December 31st, 2009
Momentously saying good bye to 2009 and hello to a new decade starting here in Altamont, New York. What did they call this last decade anyway?
For all who are reading, may you have more of what you already have.
Much Love,
Lynda
Thursday, December 31, 2009
Thursday, December 24, 2009
Warrenton, Virginia
Warrenton VA.
Kiley, Violette, Josh, Madison, Jaiden, Taylor, Ty, Joshua, Micah, Rory, Xandre, Lilly, Zephaniah, Kendal, Addie, Ashlyn, Faith , Reillly, Anjoli, Mason, Blakem Emma, and Cole.
These were the names of the children who played Mary and Joseph, the shepherds, stars, angels, the three wise men and all the stable animals for The Warrenton Christian Pre-School Christmas Pageant which lasted 40 minutes. Anjoli Marie, my 4 soon to be 5-year-old granddaughter was one of the Stars.
There was not a Michael or John or Kathy or Sally in the bunch. This little generation is shepherding a new host of names. What does remain the same is a wave from the stage when they recognize that you are looking at them, the songs that are sung off key with enthusiasm and delight, boys that poke each other and girls that shove forward for more attention.
Peyton the 6 soon to be seven-year-old grandson, went with reluctance and would have rather been home watching Harry Potter. He spied a fellow classmate in the audience and they shot imaginary lasers at each other while the choir sang “Go Tell It On the Mountain”.
Ah kids! I am getting a dose of baby dolls, star wars and a house full of giggles, songs and dancing for every success. Christmas is fully animated here in Warrenton. Tonight we are leaving “bait” for Santa Claus. Peyton doesn’t believe he is real, but just in case we are leaving carrots for the reindeer and a stash of cookies for Santa. If he takes the bait, we know Santa lives for one more year.
Sending giggles and hugs and laughter to all and to all a good night.
Kiley, Violette, Josh, Madison, Jaiden, Taylor, Ty, Joshua, Micah, Rory, Xandre, Lilly, Zephaniah, Kendal, Addie, Ashlyn, Faith , Reillly, Anjoli, Mason, Blakem Emma, and Cole.
These were the names of the children who played Mary and Joseph, the shepherds, stars, angels, the three wise men and all the stable animals for The Warrenton Christian Pre-School Christmas Pageant which lasted 40 minutes. Anjoli Marie, my 4 soon to be 5-year-old granddaughter was one of the Stars.
There was not a Michael or John or Kathy or Sally in the bunch. This little generation is shepherding a new host of names. What does remain the same is a wave from the stage when they recognize that you are looking at them, the songs that are sung off key with enthusiasm and delight, boys that poke each other and girls that shove forward for more attention.
Peyton the 6 soon to be seven-year-old grandson, went with reluctance and would have rather been home watching Harry Potter. He spied a fellow classmate in the audience and they shot imaginary lasers at each other while the choir sang “Go Tell It On the Mountain”.
Ah kids! I am getting a dose of baby dolls, star wars and a house full of giggles, songs and dancing for every success. Christmas is fully animated here in Warrenton. Tonight we are leaving “bait” for Santa Claus. Peyton doesn’t believe he is real, but just in case we are leaving carrots for the reindeer and a stash of cookies for Santa. If he takes the bait, we know Santa lives for one more year.
Sending giggles and hugs and laughter to all and to all a good night.
Friday, December 11, 2009
Asheville, NC and the Blue Ridge Mountains
I was greeted by three possible organic food stores in Asheville and settled on Green Life. People looked familiar and the greens were jumping with chi. I filled my basket and headed for the hills of Marshall to stay with my nephew Brian and Erin and little Sabrina Jewell. Delightful to be in their home again and reacquaint myself with Sabrina, now three, who is a baker, artist and writer.
‘Visited with some old friends from Santa Fe. Joe and Debra Roberts have settled into 15 acres of land complete with bee keeping, mushroom growing and a warm welcome of soup and salad, cookies and tea. “The conversation” started where we left off 15 years ago as we shared stories of our spiritual paths, trips to India and
journeys of the heart.
I like the Blue Ridge Mountains with its abundance of trees. I took myself on a long hike yesterday and kicked up leaves on the trail, flushed out wild turkey, found a spring and even an old graveyard. Mountains and small towns are in my DNA and the moist, cool air refreshing. Its feels good and I take note of this.
‘Visited with some old friends from Santa Fe. Joe and Debra Roberts have settled into 15 acres of land complete with bee keeping, mushroom growing and a warm welcome of soup and salad, cookies and tea. “The conversation” started where we left off 15 years ago as we shared stories of our spiritual paths, trips to India and
journeys of the heart.
I like the Blue Ridge Mountains with its abundance of trees. I took myself on a long hike yesterday and kicked up leaves on the trail, flushed out wild turkey, found a spring and even an old graveyard. Mountains and small towns are in my DNA and the moist, cool air refreshing. Its feels good and I take note of this.
Margarine
December 11, 2009
Yep, margarine. I survived eating this slimy, yellow, artificial, liver clogging material lavishly slathered on toast at the local diner where eggs are packaged and about the only real thing was the abundance of bacon. There is slim pick-ins in this part of the country. A mixed green salad is a serving of ice burg lettuce with a leaf of romaine and sweet tea is sugar water with a dash of black tea.
A man next in line at the grocery store balanced a loaf of white bread, a jar of mustard and boloney in one hand and Cherry 7-up with anti-oxidants in the other. I stared at this one for a while, 7-up now comes anti-oxidants? This must be really good for you. So good to see what I have been missing. In yet another check out line, the clerk inquisitively fondled my acorn squash and called over another cashier to help identify this rippled green-orange monster. For a start, I said, look under vegetables.
