The End of Summer

It has been a most interesting summer on the Eastern Shore with things happening beyond our control and yet making it one spectacular place to be this year. It’s been quite a while since there’s been a summer this interesting.

Speaking of summer, where was it? After the very serious, no holds barred, cold of this past winter, with more snow, ice and below freezing temperatures than I can ever remember, spring finally came in all her glory. Which, of course, led us straight into the summer months. But where WAS summer?

It sure wasn’t the summer like we’ve always had out here before in our little neck of the woods. Usually, by late May we are already in the 90’s with heat indexes about and beyond 100. One of those situations where you take a cold shower, dry off, only to find yourself wet all over again. Humidity will kill you! The heat is hot but the combined humidity makes you think you’re trying to breathe under the water. Awful, terrible and this is where I’ve lived most of my life, and it gets worse with each passing summer, except this past one.

Temperatures in the 80’s, for the most part, still with humidity but the heat indexes usually didn’t call for watches or warnings. So what’s up with the weather? Better yet, since it stayed like this most of the summer, who’s complaining? Certainly not I. Mother Nature had to be giving us a break after pounding us so hard over the winter. I LOVE winter but I can say in all honestly that I was SO glad to see it go this time.

So summer comes, which brings the critters. First on the list are the birds. I started with one feeder and ended up with about fifteen. Apparently, every flying friend in the neighborhood, to include family, friends and frenemies had discovered that the little, silver Gypsy was the place for free food. There were birds I’d never seen before so I began looking them up. At the beginning, they would disrespect each other to see who would be the head honcho but that soon ended as the feeders increased in number. Eventually, they all began to get along, for the most part. When one, two or three vacated the feeder, two, three or four more would show up in it’s place. It was non-stop birds. That’s not including the hummingbirds that showed up for their own special treat, complete with organic sugar and no food coloring.

They were spoiled to the max, no doubt about it, and I enjoyed filling the feeders every day just so I could spend endless moments of precious time watching them. They were most interesting to watch and observe. I remember it took a Blue Jay about three days before he ever made it to the feeder. He’d hang back on the pear tree, then he’d come closer, to the cedar tree (which was always full of birds waiting their turn). One day, he came right up to the feeder and that was it. He was hooked. But he was still a little skittish.

I found that birds are not the only one’s of God’s creatures that like a free meal. I woke up several mornings with the feeder dumped over, all the food out, or the feeder pulled to the ground. The weirdest of all was the first time, when the feeder was just gone. Poof. Just like that. I couldn’t find it anywhere and thought a bear had made off with my feeder! I walked all around the yard, looking for the feeder, looking for bear tracks or scat or anything that would lead me towards what had happed to the feeder. Nothing. Nada. Until I walked back towards Gypsy. There, on the canopy above where the feeder hung, was the feeder with all the seed dumped on the canopy. Oh my gosh! A bear was that close?

Thump, thump, thump went my heart. Still, there was nothing anywhere to indicate that a bear had visited during the night although I knew that was a real possibility because the woods around Gypsy is full of wildlife. There’s a big cat that lives in the woods and when he/she goes off in the middle of the night, it wakes me up and I’m already halfway through the process of making a new ‘doorway’ through the aluminum roof of the camper! I speak truth here!!!

So this feeder dumping/disappearing act continued for a few nights until I wised up a little. Not to mention that Hershey, the Unwonder dog that should be on high alert was dead to the world under the covers. Now why didn’t he wake up and alert me and go out and take care of whatever was out there? After almost 7 years together, he’s just the pet, just like those spoiled birds out there. But a Nanny’s got to do what a Nanny’s got to do and Nanny had a great idea, she hoped.

I love a bungee cord, almost as good as I like duct tape. They are both so handy but the bungee cord was going to be the weapon of choice. Oh, did I also mention that I feed the neighborhood cats as well as the birds and whatever the “other wildlife” is, and also have quite a few wind chimes? More chimes than what I had bird feeders but this ‘rascal’ was only after one particular feeder so I was going to ‘play with him’ and see what he/she/it would do.

Nanny put her plan in action. First, all the feeders are scattered around in various locations around Gypsy but there was a particular one this critter liked a lot. It happened to be the one I could see from the couch window. I had a hummingbird feeder and a birdseed feeder in view from the window and these were the only two I could see from inside. Well, it was time to do a little rearranging and figure this out. I moved the hummingbird feeder closer to the canopy pole and the regular feeder closer to the walkway into the house as I had a decorative pole there which I kept Hershey’s walking lead on. I also had a six foot leash that I was going to put to good use. Then, I moved the biggest of the wind chimes, the BIG one that booms when it hits the center part. I mean boom’s loud enough you can’t miss it and it will wake you up. That was not the original location but for the purpose of this experiment, it was the new home.

