Time's Fun When You're Having Flies

It's getting pretty scary how fast the days are flying by. For example, it's already Friday and I can't really account for what I did this week. Let's see, I read a couple of novels, mowed the grass, went to "town" on errands one day, went to Folkmoot...and today screwed around in the hayloft (the bonus room above the garage) much of the day. That's it other than sitting on the porch watching the hummingbird wars. As someone dear to me used to say, "I haven't accomplished much today."

But isn't that exactly what I'm enjoying about retirement? Yes. For too many years I had every day structured by work, family commitments, more work, and then work at home. Chores were onerous because they took away from what little free time I had, so I resented doing them. Now, it seems that chores get done when I feel like it so they aren't that big a deal. No, I don't love them and would still rather sit and read a book rather than clean house, but I don't resent doing them.

So...what bothers me about the days flying by? A sense of my mortality, I suppose. And my increasing awareness of the aging process. I've been at Ridgehaven seven weeks, which is hard to believe. That's almost two months...out of twelve...which is one-sixth of the year of total vacation I have given myself. I'm loving this stress-free, carefree life and would love to be able to keep doing this forever, but I will probably need to earn some money at the end of this vacation year. So part of the awareness of the passage of time is kind of like counting down the end of summer vacation, but I think there's more to it than that. Fear? Maybe. But fear of what? Increasing infirmity? Aging? Death? I keep telling myself to get in shape, to get the weight off, to decrease my chances of illness caused by lifestyle, but I haven't done much about it yet. Same old story.

Today I found out that a good friend of mine has a sister who is dying after a "routine" gall bladder surgery. She's only 72. And Carol has a cousin who is about to be taken off life support. He's in his 60's. I guess part of what I'm feeling is that I love my life so much at this point that I want it to stay this way forever. Silly, I know. Impossible, I know. But I just want to soak up these wonderful days and not feel as if I'm squandering them. I do believe that we can choose fear or choose love. I do not want to live in fear, so today..tonight...at this moment, I choose love. I choose to love my life today and not fear what tomorrow brings. I choose "the prayer that never fails"--thy will be done.

The Best Laid Plans of Mice and Men and other Tales

              ADVENTURES ADVENTURES ADVENTURES

This has been a weekend of adventures for us here at Ridgehaven.  Yesterday started off with our weekly visit to the Farmer's Market in Waynesville to buy fresh corn and peaches.  Then, since it was the first weekend of Folkmoot, we went downtown for a look at the visitors from foreign lands. Waynesville sponsors this event every July, when cultural exchange groups from a few countries come here to dance, sing, and display their wares.  I'm not sure how a small town in western North Carolina came to be this Folkmoot center, but it's a nice event.  We kept missing the performers we wanted to see, but our meanderings through the festival crowd made for a nice morning.

Last night, we were prepared to go see the HMS Pinafore in nearby Brevard, which houses a wonderful summer music center with very good young performers of high school and college age.  One of Carol's former students was the assistant director of the program and had graciously arranged for us to pick up some tickets and come see the performance.  Well, on our way out of Canton, we decided to take the short cut to I-40 (yes, I know...) we THOUGHT we had learned about last week from our neighbors Mike and Sue.  Long story short, we got on the wrong road.  We KNEW it was the wrong road but kept thinking that we would eventually feed us back on the road we needed to be on.  NOTE TO SELF:  roads in the mountains run through valleys and coves and not over major mountains.  Ok...so after we finally looked at my GPS on my iPhone, we decided we had to turn around and retrace our steps.  In case you're wondering, Dutch Cove is a very nice little area...but I don't recommend it if you're trying to get to Brevard.

We finally got back on the highway and made our way to Brevard, but we were running short on time and didn't get to eat at the restaurant we had wanted.  Instead, we ate at a place Carol had been to a short time ago, Mayberry's.  Across the road is the O.P. Taylor toy store...get the theme here?  After a hasty meal, we hightailed it to the Music Center, only to find that our tickets were not waiting for us at All Call.  However, Carol got us in, nice tickets, and we got seated with just minutes to spare before the performance.  But wait...why is a full orchestra on stage for a Gilbert and Sullivan opera?  Hmmm...Oops!! We were at the wrong venue!  The performance WE were looking for was a Brevard College!  Fortunately, Brevard is a small town and we weren't far from the college, so after a trek to the car and a hurried drive, we found the auditorium...so why were there no cars there?   Uhhhhhh...because after looking on my iPhone at the Music Center's website, we discovered that the performance had been at TWO o'clock and not 7:30!!!  Rats.  Carol felt awful that we had missed her friend's performance, especially after she had made special arrangements for us to have free tickets, and we were both disappointed not to be able to see Pinafore.  I gave my best rendition of "I am the Captain of the Pinafore and a right good captain too.  I'm very very good, and be it understood, I command a right good crew."  I especially like the line, "Bad language  or abuse I never never use, whatever the emergency.  Though 'bother it' I may occasionally say, I never use the big big D."  Some of you who know me may be asking, "What never?"  No, never.  "What never?"  Well, hardly ever!!  I completed my limited recollection from 8th grade choir with a few lines as Buttercup, but I think Carol was still wishing for more. 

