Contending with the weather

  In the mountains communications are just as important as equipment.  Road closures are vital information effecting work days and decisions about everything from child birth to sports.  Scattered "community" functions as independent and part of the American standard.  It's a challenging proving ground.  

We ended up calling it

  Ye Olde Pumphouse that couldn't anymore.  We'd mustered and rallied and multiplied into groups; we'd volunteered and took paying work, and shared the relief.  Us young people were swapped between states, T'see and NC to fortify "strong".  We'd also trained initial self-righteous Don't Tread On Me into To Be Rather Than To Seem.  Through learning--book and experiential--we'd gained in levels and certifications and through "community" not bailing on place (when we couldn't get along) we'd all upped our game as Americans.

  There was learning curve and distinctions between able and hey, can I get some help over here.  The disaster at that time brought us to know ourselves and others better.  It also brought new baseline and fresh technology and technique.  Based on field experience academics and the other professions brought some human touches back to an increasingly digital world.

  Some of us were with some local tradespeople covered in slime and lacking nutrition and rest but never giving up by the time we got to the pumphouse.  We used whatever we had left in our supplies to try and repair a cracked housing.  The watery sludge just kept coming out and coming out.  We were so tired our lower halves were like lead as the water broke past electrical tape, bondo, bungy cord and a sock.  We'd reached the end of helping but had committed to leaving no one behind as we went forth.

  A contractor finally arrived and looked blankly at the situation.  Went to his truck, put on hip waders, came back with a wrench as big as a small rifle, and asked us to peel the layers of "repairs".  One layer even included some laundry line holding a St. Joseph prayer card to the cracked casing.  A sort of reverse convoy of every kind of professional started to go by out on the street interspersed with compact energy-efficient cars handing out final Ready To Eats.  And the blessed Safety Keepers who'd helped city and country navigate the tangle of us destroyed by weather were letting people know....

  Time to move forward

She wore her boots the whole time.

   Our educational leaders were sometimes comical in digging deep for what had been imprinted on them in order to weigh if that was the best way to proceed.  One guy would pause, tap his head like Poohbear, recollect, then dive into relaying the way forward or vigorously shake his head and wheeze, that's not gonna work this time.  Others were challenged by colleagues to Okay, do that but do it creatively.  The word creative was as stressful to some as using a firearm.  One new mama, self-proclaimed 'not creative', tied breakthroughs in personal creative technique to counseling, but was still shy about letting others see her creativity.

  "Susan" The hoarse whisper was a mixture of tone--frantic, demanding.  The moon had disappeared from fingernail to new/none visible.  Susan didn't answer.  Other girls and women bumped into eachother as they came off the walking path and clustered on the edge of a campsite.  

    Susan stood just near a lit-inside dome tent and put down a garbage bag.  She began to undress to her bathing suit.  The whisper screeched, "OH MY GOD, Susan!"

    Inside the dome tent five people were huddled as if the tent were a life raft at sea.  Assessing the day.  In getting "real" from training into field assessing the day included the good, bad, and ugly on what all had happened in the twenty-four hour cycle.  All of us had had to gear into 24/7 mode because we had troops overseas.  "He said that?"

  "Uh, yeah.  Then the other team lead "suggested" that we should know how just in case NOT because the government had become an inefficient whore of a bitch stingy ass too cheap to get us fuel."

  "Kelly," she roused at her name.  Someone swayed her knee cap back and forth so her hand automatically started swaying the person's next to her.  "Here.  Present and accounted for Officer," she said sleepily.  A person across from her replied, "Looks like we're nearing a lighthouse" and crouched closer to Kelly to check pupils with a pen flashlight.  Someone else asked, "Did you hear we might have to burn our shit as fuel?"

  Kelly smiled dreamily.  "Well, I hope it's frozen first."

  Susan's's brown boots and gray wool socks looked blobbish in the night vision goggles until a team lead adjusted the set (goggles and battery pack) like binoculars. We never called that person Hands right out loud.  A red laser light flashed into the sky, then in an instant forty laser lights shown on a woman in a bathing suit from every direction.  

  A person in a scuba suit ambled towards her.  "Why Mr. Aquaman, so funny to see you here this time of day."

