Goldfinch and Evening Primrose

Hi folks; I saw the first Pine Siskin in my yard, and my first on a feeder in over 20 years. Had to get Sibley out to check. This was the first I have seen outside of the one on territory on Waterrock Knob (last summer) since graduate studies at Boone in 1986.

On another track, I saw a Goldfinch on the seed head of the lone Evening Primrose that managed to flower last summer. Like many "biennial" plants, they actually flower, not the second year after the seed sprouts (this is under optimum conditions), but after the plant manages to gather enough resources to make flowering a possibility. Many species are also perennials. The past few years of drought has held them back, but a couple of years ago, the ones in my driveway managed a bumper crop of blooms, and thus seeds. In the winter, the Goldfinch covered them up, hanging sideways on the heads, and ignoring black oil seed and "Nyjer" until the Primrose seeds were all gone.

Evening Primrose would likely be a good plant for the bird and butterfly garden, plus, it looks like the host plant for at least one Lep. It is a member of the family Onagraceae, and the genus Oenothera. The one I have in my driveway is probably O. biennis, and is found all over the states of NC and SC in fields and scruffy places. It is probably pulled up by most gardeners as weeds, but if left and allowed to bloom, they grow to almost 6 feet, and make lovely blooms that start blooming late in the evening, and stay blooming until well into the next morning, probably to be pollinated by some giant Sphinx moths. After blooming, they make little cylindrical shaped seed pods about an inch or so long that split into four segments when ripe, releasing a horde of seeds, many of which stay on the seed head well into winter. If the seeds escape the Goldfinches, they fall to the ground and sprout, making a ground hugging rosette the first year, and doing the same thing in subsequent year until they gather up enough steam to flower, then one year, up comes a stem, and flowers that only show for a day, though there are over a months worth of them, sometimes more.

I would imagine that if anybody wants them in a hurry, a wildflower nursery might have them, though you can likely find them somewhere and get a bunch of seeds to take back home to plant. They are really a nice tall plant, often with red veined leaves, tall straight stems, and golden colored flowers in the early morning hours. Their only horticultural drawback is that they often get a nasty case of powdery mildew in the late summer, though it doesn't seem to slow them down any.

I know I ran on a bit, but I think these delightful plants are a perfect addition to the bird and butterfly garden, and the Goldfinch love them!

Alex

Winter reflections

Early Winter, and it is cloudy outside, giving the Mountains a misty, mysterious, brooding look. Fog hangs in the lowlands and hollows, and flights of small birds work the wood edges and hedgerows, gleaning things we don't ordinarily see. Temperature today is low 40's, and not much wind yet.

We have a new president in this country, and our sweet world may have a chance to recover from years of excesses and downright attacks. You know whose side I am on, don't you? I actually am glad, however, that the Dems don't have a filibuster proof majority; really crazy stuff will be harder to pass without a fight, like repealing the Second Amendment. That's right. I will address that later, probably losing a few more radical readers. Too bad.

Days are getting shorter here, and I try to spend more time in the field, and sometimes try to get Jake (Pug youngster) out with me. He is a great hiking companion, and really tries to help our drought stricken world by watering every tree, bush, vertical blade of grass, or even sticks that stick up... He is a precious little boy, and I love him.


I have discovered a new place to wander, near one of my old stomping grounds, not far from my grandmother's old home, a place in western Buncombe County called Sandy Mush Gameland. It is not far from the Madison County line, and is a great place to hunt if you are so inclined, as it is managed for Mourning Dove hunting, plus having a booming deer population. If you just like to go out and look, hike, or just have a day in the woods, go out on Sunday, Tuesday, Thursday or Friday from September to the end of February (hunting seasons). It is a wonderful place, and has lots of breathtaking views. It has an old timey feel, and is wild, though close to town.

This photo shows one of the many views at Sandy Mush out over a dove field, and also shows the cloudy weather of mid winter that is common here.