So, what does one do with an unexpected night in Brevard?  If you're Carol and Donna, you beat it back downtown to the chocolate store, that's what!  Ah yes...there's nothing like dessert to soothe the sadness of a missed performance.

We decided to take the twisty-turny highway 276 back home, and after about an hour of intense driving, we returned to Ridgehaven, glad for our adventure but definitely devoid of culture.

       LOOKING FOR CATNESS AND DANIEL DAY LEWIS



Triple Falls



This morning, we decided it was time to get back to our pledge to hike once a week, so we embarked on our trip to Dupont State Forest, again heading to Brevard and then east.  We had read and heard about the great waterfalls there (Transylvania County is known for its many waterfalls), and Carol had planned for us to hike to three falls, all close to one another.  With a picnic basket, a small ice chest, and our hiking boots waterproofed and ready to go, we set out.  This time we had no false starts.  We found the very crowded parking area (note to self:  avoid Sundays during high tourist season), then hiked to Hooker Falls, Triple Falls (the site of many movie scenes, including The Hunger Games), and then on to High Falls.  We had hoped the day would be a bit cooler, but it wasn't too bad.  I'm sure many of the young girls we encountered were looking for Catness, but I still had my eyes peeled for Daniel Day Lewis.  I'll take Natty Bumppo any day!  Sadly, we saw neither of them, but we did have a nice hike.  Hungry by this time, we asked a Friend of Dupont State Forest volunteer for some suggested picnic sites.  We ended up at Fawn Lake, which frankly sounds nicer than it really was, but we got in another mile or so of hiking on the way in and out.

 



High Falls



On our way out of town, we stopped at a wonderful ice cream stand and treated ourselves, then headed home.   I promptly crashed for a couple of hours--glad once again to be back on the hill. 

Poems and Other Thoughts

                   THERE WILL COME SOFT RAINS

This poem by Sara Teasdale  has a title which has always appealed to me.  Even though the poem is about how nature will survive and continue to flourish even if man destroys himself by war, the first part of the poem has always epitomized for me the loveliness of slow, gentle rain falling.  My high school senior English teacher, Dorothy Perkins, was the first to introduce me to "fine English mists."  Growing up in West Texas, I either knew about thunderstorms which produced downpours and floods and baseball sized hail, or I knew of drought.  But I have definitely come to love the soft rains of summer.  I appreciated the fact that Baton Rouge receives a good deal of rain, and like my sister-in-law who lives in Colorado, I love the Louisiana rains.  (Those of you living in BR would tell me enough is enough, however, since you've had quite a lot in recent days. If you saw the map on the network news tonight of all the states which are still suffering drought conditions, maybe you wouldn't mind the rain.)

Here at Ridgehaven, we have had a good bit of rain this past week as well.  For about three wonderful days, it rained slowly and softly and gently.  Mornings and evenings both, the ridges between us and Cold Mountain were heavy with fog and mist, which fascinates me to no end to just watch from my recliner on the porch.  We had about 2 1/2 inches of this kind of rain, which was much needed by the yard, the meadow, and the garden.  Sunday we had the hardest rain I've seen up here with over 2 inches falling within about 45 minutes.  Although I'm sure much of it rain off, I was glad to see it.

My sweet Gladys

My friends sometimes laugh at me because I watch the Weather Channel so much and am so interested in what the weather is going to do.  I guess that's the Bill and Gladys in me.  Although I grew up as a city girl, I suppose my fascination with weather is ingrained in me from all those years they spent on the farm.  Mom amazed me by always knowing what direction the wind was coming out of, no matter what town she was in.  "The wind is getting up out of the south, she'd tell me."  I am so directionally challenged I can barely tell what direction south is even looking at the compass in my truck, but she had an incredible sense of direction.  Mom, the farm woman, would also appreciate the garden Carol has put in.  We've enjoyed yellow squash, zucchini, radishes, and hopefully soon some wonderful tomatoes.  Carol grew up in the city too, but her dad was a farmer at heart and still loves his garden, and it makes me happy to see this long-time dream of hers, our own vegetable garden, coming to fruition (is that a mixed metaphor???).  In a few weeks when she goes out of town, it will be my responsibility to care for the garden, so I better start memorizing what plants are what.  I'm good with many of them, but not the carrots and onions and radishes.  I guess if something starts poking itself out of the ground, I'll pull it up and see what's there!!