Meanwhile my brother is as good as he’ll get. At 72 he still works at the local plant rebuilding its machinery and is still capable of lifting a 125 lb. tool box from the back of his truck. If he didn’t eat margarine himself, he’d probably feel better, but he is who he is and there is nothing wrong with his emotional heart. We shared a few meals, gave Ivory a bath for fleas, watched Pete Seeger’s documentary, and, then with a hug and kiss, down the road I go.
Yep, margarine. I survived eating this slimy, yellow, artificial, liver clogging material lavishly slathered on toast at the local diner where eggs are packaged and about the only real thing was the abundance of bacon. There is slim pick-ins in this part of the country. A mixed green salad is a serving of ice burg lettuce with a leaf of romaine and sweet tea is sugar water with a dash of black tea.
A man next in line at the grocery store balanced a loaf of white bread, a jar of mustard and boloney in one hand and Cherry 7-up with anti-oxidants in the other. I stared at this one for a while, 7-up now comes anti-oxidants? This must be really good for you. So good to see what I have been missing. In yet another check out line, the clerk inquisitively fondled my acorn squash and called over another cashier to help identify this rippled green-orange monster. For a start, I said, look under vegetables.
Meanwhile my brother is as good as he’ll get. At 72 he still works at the local plant rebuilding its machinery and is still capable of lifting a 125 lb. tool box from the back of his truck. If he didn’t eat margarine himself, he’d probably feel better, but he is who he is and there is nothing wrong with his emotional heart. We shared a few meals, gave Ivory a bath for fleas, watched Pete Seeger’s documentary, and, then with a hug and kiss, down the road I go.
Friday, December 4, 2009
Deliverance
December 4th, 2009
Route 53 winds and bends through Dawsonville GA. On a dark night after a rain, patches of fog nest in the low lying curves making navigation treacherous. Gullies and ditches line the edges of this route and shoulders are nearly nonexistent. There is little room for error, and blinking is not allowed.
Years ago when this road was cut, farmers were hard pressed to give up any of their land to make it straight and now everyone has to live with it. It is by far one of the most dangerous roads in Northern Georgia. But not everyone feels that way. Last night when I was cruising along at 30 miles per hour hunched up over the steering wheel for a better view, a local, it had to be a local, passes me on a curve with double solid line.
Off this route, Tara lives in a magnificent two story log cabin in the piney woods not far from the Amicolola River, the famous river where the movie Deliverance was shot. The redneck culture still thrives here. They hunt, they snort, they drink their beers and they go to the local Baptist church on Sunday. Tara is a misfit.
Back in the early 80’s I met Ms. Tara Van Meter at the door of her Kinderhook farmhouse in NY. I said I wanted to study stained glass and she invited me to show up at her house with my tools. I arrived with a humble shoebox touting my glasscutter, pliers, soldering gun, copper foil and flux. She opened the door and stood there leaning on a crutch with a cast on her leg and said “Don’t just stand there staring, come in.”
Smugly she made a pot of tea and around her wood-burning stove interviewed me about my intentions. There we were, Tara, an oversized character who had made it into the prestigious Rhinebeck Craft Fair and me, a dabbling craftsperson seeking more instruction. I sat through a couple hours of intimidating conversation about a world I knew little about. This was our humble begin to a lifetime of connection.
I am grateful to be off the road, resting and walking. Georgia does have something that I did not find in Florida, HILLS. Yes, hills with pine-scented woodsy paths and squirrels and earth that squishes under your feet; hills with meandering creeks and rotting logs; green hills with views and meadows and fallen leaves. Somewhere deep inside my chest, I remember and embrace a familiar love for a gentle countryside.
Tomorrow I leave for Campabello, SC to spend a couple nights with my eldest brother Dick.
Route 53 winds and bends through Dawsonville GA. On a dark night after a rain, patches of fog nest in the low lying curves making navigation treacherous. Gullies and ditches line the edges of this route and shoulders are nearly nonexistent. There is little room for error, and blinking is not allowed.
Years ago when this road was cut, farmers were hard pressed to give up any of their land to make it straight and now everyone has to live with it. It is by far one of the most dangerous roads in Northern Georgia. But not everyone feels that way. Last night when I was cruising along at 30 miles per hour hunched up over the steering wheel for a better view, a local, it had to be a local, passes me on a curve with double solid line.
Off this route, Tara lives in a magnificent two story log cabin in the piney woods not far from the Amicolola River, the famous river where the movie Deliverance was shot. The redneck culture still thrives here. They hunt, they snort, they drink their beers and they go to the local Baptist church on Sunday. Tara is a misfit.
Back in the early 80’s I met Ms. Tara Van Meter at the door of her Kinderhook farmhouse in NY. I said I wanted to study stained glass and she invited me to show up at her house with my tools. I arrived with a humble shoebox touting my glasscutter, pliers, soldering gun, copper foil and flux. She opened the door and stood there leaning on a crutch with a cast on her leg and said “Don’t just stand there staring, come in.”
Smugly she made a pot of tea and around her wood-burning stove interviewed me about my intentions. There we were, Tara, an oversized character who had made it into the prestigious Rhinebeck Craft Fair and me, a dabbling craftsperson seeking more instruction. I sat through a couple hours of intimidating conversation about a world I knew little about. This was our humble begin to a lifetime of connection.
I am grateful to be off the road, resting and walking. Georgia does have something that I did not find in Florida, HILLS. Yes, hills with pine-scented woodsy paths and squirrels and earth that squishes under your feet; hills with meandering creeks and rotting logs; green hills with views and meadows and fallen leaves. Somewhere deep inside my chest, I remember and embrace a familiar love for a gentle countryside.
Tomorrow I leave for Campabello, SC to spend a couple nights with my eldest brother Dick.
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