I have gotten into a new hobby, geocaching, which is sort of an Internet treasure hunt. In this game, people hide something in a cache somewhere, post the coordinates online, and people hunt for it using a Global Positioning System receiver, which can get you within a very few feet of the cache. I have two in Sandy Mush, and hope to have more soon. You can find out more at http://geocaching.com. It is a fun hobby, and can be gotten into with any GPS receiver, some of which are getting rather affordable. Most of my caches feature something to do with tree identification before you can find the cache, and contain at least one piece of my handmade wire jewelry or a semiprecious stone.

Get outside, folks, and enjoy Nature!

Alex

A bad dream... or reality?

Last week I had a bad dream. I dreamed I was in a local mall parking lot, and talking to someone, trying to give directions. When I turned to point at a local mountain, I saw that it was completely shorn of trees, and a nasty swirl of smoke and red clay dust was ascending to the sky. Noise of heavy equipment was pounding the air, and men were swarming over the landscape, cutting any tree left vertical, or bulldozing them under. One of my favorite mountains was cloven in two, and was being destroyed before my eyes. As I looked around, I saw a panoramic view of the hills around me, and all of them were the same way, all trees gone, and the sweet lovely mountain soil gouged down to the hard, dusty red clay. Condominiums, gated communities, golf courses, malls, and other eyesores were being built over these formerly green clad mountains I have called home for more than half a century. No bird was flying but for a few crows, black against the red of the clay and the hazy gray sky.

I awoke from this dream with a sense of foreboding, but when I went out that day, most of the mountains still had green on them. However, unfortunately, many did not. There is a mountainside near Swannanoa that is being systematically raped in the name of an "exclusive community with a golf course", rumored to be built by a famous young golfer - I used to respect him, but now have little use for him. That is, if it is true. I will attempt to reserve judgment.
Almost every day I see an TV ad by an disgusting little man with a grin of evil on his face telling how he had a whole mountain top cut to improve a view in his gated community near Hendersonville. Where you used to see mountain tops, you now see big expensive housing monstrosities. Big ugly expensive housing monstrosities.

At one time, I could look out on the mountains and see only the lovely green hills, and blank out of my vision the strip malls, gated scabs of "communities", golf courses, and raw hillsides left after building yet another rich persons whim, but after that dream I can't. It hurts, but now when I look out at the hills I see the approach of backhoes, bulldozers and earth movers. Maybe I needed that dream.

I am a poor man, and have never had much money or influence in this world. If I walked into a planning or zoning meeting and spoke, people would say "who are you?", and I would be brushed aside. I just hope someone out there who has some influence will read this blog entry and come here and help us work to stop the rapacious slaughter of the lovely Blue Ridge hills before it is too late.

