Epiphany

ephiphany: 1. Epiphany- A Christian feast celebrating the manifestation of the divine nature of Jesus of the Gentiles as represented by the Magi, traditionally observed on January 6. 2. A revelatory manifestation of a divine being. 3a. A sudden manifestation of the essence or meaning of something. b. A comprehension or perception of reality by means of a sudden intuitive realization.

                                    (American Heritage College Dictionary)

Midnight approaches on this day of the Epiphany. According to my thermometer, the record low for Janury 6th has been reached. As I go to bed it is -1 (F). I spent the weekend creating worst-case scenario plans for my family for severe winter weather and brutal cold. I will not lie; there were some above-average anxiety levels involved. However, as RM so eloquently put it today, perhaps anxiety in the face of dangerous weather is an example of anxiety serving its best purpose. Maybe the marriage of my primal animal instincts and my human ability to plan complex strategies is a beautiful thing, and, more importantly, could be highly useful if the power were to go out when the temperatures are below zero and the wind is raging. Maybe there is a fine line between neurotic thinking and smart thinking.

Today, I spent the "warm" hours of the day getting the pipes and the plant nursery ready for the burly night. When all plants were tucked in the greenhouse and the crawl space was closed up and heated and there was a beefy supply of firewood stacked on the porch and all the necessary hollerhood faucets were trickling, I retired to my delightfully warm, wood-heated house and revelled in the comfort. Believing all the bases were covered, my mind was free to wander back through my small but potent memory bank of the handful of other times I have met zero or sub-zero temperatures. Extreme weather experiences form colonies of vivid memories which perhaps dwell in the part of the brain reserved for personal epiphanies... ...Hearts awakening. Lungs pierced by the clear sharpness of the cold. Legs running. Sparks flying when steel hits steel. Full moon casting ethereal tones of blue and white over Shenandoah mountains and valleys. Somewhere in middle America a fire burns a tipi to the ground. Hearts breaking. Horses drawing a carriage face the New England wind. Red sun ascends like our Lord rising over Swiss Alps, its light casting red glowing diamonds over a sea of ice. Sleepless eyes enlivened. A scintilla of hope finds its way through the phone lines.

Prelude

I'm so glad I left last year's Maypole up. It turns out a wrapped Maypole is quite stunning in the snow. It still stands in the middle of the garden, erect, last years bright colors faded slightly but not much. Red, yellow, pink, green, white, brown, checkered- all woven tightly to mark human activity in this cove. Are the lovely old depression era country songs of the Twilight Broadcasters, who kept the cadence of the May Dance, also woven in there? How about the smile of Eleanor Gentry (aka "Shorty"), whose old fabric we used for the ribbons? She spent the 40 best years of her life down there in the holler in the now dilapidated house where those fabrics were salvaged and then brought up the hill to be put to work. And the awe and fear of 3-year-old Sylvia Sparrow upon witnessing the Blue Man with antlers emerge from the woods and, silently, encircle the outer perimeter of the ring of dancers with his staff and his kilt, pawing the ground and snorting like a territorial buck?

What does the piliated woodpecker, watching from one of its MASSIVE holes in a nearby poplar tree in the woods, make of me standing in the snow pondering the pole? Will it watch from that hole this spring, as the friends, families, children and lovers wind new ribbons around a new pole? Or perhaps will it lose all sense of self control and fly right over the whole ordeal, laughing and cackling in polyrhythm with its undulating flight pattern?

The snow does not fool me. Spring is upon us.

Angelo beholds the pole

Of course...

Mom and I are in Dayton, the heartbeat of the midwest. Of course as we journeyed up I-75 yesterday, it was a full-on winter friggin storm blow-out as we traveled from Kentucky (www.kentuckyunbridledspirit.com) over the Cincinnati Bridge and into Ohio. Ohio in winter, contrary to popular belief, can be unbelievable cold, grey and windy. I know, you wouldn't-a thought it, huh? Luckily, here in Dayton we have the warmth of family and the hugs of my cute and dear little nephews and Dot's meat market, which is where I am off to now...

Adventures in Technical Difficulties

I started my essay about technology choices the other day on a common word processing program that I had on the laptop. I wrote about 2 pages of an introduction, and then I decided to do a google search to find a transcription of a report I heard on NPR last year about techonology and human attention span. Somewhere in the process of doing the google search, the computer acquired a virus and ceased to function properly. Oh well.