Everything was set. Whatever it was that was visiting had so far appeared on a nightly basis, and my curiosity was at an all time high. Planning went well and everything was set. All I had to do was wait until nightfall and for the birds to quit singing for the day.

When that happened, I hooked one end of the bungee cord to the feeder stand and the other end to the decorate pole by the door. The I hooked the leash to the feeder stand also and tied it tight to the pole. Chimes were set to go off when whatever it was stepped on the canopy or reached out to grab said feeder.

Our night carried on as usual and finally Hershey had knocked out for the night and I soon followed.

Mere seconds later, or so it seemed to me, the booming wind chimes started going off! My first thought was not so nice so I won’t say but Hershey sure did wake his little butt up and put himself in full action mode, meaning he was barking his head off while starring out the window from which he couldn’t see anything but night. I, however, jumped up, flipped both switches for the outdoor lights and had the shock of my life, then my laughing hysterically button turned over.

Good grief, it was a raccoon! Possibly the fattest raccoon I’d ever seen, especially since he’d been eating my birds foods for quite a while now! He was caught red-handed, right in the act. Hanging upside down on these legs, the fourth had a hold of the bird feeder the was trying so hard to get down and it wouldn’t budge an inch! I was laughing, Hershey was growling and barking and the Birdseed Bandit raccoon was righting himself as we speak to make a quick getaway. He took himself to the end of the canopy, past the wind chimes again, and crawled DOWN the canopy pole, easing down from there into the darkness, making a quick getaway. Me? I had my broom in hand, yelling at the fella, telling him to leave my bird feeders alone! Yea, I’m sure we woke the neighbors.

Oh lord, I laughed so hard and so much! I wondered if he would be back? I certainly didn’t need to wonder about that any because he did, frequently, at various times during the night and, on some nights, he would try two or three times!

All of this continued until the farmers started picking their corn crops. Everybody left; the birds, the raccoon, even the possums that would show up occasionally. Gone, not to return, or they haven’t yet. A few birds have made an appearance but it looks like the farmers have me beat when it comes to the free food department.

Either way, it’s been quite an enjoyable summer with many good experiences.

Nanny

 

Return to the South Forty – Day 5 – The Mission Ends

 

the real south forty

Day 5? Already? Starring out the window of my original destination from Day 1, looking at the land rising towards the sky, I knew what I’ve always known; I did not want to return to the Eastern Shore. No surprises there. The trip has been a mission of sorts, to figure some things out, what to do, where to go from there, what was I able to do health-wise, does it really matter to anybody where I am, etc. Not random thoughts of displeasure but deep soul-searching of doing what’s right for me and for those I love.

Regardless, that didn’t stop the feeling of sadness as I crossed the Continental Divide, heading towards the Eastern Shore. I had made some incredible new memories, been a few places I had not been before, resurrected the past and put it where it needed to be; yet I could not seem to stop the feeling of sadness and loss of peace that was quickly creeping up as I slid down the other side of the great Divide. I lose a chunk of my heart every time that happens but my spirit and soul is always and forever embedded deeply on the other side of the Divide.

So I buried the feelings and enjoyed the road trip; well, until the Piedmont, and the awful traffic, and the crazy drivers. Then, of all things, I stop for gas and who should I see but an old flame. A good man, a good person, but not our time. I had just lost my dad. Not a good time. Still, it was good to see him because he made me realize that yep, there were good things and people at the Eastern Shore. I have to say that was strange, so far from home, and seeing someone from home. Interesting, but weird.

Finally off the interstate and gee whiz, 63 mph is so slow after traveling 75 mph for hours and hours. It’s going to take forever to get home! Not really, it just seems that way when you have to slow down but ‘they’ really do want to nail your butt and I don’t have much butt to nail!

I stopped at a roadside stand and picked up a fresh melon for the nightly snack. Actually, truth be known, I was putting off the inevitable and I knew it. But it kept looming closer and closer until finally, it was here…..the Eastern Shore.

Suddenly, I was excited. Why? I was going to see my doggie! Hershey, the WonderDog! When I opened the door to Gypsy, that fella was all over himself, shaking his all over body shake so hard that I couldn’t even pick him up. He was so excited to see me that he finally jumped right out the door, ran around the yard, jumped back in Gypsy and finally let me pick him up, for which he planted a big, slobbery kiss right in my smoocher! Ha! That I did not see coming!