  Did you say it's Tuesday?  The man's voice then asked Susan to find two sticks, Depends on what you're going to do with them. "I'm not, you are."

  "Can't you state your intended purpose for the two sticks?"

  Silence.

  "Please Andrew, we are wasting time."

  "I can't hear a damned thing until you use two sticks to open the sides of this headgear," he snarled.

  Susan knelt, kept the flashlight trained on his nose, and groped around on the ground with her free hand.  The strewn kindling wood proved rotty and she was almost backing into the tent by the time she found one strong enough stick and a tent stake.  Andrew raised his eyebrows and furrowed his brow as she came towards him warning, Okay I'm coming in.

  "Right where my laugh lines are, ooooo, lower, sort of above my ear, like

  "I can't see your ears dork

  "Like a pencil behind my ear."

  She winced.  He chuckled.

  "THERE!" She put the flashlight in her mouth and leaned back to gauge symmetry.  The flashlight hit on a gleam and a sparkle.

  "What the?"

  "Fridge."

  "What?"

  "You work on getting us a fridge." He took the flashlight out of her mouth and pulled the wedged headgear shut.  He shone the beam on the garbage bag.  "Should I ask?"

  Susan snatched the flashlight back and let her arms fall to her sides.  A movie scene would show bare and booted foot, people putting the cinch on despair.  A creek bubbling and rumbling rocks into resettling.  And Susan explaining, "A crazy idea really."

  He listened.

  The streams of political teansition and turnover of the economy had propelled people from sandbagging and ditch digging through chaos to surface.  A new generation of adults were stepping up.  But the old guard was

  "A different breed."

  "Yeah."

  "Why a bag of mud?"

  "Aw shucks.  This gets at it.  I put a clump of homesoil in the bag all week every time one of those bastards cut a young person down.".

  He sighed.

  "I held my tongue and held my tongue and felt all the dreams and energy we'd shown up with like melt into a migraine.  Like there's no bridge between free will and life, living, and rules and regulations."

  "Well, it is a training phase for most people."

  "So anyway," Susan shown the light on the girls and women huddled around a tea light on a can top, "I thought I'd come down here, cover myself in mud, and say my prayers."

  "Can I watch?"

  She made a firm face against saying no.  "In theory, as God takes away my stress the clumps will fall offa me."

  Andrew grabbed her arm and pulled her towards the little path/road.  The tent door was being jiggled and the zipper pulled at somewhat roughly.  "MY GAWD!  WHAT DUD YOU PEOPLE EAT???!"

  

  

  

A way up

   I got to take a drive, a way up, to Swan Cabin.  Currently there's a big tree down on its driveway, but the path through The Forest is clear amd in decent shape.  This time of season it's more bear hunting with hounds than hikers.  The hounds and the people are seriously quiet as they study the environs.  The dogs do seem to get excited when they are driven up to other dog carrying vehicles--like workers noting familiar team or "new guy".  The splendor of hoar frosted mountain tops--glinting sun catchers is balanced with listening for cracking, sliding, and stirring among the forest life.

  Young creature antlers rest against good scratching trees.  Debated are tree bark disturbances: animal or chain?  Higher elevations bring chance to understand better stuff like the drying effects of sun over a period of time on materials like tree trunk and plastics.  Evidences of trash and campfire speak to passers through.  It's fascinating to read forest and woods.

Season of miraculous caring

   Even when somebody doesn't know we are caring, we still can and this gives life like baby Jesus coming to his earth family!  God was continuing a life-giving tradition in sending his Only Son to them and us.

The big red balls are festive!.

    But the meteor shower last night was exciting.  Some stars just poofed out, but some were like bolts of lightening.

 

Word du jour --

   Continuity

  Especially in times of great political transition here in the United States of America it is community that harbors cultural memory and bears the torch of continuity.

  In the Southeast people braved the stigma of heritage to retain family connection.  Some of the Confederate flags we see flying are about that.  About confronting an at-times contentious past and the continuity of values.

  All over the world continuity has become key to how we survive aging population and revolution.

It won't be long

  now before the Stecoah Artisan Gallery closes for winter for a break between seasons.  This weekend (Dec. 7,8/24) is Breakfast With Santa, holiday shopping for arts, crafts, and goodies at Stecoah's Christmas in the Mountains and the Christmas Cantata.

