White Nite Release Party Report

Moonie brought "Fanny" to the release party

Baby Nate sports a "Free the Beast" sticker

White Nite Shrine

White Nite before his release

White Nite's new home


One week ago today was the White Nite Release Party. Weather was "iffy," and I made the call Sunday morning to go ahead with it, on account of so much planning and a special White Nite cake being prepared and such. I spent the morning, which was beautiful and sunny, getting ready- building a fire, setting up chairs, fixing food, setting up the White Nite shrine. As soon as the party began at noon the clouds and cold wind blew in. Oh well. People still came from far and wide. All I could do for the first 3 hours was laugh, at the bazaarness of so many people sitting outside an old Airstream, freezing their butts off- all for a mouse to be let go in a critter infested delapadated house. I laughed and laughed. The shrine was really nice- people brought food gifts for White Nite, and we also honored Shorty and Starling Gentry, the namesakes of Starling Gentry Rd, and the people who once lived in the old house (White Nite's new home). At 2:00 as planned, we all pilgrimmaged away from the warm fire up to the old house for a short speech and the release. It was grand. People were such troopers. I could only laugh. After the release, I forced everyone to do a cake walk, and then most of the Asheville people left, bless their hearts. I think they were cold. Most of the non Asheville guests stayed a while, and we beefed up the fire and braved the wind and some cold drizzle and had a brilliant time chatting and drinking beer or mead, and snacking on whatever (Cheeseballs with MSG were a "fav". ) All in all, it was a good day, in spite of the nasty weather, and I am so grateful to know such persons, who would spend a cold Sunday early spring afternoon participating in such frivolry. God bless America.

I thoroughly cleaned and scrubbed down my "dining room" to get ready for the White Nite release party, but then I found this lovely road kill turkey

and I couldn't help myself... Now there are assorted turkey pelt parts strewn across the freshly scrubbed linoleum floor. Buddy "JB" took the carcass after I skinned it to salvage the breast meat and eat it. For me the question mark of how fresh and clean the bird was was enough to prevent me from eating it, but apparently JB has a higher question mark threshold tolerance. Every time I try to process road kill, I feel like a less than graceful bumbling person. I wish I had more skills, but every project is so unique- it's hard to imagine mastering them all. I am going to attempt making a turkey bone turkey call whistle out of the wing bones. Of course it's weird trying to learn something from written instructions. Does anyone reading this know about this matter? Love y'all.

"spring wind threw my list of things to do away"

yellowroot


coltsfoot


bloodroot
I love that Greg Brown song Spring Wind. Anyways, today I romped around the woods looking for spring life and wildflowers, mushrooms and such. I went to one of my favorite spots to romp. It was so warm and the breeze was so balmy I decided it might be nice to engage in some partial disenrobement. However, once I got on the trail, I thought, even though in my 12 years of frequenting that spot and only ever running into someone once, I better re-robe my upper portion, just in case. Only a few minutes later, I ran into a duo of dudes in all camo- they were rushing down the trail. I was so glad to be covered. Those guys told me they had parked on an old fire road and gone into the woods for just a few minutes and then returned to leave to find that their car was stolen. That was freaky, but the day was so lovely, I carried on. I discovered it's still a little early for morels, but some of the early wildflowers are doing their thing in a most spectacular fashion. I harvested nettles for dinner and will cook them later by the light of a fire. Do you think they would be good as fried cakes with potatoes, cheese from the Mechos and pear chutney? I do.

Stacey's B-day at Tarwheels: a photo journey

Random girl text messaging while skating (what the..._



Birthday girl wearing a "Too Cute to Shoot" Bambi shirt



I never knew Susie was a skake whiz, but she is.



Stewball rocks his roller blades.

This is a poem Kerry wrote inspired by my "situation"

Airstream

3 polaroids,
a compass with its crystal cracked
and a lady hawk’s wing
hang above the front window
of her not-quite antique Airstream--
her metal mobile
in the scoop of the land.
Also within:
tea leaves and lace doilies,
some horse’s hair,
a turtle shell,
dried lavender,
black grapes and an onion,
lemon zest,
fresh cow’s milk and of course
the moonshine her neighbor
left her for the favor
of a late-night pick-up tow.

Silk flowers line a trail that
bends backwards through
the darkness of the trees
to the twin-seated outhouse
whose walls boast
a portrait of some slick sailor
and a Blessed Virgin print.

Behind the jake
and beyond the creek,
beyond the temporary electric pole,
beyond the collection of dog bowls,
and the tangle of the honeysuckle
there looms a farmhouse,
once bright and tabasco,
now stripped and sallow,
filled with rocks and old remnants:
burlap sacks,
old socks and a child’s saddle,
some coca-cola cans,
a pitchfork, shovel and rake,
three rubber boots
and a sand-pile.

This, her home,
here and there,
down the path,
through the trees,
across the hollow –
seems all bound together
with metal, moss, and mud.

By Kerry Ferguson

Dear God, Please let everyone be a little more like Moonie...

Dear God, I'm not trying to micromanage or anything, but perhaps you might be interested in making everyone be a little more like Moonie. It might help things a bit, not the least of which would be morale. I mean with her good sense and wit, her cute smile, her work ethic and her talent, how could you go wrong? I mean, for the love of God (which is you), if a 17 year old can take a newborn lamb who has been rejected by its mother and is convulsing on death's door and successfully put a tube down its throat and into its stomach and feed it with colastrum and save its little life singlehandedly (when the rest of the family is gone) why can't more people be so compitent? If you can't make everyone more like Moonie, could you at least make a few people more like Moonie? Please?
Love, Dana

Chemistry in Action

Don't get excited- this is not a post about romantic chemistry... It is about a little project I have going in an actual Chemistry lab- the ABTECH Biolab to be exact. I am using a basic steam distillation system to produce my own rosemary essential oil from rosemary grown at the Mountain Magnolia! Plant matter is placed into a glass "biomass flask" and then that flask is attached over a boiling vat of water. The steam flows through a "condenser," which has ice water circulating around it (by a pump which is in a container of ice water), and then down into a "still head," which seperates the hydrosol (basically rosemary water) from the essential oil. It is very cool. As I type I am sitting here watching the distillation in progress. If you get a haircut from me anytime soon, it is likely I will annoint your precious head with a drop or two of the pure oil.