hunting season .... any hunting season would do. So, September was the beginning with Dove and Squirrel. The morning Dove harvest had been cleaned and refrigerated; mid-afternoon seemed to be a good time for Squirrels.
Scrapping back the leaves and settling into the rich black loam, backed against a Cedar tree. This looked good. Two Oaks, laden with acorns, were in front and Muscadine vines interlaced a canopy everywhere. Mother Nature's arbor was full and ripening. The leafy carpet was littered with the very ripe to the over ripe wine colored balls.
Before long the taste testing and entertainment began. Tom, Dick and Harry, for lack of better names, were on their way to regain possession of their treasure trove. One warm sweet juicy ball would only be followed by another and another. The ones that had begun to split open beckoned irresistibly to the three marauders. In short order, Tom fell off the tree he was attempting to climb. Harry, while chasing Dick across a limb, free fell into the leafy carpet. And Dick, not to be outdone, attempted a forward somersault onto a limb landing in a heap against an Oak root. This had been preceded by a lot of cavorting, attempted jumps, swinging from limbs, running into, and generally falling over. All was done with a truly fussing attitude.
Who knew that fruit could ripen to a highly intoxicating fermentation point all on it's own. Well, duh, liquid, sugar, sun ..... Oh, sure you did ..... well, I do too, now. The truth is a fierce pounding behind the eyes caused a brief nap to occur. When one is awakened by someone kicking your boot, the tendency is to recoil in fear while raising your rifle [22, that is]. He was such a smarty, he jumped behind the tree congratulating me for the three fat squirrels. Picking them up by their hind legs must have had the same effect as kicking my boots. Three bodies began to squirm and fuss resulting in their being launched back into the trees. "Holy Cow, what was that?" Choked with laughter, the events were shared AND so were the Muscadines. "Drunk Squirrels?" "REALLY! I swear!"
Well, it was hunting season, you see, and we had to go hunting. Actually, if we weren't fishing it had to be hunting season .... any hunting season would do. So, September was the beginning with Dove and Squirrel. The morning Dove harvest had been cleaned and refrigerated; mid-afternoon seemed to be a good time for Squirrels.
Scrapping back the leaves and settling into the rich black loam, backed against a Cedar tree. This looked good. Two Oaks, laden with acorns, were in front and Muscadine vines interlaced a canopy everywhere. Mother Nature's arbor was full and ripening. The leafy carpet was littered with the very ripe to the over ripe wine colored balls.
Before long the taste testing and entertainment began. Tom, Dick and Harry, for lack of better names, were on their way to regain possession of their treasure trove. One warm sweet juicy ball would only be followed by another and another. The ones that had begun to split open beckoned irresistibly to the three marauders. In short order, Tom fell off the tree he was attempting to climb. Harry, while chasing Dick across a limb, free fell into the leafy carpet. And Dick, not to be outdone, attempted a forward somersault onto a limb landing in a heap against an Oak root. This had been preceded by a lot of cavorting, attempted jumps, swinging from limbs, running into, and generally falling over. All was done with a truly fussing attitude.
Who knew that fruit could ripen to a highly intoxicating fermentation point all on it's own. Well, duh, liquid, sugar, sun ..... Oh, sure you did ..... well, I do too, now. The truth is a fierce pounding behind the eyes caused a brief nap to occur. When one is awakened by someone kicking your boot, the tendency is to recoil in fear while raising your rifle [22, that is]. He was such a smarty, he jumped behind the tree congratulating me for the three fat squirrels. Picking them up by their hind legs must have had the same effect as kicking my boots. Three bodies began to squirm and fuss resulting in their being launched back into the trees. "Holy Cow, what was that?" Choked with laughter, the events were shared AND so were the Muscadines. "Drunk Squirrels?" "REALLY! I swear!"
Sunday, June 5, 2011
The End ...YEA!!!!
Oh, Saturday Centus .... for some reason am unable to leave a comment to most of you. It isn't that I'm disinterested or unimpressed, it has to be computer imps. So please accept my apology. And counting several times to stay within our confines ..... my 27 word offering
It was a start stop, off on, love hate affair for years. Now decide! No problem! I choose Fiber Optics. Goodbye COMCAST .... that's THE END of that.
It was a start stop, off on, love hate affair for years. Now decide! No problem! I choose Fiber Optics. Goodbye COMCAST .... that's THE END of that.
Wednesday, June 1, 2011
Alphabet
She was a Southern girl several generations deep, with an appreciation for old silver and "good" china. They weren't wealthy; Daddy had always said,"we're comfortable" ..... and that distinction was cavernous in the 1950's. All the same, her family was able to afford a "good" formal education through college. Mother made certain she appreciated the "finer things in life":oh, you know, linen, lace, kid gloves, how to sit, drink a proper cup of tea, polite conversation ..... social etiquette. The warm months were dotted with Teas and the cold months were occasional dances.