Then there’s Baby Girl, that sweet little Angel sent straight from heaven. Well, on some days. Full of energy, full of life and it’s full-steam ahead. She always shares her big laugh with me and thinks Nanny here is her own personal play toy. I guess I am until I say no. Oh my goodness! Her world has come to and end. Ha!

Lots of feelings and emotions, lots of realities. Needed the experience to get away from the hustle and bustle of trauma and drama. Life was so peaceful for a few days. Returned to the hustle and bustle of trauma and drama. But you know what? I can handle that. Why? Because I found out how dependable my truck really is, how many miles I really can travel in a day, what I need to make sure I’m taken care of if a medical emergency should arise but, most importantly, knowing how I feel about leaving my family. In other words, I can pack up and leave again tomorrow without a single regret.

That was my mission for this trip………to find out if I could “without a single regret.” I don’t think I’ll live a long and healthy life so ‘without a single regret’ means I can and I will.

S

courtesy of google images

 

Why I Live in Gypsy ~ The Airstream

Gypsy ~ The Airstream

 

To which my reply is usually answering the question with another question: Why not? Around these parts, living in a camper tends to put you in a group with an unbecoming name; or either you’re lazy, of which I am far from. Reminds me of a fairly local town on the Eastern Shore with access to the Intercoastal Waterway. Sailboat capital of the world, as I call it, of which many live on their sailboats full-time and have for years. Blowboaters are what the locals call them. Why? Why the degradation of living differently?

It is a good question though, and one I have heard often over time. If not directly asked to me, it is asked of my friends. There are several reasons I live in a camper but nobody has ever asked if or why I like to live in one. Most just assume what they wish to assume and I just happen to hear about the crazy Airstream lady. As for me, who in their right mind wouldn’t enjoy the adventure? Expenses are relatively minimal and you can learn quite a lot about yourself when you live in a small space.

You see, there are things in life I want to do. My bucket list, of sorts. One of those things was to maybe live on a sailboat for a while but alas, I am no sailor although learning how to would be an adventure and something I might try. But living tiny has been a part of my plans for almost 20 years. Getting ride of junk and clutter and things that aren’t needed or necessary to still live a fulfilling life. Could living in a camper achieve that? At 51, a grown kiddo and no obligations as far as ‘significant other’ relationships go, I can do this exactly as I want, or at least to the best of my ability. Call it selfish but I’m learning that “lack of” is much better than more of. And happier that way, too. I don’t have to keep up with the Jones’. I don’t need a new living room suit or dining room suit every other year, or new carpet or a different light fixture just because I want one. Honestly, I don’t know too many on the Eastern Shore with that mentality.

I didn’t know for sure if I could do it but I was sure willing to learn. So, as luck or destiny would have it, Gypsy ~ The Airstream entered into my life almost two years ago. Three months later, I was living in her full-time and loved it. Of course, getting everything I thought I needed to survive was not going to work so I made some rather drastic changes in life and lifestyle to decide what were the important ‘things’ to keep and what could be let go. Not an easy task as I entered the new way of life with more stuff than I actually needed.

tiny living

Since storage is a premium luxury, most things are multi-purpose and if not, you have to decide on its usefulness in your tiny living adventure. Many people have closets crammed full of clothes and shoes that they keep for whatever reason, hoping they’ll fit back into them one day. Not a luxury in a camper. Everything has a purpose, even clothes and shoes. Summer sundresses and flip flops are the exception to the rule as they are the daily choice of hot weather clothing and doesn’t take up much room. Winter is another story. Bulky is the name of the game and everything really does need to serve a purpose because storage is so limited. Layer, layer, layer. They make good, quality clothes for layering without all the bulkiness. When I need high quality items that last almost a lifetime, that’s what I purchase. They will and do last a long time. Nothing you have now is worthless or useless. It all has a purpose and usually more than one.

Kitchen supplies must have more than one use, if possible. Otherwise, you’ll be overrun by things you have no room for. Culling through the kitchen takes a little guts, especially if you’re one of those that enjoys cooking as much as I do but I have become an expert at using one pot and one pan.

Not only do I have no more than what I need, I have no more than what I want. Everything has a place and it stays in it’s place until needed. Minimalist living is a way of life and one I hope to continue for the rest of mine. I see no reason to change that because I believe it would only complicate the simplicity of being a minimalist and complicate life again after working so hard to keep it simple.

