Too Soon Old......

   Way back last summer, while I was visiting in Virginia, and trying to come to terms with solitary living, I was sitting in my son's home texting on my good ole flip phone. You remember how that went:

      for A hit the "1" button one time
      for B hit the "1" button two times
      for C hit the "1" button three times

      and so on, till you finished one word, then another, and another.

   Doug watched while I labored over a short text and said: "Dad, you need an iPhone if you are going to get in this century".

   So it happened, an iPhone 7+, and I was on my way.

   This new device came in very handy later on that year as I was back into long distance courting. My lady friend lived in Tennessee, and I was spending most of my time on St. Simons.

   We texted, at first tentatively, later daily, and then frequently texts and photos daily. Hooray for my new world of cell phones.

   It was great for sunrise pictures from the beach. Just a quick photo snap, then onto a text message with a small note, and send. On her end it was sleep, then a ping on the phone, and she knew I was thinking of her. A great way to lessen the 437 miles from my home to hers.

   I kept up the practice of those quick notes in the morning, even after we married in January of this year. She seemed to enjoy the attention those notes in the AM brought.

   But there is a downside to this practice:

   I left her in bed this morning while taking my phone to the kitchen and starting her coffee brewing.

   The brief communication went something like this:

   Good morning m'lady

Your horoscope for today calls for a 2 L day ....Laundry and Love 

💝

   As I went back to the bedroom, feeling brilliant because I had done something to brighten her day, waiting for her reaction as she read it, she was still in bed and her phone on the charger next to the chair. The phone was on vibrate, and, hence, no ping to get her attention.

   With a certain amount of "cool". I picked her phone off the chair and took it over to the bed, claiming I had heard a buzzing that I figured was a message for her. As I sat with her on the side of the bed, she opened the phone and read a message about possible severe weather on the way. No other message appeared. Glancing at the open phone I noticed no "1" on her message symbol.

   Uh Oh, that might be a problem. Maybe I forgot to hit the send button, or just maybe......

   But I did not dwell on that second maybe, surely not. I would not have done that!

   To be sure, I retreated to the kitchen, to look at my phone. Yes it was true, message sent to the last person I had texted with the day before. What in the world would he think?

   We had lunched with some old friends from Franklin, and I had texted him saying how much we enjoyed the time of fellowship over the meal.

   My first thought after all the realization was how could I erase the message in cyber space, and restore what equilibrium I had left.

   Alas, no eraser available. I would have to copy that first message and resend to the correct party, which I did and returned to the bedroom.

   We enjoyed a great laugh in the early morning, which was good.

   But we did not hear from the accidental recipient.......yet

   There is a moral here somewhere about being careful, I know.

   My face could reflect the bright colors of that sunrise, but maybe the other couple could get as big a laugh as we did.

   Hopefully

   Stay Tuned....

   

Spring Sprung...

   When we left for about 10 days to go to The Island, our back yard looked like this:

   The Woodlake site was, in fact, filled with more rainfall earlier in the month, but had decreased to this pond size when we left. It had been there so long this winter that it seemed a permanent fixture. Even the ducks persisted in making it their home, and it looked as if we would have waterfowl for the foreseeable future.

   Then, on the 1st of April, we came home. It seemed Spring had Sprung in 10 days time.

   The redbud down near the road was in color.

   The white jonquil was flourishing in the side bed.

   Dogwoods  lined Clark Road in full bloom.

   The Iris were beginning and looking very royal in their purple color.

   Snowballs across the street.

   Yards filled with violets.

   Phlox in the back yard.

   Even weeds (?) showed forth color in an empty lot.

   Sunlight through the Japanese maple by the garage.

   The next day after we got home, Dwayne texted that we had left Cornelius just in time, it was snowing on that Tuesday morning.

   What a joy it was to turn into that driveway with the sunlight coming through the maple. And not only that, the lake (or pond) was gone.

   Even our ducks had left for wetter pastures.

   God, in His time, had turned our rain soaked landscape into a riot of color, and we marveled again, that Spring had indeed Sprung while we were away.

From PB & J..To..PB & V

   The story line for this post is:

   "Seniors may be old, but don't count them out."

   When I was growing up, and even into adulthood, my favorite sandwich was never peanut butter and jelly. There was just something about the combination that turned me off.

   But now I eat them. I have found the two items do go together (unless the jelly is grape), and just the ticket to take on a journey in the car where refrigeration is at the minimum.

   Now this post is not about sandwiches or even about peanut butter, but an altogether different PB item:  

   Pickleball: From what I have heard, it is the fastest growing sport in America. The are many videos on YouTube showing the sport.