Thank you;
Alex

Waterrock Knob

Suzanne, Jake (the Fawn Pug) and I went to Waterrock Knob on the Blue Ridge Parkway today. It is to my shame and chagrin that I have never been there, just passed by it when going somewhere else. We took I-40 to US 19 through Maggie Valley, up to Soco Gap, where we got on the Parkway. We then went about 8 miles north to the Waterrock Knob parking area and Visitor Center, a nice little place to learn local lore and shop for cute gifts and guide books.
On this short trip to the Knob, we were treated to a spectacle of Flame Azalea, Mountain Laurel (called "Ivy" or "Mountain Ivy" by the old folks), and Catawba Rhododendron all along the road, and in absolute full bloom. In the parking area we also saw up close the Rhododendron, something I have managed to miss the last few years.
After going into the Visitor Center, and using the facilities outside (don't go IN there!), we took off up the trail. Though the trail is only about a half mile, it is a steep half mile, and requires some stamina. I lost a good bit of stamina when I suffered an aortic dissection, a dangerous splitting of the inner aortic wall. As mine was abdominal (type B), it was not really in my best interest to have surgery, so I am a bit handicapped. We got a hundred or so yards up the trail and sat down on a well placed bench, and I started to make a "pssht" sound to attract birds. Suzanne is much better at this than I, so when she started, birds were everywhere. We saw Juncoes (of course), a Black Capped Chickadee with his ragged bib, a Chestnut Sided Warbler who sounded more like a Hooded, and what could only have been a Pine Siskin, a bird that should be on its breeding grounds in Canada, but what do I know?
Moving on up to the "pedestrian overlook", we were treated to a view that is only like the view from an airplane. The vegetation here is classic "canadian zone" or "Spruce/Fir zone", with the addition of the ever present Red Maple. It is a lovely walk, a lovely place, and a wonderful escape from the heat and humidity of the valley. Since it is over 6000 feet, it has a good many Fraser Fir, and I suspect it normally has a great deal more water; however, in our drought stricken condition, there is little water to be found. I swear I heard the maple tree sigh when Jake um, "visited" it.
On the way down, the most striking view was just downhill from the "pedestrian overlook". Suzanne, who does not do heights to well, said "we look on the same level with that peak over there". As we were looking out into the Shining Rock Wilderness (I think), and may have been looking at Cold Mountain, I said that the peak was likely about a thousand feet below us. Such is the view from there.
We didn't make it to the top. When we got to the pedestrian overlook, I was a bit worn down, Suzanne was also, and Jake, who is a good bit brachycephalic, what with being a Pug and all, was doing a rather rough kind of breathing that can scare a Pug person, so we all agreed to head back down. I have heard the view is 360 degrees from the top, and when we are all in better shape, and maybe the weather is cooler, we will all three make it there. Until then, we all enjoyed it tremendously, and I would suggest that anyone wishing to see the flowers in bloom needs to do it this week, as they will probably start fading by next weekend.

Enjoy Nature folks:
Alex

Late Spring

Well, it is technically late Spring. I view it as early Summer. As this is the "Summer of Locusts", it is a bit different, what with the hordes of Cicadas still around. Still, it is much the same as has ever been in the Southern Blue Ridge. The Mountains look sweet and inviting. You see a mountainside from a distance, and you want to be under the tall trees there, near a small mountain brook, with the coolness of the water right out of the mountain. You can probably drink with impunity, especially if the spring is near, as no pollutants or diseases can be introduced to water right out of the mountain. You can poke around the stream bank or around the spring, and possibly find Box Turtles, holed up here to escape the heat and the dry, dug in under the wet leaves and boggy soil, staying cool while the world bakes in the unseasonable heat.
Or, maybe you gaze on a high elevation meadow in the Pisgah range, and want to be there, in the tall grass, with the butterflies and bees, and maybe a small stream flowing through. Elk, who have lately been re-introduced, can maybe be seen here, especially at Cataloochie. Maybe someday they will get into the Pisgahs.
All kinds of things can be done in the world of Nature, much can be explored, and there are many places that can help you, particularly two of my favorite places in the Blue Ridge, the WNC Nature Center in Asheville, and the Pisgah Center for Wildlife Education, both wonderful places to go to learn about our Mountains. Check them out.
It is certainly time to get out, but with this crazy hot weather we have been having, I am for the high country. Let me tell you, it is nice and cool above 5000 feet!
See you later!
Alex
http://blueridgediscovery.com

Tree Tops

The twigs in the tree tops are beginning to droop, many are brown. The female Periodical Cicadas are beginning to deposit eggs. The mating is beginning to take on a fever pitch, and the sound of the males singing is almost overpowering. In a few weeks, many trees will have dead twigs drooping where the females have placed eggs. Males are starting to show up on the ground dead, their job of fertilizing a female's eggs done. The mating dance is starting to take on a extreme fervor now, with many individuals flying around trying to get mated, both male and female.
Their cousins, the Annual Cicadas will come out later, in July, during Dog Days. Here, they are called "Dry Flies", due to the dry, rasping sounds they make. Watch for them in a couple of months. You will be able to hear them, trust me. They have some of the loudest songs in the Animal Kingdom, some as loud as a jet plane taking off. They have the same sort of life cycle, just shorter, and some of them like pines and other evergreens; the Periodicals mostly like hardwoods, though I have seen a lot of them emerging under Spruce.
When the Periodical Cicadas are finally gone, and some people will be quite happy (not me!), it will be mid-summer; they will mostly be gone before the end of July. Then, of course, listen for the "Dry Flies".

Cicadas everywhere

They really are everywhere, or so it seems. In the Asheville area, the constant trill is almost mind numbing, especially around noon.
We are experiencing a phenomenon that has had people in awe for hundreds (and probably thousands) of years. The old folks, and here I mean the people who were my grandparents' age when I was growing up, called them Locusts, and said that they were the locusts of the Bible that plagued Pharaoh, when Moses was asking him to release the Jews (Children of Israel). They did not know, due to the insularity of the Mountains, that a locust is a different creature altogether; a grasshopper.
These creatures have an extraordinary life, one that extends for 17 (or 13 in some cases) years underground, and emerge all at once in a horde that totally swamps any predators, allowing most of them to feed (some say they do feed), mate, and deposit eggs in relative peace.
What makes them so terribly special to me, and almost magical (indeed, their Genus is Magicicada), is this hidden life, and I have always celebrated the emergence as a special event. I know that some folks do not (including my wife Suzanne), but I rejoice in them.
They are in all the trees here, and can be seen flitting around from tree to tree. I have heard two different songs, the "Pharaoh" trill of the species M. septendecim, and the odd ratcheting sound of what was likely a M. cassini.

My first experience of these insects was when I was 6 years old, in 1957, as I wrote in a previous post. I was unable to handle them then, as the old folks said they were "poisonous". In 1974, I handled them, and photographed them, and again in 1991. I am playing with them this year too, and even brought one in the house, and photographed it emerging, a pretty little male. You can see him in his white coloration before he turned to the orange color of full adulthood.

I am glad to have seen this emergence, and this is likely to be my last or next to last of this brood number 14 (XIV), as I am 57 years old, and have a dissected aorta. (Uh oh! ) However, I might see another in 17 years, if I am a good boy!

Enjoy, and come see them before they are gone, and the babies take another 17 years!

Blackberry Winter and "Locusts"

Blackberry Winter has been here, and thankfully, there was no frost. What is Blackberry Winter, you ask? It is that cold spell in the early part of May when the Blackberries are blooming in this part of the country. The Jet Stream is still writhing like a big old snake on hot ground due to the change over to Spring, and cold fronts march across our country like invading armies, only to be repulsed by the Summer to come. These cold fronts don't do much in most of the country, but here, in the Southern Appalachians, we feel it. The old folks said that if there were no cold and rain when the Blackberries were blooming, Blackberries would not bear. I have to agree, from observation. Curious.

On quite another note, a rather rare occurrence is taking place here, and it has me terribly excited. It has had me excited since I was a small child, and i have only seen it three times in my life, and this year makes four. A low trill fills the air, not really loud, but certainly noticeable, a trill that oddly resembles the trill of an American Toad, but only heard every seventeen years instead of every Spring. It will become a background to life for about two months, and then fade away. It is the song of the Seventeen Year Cicada, called Locusts by the old people. It is one of the largest broods, brood # XIV, and has quite a widespread occurrence. The old Mountaineers like my grandparents would tell me they are the Locust of the Bible, and even call "Phaaaraoh" (their trill is uncannily like the word Pharaoh, curiously) and since they have a synergistic emergence, they truly seem to be here in plague proportions. Since they only come out every seventeen years, and the nymphs live underground for seventeen years, they would seem something mythical, or perhaps, Biblical. There are so many of them, and the egg laying activities of the females make such an evident mark on trees, leaving dead twigs hanging everywhere, that it is understandable why folks think it is a "plague". Actually, the tree damage does no harm, and few if any die from the "damage". You can see a picture of a representative of one of the species (there are three actually) at the top of this blog; I do not have the technical expertise or the patience to move it to the middle of the page.
Older people, when I try to tell them these are NOT Locusts, will disagree, and will go into that response common to many Southerners "are you callin' me a LIAR?!". No, I am saying you are ignorant. Sorry, but that response brings out the worst in me.
It has been said that inside every tall tale is a hard kernel of fact. I have found that in some cases, it is a hard kernel of ignorance. The old people had never seen a Locust, a type of grasshopper (see Locust Photos and Wiki Locust), so obviously called them a Locust. The fact that the call, a trill that rises slightly and then falls quickly, sounding very like a trilled "Pharaoh" is the final nail. This call can be heard on the site www.magicicada.org, where they have calls of all three species liable to be out.
Another thing I was told when I was seven years old was that they are poisonous, and if they sting you, you will die, probably because the females "sting" trees, and the twigs die. Not. They are harmless, and even edible, if you are so inclined (Man vs. Wild, anyone?). I prefer to observe them, and listen to the chorus. Matter of fact, I think I will go listen to the chorus of "Phaaaroah", and see if I can handle a few.
Bye now!