As far as others that are lucky enough to live in campers or sailboats, I must say the one’s I know are far from ignorant. I personally know of four college professors that have or continue to live in a camper, sailboat or both. One of those was a family of five, living on a sailboat, raising three children that were homeschooled at they traveled the world. Today, that family is extremely educated, earned some tough degrees and succeeded in the financial end of life. White trash? Bloatboaters? I think not. I’d say they all had the idea and I, for one, am lucky that way back when, each of them instilled in me the want and need for tiny living and a minimalist view of how to survive in an ‘I want this” world.

 

storage is premium

Best Friends at Shack

 

Best Friends

Why is it that our souls can connect with one single person, sometimes two or three if we’re lucky, and be separate but still feel as one complete set? Can’t explain it, at least I can’t, other than knowing it can and does happen, for which I’m entirely grateful.

BFF’s are the fun times in life. Getting into whatever, going places, doing things, having intimate conversations you wouldn’t have with anyone else, helping each other as you age and things just aren’t quite the same as when you were younger.

My best friend and I have BFF Date Day’s, where we leave the hubby doing whatever and Hershey, the Wonderdog, stays home. Sometimes we plan, sometimes we don’t. Sometimes we plan and end up doing something else. Either way, it’s go with the flow and see what happens.

Seagull

On this particular day, we ended up in Beaufort, a tiny town on the Eastern Shore. It’s a quaint yet enchanting little town, where you can walk the sidewalks and talk to just about anyone. It’s quite beautiful and B and I loved it with a passion. It’s about as far East as you can go without falling into the water and drifting to the big Atlantic. It’s also a gateway to some of the many barrier islands off the coast. By that I mean there are ferry services that will take you through Taylor’s Creek and drop you off at Carrot Island or Shackleford Banks and beyond. We decided on Shack.

When it comes to the coast and the barrier islands, nothing is a straight shot, or as easy as the crows fly. It takes navigation skills to get from Point A to Point B, and surely not as easy at it looks. But we were going to Shack, we were going shelling, we were going to see the wild horses, we were going to the very ends of the earth where there was nobody else except those crossing over on the ferry, and they would go their separate ways when we arrived.

Shack

B and I hopped aboard and it was on then. Off we went, the wind blowing in our hair and the sight of Beaufort getting smaller as we traveled down Taylor’s Creek, past Carrot Island, and on into the inlet. What a ride! Such peace. Well, I’m sure the Captain didn’t feel that way as I kept him engaged in conversation pretty much the whole trip over to Shack. Finally we landed, literally, on the beach of Shack in that flat-bottomed ferry, complete with steps to get down. We were here and we were happy!

Stallion

First, there was the wild horses. Wannabe photographer that I am, zooming was not good enough for me. I had to see how close I could get. Well, a word to the wise; do not walk up on a wild horse. He let me know real quick that I was in his territory, not the other way around. B was like Oh My Gosh! I was like Oh Crap! Live and learn, live and learn.

So we made tracks to the other side of the island. Windy was an understatement; blowing sand hurts, no kidding. Much better on the other side of the island, which was facing the ocean. Here we are, B and I, facing the big Atlantic, which we’ve seen and been to thousands of times yet it never ceases to amaze. Truly a luxury for many who don’t live on the Eastern Shore. The love of the coast is in both of us, and we know how to enjoy what has been given for our enjoyment.

We were shelling; so many shells, so many different one’s when each wave crashed to the shore. Out with the old, in with the new. Some of them stayed and we were lucky enough to get some great ones. Some were perfect and some were perfect with their imperfections. Nothing like walking in wet sand barefooted, feeling those hard shells under your feet. It’s a lot of work to walk in wet sand. Pretty soon it was time for a break so I left the daypack with B, took the shelling bag and told her I’d be going down the beach a ways. A ways can be confusing because you might not realize just how far you’ve walked. Either way, there’s no way to get lost because it’s an island…..and there’s so many shells! On and on I walked, picking up more shells along the way when I suddenly realized that oops, I’d left B! So I backtracked to her not realizing just how far I had walked. In the midst of that wide open space, I started laughing because I realized I had become totally focused on looking down and finding shells and wasn’t thinking about anything else! Poor B. I’d left her!

Wild Horses

So I was heading back, head still down as I was looking for shells, when I almost stumbled over this lady sitting in a chair. I don’t know who was more startled; her, because she didn’t realize I was there or me, because I almost tripped over her! That was a good laugh for us both. A few minutes of conversation then I rounded the last bend and there was B, sitting happily in the sand, enjoying the moments as they went by. Sat down with her and enjoyed those same moments together. Such peace and harmony among friends even with no conversation.