   Played on a court, similar to a tennis court, but smaller, with a wiffle ball and small paddle, indoor or outdoor, a sport that all ages can enjoy. I believe it has flourished around senior living centers because it requires less running, less strength and is fairly easy to learn the fundamentals.

   A lady at church invited Carolyn and I to come and see if we might like to play. The indoor facility at Brainerd Baptist sets up three Pickleball courts on the basketball surface in the BX (multipurpose building).

   The group that shows up on Tuesdays and Thursdays there consists of a bunch of ages and skill levels. Beginners and experienced players play separately and together. There is a continual rotation as the various players come on the court and leave. There is an eagerness to both teach and learn, just right for men and women to get into the sport without being too intimidated.

   There is plenty of movement and exercise involved. I have participated 5 times so far, and Carolyn 2, and we come home tired and ready to rest after being on those courts for a couple of hours.

   I write this on a Thursday morning. I'll leave shortly for another session. Ready to move a little, enjoy the fellowship, learn about how to get better, and get some competitive juices flowing.

   Perhaps I should make a PB&J to take with me for lunch.

   Look for a spot to play and a group will invite you in.

   Finding a sport that you can still play at 82 is great.

   Try it out and see.

What To Do Now?

   Some years ago, Alan Lerner and Frederick Loewe wrote the lyrics and music for the production of Camelot. Included in the score was a song King Arthur and Queen Guenevere sang entitled "What Do The Simple Folk Do?"

   Last Saturday in Chattanooga brought us off and on again rain throughout the morning hours, gradually changing into bright sunshine after lunch. After a season of wet weather, we needed to get out and do something. But what to do or where to go? What do "the simple folk" do?

   Carolyn had been talking on the phone to a neighbor, and, in the course of the conversation, the name Callaway had been mentioned. Remembering that name from my past, I realized the connection to an incident in a long ago time. Mike Callaway was the man I bought some cattle from down on Cherokee Valley Rd, south of our place in Apison.

   It seemed that a driving trip on that Saturday afternoon might be in order, just to look at the countryside, relive some memories, and perhaps even taking a shot or two on the Canon.

   Since both my wife and I grew up in the Chattanooga area, most any part of the landscape of the area, especially the eastern part, can evoke a memory or two (or more). So we took off.

   Cherokee Valley, a north to south route between two ranges of hills, was an area I had ridden my bike through many times when we lived out there in Apison. Then it was all farmland with scattered houses all the way from the Tennessee-Georgia line to Ringgold. Today it is subdivisions along both sides of the road, set in an area that saw the passing of a tornado a few years back that left all the trees broken and downed. The broken woodlands are still visible on the hillsides overlooking the road.

   But, alas, the farm where I had purchased the cattle was little more than weeds, the buildings gone and no sign of a cattle farm. Nothing to even take a picture of.

   We stopped to read an historical marker along the road just south of where the Callaway place had been. It told of a Confederate hospital built there during the Civil War on the site of what had been a summer retreat for folks, seeking a respite from the hot weather at the cool springs located in that area. There was history in the area, always a draw for us.

   Carolyn told me of an old church just a little ways down the Highway 41 where some of her kinfolk had attended.

   Old Stone Presbyterian Church, founded in 1836, built in 1850, also used as a Confederate hospital after the Battle of Chickamauga, and later by the Union army as a stable for calvary horses after they took over that area.

   The church, now a Catoosa County museum, contained several items of interest from the period. The man in charge gave us information about the history and showed us several records that contained the names of her ancestors, the McClures.

   Carolyn had been there before and also the cemetery up the hill behind the church. There she found the gravesite of her Great Grandmother Romie Hunter McClure, who had died in 1908.

   Several graves sprouted Rebel flags, a reminder of that conflict in the 1860s.

   If I had been a soldier, this was the tree I would have chosen to be behind when the shooting began. No scrawny pine for this boy.

   There was also a historical marker a couple of miles east of the church, stating that from that point General Sherman had begun his Georgia Campaign in the March to the Sea.

   Deciding to return home by a different valley, we turned north on Salem Valley Rd. No more historical sites, but several interesting farmsteads and another church, this one still in use for that community.

   After two or three hours, these "simple folk" had done History, Genealogy, and Photography, plus they did it together, the best part.

   And we know that there are a lot more of these roads out there to explore and enjoy.

   The World awaits.

Lake Woodlane Attracts All Kinds

   Last Tuesday we left our Island and drove back to Chattanooga. The forecast for the trip was for 100% chance of rain, and we got it from Macon north to our destination.

