For the faithful things

After waiting for Old Faithful geyser to erupt at Yellowstone National Park on a crisp, spring evening, I was treated to this delicious sunset of lemon yellow, raspberry red and blueberry blue with a hint of melon. A harbinger, perhaps, of other things that are faithful to the coming season - bounties of wonderful fruits - luscious lemons, gorgeous raspberries and sweet, tangy blueberries.

Many things are faithful in the seasons. The green of Spring, the spectacular colors of Fall, the crisp, starry nights of Winter, the ever steadfast sun, with its rising and setting season after season.

And a faithful old rose bush.

Imagine my surprise when I found this beautiful bloom in my garden on the eve of Thanksgiving.

I stared in wonder at such an exquisite late season rose and returned the next morning to cut it for my Thanksgiving table.

For the faithful things, I give thanks.

A lily that sky gazes

This gorgeous lily with its beautiful white, pink and yellow colors and an intoxicating scent, faces upward towards heaven. Hybridized in 1976, it was the first lily to bloom up as flowers in this lily group tend to hang downwards. Now, there are more lilies on the market that bloom facing up but Stargazer Lily was the first and, so, it was named.

Now, on this chill, grey November day, as I look at this image of one of the lilies that bloomed in my garden during the heat of July, I can't help but think of peppermint candy canes and the festive upcoming holiday season. It would truly be a wonder to see this lily bloom in the cold of winter while I watched it through a frosty pane from the warmth of my home as it gazes upward at the crisp winter stars. It would cap the holiday season.

Come next summer, when my Stargazer lilies bloom again, will I think of candy canes and a cold winter's night? I don't know, but surely it will warm me with delight.

You, too, can be delighted. It is easy to grow. If you decide to plant the bulbs, be prepared, as they are showstoppers.

A friendly animal

This cute little guy is eating a peanut that was tossed to him when he ventured into our camp looking for scraps.  He's an Eastern Grey Squirrel of which, I am sure, many of you are familiar.

I have a family that visits my platform birdfeeder from time to time. And, I don't mind, as they never take more then they need and are a delight to watch.

They are one of the few mammals that can climb down a tree head first. They do this by rotating their back feet so the rear claws can grip the tree bark. That's a fantastic adaptation that, no doubt, protects them from predators who might be lurking at the bottom of the tree.

Smile On Happy Moon

Whenever I have the pleasure of catching an early crescent Moon it makes me grin. It reminds me of a happy face that's smiling down on Earth. What do I do when someone smiles at me? I smile right back. So that's what I do. I smile right back at that old happy Moon.

You, too, can catch an early crescent moon if you keep an eye on the lunar phase calendar. Use this link as a reference and mark your calendar. When you catch that big grin in the sky - remember, smile back.

American Herring Gull

Imagine a beach without any seagulls and without their cries as they squabble over a crustacean. Now, imagine that it almost happened. In the 1800s, the American Herring Seagull was quite rare. Their numbers dwindling as they were hunted for human appetite - for eggs and for feathers.

I'm glad they've rebounded. I could not imagine a beach without them, as they are as familiar as the ocean breezes and waves. They winter over in nearly all of the coastal regions of North America with the breeding range extending north to Alaska and into the arctic regions. 

This particular seagull was enjoying a sunny, breezy day in Charleston, South Carolina. Could it be Jonathan Living Seagull? Most likely not, but a handsome American Herring Seagull just the same. 

A popular novella in the 70s, "Jonathan Livingston Seagull - a story," was a fable about a seagull who begins a journey of self-perfection through the passion for flight.

Looking at me from behind, his look seems a taunt at me, taunting me of what he's capable of doing in that wide expanse of blue sky and of what I cannot do -- that is fly free and high just like Jonathan encumbered by nothing.

 “He was not bone and feather but a perfect idea of freedom and flight, limited by nothing at all”

― Richard Bach, Jonathan Livingston Seagull

The French Broad River

This beautiful river flows through the Appalachian Mountains of North Carolina passing through the city of Asheville to its final destination joining with the Tennessee River in Tennessee.

An odd name, I thought, but research revealed it was named by settlers as it was one of two broad (broad meaning river) rivers in Western North Carolina and belonged on land owned by the French.

In my readings, I discovered it is considered the third oldest river in the world; however further research indicated that the New River, also in North Carolina, is the third oldest.  I could not find any information to settle the matter.  But whether third or fourth it is old, very old.

If you are ever in North Carolina consider a visit to the French Broad River. Stand on its banks and contemplate its age -  an age that places it before the Appalachian Mountains were formed and before no human stood on its banks.

The American Bison

Soon we saw a cloud of dust rising in the east, and the rumbling grew louder and I think it was about a half hour when the front of the herd came fairly into view. From an observation with our field glasses, we judged the herd to be 5 or 6 (some said 8 or 10) miles wide, and the herd was more than an hour passing us at a gallop, about 12 miles an hour...the whole space, say 5 miles by 12 miles, as far as we could see, was a seemingly solid mass of buffaloes.  - Nathaniel Langford, 1870

The great herds of the American Bison were nearly pushed to extinction in the 19th century by a brutal slaughter campaign sanctioned by the U.S. Army. It took only three decades to reduce the massive herds to almost nothing. Then, the prairies fell silent.

Today, the American Bison lives on in scattered small pockets mostly in national parks and reserves.

In Yellowstone National Park, the bison wander outside the park but the cattle industry fears the bison will infect their cattle with the disease brucellosis. So federal and local officials slaughter them despite there being not one confirmed case of the disease. The slaughter continues every winter for the unfortunate ones who follow their instinct to roam the prairie.

Inside the park, you will find bison on restaurant menus mostly offered up as burgers. Yet, our national parks are deemed animal sanctuaries.

It all seems a travesty and another shameful footnote to add to our nation's history.