But alas, our time was up. The last ferry of the day would be there soon and we had to be at the pickup point. Loaded our stuff up, each helping the other, and trekked back to the windy side of the island and the sandstorm. There were tidal pools everywhere and I’m not one to stay out of them. Some birds were feasting on a freshly dead horseshoe crab, each trying to declare said feast as their own territory. The wild horses were roaming around, very observant I’m sure but this was their territory and we were the interlopers. As punishment on my not so smart move of trying to get close to the stallion, I had the wonderful experience of getting a sandspur stuck deep in my toe! Yep, one up for you, big guy.

Windy and Sandy

The ferry arrived and we climbed aboard, waiting for others as this was the last ferry of the day. You can camp on Shack but you have to let them know or those folks will come looking for you. Finally, everyone was accounted for and it was time for lift-off. More peace and happiness, but nostalgia also as we were leaving a special place that isn’t inhabited by nothing but wildness. Glad there are places like that still in the world, and lucky enough to have them close enough to visit occasionally.

Sitting on the deck at Finz, watching the sun bake, all of the tourists covered with oil……..we had a blast and we’re not the tourists. We just get the chance to watch them.

It doesn’t take much to make B or I happy and we are lucky to have that and each other, through all the adventures, good and bad, that life brings. No matter what takes place, we can find solace and peace together, regardless of if we are out on a BFF Date Day adventure or sitting on the back deck watching the crops in the back field grow. Best friends are connected whether they’re the same or not, enjoying everything and nothing. She’s the calm one and I’m the go-getter. I’d say that is a perfect match.

….watching the sun bake, all of the tourist covered in oil…… Jimmy Buffet

 

Summer Aviary at the Gypsy Queendom

 

Big Daddy

This has been a most interesting summer at the Gypsy Queendom ~ The Airstream Aviary and Wildlife Refuge. It seems as if all the feathery friends and four legged wildlife critters have found safe haven outside my door, to include the neighborhood kitties that I feed outside each morning, and the Birdseed Bandit raccoon that takes down the feeders at night to eat the seed (but that’s another story for a later date). It’s never dull around here, that’s for certain.

I’ve always been fascinated with birds, watching them eating or drinking from the feeders. I started out with one little seed feeder and one hummingbird feeder. That should be enough, or so I thought. As it turns out, I ended up with seven seed feeders and three hummingbird feeders, and that still wasn’t enough because all the bird families, friends and frenemies were coming to feast, including the aforementioned Birdseed Bandit.

When the birds started showing up, one feeder was enough. Then more would come. Not enough room for all of them on the ledge. Then more came and they would fight for their territory. Seriously? So I invested in another feeder to calm down the masses. Yea, like that was really going to work out. All it did was bring in more birds! Needless to say, birdfeeders around the Queendom significantly increased in number.

There were all kinds of birds: Hummingbirds (and plenty of them), Cardinals (I had a Big Daddy Cardinal that ruled the roost), different types of Finches, most especially the Purple Finch (which really isn’t purple at all), even Doves.

Purple Finch

All of these feeders hang from the canopy of Gypsy ~ The Airstream so I can watch them out the window. From my vantage point, there is a big Cedar tree about twenty feet forward from the front door and the birds would feed and then fly to the Cedar tree. Then they would come back. That tree would just shake, rattle and roll with the pile of birds that would sit in there between feedings. Constant movement, always. All from the birds. You can spend a lot of time sitting around watching these birds in action and not realize it.

One thing that is foremost in my mind is Big Daddy Cardinal. I call him Big Daddy because he is the biggest of the Cardinals that come visit but I didn’t realize he really was a Big Daddy until I saw him at the feeder one day, get some seed, and fly back to the tree. He was in there feeding another bird. His mate, or so I thought. I could see them both, him giving food to the other bird. How cool is that, I thought. This went on for a few days, back and forth from the feeder to the tree, feeding the bird. A few days later, I looked out the window and there was Big Daddy at the feeder, as usual. But this particular time I looked at the ground. Wow! What a surprise! Big Daddy had not been feeding a single bird, he had been feeding five of them. Big Daddy had five little baby Cardinals, and they were all at my doorstep! Big Daddy was up there slinging food to the ground and the little guys and gals were eating from the ground. There were three little males and two little females and they were so cute! Obviously, they were being well taken care of.

In a few days, I began to notice the babies flying up to the feeder. Bless their little feathers, they weren’t quite up to par with this flying thing yet but they were giving it their best shot. Sometimes, one or another could gets his little claws just right and almost fall but still managed to save himself or herself just in time. In just a few mere days, they were up there like they’d been doing this all along. They grew so fast and abilities at feeding themselves were impeccable. It was quite enchanting to spend so much time watching them gain their places in the world. Of course, Big Daddy was never too far away.