She married the man she passionately loved; not the one preferred by Daddy. Chestnut braids flying as she whirled to face Daddy,"I'll marry for love or not at all." She could be willful and stubborn, if pushed. That passion produced four sons: Adam, Bradley, Conner, Douglas. Abegail and Colin enjoyed life together with their sons resulting in a tight supportive family. Then that cold Friday the Highway Patrol Officers arrived about 4 in the afternoon to heartbreaking news. A young man on a motorcycle had swirved to miss a dog and the on coming car. Attempting to avoid the cyclist, Colin ran off the road, lost control, hitting a tree at 55 miles an hour. After 35 years of magic, her life would never be the same.
How does one fill the emptness .... need to make money, but how .... we're told pride goeth before a fall .... well, there's always cooking .... she was a good cook .... actually, she was a really good creative cook but no professional training. "Oh, Lord, help", was her constant and silent prayer.
Lunch with a close friend was a turning point. She wanted to host a big party to introduce some new neighbors. "Abegail, would you do the food? I'd pay!" "Are you serious, I've never done that before." Lexie countered "Of course you have. Think of all the parties you and Colin have given. It's only about 100; that would be a snap for you .... oh, please, please PLEASE!" And there it was, her future. First there were quiet dinners, a few artist and wedding receptions using her sons to serve. Then she had to hire help .... more help to serve and help to cook having outgrown her kitchen at home. The 2 boys became managers in the front and back of the house, and 2 in cooking schools. She opened a bistro stlye restaurant in an upscale neighborhood using linen tablecloths and napkins, "good" china and "old" silver. Come and join the group for high tea or a grand dinner, it's called Alphabet.......... oh, you know, for the boys.
She married the man she passionately loved; not the one preferred by Daddy. Chestnut braids flying as she whirled to face Daddy,"I'll marry for love or not at all." She could be willful and stubborn, if pushed. That passion produced four sons: Adam, Bradley, Conner, Douglas. Abegail and Colin enjoyed life together with their sons resulting in a tight supportive family. Then that cold Friday the Highway Patrol Officers arrived about 4 in the afternoon to heartbreaking news. A young man on a motorcycle had swirved to miss a dog and the on coming car. Attempting to avoid the cyclist, Colin ran off the road, lost control, hitting a tree at 55 miles an hour. After 35 years of magic, her life would never be the same.
How does one fill the emptness .... need to make money, but how .... we're told pride goeth before a fall .... well, there's always cooking .... she was a good cook .... actually, she was a really good creative cook but no professional training. "Oh, Lord, help", was her constant and silent prayer.
Lunch with a close friend was a turning point. She wanted to host a big party to introduce some new neighbors. "Abegail, would you do the food? I'd pay!" "Are you serious, I've never done that before." Lexie countered "Of course you have. Think of all the parties you and Colin have given. It's only about 100; that would be a snap for you .... oh, please, please PLEASE!" And there it was, her future. First there were quiet dinners, a few artist and wedding receptions using her sons to serve. Then she had to hire help .... more help to serve and help to cook having outgrown her kitchen at home. The 2 boys became managers in the front and back of the house, and 2 in cooking schools. She opened a bistro stlye restaurant in an upscale neighborhood using linen tablecloths and napkins, "good" china and "old" silver. Come and join the group for high tea or a grand dinner, it's called Alphabet.......... oh, you know, for the boys.
Tuesday, May 31, 2011
Cicada Time ... yuck!
Sounds of summer arrived in spring with the pulsating cacophony of cicada hordes. Red eyed winged 2 inch long insects with no useful purpose other than to breed and die. Arriving in late April their deafening den overpowers all other sounds right into June. Apparently there are two cycles .... a 7 year and a 14 year. They should be a feast for the birds ..... as of this moment, that has not been witnessed.
Maybe fish would enjoy this treat. Alas, this is on the side of a mountain not a river bank. Now that would be a vision as one might topple into the water from an overhanging limb. From below, a 4 pound Bass would spy the ripples, then the red eyes and think YUM as it charges the surface breaking the stillness in a gigantic leap. The rising greenish silver sides and tail flail sending sprays of water back and forth in every direction as the bucket of a mouth inhales the "bug" and the contortions cease sliding back into the water. What if that had been on the end of your 4 pound Spyder Wire line. That could have been a world class tussle ..... head shaking, digging for deep water, a stump or overhanging rock. Makes your fingers tingle just the thought of the bowed ultra light rod, line straining through the guides, giving and taking back, keeping the head up ...... holy cow, this could take awhile. Then from the comotion there would be multiple Bass moving in for dinner..... WOW! [Just a little flight of imagination, wishful thinking or past experience remembered].
Funny, briefly the mind was filled with the sound of gills rattling, water splashing and blood pounding in the ears; rather than the racket outside. Maybe it's time to repair the trailer tires and head to the river. Oh, right, we were talking about the obnoxious CICADAS. Perhaps I perpare for the quiet little Mayflies ...... put new line on the fly rod. Yep, that's a good idea!!!!! Want to go fishing????
