Winter bleakness has its moments!

As usual, when I drive north on Highway 515, nearing the town of Ellijay, headed towards the solitude of Northcroft, my awarness starts to sharpen as I look up to check out the seasonal changes of the mountains. I always find something to smile about, and I softly whisper words of thanks under my breath. Coming in yesterday was no exception. As I sat in the car, the sun was bright behind my left shoulder and the moon, full and beautiful, in front of my right. I almost lost the moment while I fumbled for my camera in my purse. Another breathtaking moment...I wonder how many we miss just because we aren't looking.

As I drove into the valley and got my first glimpse of the cabin, I was struck by the winter bleakness. The wind was blowing and it was getting cold with the setting of the sun. Nonetheless, I was excited about the prospect of getting into the house and settling into a couple of days clean mountain air.

I stayed up much of the night, cleaning up the ladybugs and dust off of the floor and furniture, watching American Idol, and answering email. Morning found me back at the computer with a cup of coffee. Outside the big window across the great-room, from my desk, I could see the first promise of a beautiful day. Little chickadees were frolicking in the hemlock tree, hanging upside down, picking the seeds from the tree's tiny little pine cones. I decided it had warmed up enough to join them outside.

I walked the dirt road toward my nearest neighbor, one mile away. On the side of the road, animals holes look more vulnerable with the lack of plant cover hidding their entrance. Late winter always looks to me as if the trees are so dead that nothing could bring them back to life again. If it weren't for the pines, the mountain laurel and the drooping rhododendron, there would be no color at all...I take that back...

the rolling hillsides are bare enough to see their curves and steepness; also visible, as far as the arm can throw, is brightly colored plastic - beer cans and amber-colored bottles. They seem to scream, "get me out of here, before I get covered up by the spring green again!" I wished that I had thought to bring a garbage bag. It made me grateful for my trash collecting lawyer/husband who has so faithfully picked up other people's mess on Cashes Valley Road for 17 years!

Then I saw in the distance a freshly plowed field where I used to garden. Mrs. Oliver has already had someone plow it up for her in anticipation of Spring. In hope that, from her wheelchair, she will soon be snapping green beans and canning tomatoes once again. Wow, what an affirmation of life!

Tonight I came full circle, and no words that I have can describe its magnificence. In my excitement I called some of you so you wouldn't miss it, but you just had to be here in the darkness of the country to see what I saw. (Maybe my brother Hugh and his Natali saw it as I did from their farm.) Hard as I tried, my camera couldn't see it either! Let's just say that, just for me, God Himself put on a surreal eclipse of that same moon that greeted me upon my arrival. For that period of time, the skies were clear and the stars were only surpassed in beauty by the eerie orange light of the lunar event.

It was simply awesome. To think, I might have missed it altogether had the trees had leaves on them! I have been blessed to be here this winter for two cosmic phenomenons. How did I get so lucky? I think it was by invitation.

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