At 5:00 am there is rumbling, rolling thunder and lightening illuminating the room.
I find a break in the downpour and walk briskly in the heavy fog before Tornado warnings and more rain comes in.
There are huge orange puddles, colored with the iron leached from the soil. The Lawson's Fork Creek has overflowed far into the forest and is rushing in torrents over the spillway.
The early forsythia has been blooming since Christmas and I have found today that there are the first shoots of daffodils reaching from the ground beside my kitchen door.
"Some say the world will end in fire
Some say in ice.
From what I've tasted of desire,
I'd side with those who favor fire,
But from what I've known of hate
I'd say that ice is nice
And will suffice"
Robert Frost
Sunday, January 12, 2014
Monday, January 6, 2014
Sunday January 5, 2014 Frozen
A cold white day, only one other walker with his dog and the dog is wearing a saddle blanket. Near the grocery store, a moldering cat is lying frozen in the street. I find a mud and straw bird nest on the path next to a fly green empty bottle of Jagermeister. Soon, there is an empty bottle of "99 Bananas" and then two cobalt blue SKYY vodka bottles lying in the grass. There is some torn red and green Christmas wrapping lodged in the branches of a tree, green ribbon blowing in the wind.
The polar vortex blizzard has hit Philadelphia, Boston and New York. Monday night and morning, it will be 8 degrees here. I am dreaming of sitting on a balcony overlooking the golden marsh with the golden full moon above.
Driving home, I pass the closed Peach and Produce stand, empty now, but then, beside the road, I spot a regal wild turkey, no, a flock of wild turkeys, all large and elegant. I can see them among the trees quite clearly as the leaves and the undergrowth is gone now. There are many, perhaps 16 to 20. Surely, they have been living here but camouflaged in another season, invisible to me.
In the cold, last week, Zack, Shane and James were confined to the house and playing with light sabers, making treasure maps. Together they jumped up and down saying, "I love this day, I love this day. It is the bestest day!" And so it is.
The polar vortex blizzard has hit Philadelphia, Boston and New York. Monday night and morning, it will be 8 degrees here. I am dreaming of sitting on a balcony overlooking the golden marsh with the golden full moon above.
Driving home, I pass the closed Peach and Produce stand, empty now, but then, beside the road, I spot a regal wild turkey, no, a flock of wild turkeys, all large and elegant. I can see them among the trees quite clearly as the leaves and the undergrowth is gone now. There are many, perhaps 16 to 20. Surely, they have been living here but camouflaged in another season, invisible to me.
In the cold, last week, Zack, Shane and James were confined to the house and playing with light sabers, making treasure maps. Together they jumped up and down saying, "I love this day, I love this day. It is the bestest day!" And so it is.
Wednesday, January 1, 2014
January 1, 2014 A Cold Walk
Early this new day of the new year, it is cold with a pale blue and white striated sky. In the upper Mid West, there is a blizzard. Only a few walkers, an occasional jogger trying to run off the turkey, the dressing, the pumpkin pie, the mashed potatoes, the gravy, the cranberry sauce. At my house there were a dozen cardinals pecking at the ground, a chortle of a lone bird nearby. I put birdseed in a squeezed orange half for the feathered neighbors. In my yard I have a deer made out of logs with a cardinal perched in his branch antlers. Inside it is warm with a Christmas tree and leftover wrapping papers.
Today is the day for blackeyed peas and collard greens.
Here is an old recipe for "Hoppin John":
Wipporwill peas or Red Rippers or Blackeyed peas
rice
ham hock
Cook dried peas with ham hock or fat back until done. (Actually you should put the peas on the stove to a boil in several inches of water the night before to soak)
Cook rice separately but not too thoroughly done.
Put rice into peas and steam all liquid into rice.
"Tastes good for a meal with green apple pie"
From Granny's Old Time and Modern Cookbook.
In all of my collection of old cookbooks, there is no recipe for collards.
Here is how to do it.
Get a big fresh green bunch of collards. Cut out the stems. Roll the leaves into a bundle and cut round slices.
Then cut again through the slices. Heat fat back or bacon in the skillet. Saute the collards in the fat.
Add salt and pepper to taste. (Garlic is good too). Add some water and heat. Cover and cook for as long as you like. Enjoy with the Hoppin John.
Happy New Year
Today is the day for blackeyed peas and collard greens.
Here is an old recipe for "Hoppin John":
Wipporwill peas or Red Rippers or Blackeyed peas
rice
ham hock
Cook dried peas with ham hock or fat back until done. (Actually you should put the peas on the stove to a boil in several inches of water the night before to soak)
Cook rice separately but not too thoroughly done.
Put rice into peas and steam all liquid into rice.
"Tastes good for a meal with green apple pie"
From Granny's Old Time and Modern Cookbook.
In all of my collection of old cookbooks, there is no recipe for collards.
Here is how to do it.