  At the Gallery Open House on December 17th, 2024 the Stecoah Artisan Gallery will be open longer than usual for late holiday shopping: 10am-7pm.

  And on the 12th of December at 5:30pm there will be a Winter Recital by JAM--Junior Appalachian Musicians.

  Kids in pajamas and Christmas color outfits came to see Mr. and Mrs. Claus this morning!  Pancakes and sausage and goodie bags abound.

  Plus I had the chance to talk with local artist Melinda Jester Donaldson.  Her impressive array of art goods speaks of her talent and willingness to try different materials to paint on and woodburn.  She explains of a walking stick adorned with basket-weave pattern and feathers that she harvests her own wood from her property.  And for this particular stick she researched what particular Native American feathers were part of custom.  She uses a handmade Japanese tool to peel the bark, triple sands, and polyeurethanes each walking stick.  

  She also paints in oils, water color, oil pastel, and acyrilic ink.  The acrylic ink dries fast, can be layered, and has vibrant colors.  It's more subued coloring that blends with the piece of oak that is done in acrylic and woodburning.

  Until now I hadn't met anyone who paints on two easels at the same time.  Melinda explains this keeps the color palette the same in different paintings.  I also hadn't seen dynamic water sport acrylics.  Wow!  A kayaker in action paddling in a wallop of whitewater.

  Melinda has done photographic potraiture of pets and people, murals (like on the bottom of a pool in one instance), and puts Scripture on leftover building materials/found objects.  She likes to do stuff even while watching football.  Like painting flowers atop poured paintings.  And adding layers to artworks to give them dimension.  

  She does teaching of art as well.  All ages.  Says to people, "If you can write your name, I can teach you art." She's taught at Stecoah, Tapoco Lodge, and Art Explorations in Bryson City.

  On a visit to family Heather Sharp, owner of Imperfect Perfections, tends the goodies for holiday cheer.  "Home-made, from scratch!  Cakes, cookies, pies, cheesecakes, cupcakes, and more" treats extravaganza!

  About a decade ago Heather made a 60th birthday cake for her stepdad and discovered a satisfaction in treat-making.  While working another job she's built up her baking skills.  The Stecoah Christmas in the Mountains festival is a three-table event and it's a lot of detailed work.  From home before traveling Heather decides what to bring based on what's sold well in the past, the holiday, and customizing for the crowd (sugar-free, kids, pets).

  Then she gets to baking!  Working in a small kitchen from eye-catching recipes she employs strategy.  Cookies cooling while packaging baked and chocolate treats.  Decorating, perfecting not just flavor but presentation.  Gift-worthy foodstuffs fill her tables.  Festively drizzled and adorned pretzel sticks, ricekrispy sticking stuffers, ginger snap truffles, candied pecans, and brownies.  Allergy warnings are clearly posted.  And assorted treats displayed in windowed boxes alight the hopes for merriness.  Even her pieces of cake are extra-ordinary with frosting painted into holiday dogs.  The peppermint merengues invite in small packaging.  And the possibilities are punctuated with sweet potato and pecan pies.

  Heather's Auntie Mabel Smith has been making jewelry since she was eleven years old.  When she was little she'd visit with neighbors on Cape Cod who were an artistic couple.  The lady made jewelry and her husband was a painter.  Mabel first learned beading, then more intricate beading, then the differences in materials such as stones and metals.

  At Stecoah some of her jewelry is sparkly and could be sitting among such finery at a department store.  And some is bright colors, gypsy whimsical.  Beads and stones delicately wound and blended with silvers and golds.  Dream catchers and windchimes round out the gifts on this trip to Christmas in the Mountains at Stecoah.

  The work on the mountain up 143 is astounding!  Not sure of all the technical terms, but they are fortifying and retaining walling parts of steep mountain top terrain.  

  Some of us had told others some things and others of us had told some other things.  The pressure was intense.  And as we went along our counselors and parents were giving us the best advice they could, but we were the new generation of young adults and stepping into field and career.

  As people were gathering around a campfire after a ten-day solo the shy people hung back.  "Barely recognized you," a black girl said.  "Oh, hi." 

  "You been okay?"