Spring Climbs the Mountains

Spring indeed does climb the Mountains. You can see it happen, as I have when I was traveling weekly between Asheville at 2000 ft. and Morganton at a little over 1000 a few years ago. In the Piedmont, Spring would already be in full swing while only a few signs were showing here. At around 3000 feet, there was nothing.
Today, Spring is in full swing here. Sarvice (Serviceberry), has bloomed, and Dogwood is blooming. We even had Dogwood Winter. There are Spring wildflowers out everywhere like the Spring Beauty, Trilliums, and Fire Pink. Pansy Violets are also out. Tadpoles are in the pools and seeps where a few weeks ago there were only eggs. Leaves are out on many of the trees, and the hills are greening up.
However, if you look at the surrounding hills, you will see that the green goes only part way up the slopes. Past a certain line on the mountains, at probably 2500 feet, the woods are still gray. Spring hasn't gotten there yet. Go up the Parkway to Mt. Pisgah, and you will discover it is still the tail end of Winter there. So, Spring is indeed climbing the hills, as it has done for millennia.
Now is a great time to see wild flowers in the Smokies. A nice place is the Kephart Prong parking area.
Hope to see you out there!
Alex

Dogwood, wildflowers, and cold weather

Dogwoods are just starting to bloom, and the weather is turning cold. It has always been that way, or so I have been told. My grandparents called it "Dogwood Winter", and believed that we would always have a cold spell when the dogwood bloomed. In my 57 years, it has always seemed so. I could be all scientific and make some reference to weather patterns and coincidence, but generally, I just accept Dogwood Winter as part of my heritage. Perhaps this seems superstitious, and I guess in a way it is. However, I have seen it happen in almost every year of my 57, so there is some empirical data there. I do not believe in the "hoop snake", or a myriad of other myths and legends, and no, Copperheads and "Black Snakes" do not interbreed. However, "Dogwood Winter" seems to happen every year, as does "Blackberry Winter". So there.
There are a host of wildflowers out. Spring Beauty makes silver carpets where it grows thick, but if you get up close, it is white tinged with pink. So it is with the Pansy Violet, which is called "Johnny Jumpup", except they make a blue or yellow carpet, and the flowers are those colors. Appalachian Serviceberry, called "Sarvice" by the Mountaineers (including me) has made its snow white mist against the unrelieved grays and browns of the early Spring woods, and now is making leaves, and the sweet and tart berries that will be ripening about the middle of June. Bloodroot and Trout Lily have both bloomed, and are making seed pods; the Bloodroot is growing ever bigger leaves too. If you poke through the richer coves and bottomlands, you just might see the Little Sweet Betsy, a type of Trillium with dark mottled leaves and red upright flowers that has the odd odor reminiscent of over ripe apples. Other Trilliums will be blooming soon if they aren't already.
So, if you live near the Mountains, come visit. Start out at Asheville, or another place at about 2000 feet, and go up, maybe on the Parkway. You will see many phases of Spring, until you get high enough, and only the Sarvice (Serviceberry) are blooming. Beyond that and it is still Winter.
Shoot me an e-mail if you are going, and I will help you plan your route. Heck, I might even go with you if you invite me!
Enjoy!

