Night and Day

Outside my French doors, I can't see a thing. Dark hides the stars, and the enticing shadows I normally see cast by the light of the moon. Disappointment blackens my mood, but then, I think of the day that has passed. Rain, clouds, sun, teased me with possibilities. It's easy to see in the light of day.
I chose to go to the mountain and write. Words came in bursts, changing with the movement of the weather. In the daylight, I could see the beginnings and the endings of ideas. It was possible to make a plan, and  plot a course.
In the night,  the beginning seems hidden, as does the end. It is a world of dreams, true adventures of the mind kind. As my vision adapts to the blackness of the evening, I begin to see. I realize, sometimes, in the darkest moment one can see the clearest.
Day and night combined can a moment in a life make, but also a lifetime can be realized in a moment. This concept hides in the ink of evening, eludes me in the darkness, yet I know there is something out there waiting for me to grasp its goodness and meaning. There is a reason for this night of no moon, no stars. Outside my French doors there is life waiting to be discovered.

I Am Animal

Most of my day was spent inside and by late in the afternoon I realized I was feeling a bit down. It hit me, I am an animal at heart. Life without being outside, is not living, it is existence, lacking the color, taste, and feel of being alive. I need fresh air on my skin to breathe, the sight of the sky to see, the brush of plant life to feel. It's simple, and such a wonderful thing, knowing what makes your heart sing. 

Tiny Bird Brains

Outside my French doors, life is full of surprises. Today, I went hunting with Green Creek Hounds. I was surprised, though I don't know why, that so many came after the night's/early morning rain. GCH has true fox hunting diehards as members. We had a blast and lingered afterwards, sharing snacks and stories.
Back at the farm as I was unloading my horse, I heard baby birds chirping. I looked up at the trees high above, over at the barn edges and could not find a nest. The babies sounded near, like they were in the trailer. I peered inside, though since I keep the trailer shut tight when not using it I couldn't imagine they'd be in there. They weren't. I was beginning to think I was developing a new form of ringing in the ears.
Using my not-so-keen hearing I crept around the trailer. I felt a bit silly, until, lo and behold, I found the nest in a most unlikely spot. Some silly momma made a nest behind the spare tire attached to the side of the trailer!
This is a trailer I use often, so those little puffballs have been traveling since they were laid. I can hear the babies, see part of the nest, but not all. The babies are not visible, but they are loud. I parked the trailer back in its spot and crossed my fingers.
I hope mom didn't have a heart attack while the kids were out cruising. The little peeps have quite a tale to relay to her. And, I imagine they lives are ruined. They will be speed freaks and not understand why they can't fly as fast as their mobile home. I can hear them now cheeping to each other. I'm sure they are saying, "Momma must be a real birdbrain."

But, not as crazy as this hummingbird, who stopped to read my husband's notepad!

Outside my French doors, summertime is back! No rain, no gloomy sky, simply sunshine and butterflies. I wonder if butterflies emerge from their cocoons, blink, stretch, and suddenly finding they are flying, hold their breath in delight at the metamorphous?
I wonder that about people, too, those who make hard choices and change things about themselves, then suddenly find their life is better, that they are soaring above all the negatives that had kept them anchored, do they hold their breath until they trust the new person they have become? I hope, if they do, it's not for long. Each breath is too precious to hold in. I hope they exhale with joy. I wonder about myself, the things that hold me down, then I glance again at the day awaiting me.
I stop pondering and imagine bare feet, cut-offs, and hair spun up out of the heat. Then, I make it happen. My own version of a summer metamorphous over, I open my French doors and step out to explore this spread your wings kind of day. Let's go fly!