The corn harvest season started a few weeks ago and most the birds went away. What? I wondered what in the world was happening: were we going to have another hard winter and they knew it before we did? What I didn’t think of was there’s much more pickings to choose from in a freshly picked cornfield than what my numerous seed feeders provide for them. They wanted the real thing and, as long as it’s available, they’ll surely be eating that fresh manna from heaven. (P.S. Even the Birdseed Bandit raccoon took a hike when the harvest started).

Rest assured though, they will be back. They know where the food is and when all the corn has been harvested and the birds and other wildlife have eaten every morsel, they will return ‘home’ with a vengeance. So here I am, waiting patiently for my feathery friends to put in their reappearance so we can get on with this summer.

I have to admit – as far as summer goes with these fine friends, this has been a very interesting viewing and learning experience. As far as my view for each day, I’m not ready for this summer to end. However, there has been a time of two when I felt like I was reliving the old black and white movie, “The Birds.”

Hummingbird

S

 

A Brand New 365 Days

Happy New Year!

Out with the old and in with the new, right?

There’s nothing like starting a brand new day, especially when it’s a brand new year, with something you love to do. Hiking, for instance.

Hiking, especially alone (or in this case, with the doggie) gives a sense of freedom, a sense of oneness with nature and the God of creation. It’s a time to clear the mind of clutter and enjoy the goodness of being out in the fresh air and sunshine, being thankful to have all of this right outside the door.

The trail is completely covered in dead leaves that crackle with each step, hiding only knows what underneath (snake?). Really, it’s not cold enough here for those creatures to have hibernated fully yet. But that does not take the fun out of a good hike. Traveling on down the trail, deeper into the forest, the woods get darker from the canopy of pine trees. It’s beautiful and eerie since the day has turned cloudy. A bird is perched on a tree limb, looking at the enthusiastic hiker that is disturbing his peace in his territory. He gets disgusted and soon flies off into the unknown, leaving the hiker and the doggie in their own little world.

Stopping for a water break, the hiker sits on the ground and surveys the surroundings. A smile comes upon his face as he thinks how glad he is that there is so much nature still around to be enjoyed, thankful that there are places that haven’t been torn up or razed to put up homes or businesses, a small little piece of heaven on earth that still is the way it was.

Coming out of the woods, the hiker leaves with a new sense of discovery, learning once again the importance of the simple things in life, like a hike in the woods. When it all is thrown in the pot, it really is the simple things in life.

Wishing you all a very Happy New Year!

TS Karen and Gypsy – the Airstream

There’s nothing like living on the Eastern Shore, here on the Atlantic coast, when you’re watching a weather pattern offshore turn in a tropical storm or hurricane. The storm chaser part of me looks forward to the wild ride but the reality is there’s nothing fun about it.

It’s official. Karen is now a tropical storm. She’s heading in the Gulf of Mexico, not towards our area right now, but when you’ve lived through all the damage and destruction of one, you can’t help but feel empathy for those in the line of fire. These things just pop up when conditions are right, rather in the Gulf of Mexico, just off the Atlantic coast or mainly the west coast of Africa.

Yea, we’re kind of used to this but it sure doesn’t mean we like it. Preparations are a fine art and usually not generally needed. However, then comes the times when you’re grateful to be as prepared as you are. At least your windows are not breaking, your lawn furniture isn’t flying through the air to land on someone else’s property or you’re not home to watch the swimming pool float around the yard because the flood waters have come so high. Yea, preparation is key even though it can be a real pain.

This year is going to be a different experience with preparation. I’m not in a solid, sturdy house out of the flood zone. I’m in Gypsy – The Airstream, my beloved tin can home. As much confidence as I have in her, I don’t think she’s up for the task of what’s coming towards us soon. My hope is she stands firm with those winds, learns to paddle like some of those cars in the James Bond movies and shows me what a fighter she is!

Truth is, none of that is going to happen so it’s up to me to prepare her. This is going to be not only interesting but a continuous work in progress because there are things to take care of that I haven’t thought about at all. Some I won’t think of until after it’s already happened. My bad, something to add to the learning experience.

Awnings – they have to come in. Windows – closed, locked and taped shut (or those sustained horizontal winds will be blowing in water). How do you prepare for leaks that may erupt from the ceiling? I don’t know about that one yet but I’ll figure it out. Make sure everything inside is secured and put away (just in case so there’s no flying debris if the worst should happen). Disconnect all electric and battery power (again, in case the worst should happen). All GAS off, disconnect the tanks, relocate tanks to a safe environment and stabilize so they won’t be more flying (or rolling) debris. As you can guess, flying debris is an issue. Clean out the frig and freezer (yep, hate that thought). Disconnect water and sewer (self-explanatory). Move (this one is going to be interesting).