Peepers at night and Wood Frogs

The Spring Peepers are out again. You can visit a wetland almost anywhere in the eastern US on a warm spring night, especially when it is raining or has just rained, and hear them. They are said to sound like baby chickens, and I guess they do, but a chorus is a jingling mess, with thousands of tiny songsters vying for females.

I went to a couple of sites near where I live to hear them, and record my observations for Frogwatch USA. They can be found at http://www.nwf.org/frogwatchUSA/ . Just copy this link and paste it into your browser. I'm too lazy to code out the HTML.

Unfortunately, I do not live in the country, but in the suburb, but even there, there are plenty of frog sites, and I have three very near the Western NC Nature Center. Two of them have Wood and Pickerel Frogs too, all three species are reputed to have antifreeze in their blood, so they won't freeze on those early spring nights that dip into the 20's.

At the top of this entry, you can see an egg mass left by at least two Wood Frog pairs. Woodies tend to aggregate their eggs for a number of reasons, the two top reasons said to be to hoard heat in the middle of the mass (for those sub freezing nights) and to swamp any egg predators - anybody eating from a mass would get full before eating the whole mass, so if you are a Wood Frog pair, you have a higher chance of producing babies if you deposit along with others.

Late Winter or Early Spring?

Late winter, or for that matter early spring, in the Southern Appalachians has two faces. Some days are honey colored, soft, and carry the feeling of spring, that silken feeling on the skin of warm spring air. The next day, there's nothing between you and the North Pole but a barb wire fence. It can catch you out. You go out in the morning, and it is so sweet, birds singing, the sun giving everything a pre-spring glow, and by mid afternoon the skies have clouded over, a raw wind that seems to carry a straight razor has sprung up, and there is a fine snow spitting out of a leaden sky. You, of course, are in a short sleeve shirt, light trousers, and no hat. You really deserve it, though, if you are over 20; you should have seen it enough times to know. If I go out for the day at this time of year, I carry a warm coat with me just in case. Of course, I have seen this for over a half century.

The Creasy Greens are coming out, those famous greens that Mountaineers pick every winter. If you want to look them up, they are Barbarea verna or Barbarea vulgaris. My uncle called the former "Sweet Creases" and the latter "Boar Creases", the idea being that they were only fit for boars to eat. He actually called them something else, alluding to having unmarried parents, but this is, after all, a family blog, and Uncle Carl was rather free with Ancient Anglo Saxon Expletives. We won't go there.

Creases, called Early Yellow Rocket (B. verna) and Garden Yellow Rocket (B. vulgaris) on the USDA pages (http://plants.usda.gov/java/profile?symbol=BAVU for Boar Creases) are a member of the Mustard family, and have the fiery mustard oil common to the family. Boar Creases have a bit more of the bitter oil, making them taste bad to some. In the words of Uncle Carl "Some folks like 'em. Them folks over on Sodom (Sodom Laurel Creek, Madison County NC) love 'em, but I cain't stand 'em". I have to agree with Uncle Carl; I cain't stand 'em neither.

Another cress that is coming out is the Bitter or Pepper Cress (Cardamine hirsuta). It is a tiny cress, and like Creases, is a winter annual, a plant that sprouts in the winter, makes a rosette of leaves, and in spring throws up a stem that bears the flowers, and finally seed pods. This one already has flowers, tiny white ones that are often hidden in the grass. Both these Mustards are introduced from Europe years ago, the settlers not knowing what native plants to eat, and have become a part of our flora and also our local culture.

A number of other small things are out now, including the Ivy Leaved Speedwell. It too is an introduction; seems that our locals are a little more timid. Wise, more likely; frost can happen here up to May 15, so they are probably very wise.