Thorns Amongst the Berries

Outside my French doors it is berry season. There are wild raspberries on the mountain, blueberries on the farm, juicy little gifts from Mother Nature waiting to be picked and savored.
Blueberries are sweetest when I only take the ones that fall into my hand with the gentlest tug. I like to thank the kind bushes for making my job easy and try not to be greedy. They are generous shrubs and I enjoy the moments I spend in their midst. I am always reminded of the authentic givers amongst those people I know when picking blueberries.
Wild raspberry bushes are prickly misers. They guard their fruit, not wanting to share. It takes a keen eye and careful hand to deal with them. The little ruby colored gems they offer are often accompanied by pain. I do not spend much time in their company, despite the sweetness they promise.
I understand the bushes have thorns as a survival tactic. They are protecting their continuance in the world. Some people feel a need for thorns, too. But, I always wonder, why can't they be like blueberries, and survive without inflicting pain?
This is the time of year to savor the sweet and understand life a bit better. Some of life can be approached with an open hand and heart, some is better handled with an awareness of boundaries despite its attributes. I hope all enjoy the sweetness and avoid the thorns.

Traveling Home

Outside my French doors the noon of summer shimmers in the air. Animals lull in the shade of century old oaks. Sweat darkens the horses sides. Moisture from last night's rain is no more than a heavy memory.
I cast my gaze upward, where I will be soon seated in a 21st century jet headed to Chicago. It makes me thinkof frying eggs on a sidewalk while people hurry from one air conditioned building to another. High energy sparks from women's heels, and heat wets the back of shirt and tie men.

My heartbeat rises, then settles as a slight breeze tickles the honeysuckle. I listen to the silence that surrounds me. My daughter will surround me with love while I am in the city. It will be fun, and in five days, I will come back to the Foothills of North Carolina. I breathe deep, absorbing home before I leave.
Have a nice weekend, all, wherever you may be.

Horse Safety Public Service Announcement

This is my hunt in the video. Green Creek Hounds.

Trusting Kash

Kash and I had a nice ride today. He remained steady on the slippery ground and tolerated a furious attack of horseflies. We also had our first test of horse trusting rider. A small creek crossing had Kash at a standstill, feet planted, eyes large with fear of the mysterious bottom. I do not ride with spurs on Kash, as he is young and I want his training to be one of memories of team work not pain. I asked him to go forward over the water. He gave me one of his big eyes looks as if he was saying, "You've got to be kidding."

I kicked. He stood. It was time to muster my courage and be the boss. If I were to be the rider he needs, I could not retreat. I kicked his sides, again. He stood. This was make it or break it (me, when he realized he could refuse my bidding and explode) time. I could not fail him and I prayed our months of working on trust would mean he would not fail me.

I used my best "do what I say" voice and ordered him to move forward. HE DID!

Over the creek and onward to being a full partner in the world of horse and human he went. He moved with great energy after the crossing, exhaling all his pent-up anxiety, as did I.

We moved a stride closer to being better in both our lives today. I am so very proud of this young horse for overcoming many things and learning to be all he can be.
Hope you had a good day, too, all.

Almost Ireland

From lime to deep forest, the greens have taken over the landscape outside my French doors. It's almost Ireland, except Ireland has fewer trees. Squirrels bounce from limb to limb scattering leftover raindrops from yesterday. The horses are munching on breakfast and the dogs are restless to play. My gaze wanders over our land and I soak up the happiness if gives me. They say green is good for you, don't they? Light pierces the deep foliage and kisses my cheek. I listen to my husband's footsteps moving toward me. It's going to be a bright, bright sunshiny day. Enjoy.

Highs and Lows

The morning looks different when viewed from the mountain. More sky, less ground, a sensation of floating above the day to come, and fresh air invigorated. That is how I felt when I awoke for the first time at Donothin this AM.
Then, we came down to earth at the Waffle House where we learned they will be closed for two weeks for remodeling. Boo. But, making the best of things, we put in a request for bigger booths.
Next on the list was the farm. We were greeted by the animals that make us feel special and the chores that go with them. Dogs dashed to us, horses galloped to the barn and the cat vocalized her non-need of humans, but a loud demand for breakfast.
Mid-day I met a friend for a great trail ride. Half way through, horse on idle in the creek, I watched the current and let my thoughts stream through the joy I call my life.
A mountain and the foothills kind of day gave the term 'highs and lows' in my world a new meaning. I smile and say a silent Thank You as I wait to go meet friends at the Brick for pizza. Have a wonderful evening all.

