Beauty Spot

Hello All.
I promise more consistentcy in this journal once I get better access to the internet. Right now I am preparing for a thru-hike along the venerable Appalachian Trail. Pictured here is Beauty Spot, a bald mountain transected by the trail. Every time I hike up there the vista is different. On this day I walked out of the woods damp with morning showers, a lot of sweat, and the nagging thought of the tiny mouse that kept me up the night before. Descending from Unaka, Mt. I saw this brilliant sea swirling below of cloud and mountain. It was a kingdom all my own with nary a person or animal seen or heard. Coming out of a fog blanketed hollow, over a steep mountain top, and down into this bald mountain of light, cloud, and undulating land I literally screamed. The reverberation of my joy was enpowering. The night before I questioned my place on the trail and if this year was my time to hike it. I think most might have similar concerns before setting out on months away from all familiar, and accepting the whims of nature.

I have now resolved to set out this late winter and take it step by step. On Kilimanjaro, my Tanzanian friends had a way of saying "Pole, pole" to us westerners that put my sensibilities at ease. The swahili word "pole" can take on many meanings like a lot of swahili. Here on the mountain, and said together, it meant "slowly, slowly friend," the mountain will remain, just keep walking slowly and greet her with every step. I take this words with me as I transition from western life to trail life. Godspeed to everyone on their path.

Winter finally

60 degree temperatures gave way to snow here in TN. Much obliged.

Downtown

Red Sunflowers

A red-billed sparrow in syncopation with July evening rain. Drops heavy visible all the way down. Mosquitoes buzzing around my forearm. Ragged pick-ups thudding by. The dull clang and soundwave of trains conecting along the river below. Morning glories asleep till daybreak. Sleepy shadowed porch. Swing chair creaking. Summer clarity, idyllic southern evening. Mill turning with a stream's flow, kitten pensive, timid in the ankle-high grass.

Max Patch, Mt.

There is only wind
through my strands,
across my neck
soaring flies
a scratch at the neck
cool bath of seaside
without the residue of salt
lush earth
singing the song of harvest:
farmers taking heed
accelerating for the imminent
pause
of frozen earth
The ground is a spindle of life
unraveling in buzz and chirp
skin close to home
mind, miles away
a mountain bee
asking of my business
a nod with pleasantry
I am enveloped by the breath
of my mother
as her words lay across my
back into my dark places
soft palms holding
my forearms from labor
She tells me gentle
and sweet--
of the rocks of human words
and the mountain laurel honey
of women to come.

Newsom and Warhol

rabble rouser sort of jibbering wave of self-proclamed and dignified beauty. words of love for the lark and sparrow, for the bunnies along the river, the intermingly ducks and swans, the photograph of a man smoking floating cinder-orange, the chimney smoke cabin, the open and shut bellow of a meow, the hill full of messages, the punching bags of faith, the viking princess pinching and bumping delicate bones of the living signaling their distrust and breakable wrists, and hips transferring eyes set upon the floor, on the door.

Only one biscuit for all that gravy?

2006 started with a bang.

the list of the best of for the new year:

best chugging medium--gravy (close second was maple syrup)
best vietnam veteran--matt schnable
best countdown--the one we had at 1:24 AM
best kazoo player--matt, again
best night--new years

love to all of you that i didn't get to spend the festivities with...you're in my thoughts. pictures are on the way.