Maybe fish would enjoy this treat. Alas, this is on the side of a mountain not a river bank. Now that would be a vision as one might topple into the water from an overhanging limb. From below, a 4 pound Bass would spy the ripples, then the red eyes and think YUM as it charges the surface breaking the stillness in a gigantic leap. The rising greenish silver sides and tail flail sending sprays of water back and forth in every direction as the bucket of a mouth inhales the "bug" and the contortions cease sliding back into the water. What if that had been on the end of your 4 pound Spyder Wire line. That could have been a world class tussle ..... head shaking, digging for deep water, a stump or overhanging rock. Makes your fingers tingle just the thought of the bowed ultra light rod, line straining through the guides, giving and taking back, keeping the head up ...... holy cow, this could take awhile. Then from the comotion there would be multiple Bass moving in for dinner..... WOW! [Just a little flight of imagination, wishful thinking or past experience remembered].
Funny, briefly the mind was filled with the sound of gills rattling, water splashing and blood pounding in the ears; rather than the racket outside. Maybe it's time to repair the trailer tires and head to the river. Oh, right, we were talking about the obnoxious CICADAS. Perhaps I perpare for the quiet little Mayflies ...... put new line on the fly rod. Yep, that's a good idea!!!!! Want to go fishing????
Monday, May 30, 2011
Noble Inhertance and Superman's Reward
Entering into the barn, the sweet scent of straw and hay, plus the sound of crunched grain pervaded her senses. The drumming clatter of rain on the metal roof made this the most perfect place. As she strode down the hallway passing each door, the nickers grew more insistent. Those magnificent bobbing heads emerged to greet and receive the honey dipped slices of expected apples they hadn't tasted for months. It was a long time since Spring Break.
She had trained them for Dressage and Stadium Jumping, the monster black Friesian [Noble Inheritance] and the sleek liver chestnut crossed bred Welsh Cob/Thoroughbred [Superman's Reward]. Dad had taught her from the age of 3 or 4 everything she knew about horses. The memory of his leaving was dim .... a Chief aboard the Franklin in the Pacific Theater WWII .... the picture above the two stalls was his burning ship.
The rain had stopped; the hall filled with "Noble Inheritance" and "Superman's Reward". Brushed, loved, saddled, three heads turned at the sound of the baritone voice. "Did you think you would ride both at the same time?" Her laughter caused both "Noble and "Re" to nicker tossing their mane and heads. She had spent hours working out their names. As they were descended from Medieval War Horses, synonyms of the legacy of heroes seemed appropriate. "No, Dad [her biggest hero] ..... thought you might go with us; afterall, it is Memorial Day."
She had trained them for Dressage and Stadium Jumping, the monster black Friesian [Noble Inheritance] and the sleek liver chestnut crossed bred Welsh Cob/Thoroughbred [Superman's Reward]. Dad had taught her from the age of 3 or 4 everything she knew about horses. The memory of his leaving was dim .... a Chief aboard the Franklin in the Pacific Theater WWII .... the picture above the two stalls was his burning ship.
The rain had stopped; the hall filled with "Noble Inheritance" and "Superman's Reward". Brushed, loved, saddled, three heads turned at the sound of the baritone voice. "Did you think you would ride both at the same time?" Her laughter caused both "Noble and "Re" to nicker tossing their mane and heads. She had spent hours working out their names. As they were descended from Medieval War Horses, synonyms of the legacy of heroes seemed appropriate. "No, Dad [her biggest hero] ..... thought you might go with us; afterall, it is Memorial Day."
Saturday, May 14, 2011
It Really Happened
To Saturday Centus .... April 27th a day of serious tornadoes assailed the Chattanooga, TN area beginning at 8 a.m. and finally ending by 9 p.m. Unlike so many loosing , literally, everything; lost power [thank goodness for generators] and comcast [phone, internet, tv]. Power was restored by Sunday and comcast took 2 weeks to get us back on line. I must say, having participated here only a few weeks, this challenge I missed most. So, hello ..... again and my 100 word offering of It Really Happened.
The air hung in riverlets against the skin as The Spindrift, a 22' Mako open sport fisherman, drifted in the flat, windless gulf stream. "Arrrr me maties" didn't stir a soul; after hours of trolling the broken weed lines, the only recourse was to head home. Changing the heading, she breezed through the deep blue. Only days before, the storm had brought the seas to 6' and 8" swells. Frigate birds wheeled and dropped. The ride had been a roller coaster into the feeding fish.
The first outrigger bowed and the pin snapped. "Fish on!!" Then almost at the same time the second outrigger bent relentlessly. "Fish ..... really, BIG FISH on!!!!" Oh my word .... Bulls ... 2 huge bull Dolphins ... 55 to 60 lbs each .... a boat load of schoolies [5 to 8 lbs] is one thing but BULLS. They can hurt you once in the boat .... and we have two!!!!
We had been sing/humming Gilligan's Island and the Brady Bunch; suddenly we broke into " Hush little baby don't you cry .................... " as we hurled ourselves onto the thrashing fish. The watch, we later found on the forward deck.
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