Get a big fresh green bunch of collards. Cut out the stems. Roll the leaves into a bundle and cut round slices.
Then cut again through the slices. Heat fat back or bacon in the skillet. Saute the collards in the fat.
Add salt and pepper to taste. (Garlic is good too). Add some water and heat. Cover and cook for as long as you like. Enjoy with the Hoppin John.
Happy New Year
Monday, December 9, 2013
October 24, 2013 Paddling the Beaufort River
At 7:00 am, we walk down to the trestle and see the sunrise in all its splendor over the golden marshes.
On the way to the river, we stop at Old Sheldon Church where once I met Bill Campbell tending family graves. He told me that he had met his wife, a Scottish Macdonald in India during the 2nd World War, how she was also related to William Tecumseh Sherman. Laughingly, he related how the Macdonalds had invited the Campbells over for dinner and murdered them and how Sherman had burned down the old Sheldon church.
During the Revolution, the British had indeed burned down the church. It was rebuilt and some believe that it was burned by Sherman in the Civil War. More recently, some think that it was merely torn apart by the residents nearby who had no fuel to burn to keep them warm in the days during and after the war.
Now only the brick columns stand in the deep woods, like a Southern Stonehenge, a tribute to a spiritual past. Still, once a year on the Sunday after Easter, a service is held here.
Then, geared up in our life vests, gloves, hats, and sandals, we launched from the marina right into the Beaufort River. A barge and tug boat sailed nearby on its way out to sea. We paddled down river and under the bridge to Parris Island.
We were saluted by dolphins.
At Fort Fremont (a Spanish American War relic), we took out to look around. I caught my sandal in the kayak seat and fell backwards into the water's edge. Actually it felt good as the day had brightened and heated up. I laughed. Now I was truly baptized in the holy waters of the Beaufort River with the dolphins in attendance. And I am changed forever.
On the way to the river, we stop at Old Sheldon Church where once I met Bill Campbell tending family graves. He told me that he had met his wife, a Scottish Macdonald in India during the 2nd World War, how she was also related to William Tecumseh Sherman. Laughingly, he related how the Macdonalds had invited the Campbells over for dinner and murdered them and how Sherman had burned down the old Sheldon church.
During the Revolution, the British had indeed burned down the church. It was rebuilt and some believe that it was burned by Sherman in the Civil War. More recently, some think that it was merely torn apart by the residents nearby who had no fuel to burn to keep them warm in the days during and after the war.
Now only the brick columns stand in the deep woods, like a Southern Stonehenge, a tribute to a spiritual past. Still, once a year on the Sunday after Easter, a service is held here.
Then, geared up in our life vests, gloves, hats, and sandals, we launched from the marina right into the Beaufort River. A barge and tug boat sailed nearby on its way out to sea. We paddled down river and under the bridge to Parris Island.
We were saluted by dolphins.
At Fort Fremont (a Spanish American War relic), we took out to look around. I caught my sandal in the kayak seat and fell backwards into the water's edge. Actually it felt good as the day had brightened and heated up. I laughed. Now I was truly baptized in the holy waters of the Beaufort River with the dolphins in attendance. And I am changed forever.
Sunday, December 8, 2013
Octber 23,2013 Paddling the Combahee
Early morning put in at the Combahee (pronounced 'Combee' by the locals). The Combahee is the "C" in ACE Basin, the three river estuary of the Ashepoo, the Combahee and the Edisto, an 18,000 acre wildlife refuge.
We paddled upstream with a 20 mph headwind for about an hour. The day is bright and clear, cool (66'). I have a green kayak today, longer, sleeker and faster. The Combahee is a fresh water river with salt underneath and is effected by tides as it flows through the oak, pine and cypress forest. My brother, Buddy, has fished this river and tells me that even if you are sailing with the tide, you must go faster than the tide is moving and it can be a wild ride.
No alligators today. Ring necked King Fishers skim back and forth over the water. Turtles bask on fallen logs and suddenly, there is a flock of 30 to 40 white Ibis careening above us and alighting into the trees, then walking single file along the bank. These blueways (or more accurately black or brown ways) have been called "The Atlantic Flyway" or the bird highway in the sky as there are countless avian species living here or moving through.
After a picnic lunch, we continue upriver as far as the estate, "Auld Brass" designed by Frank Lloyd Wright and now owned by the Hollywood producer, Joel Silver. He has exotic animals living on the grounds and I remember about five years ago reading in the Waterboro news paper of his escaped rhino being hit by a car on a country road. We could see only the green roofed dockside gazebo also designed by Wright.
We turned around and paddled downriver, past our put in, under bridges and turn around again at Public Park. We have traveled 9.2 miles today.
We paddled upstream with a 20 mph headwind for about an hour. The day is bright and clear, cool (66'). I have a green kayak today, longer, sleeker and faster. The Combahee is a fresh water river with salt underneath and is effected by tides as it flows through the oak, pine and cypress forest. My brother, Buddy, has fished this river and tells me that even if you are sailing with the tide, you must go faster than the tide is moving and it can be a wild ride.