Where? See, I live very close to the water but out of a flood zone. However, with storms like these, we have all the wicked wind that blows across the river. There’s nothing out there to slow it down so bam!, we get the full force of wind, gusts and sustained. Another thing is water spouts. They just appear over the river when the conditions are like this. Tornadoes, also. Then there’s trees. Tall trees, all around me. Move. Years and years of living through storms and experience is being relied upon to tell me where the best place it to move sweet Gypsy to keep her safe from the wind. A few of us have had this discussion in the past but this will be the first time it will be implemented. See, I’m notorious for riding out a storm but not this time. Tropical storm or hurricane, you truly don’t know what you’re working with unless you’ve had the experience. I also am not stupid. The reality is I’m not dumb enough to take a chance like this.

Which means I’ll have to stay with kiddo.

I don’t want to stay with kiddo!

More to come. 🙂

Good Morning and Mean It!

a slice of heaven

She packed herself up to leave, her and the kiddo, heading toward parts unknown and the South Forty. Looking for life, new people, new experiences – all in a place where almost nobody knew her name.

They arrived, found a place to live and quickly settled in with their new life. Now it’s off to find employment. She did, several places actually. interviewed and received requests for hire.  It wasn’t that hard but some of the jobs might be hard for her little family.

The first one to contact her was the local steakhouse. Waitressing is a prime way to meet new people – hard work and very interesting. The problem was it would be for the evening shift. Kiddo was seven years old. New town, no friends, no one yet to trust with her child. But it was work and they were going to do what had to be done, even though she didn’t know how to go about doing that.

The day she was to start later that evening, she received another call for employment. A local plant. Hired as a temporary because it was the only thing available. If she was interested, the job was hers, starting the next day, but she should be aware it was only to get her employed there. They had hopes of putting her in Administration as another position was open. Oh, it was days, too.

No doubt about it. A miracle had happened for her little family. She back out of the waitress position and accepted the temporary one. She didn’t realize that her world was going to take a substantial turn for the better. Life was good, people were even better, and she just said yes to finding all that out.

The plant employed some 500 people, most from the South Forty area. She learned very quickly you can never judge a book by it’s cover. These people were real, in every way possible, and they expressed it in their attitudes and actions, each and every day. Not one soul knew her or her son but they were accepted as their own, for whatever reasons those were. She needed anything, someone was there. She didn’t need anything and someone was still there. That kind of life. The good kind. It was easy for her to lose all stigmas of what was expected from where she came from to being her real self in a place where the people didn’t have such attachments.

Good morning is a common phrase when meeting people first thing in the day. That’s just it, a common phrase. Not necessarily any specific meaning behind it, just something to say. She found out, however, it wasn’t really the truth where she was at now. Walking in the door of work for the first time, it took forever to get to where she needed to be. Why? Every single person she met stopped and said good morning. And meant it! How could that be? Surely it wouldn’t continue. Nobody wouldn’t continue to be that nice. Of course, it was her first day. That explained it.

But it continued. Every single day. She even began showing up earlier than necessary just to take time to enjoy the ritual of having a good morning. This went on and on. Always, no exceptions. No matter what, if anything, was wrong, there was always a smile and genuine interest when wishing someone good morning.

She and kiddo lived in the South Forty for three years. Her life changed drastically for the better. She was the true goodness of people, the real benefits of caring and compassion, and total acceptance. It was so easy to be there, be real, be happy.

But she had to be responsible, too. Due to situations beyond her control, she made the decision to return to the Eastern Shore, armed with the knowledge that people are not the same everywhere you go. She was real and she was going back as herself to be herself.

The adjustment of moving to the South Forty was simple and easy. She just flowed right into the swing of life. Readjusting to the Eastern Shore was quite a different matter. The simple life with those sweet people was gone. It was back into the rat race, every man for himself. Good morning still remained just a phrase, and most days she might be lucky to even hear the words. It was back to the same grind – people didn’t seem to care to wish anyone a good morning or receive the wish from her.

Thirteen years later, she still doesn’t understand why.

Still inside is that person she was all those years ago, the one where a simple good morning provided a wonderful change of life.

Let’s Talk

I can’t help but wonder sometimes if we are losing the fine art of communication, talking to brainstorm with one another, come up with ideals or suggestions, even asking good questions.

I guess the ‘midnight event’ from this past evening has me broadly pondering if we needlessly put ourselves in certain situations because we don’t care to communicate without argument?

