Gomming & Yowing

All about eating and talking and life in the South and anything else that strikes my fancy…

Archive for the tag “grass”

Feral Friday: May 13, 2011

Feral Friday:  my version of the more common “Wordless Wednesday” post in which a thought is illustrated with an image rather than words. (There will be some words, though; I just can’t help myself!)

Big Ol' Turtle Rock

 
Somewhere along Hominy Creek, you can see this big rock sticking up out of the water.
 
When my parents moved from West Asheville to Candler in August, 1971, I was 2-and-a-half. (Don’t bother with the math–it was 40 years ago and yes, now you know my age, too.) There were no car seats for kids in those days, and virtually no seat belts, and we mostly sat in our mom’s laps and leaned out the windows (and mostly all survived, thank goodness).
 
When we passed this stretch of the creek, my mom told me to look for “that big old turtle rock” that looked like a giant tortoise lumbering upstream. (It already had moss on it then, but the grass and weeds are a fairly new development in the last 15 or so years.) (The rusty oil drum hung up in the rocks nearby is an even newer development, unfortunately.)
 
When the creek floods, the turtle will be submerged for a few days, but he always comes back, headed upstream against the current. No matter where I go, or for how long, I check on the turtle when I come home.
 
Thanks, Mom, for having imagination enough to make the world a more interesting place for all of us!
 

Crocus Pocus

Spring has an undeniable magic: a warm breath of wind on what should be a chilly morning; a thread of scent, spicy and sweet–winter honeysuckle, perhaps–that’s gone before you’re sure it was there; buds that swell into being seemingly overnight.

Spring, much like hope, springs eternal

All this magical blooming and bursting and bubbling up of new life has side effects, of course: every swathe of green grass (more violently green in those patches that the dog favored last fall) sprouts a bumper crop of bodies–singles, couples, families–intent on exposing winter-white and waxen limbs to the rays of the young sun while lolling on bright quilts and tartan throws (that icon of spontaneous picnickery plucked from the trunk of the family truckster). These ground covers are regarded as talismans imbued with miraculous powers to protect the lollers from the simultaneous dangers of rampant sunburn, grass allergies, and rising damp that precedes a a sore throat and sniffles by about 24 hours after having engaged in the perilous practice of casting off clothing (a.k.a. “spring-fling”) too early in the season.

(With apologies to poet William Stevenson, “Back and side go bare, go bare, both foot and hand go cold…”)

In a nutshell? Enjoy the magic of spring from the safety of your socks, shoes, and sweaters–at least until the frost melts and the oak leaves are as big as squirrels’ ears, phenologically speaking. Or, in post-modern terms, plant your non-genetically modified heirloom ‘taters when the girls at the schoolbus stop shed their Uggs for flip-flops…

Post Navigation

Follow

Get every new post delivered to your Inbox.

Join 1,601 other followers

%d bloggers like this: