Wintertime

Well, well, where does the time go? I have been busy running all over the place and not doing much writing or reflecting. But I have been taking a few pictures, so lets have a looksie, just for funsies...




Poverty Creek done dried up.



Sweetness. Shout out to great handmade accesseries at Etsy.com.



The simple things of life.



Good spot to read.


I went out in the woods for a few days during the master cleanse, which seems like such a long, long time ago now. Back while there were still leaves on the trees. I wanted to bid them farewell, the last of the leaves, and watch them dance and swirl into their regenerative nourishment. It was rather chilly and windy, as the end of autumn should be, and I enjoyed it rather thoroughly. I wanted to paint the scene of the mountains rolling and rolling, the valley and ridges and the fractal breaks causing such serene shadows in their textured grace late in the afternoon. But my drawing skills are laughable, so I just sat and starred, watching the mosaic in front of me change day to day as red and orange folds of the earth's skin melted into a sea of gray bony fingers reaching into the sky. Winter has her own grace in her own ways but I had to milk the colors for all they are worth. The peak was past by the time I got back in Blacksburg but they never cease to inspire.



One particularly windy afternoon I laid in my tent reading a book and drinking my cayenne concoction. There had been a murder of crows in the vicinity on and off, and they were making quite the stir so I stealthily poked my head out my tent with my binoculars in one hand. On a gusty day like that they can disappear in a fleeting second so stealth can be key in witnessing certain naturalist sitings. What I saw did stir me. The crows were courting, paired together dancing in the air, swooping ever so close up and down on an ampltude of hundreds of feet, taking turns turning upside down and touching claws, tumbling and rolling. It was so smooth, such a dance, and I felt blessed to watch it. I was able to witness it again later from the cliffs for a few minutes, the lovers in front of an azure backdrop covered with monstrous cumulus clouds. I hope I am lucky enough to witness bald eagles lock claws and spiral down together before I die.


Back home for a minute.



The oldest barn on the farm, it's seen better days. A sweet persimmon tree sits at the edge of it. The fruit is great for making winter breads, cookies, and jams, and was used regularly to supplement winter's meals for Native Americans.




Xochi on the Creek, the lower terrace of the farm. She was very excited to find a bone on our walk, and I was very excited to watch a kingfisher send out a war cry then dart into the creek bringing forth a small fish and fly off upstream to a rock to enjoy its meal. I'm super excited to know there's kingfishers on the farm.



Clarkton Bridge, one of the oldest steel truss bridges in the state. It was almost torn down a few years back but a group of folks raised enough care, attention, and funds to save it. I watched a yellow bellied sapsucker in all its meticulously pecking glory.




An unexpected Christmas present, getting to milk a tiny puppy since my cousin was puppy sitting. Super cute.



The end of the rain means one thing, the birds are coming out to play. Speaking of birds, I love birds. And luckily for me, I just got a new camera to play with, so I decided to try it out on some common aviators.



The laughing man himself, the pileated woodpecker, next to the pond across the street in the pasture.




Cedar waxwings congregate in the sugar magnolia at my aunt's house. Right after the rain ended all the birds came out and seemed very excited, carrying about and singing without a care.



A tufted titmouse enjoying the leftover apples from the tree in our backyard.





Talk about a brittle plant.



Back in the Burg. A limestone cardinal on a dogwood branch.




Sacrifice, one of the eight pylons atop War Memorial Chapel on the drillfield.



A white-breasted nuthatch shows off his upside down skills, these birds are great clingers.



A real cardinal munching on some berries.



The male attracts a female cardinal with his vivacious color.



The kingfisher shows itself. I love this bird and this is my first shot of one. Their beaks are huge in proportion to their head. I was pumped to see it so close. They are very territorial but it can be tough to sneak up on one, being sneaky themselves.