   Now the Chattanooga area had already received some rain, so by the time we arrived at Woodlane (the name given to Carolyn's home place, when it was constructed back in 1971), the back of the property was already showing the beginning signs of a new lake.

   It rained on Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, and poured again on Saturday. Rising every day, the area covered by Saturday noon was the largest my wife could remember.

   As we watched from the dry warmth of the house on Saturday, in the midst of another downpour, I noticed some movement down by the back fence. I calculated the depth of the pond in this area was  around two feet or so. In a large gum tree, perhaps 20 feet up in the crook of a branch, a raccoon seemed to be surveying the area.

   I began to hope that he did not foresee a depth of this magnitude.

   When the cloudy day turned to night, and whenwe lost sight of our friend, he was still ensconced in his spot, but by morning light, he was gone.

   Sunday morning brought Sunshine, and a welcome relief from the previous week of water. Our duck population had increased from the two we had spotted out our window on Tuesday, to a count of 21 by the time we returned from church today. They had increased each day and were foraging all over the pond where the water levels were bringing their food to the surface.

   It seemed as though one of the mallards had taken over the organization of the flock and was giving guidance (or orders) from atop the fence. Either that or he was surveying his harem for the proper mate. There did seem to be a lot of frolicking in the pond as the number of females increased over the days.

   Not to be outdone, a large heron came to check out the meal possibilities before flying off to less crowded waters.

   It will be awhile before the waters of Lake Woodlane recede to the grass cover that is supposed to be the "normal" state, and we will see animals and birds feeding for some more days yet.

   Probably by summer we will wish for the water supplied by the rain, but for now the forecasted sunshine of the next few days will be welcomed by all.

   Well, I might have to exclude the ducks from that wish.

   They seem to be enjoying themselves out there.

 

Resignation to Delight to Chagrin..

   As many of you know, when you go out to photograph something, or you want to test a new method, you may not get what you expected.

   The other evening around 5:30, we decided to go over to Epworth (a favorite spot for sunset pictures) to see if there might be a pretty sky, and to test out a new procedure for getting more color in the shot.

   The sky was overcast, the prospects not real promising, but we went anyway with an attitude of Resignation that it might be a wasted effort.

   But at least there was the possibility of a good walk around the grounds after a lot of time in the condo the past few days.

   The weather website predicted the sunset at 6:14, and, we know that the 30 minutes before and again after a sunset, constitute the "golden time" where good photographs may appear.

   Our Resignation appeared correct as the time for the sunset approached, then arrived, and then moved off. No color, no nothing, just a gray sky with a hint of light.

   Then a small glimpse of pink in some clouds up high and to the left.

   Then, in the area of the sky immediately above the bridge on the causeway to the Island, a band of red, orange and yellow, filled the sky. It seemed that one moment it was all gray sky, the next bright color in that spot.

   Delight took over our mood.

   Grabbing my camera from the rear seat, I jumped out to get the shot. Steadying the camera frame on the side of a palm tree, I cranked out a few.

   Then the vivid color was gone. Just a slight hint remained as the sky darkened.

   Sitting in the front seat, I previewed the shots with Carolyn and discovered the bridge framed by an Orange sunset. In the camera, on the small rear screen, the shots looked good.

   In the car going home, glad that we had gone, I had a thought. My tripod was in the trunk, but I was in such a hurry to get the color, I did not take the time to get it and set it up. I hoped that the camera was steady enough against the tree that the shot would be sharp.

   As I put the shots into the computer at home later, my fears were partially recognized. The smaller the picture, the sharper the image of the bridge appeared. With magnification, I could see the lines were blurred.

   Chagrin...

   If I had only taken the time to set up the tripod....

   "Be Prepared". My mind remembered the Boy Scout motto.

   The sky was gorgeous, the colors in the shot were also.

   But a sharper image would have shown them off much better..

   Next time.....

Spring....No Way

   72 today here in Chattanooga, 69 tomorrow as a high, Thursday 76, and then.....45 as the high on Thursday. Enjoy the warm sunshine while we can.

 That ground cover that has looked kinda sad for awhile changed overnight, and the holly tree lends its Christmas cheer to a blue sky and the new little flowers.

   Sure we may have snow in March, and the weather will give us some nasty days I'm sure, but..somewhere the groundhog saw his shadow, and winter days are supposed to be limited.

   Well, shall we worry about cold weather?

   Nah, we are headed for St. Simons on this weekend.

   Sometimes there are things that need to be taken care of regardless......