              GOOD FENCES MAKE GOOD NEIGHBORS

There's another poem I think most people misunderstand about neighbors.  Contrary to popular belief, Robert Frost was not advocating walling out one's neighbor, I don't think.  Instead, he seemed to be quoting the popular saying where he lived.  Fortunately for us, we don't have a fence  between ourselves and our wonderful neighbors.  In fact, fences would completely ruin the view we have from our porch.  Each of the four houses in this...what...subdivision...has anywhere from 2-4 acres, with all the yards blending into one giant meadow.  So we can each see the others' property pretty easily, and actually see into the others' lives as well.  One family, with teenage children, have a pool, and the laughter of kids at play is always a good sound.  Another neighbor is very project oriented, and we love to observe the progress he makes on his landscaping.  Yet another neighbor and his wife are also retired, and we enjoy their company very much too.  They developed this little cove with the four houses, and although we once wondered how picky they would be, we have found them to be wonderful neighbors who are generous, kind, and funny.  We enjoyed going to Asheville yesterday with them to see a movie, and we hope we will continue these shared adventures.  Finally, we have a lovely lady and her mother who live in the cabin above us, and although we don't see them as often, we know they are there and appreciate how they watch over our place when we are gone.  We can see their cabin from our upstairs window, and it is comforting to know that yet another good neighbor is close by.  One of the things I enjoy most about Ridgehaven is that it feels rural but not isolated.  Six miles out of Waynesville, twenty or so miles from Asheville, but a world away from the hectic life we left behind.  Yes, we are blessed with good neighbors.  We are still the new kids on the block so to speak, and when we walk in the neighborhood behind us, we still get looks that say, "I wonder who those people are and where they live."  Soon, hopefully, we will know those neighbors as well.

after the rain

My life at Ridgehaven is quite boring by some people's standards, I'm quite sure.  But I'm loving it!!

Welcome to Our Porch

               This Porch is More Than Just a Porch

When you come to Ridgehaven, you will undoubtedly be introduced to The Porch.  Our porch is...special.  It is an extension of the house, yes, but it also is a symbol of all that Ridgehaven means to us:  peace, natural beauty, quiet, contemplation, dreams fulfilled.  We hope our visitors who seek comfort find these same pleasures here.  We both put in years of hard work and effort to be able to enjoy its wonders on a daily basis. And enjoy it we do!

RIDGEHAVEN

Our house is situated at the top of a hill (hence the name) and faces south and east toward the Pisgah National Forest.  Prominent in our view from the porch is Cold Mountain, of book and movie fame, and Mt. Pisgah.  The sun rises over Mt. Pisgah (not that I have seen many sunrises yet), but for the past few days the ridges between us and the Blue Ridge have been wrapped in clouds and mist.  I would have used the word "shrouded", but that is much too dismal and sad a word for what we see.  Wisps of clouds are magical and ephemeral, lending a fantasy-like atmosphere.

We dine on the porch; we recline on the porch; we read on the porch; we watch birds on the porch.  But mostly we just enjoy the ambiance of it all.  A little hummer aptly named Ruby stakes out a tree in the yard and is ever vigilant of her territory, chasing away those who come to invade.  Unlike Ruby, we enjoy sharing our porch with everyone.  We are quite self-satisfied with the additions we have recently made to our decor.  Our house is still in something of a mess since we moved in permanently only a few weeks ago, but the porch is all dolled up, waiting for us to enjoy it.

Oh yes...what do we SEE from the porch?   I'm sure you'll see this view in all its glory throughout the seasons.  It may get boring to you to see the same view over and over again, but not for us.

Welcome to Ridgehaven.  Welcome to The Porch.

 

And so it begins...

Ok.  I'm really gonna do this.  I have promised myself that I will start a blog to chronicle this wonderful thing called retirement, so I'm going to begin today.  I'm not sure what all I will include in these daily ramblings, but I will make an effort to record this adventure for myself and for anyone who's interested in reading it.

I did have a blog for a while years ago, but I've forgotten pretty much everything about how to post pictures and stuff, so be patient.  I WILL get better.