Don’t get me wrong – I don’t discuss politics with the general public and will not engage, but I do question other views, solely for clarification of understanding, not judgment or argument. Others chose not to see them as questions but as ignorance, attitude, uneducated. That may all be well and true but it in no way stops my quest to see another side of the story. I can’t help the interest in someone else’s views because I do see it as a learning experience and a good one, also.

Then we get down to those who have a beef about something and see you as wrong, whereby proceeding to take any and all forms of hostility, name-calling, insults to a new level. And this is adults, lots of times people we look up to for religious and/or spiritual reasons, or because we know someone who can clearly think outside of the box, or even those with a certain amount of power to ‘guide’ us along.

It makes me wonder……a lot.

Here on the Eastern Shore, in our little rural area that’s been pretty self-sufficient for thousands of years, we’re in the process of getting not one, but two Wal-Marts. Wal-Mart is generally not a problem for me because my life does not include Wal-Mart for personal reasons, a choice I have lived with for years and it works for me. However, those personal reasons caused me to question if Wal-Mart WOULD be a benefit to our Shore and our people.

So I asked. For opinions. Explained to all I was looking for viable information so I could see how the general population of the area felt. I wanted to know if, in the long run, would having this store be a benefit to our people? I’m always willing to see another point of view. I expected some cross-overs from those that consider those type questions ignorant or uneducated. What I did not expect was the insults, the derogatory words from those who chose to put anger in their opinions, the bashing of people because the same view was not shared.

It seems we’ve degraded the art of communication to the level of insults or hate, to the point that sometimes it seems better to keep your mouth shut and appear the idiot instead of speaking to learn. The only dumb question is the one not asked. Right?

The fact is, it’s going to take an awful lot of help to get people back to proper communication and addressing any issue. The one thing that always comes to mind when I speak, or ask is “Answer the question.” It’s not that hard if you really think about it. Answering the question doesn’t show ignorance, it shows the want and ability to learn and/or see another point of view. It does not mean you have to agree with it. It’s not a classroom where you’re getting a grade – it’s real life.

I recently heard a friend sum it all up nicely. “It’s hard to carry on a conversation when you’ve just been insulted.”

Maybe we should try a little harder to be responsible in our conversations with family, friends, leaders. Otherwise, we will never get anything accomplished as long as we’re riding on the ‘bandwagon of insult.’

More importantly, don’t stop asking questions!

A Perfect Day

A beautiful day, I might add.

Cool, crisp air, gentle breeze, sun rising low in the sky. Chilly inside. A hot cup of coffee will take care of that.

A perfect day.

Made just for exploring and pictures.

Things are changing, the seasons are changing. The best time of year.

All the critters seem to be super-busy right now on the Eastern Shore. The songs sung by the birds are different; they fly lower and closer than they have been. Things are walking more at night; that may be because the leaves are dropping and the steps can be heard now. Spiders are running rampant, not only inside but outside as well. Big garden spiders are taking a significant amount of time spinning their webs to bring prey in at night, only to pack up and move the next day. But they come back each night to hang out again.

The two garden spiders that have taken up residence outside my Gypsy door are monsters, yet they are beautiful. I stepped outside a few days ago and, when I looked towards the setting sun, this little jewel was focused solely on the task at hand – spinning the perfect web. Not being a huge spider fan, I couldn’t help but become engrossed, watching this little fella hard at work. Interesting enough, he snubbed me and didn’t even acknowledge my presence. Fair enough, especially since I hadn’t run screaming like a banshee in the opposite direction. A silently acknowledge truce. So I watched.

one with nature
round and round, up and down

I don’t know how he started the web, or if there were connecting points. What I did see was a big, silk circle and he kept going round and round – up and around, down and around, making the circle smaller with each evolution. Focused on his task at him. I was focused on him doing his task at hand.

He kept this up until I couldn’t see him anymore in the fading light. Wonder what he’ll do now?

He stayed.

He was there the next morning, web complete, relaxed with all eight legs stretched out in his bundle of silk. But I had his attention this. Off he scooted, finding some hidey-hole in some out-of-the-way spot in Gypsy. Outside, of course. But his web remained.

He came back that evening, stretching out in the comfort of his home. And he kept coming back. For a few days and nights now. This morning? He’s still here. I know where he hides and that’s okay. I want him to come back. He’s pretty, and his home is in a spot where I can immediately see the beauty of the natural world just by turning my head.

I don’t know how long he’ll be here, sharing the living space with me, but this is the first time I have ever become attached to a spider! I also know I was lucky – I had a chance to see him start his web, something I don’t see every day.