It is cold tonight, and will likely be freezing tomorrow. It will get warmer though. Spring is more a progression than a discrete date.

Bye now. Look for these winter annuals to see if you can find them in your neck of the woods.

Alex

Early Signs of Spring

I have heard and seen signs of Spring here the last few days. Jake the Fawn Pug, a good trail companion, and I were walking at the Asheville soccer fields on Azalea Road this week, and as we got to the far end we heard the bright sweet calls of the Spring Peepers. They, along with some other amphibians, produce an antifreeze in their body fluids, so there is no real fear that they will freeze to death when the cold returns. Oh, it will. It certainly will. Their mating assemblies can be hears on any rainy night and some wet days any time between early February and April as long as the temperatures are in the mid 50's or so.

We saw the bright blue flowers of Ivy Leaf Speedwell yesterday, like tiny fragments of Turquoise thrown on the lawn, so blue they sing to the sense of sight.

Yesterday morning, I woke to the short drumming of a Downy Woodpecker - hope they nest somewhere near.

I have heard the Song Sparrow too. Every one of them has a different song, and many of them have two or more songs, so listening to them is a joy. They have been all my life a sign Spring is coming. The sweet buzzing and trills are somehow comforting, joyful, relaxing, and just gives you a feeling of indescribable joy deep down inside. He holds territory all winter, but gets real poetic about now.

The Carolina Wren with his eardrum thumping song is also holding forth. If you are standing too close when he lets go, it can actually deafen you for a few seconds. He is LOUD! He too stays around all winter, but he and Mrs. Wren are starting to feel the effects of longer hours of sun light, swelling gonads, and rampant hormones. Just wait. They will be looking for a garage, utility building, mail box, hanging basket, or even a glove left outside to build a nest in and raise a brood. They don't need much.

These early warm spells are nothing new, and many critters take advantage. Wood Frogs have probably been out already. However, having been here half a century, I warn you;
Don't trust it. Spring is not really here until you can say with confidence that frost will not happen any more, and that is mid May. Really. Don't plant corn, and don't put indoor plants outside until then, or you'll lose them.

So though the signs are here, spring is still a ways off.

Get outside, folks, and look for the signs!

Snow on the Mountain

We had snow last night. Large wet flakes fell from a sky the color of old lead. There is something about a Southern Appalachian snow that touches me deeply. The hard blue sky slowly begins to fill in with smooth gray clouds that John Parris called a "Gray Goose Sky". As the clouds coalesce, the air begins to get colder and sharper, and it seems to wrap around you with a sort of pleasant cold that speaks of thousands of years of Mountain snows.
My mom called me as the clouds got thicker last evening, telling me of a time in her early life when she saw just such a day and cloud cover. She said she and her father were walking back from the barn after handing tobacco (another story for another time), and her father looked up and said "we're going to have a big snow tonight", and he was right. Of course, when you live near the land, get your livelihood from it, know every aspect of it, it will talk to you.

The snow obscures roads and paths, making the world new, or perhaps old. Perhaps the power goes out, and the twentieth and twenty first centuries retreat in the purity of white, and perhaps an older time is mutely glimpsed as a shade behind the snow, a time of working tobacco in a cold barn, gathering eggs at daybreak, feeding grain to the milk cow, of meat taken from the smoke house to be eaten with breakfast, of rabbits hunted in the snow because tracking was easier, and huddling around a fire in the evening, listening to an elder tell stories of days older still, how hard it was after The War (Between the States, perhaps), how the river froze so hard that a wagon and team of horses could be safely driven across, of people lost in winters past in a land still wild, and of their discovery in spring, when people were able to get out and about. Some of that wildness may still exist when the snow is on the ground, when it forms a mystic portal to ages past, and gives glimpses of a way of life now gone. At least it is for me.

The snow melts, showing the road, the Twenty First Century intrudes, a car horn sounds, a sand truck roars by, and it is gone. Until the next snow.