Deborah K Bundy Writing From Misty Hill, Poems, Stories: I Will See You Again, thanks to Carrie Underwood for the Inspiration

Deborah K Bundy Writing From Misty Hill, Poems, Stories: I Will See You Again, thanks to Carrie Underwood for the Inspiration

Kash, "A Mudder? Surely, you jest."

Today, Kash and I joined my friend Janet Cummings and her horse on a trail ride. I was a bit nervous. Kash hasn't had many outings. Our first challenge came not long into our ride. Recent rains let mud behind. There in front of us was a huge orange mud Monster waiting to eat us alive. Or at least that's what Kash and Janet's horse, Deacon believed.
Janet and I looked at each other. I said, "This may be the shortest trail ride ever." Janet agreed. We both knew there was worse to come. After a few firm body language discussions, Kash and Deacon decided to take our advice. They minced through the mud. We gave them lots of praise.
Then, we came upon a small lake in the trail. Or at least that's what the horses thought. Kash looked back over his shoulder at me, as he likes to do, and said with those big brown eyes, "You want me to go in there?"
I straightened his head and gave him a nudge. He didn't budge. It appeared I could understand horse speak better than he understood rider signals. Eventually, the two horses, practically clinging to the trees on the edge of the trail, made their way past the puddle. I believe they decided, we'll go, but you'll get a few scratches for making us do it.
The day became one of lessons on walking through, around, and past water in all its forms, from small streams, to large puddles and mud monsters.
Near the end, Kash sashayed through deep mud with nary a glance, then peered back at me with a "did you see that" smirk.
Me, I gave him my best rider signal, a big, old hug. "You're such a Mudder," I said.

I Will See You Again, thanks to Carrie Underwood for the Inspiration

Outside my French doors this morning there was nothing but rain, so this afternoon we went up to Warrior Mountain. Mist coated weather passing, sun caressed the moment. It made me think of Carrie Underwood's performance last night on the CMT awards. Her heart was obviously with those still mired in the tragedies of the tornado, yet, she was able to express a firm belief in a better tomorrow. See you all then. May the vision, the moments of your tomorrows be filled with joy. Sweet dreams.

Big Orange

"Orange alert. Toad in the barn." Our tiny terrier, Mini Cooper signals by upturning brush boxes, dashing in and out of stalls and giving me that, "Why aren't you helping?" look. Sure enough, as I enter Kash's stall out hops a toad the color of red clay. Cooper rushes over, gives him a nudge. He makes a concerted effort to spring away, but this guy is fat. He's not going to win any high jump records. Cooper does the cold nose to hinny thing, again. The toad moves, maybe two inches. I finish my chores, grain delivered, water filled, horses brought in, then check on progress. Majestic Orange, as I've now named him has covered about three feet of concrete. Mini Cooper has lost interest and gone in search of lizards. She loves lizards, to chase and in taste.
The toad croaks.
I say, "If you don't get in shape, you will soon."
Lesson learned. Perhaps, I'll go to the gym today.

4 AM

Outside my French doors, dark holds the mysteries of today. Small creatures rustle across the landscape. I follow their movements by the far and near snap of twigs, trills and saw sounds they make. This is their time and I am not a part of it. I could venture out, slide into their world, but they would grow silent at the intrusion. My presence would disrupt this harmony of morning before the light comes.
Do I envy these creatures whose activities I am not apart of? Not really. I find there is pleasure in sitting quiet and listening.
The sounds fade, and the small creatures grow quiet as black fades to blue. I take this lesson from the dark into the light and know it will add joy to my day.

God Bless Us All and Thank Those who gave their Lives

The Symbol

Every Memorial Day I hang the flag that draped my stepfather’s coffin, every year except for one. That year I did not look forward to the holiday as I had in the past. I did not hang the flag on Memorial Day, for I had hung it on the front porch on September 11^th   of the preceding year and had yet to take it down.

