Home is…

… a place I visit, now. Many interesting conversations occur when I go visit my parents. For people who have no television or newspaper and a slow satellite internet connection, they’re well informed. They go to Historical Society meetings and political meetings. They go to a social thing in the next county over. When I’m home we talk about the state of education (my mother was a school teacher for over 30 years), we talk about history, we talk about books.

The forest canopy.
The forest canopy.

I went out scavenging wood one day with my Dad, meaning we look for fallen branches that haven’t rotted. We found some dogwood with great turning potential… and then I left it on the workbench in the basement. I still feel bad about that. Either I will have to go back and get it, or they’ll send it to me.

An Iris. It smells like grape Kool-Aid.
An Iris. It smells like grape Kool-Aid.

Like I said in an earlier post, Virginia goes through a transformation in the spring. The leaves come out and the dull brown of the wooded areas becomes this beautiful pale green.

The flowers start to bloom.

Goldfinch on a Dogwood branch.
Goldfinch on a Dogwood branch.

The birds start to throw seed every which way from the feeder and then sit in the nearby dogwoods. I’ve always thought Goldfinches were beautiful birds. Cardinals as well, but Goldfinches in particular. I had a feeder for them when my husband and I moved back East, but now that we’re in the desert, I feed hummingbirds.

Dancer is scared.
Dancer is scared. Or giving me the stink eye. Take your pick.

The cats like to take this time to enjoy the outdoors. Well, except for Scaredy. (Her name is actually Dancer, but I call her Scaredy, because she is scared.)

The path to the spring.
The path to the spring.

I went for a walk in the woods while I was home. The paths that have been there for as long as I can remember are still there. The trees still tower. Their branches still fall down and get eaten, eventually, by bugs. While I spent time in the woods by myself I remembered walking as a kid, climbing over fallen logs, pretending to be a gymnast on a balance beam… now, I’m much more cautious. Fear of falling seems to rule me in so many more ways than the literal.

Fallen and hollowed log in the woods.
Fallen and hollowed log in the woods.
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