No alligators today. Ring necked King Fishers skim back and forth over the water. Turtles bask on fallen logs and suddenly, there is a flock of 30 to 40 white Ibis careening above us and alighting into the trees, then walking single file along the bank. These blueways (or more accurately black or brown ways) have been called "The Atlantic Flyway" or the bird highway in the sky as there are countless avian species living here or moving through.
After a picnic lunch, we continue upriver as far as the estate, "Auld Brass" designed by Frank Lloyd Wright and now owned by the Hollywood producer, Joel Silver. He has exotic animals living on the grounds and I remember about five years ago reading in the Waterboro news paper of his escaped rhino being hit by a car on a country road. We could see only the green roofed dockside gazebo also designed by Wright.
We turned around and paddled downriver, past our put in, under bridges and turn around again at Public Park. We have traveled 9.2 miles today.
Saturday, December 7, 2013
October 22, 2013 Paddling Cuckhold Creek
In the early morning, we launched our kayaks downstream against the tide. A bald eagle flew across the sky above us, a welcome, a good omen. All day it was cool and now and then a few rain drops would fall.
We saw small alligators, red winged blackbirds, terns, egrets, ibis and two osprey nests.
We paddled through old rice canals ringed with glorius brilliant sulfur yellow swamp flowers (which might be called swamp coriopsis). It was incredible to float there in a kind of round pond in the middle of the flower ringed marsh grass, a secret paradise.
Returning, the bald eagle watched us take out from his perch high in a dead tree.
In the old days, rum runners, armed with guns, drove their boats through this creek in the dead of night with their contraband loads of liquor, sometimes escaping the sheriff and sometimes being ambushed and caught red handed.
We saw small alligators, red winged blackbirds, terns, egrets, ibis and two osprey nests.
We paddled through old rice canals ringed with glorius brilliant sulfur yellow swamp flowers (which might be called swamp coriopsis). It was incredible to float there in a kind of round pond in the middle of the flower ringed marsh grass, a secret paradise.
Returning, the bald eagle watched us take out from his perch high in a dead tree.
In the old days, rum runners, armed with guns, drove their boats through this creek in the dead of night with their contraband loads of liquor, sometimes escaping the sheriff and sometimes being ambushed and caught red handed.
Wednesday, December 4, 2013
October 21, 2013 Paddling Boyd Creek
Last night I watched a full yellow moon rise in a deep blue buttermilk sky over the marshes at Knowles Island. Far across the way I could see the rotating light on the Hunting Island lighthouse.
I have canoed before, but this is my first experience of kayaking. We loaded up and drove to Boyd Creek. I had a fat baby blue kayak which seemed to want to drift to the right. I kept going into the spartina grass. Our leaders demonstrated a T rescue.
At noon, we put out at a picnic shelter and had our bag lunches which we had packed earlier. Back into the creek and finally out at a place called Saltzberg, stacked the kayaks on the trailer and drove back muddy and wet and happy.
My upper arms and shoulders ached. We threw our clothes in the washer and sank into hot baths.
I sat on the balcony watching the green, gold, and brown grasses, the marsh, the water. Aaaah.
Note: Bill Hamel, Master Naturalist and One of "The Pinckney Island Wildlife Preserve honored Seven" is a volunteer who tends to and keep the Preserve open. He tells about Port Royal Sound watershed and the visisitudes of low country estuaries, the destruction humans have done to the sacred salt marshlands and black water salty fingers of water.
Boyd Creek travels into Jasper County where there is great poverty. Next to Jasper is Beaufort County with Paris Island Marine Base, and Hilton Head and other islands where the very wealthy vacation.
I have canoed before, but this is my first experience of kayaking. We loaded up and drove to Boyd Creek. I had a fat baby blue kayak which seemed to want to drift to the right. I kept going into the spartina grass. Our leaders demonstrated a T rescue.
At noon, we put out at a picnic shelter and had our bag lunches which we had packed earlier. Back into the creek and finally out at a place called Saltzberg, stacked the kayaks on the trailer and drove back muddy and wet and happy.
My upper arms and shoulders ached. We threw our clothes in the washer and sank into hot baths.
I sat on the balcony watching the green, gold, and brown grasses, the marsh, the water. Aaaah.
Note: Bill Hamel, Master Naturalist and One of "The Pinckney Island Wildlife Preserve honored Seven" is a volunteer who tends to and keep the Preserve open. He tells about Port Royal Sound watershed and the visisitudes of low country estuaries, the destruction humans have done to the sacred salt marshlands and black water salty fingers of water.
Boyd Creek travels into Jasper County where there is great poverty. Next to Jasper is Beaufort County with Paris Island Marine Base, and Hilton Head and other islands where the very wealthy vacation.
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