Since the road was too icy for me to even back out of the driveway, and my little computer project was on hold (not that I can't write on paper or anything, but my draft was on the messed up computer), I walked down to the local library in an attempt to research a little something about the Industrial Revolution and the Luddite movement. Nothing. Oh well.

Well, the day was sunny and the snow was gorgeous with light cast upon it, so I loaded my little day pack and set off along the railroad tracks by the river and headed downstream. My mission was to conduct an old fashioned visit to my friend Ruth at her farm- in person and on foot. It was a lovely walk, and I took pictures to prove it. Ruth and I visited with hot chocolate for an hour or so, and then it was time for me to head back so I could make it back to town by dark.









The next day was sunny again, and I dared to fire up the ole gal (pickup truck) and venture out for some errands. I backed out of the driveway onto the road and promptly slid on what was probably the only remaining patch of road ice left in town. I slid off to the side so that I needed to call 2 large men to come push me onto the dry road. Oh well.

First stop was to take the computer to the repairman in Marshall. He wasn't in so I trustingly left the computer with the gal behind the bar who said she would pass it to him when he got in. Oh well.

I did some errands in Asheville for the afternoon, and the last stop was Beaverdam Ingles to pick up some stuff for my mom. I got out of the store at dusk and was stepping into my truck to leave, when the guy parked next to me informed me I had a flat tire. "You're not going to want to drive on that," he informed me before he drove away. Oh well. It was my first flat tire, and frankly, while I was familiar with the concept of how to remove the tire and jack the vehicle up and change it and all that, I had no first hand experience with the tools and the process. So after a while of trying to help myself and failing (while all manners of people who probably call themselves men passed me by and stared) I called for some back up. Michael T came and helped me, and then sweet neighbor friends from Shelton Laurel Leonard and Deanna showed up out of nowhere and jumped in. The tire was frozen/ rusted on and very difficult to get off, but with the dream team it was accomplished, and I was on my way.

The next day was warmish and I drove out to the holler in the afternoon for a visit to the land and home site. The driveway was still covered in snow, so I parked up the road at the base of the church driveway and walked in. It was a most lovely walk-fresh mild air and snow still all around, wonderful neighbor friends out and about, I could almost believe that winter would end someday. I walked up to the house site and enjoyed a drink of cool spring water, adjusted the metal over a couple of the stacks of lumber and headed down just before dusk. When I arrived at my truck to leave, I realized my keys had fallen out of my pocket somewhere along the way into the snow. I retraced my steps, searching every little possible pocket in the snow along my path until dark, and I didn't find my keys. My truck was conspicuously situated so that all the Sunday morning church goers would have to weasel around it to get up to church. I left a note on the window stating. CAR KEYS LOST IN SNOW. "I AM VERY SORRY!" followed by my name, phone number and location. Oh well.

Today I will continue searching for my spare key, walk and look again for my lost key in the snow, check on the status of the infected computer, and possiblly take the flat tire to get repaired. It's just an adventure in a few technical difficulties. Oh well.

Snow falls upon a small quiet mountain town

When I was a kid I liked snow. In fact, you could say maybe I even loved snow. As a young adult I was loving snow too. I lived my most potent year of young adulthood in my aunt and uncle's cabin alone in central Virginia. It snowed a lot that winter, and I was alway out in it- walking and walking and walking. Tracking animals, visiting neighbors, walking to keep my 19 year old self company. Walking in the snow to make sure I was tired enough at the end of the day. It took a lot of snow walking to get me tired enough back then. But that might have been my last year of loving snow. For approximately the last 15 or so years I have not loved the snow. It is messy, uncomfortable, dangerous and gets on my nerves. You could say Dana + Snow = Frowny Face. People know this about me. If you know me, you might be inclined to call me up when it is snowing and say something like, "Hey Dana- I bet you're having a hay day in this snow!" This is a sarcastic comment, and you are a hilarious joker.
This is background information for my current weather report from the quiet town of Hot Springs, NC. It is snowing a good one. 6 or 8 inches of glorious quiet light white stuff that is just gorgeous. It snowed all day Christmas and today, a soft gentle, steady, but relentless snow that has melted my icy heart and remembered me about what I used to love. This snow is the stuff dreams are made of- fluffy and so light it practically offers no resistence when shuffled through. I was with Jenna today, but I made it out for 3 little short walks to get my thick sugary holiday blood moving and fill the ole lungs with some fresh winter. Walking home tonight the effortless movement of delicate snowflakes through the clean air and the reflection of Christmas lights off the crystalline terrain was an experience to be revered and remembered. This must be what the white Christmas hype is about.