  "Sort of yes, sort of no, but essentially yes."

  "I see."

  "Do you get what's going on here?!?" A nerdy guy demanded of another guy.

  "In principle yes, but

  "You guys seen, oh, there she is

  "With him

  "With with or just with?"

  A couple of discussion moderators came out of the bathroom.  Someone went right over to get a worksheet.  On it were overlap topics, stuff like, broad heading: nature...science/creativity; culture...ethnicity/locale.

  "Don't come near me!"

  "Why????"

  "I smell."

  Nobody else said anything.  But a health-minded person whispered, I wonder if she got raped.  A person standing close by mitten-whacked the whisperer.  "I should not have let you come to that group."

  "It ruined me."

  "Well, compared to the superwashed I smell."

  "Ain't no superwashed here honey." 

  "Girl, don't give away state secrets." 

  "I will if I want to."

  "Good point.  Has anyone showered in the ten days?  And if so, where?"

  He got shoved toward a picnic table.  A clipboard and stringed pen with ruled paper were there with some styrofoam cups.  This was an exercise akin to scaling rock wall or crossing a desert for most of the people wrastling natural talents, life learning and experience, and a desire to be involved with forest community.  Some people who'd worked in human resource jobs and academia had encouraged "the fringe" or "wilderness professionals" to think about "programming".

  What's that mean?  Someone had almost tearfully asked.  In the political change up and tier-levelings per budget changes more than a few people were at forks in the road.  People who'd been working in the fields--medical, communications, veterinary, technical vocations--hadn't had time and resources to "upgrade" position based on coursework and credits.  And people in work in all the industries did not want to lose standing.  Amongst baby boomers there was a veritable landslide of confusion about best paths and practices.

  And us young people were coming on board too!

  "Got to ride out and check sites!" A freckled guy said of his week.

  "I got to work with a Marshall.  How cool is that?"

  "What'd you do?" The black girl (who'd told us to call her that) asked.

  "Camp chores and fireline training, and, and

  "Speak up sweetie

  "Writing."

  "She, the fabulous black girl, is a poet!"  A guy in draping layers of clothes sashay'd past and pointed like he was a spotlight.

  "Really?  I thought you studied sociology."

  Before we could keep talking a booming voiced person was requiring us to meet the "fern family" and the "saps".  An impressive array of vegetation in dirt atop garbage bags was put on the table.

Snow flew

   In colder climes people say, sometimes bark, Get that done before the snow flies.  And while the ground is not totally frozen.

  It snowed last night about a quarter of an inch where I'm camped.  The rhododendron leaves were spry in the sunshine yesterday but droopy this morning.  A quieting sky still thick with bottom-shadow grays trails across blue sky.  It's before the "dead of winter" so the people I've been talking to are still working through carekeep details and necessarily adaptive plans.

  Simblings are being twined and pines bundled.  Spreading holiday cheer is right up among priorities now.

  At the Robbinsville library I happened into hearing from Hubert Merchant all about the Friends of the Library puzzle mission.  He and his buddies assemble puzzles and have them framed as artwork.  They're very thoughtful about which puzzles might could go where in town.  A Mickey Mouse assemblage fits perfectly in the children's library.  A pop art iconic-type puzzle may fit great in a new establishment nearby.

  The thrift shops are bedazzled with Christmas.  And the dollar stores have a mix of seasonal items and gifts.  Most of the gas station/convenience stores still have basic fishing gear.  And most every outlet open to the public is sporting brochures and local business cards.

  Angels and snowflakes blink high above road slush and mud.  And work is still being done way up on the mountain highway between Stecoah and Robbinsville.  The portable stop signs and piloting of traffic-thru is heightening our safety awareness.

  Currently the hours at Lovin Equipment & Sales, Inc.'s FARM AND GARDEN CENTER are:

  Mon-Fri 8:00-5:30

  Saturdays 8:00-1:00

  Closed on Sundays

  They've got a sundry of practical gear for communications, hunting, animal tending, work clothes, gardening aids, project wire, adhesives, fasteners, tarps, landscape tools, animal control remedy suggestions, canning equipment, pool care accessories, trash maintenance, grilling and grassing, birding, and some specialty tools for barning and farming.

Tel. 828-479-4177