That September 11^th was a nightmare of a day, and my heart ached as I watched the flag unfurl in the breeze. The reason I hung the flag was sad. The reason I owned it was sad. They both dealt with death.  The flag hung through a complete cycle of the seasons and throughout that year I would look out the window and see the flag twisted into a tight spiral. It seemed appropriate that Old Glory wound around upon itself since my feelings were also twisted tight within me.

There are no words for how I felt. It was as if my ability to express emotion was shattered in the explosions that shook our nation that September. I stared at the tangled flag and could not summon the energy needed to set it free. There was a void inside me. The internal essence of the United States of America, that treasured part of my identity, had been damaged and I was afraid. I grieved.

Then one day as I stared at the flag the wind changed and this special piece of cloth unfurled and snapped in the breeze as if irritated at having its independence stifled. In a wild, daring dance of red, white and blue it cavorted, made me grin in spite of my fear. I watched it and my heart relaxed, the pain eased. I smiled deep inside for the first time in months. You can’t kill a good idea, I realized.

The spirit of America is meant to be free, not twisted and confined. We are a people who dance upon the winds of our dreams. So today I will take a long moment to thank my stepfather for the flag that lay across his coffin. Then I will go outside, hang his flag, place my hand over my heart and salute the vision that symbolizes our country. I will twirl around, synchronize my movements with those of Old Glory and I will celebrate the ones who released me from fear. They gave so much for me. The least I can do is honor Memorial Day for them.

Always and Forever

A rainy, read a book kinda day outside my French doors. Of course, that won't stop me from slogging to the barn, throwing down hay, distributing grain and filling water buckets as horses drip over the fence, ears pricked waiting, always. I can see one from here trying to send me mental messages. Will he go in the run-in and eat hay? No. He'll stand there, watching me look outside, while he looks inside, those big brown eyes and quivering muzzle saying, "Feed me. Never mind that I have green, green grass, a dry place full of hay. I want grain." I give him my best glare. He doesn't even flinch. This staring contest could go on forever. Guess it's time to go find the rain gear. Time to take care of the creatures I love. Always.

When the Tornado Hit Oklahoma

Outside my French doors, the landscape pulses with new life, swollen with the ripeness that signals the health of our Earth. My mind shifts to images telegraphed over airways in the past two days, stark smears upon the surface of Oklahoma, lives swept away in a fury of nature. Having seen the destruction of a tornado up close, though I personally wasn't affected, I sense the pain of sharp shards under the feet of the survivors, the raw wounds that will leave lifetime scars on those living this nightmare in the Midwest. 

We cannot know what all they deal with as they shift through the rubble of their lives. It seems so little to simply hold them close in my thoughts and prayers, but I remember survivors eyes when we showed up to help patch a roof, when they heard of an offered prayer. The people of Oklahoma need even the little things to move forward. May God bless and keep them through this difficult time. May we hold them tight and continue to let them know they are in our hearts.

American Idol, the train has left

American Idol is like a good song destroyed by a bad singer this year. The voices are great, but… Now, they're saying wait for the surprise twist tomorrow night. Well, duh, I bet it's that they will use the save they were supposed to have used by # 5. Why? Because they need another week of eliminations. Makes this week basically useless. Too bad, these wonderful women singers are on this year when the powers that be are turning this show into
a slow motion train wreck. Oh, well. Idol, I've enjoyed the ride, but more than likely this year will be my last ride. 
My pick for who will get eliminated if I'm wrong about the save? Candace (or however you spell her name). Wonderful singer, but picked songs that didn't create a wow moment.
This is simply my opinion. I hope I have it totally wrong.

Boston, the Aftermath

The second suspect in Boston has been taken into custody and perhaps the puzzle of what makes some humans devalue the lives of their fellow men will be fitted with one more missing piece. It's a jigsaw of hatred, differing anger driven beliefs, and misguided vulnerable egos. May the pieces of madness be gathered, poured in a box and the lid sealed. May the people of Boston and all others around the world touched by senseless tragedy be wrapped in the love of others. May we, as we were meant to, have sweet dreams.