Rain

I just went out and emptied the rain gauge. Since Tuesday, we’ve had an inch and three quarters. All three of us are a little soggy and cabin-feverish. It’s raining, as I speak. The creek’s up but not as much as one would expect. I suspect it isn’t raining as much, upstream. Craig’s Creek lacks a half mile of being classified as a river, so there’s a lot of “upstream” involved. The Canada geese are active, calling to each other as they fly over. With all of the trees along the creek, they aren’t as visible as in the winter, but they certainly are audible.

My first post

Although I’ve spent years writing and editing, I’ve never had this large a prospective audience. I hope I’m up to the task.

Some background: I’ve lived in the western shadow of the Blue Ridge Mountains for better than twenty years and expect to die here. Having grown up near Detroit, I didn’t know the comfort and awe-inspiring quality of mountains. Add to that the pleasure of a large creek and its attendant wildlife, and it can’t get much better, at least for me.

I live in what was the caretaker’s cottage, near a summer camp for handicapped children. At this time of year, there’s some traffic, particularly when the kids are arriving or departing. During the winter, if a vehicle comes down the road, it’s either the caretaker of the camp or the mailman.

Every morning, the cats and I sit on the back porch and watch the creek. Truth to tell, I usually have a cup of coffee and my first cigarette of the day. I watch the creek and the cats and any wild life (mainly squirrels doing their trapeze act), while I think about things. My connection to nature is more philosophical than physical.