Fork In the Road

Lying here awaiting mornings light
Hoping everything turns out alright
Not knowing which way to turn next
A fork in the road puts a halt to my quest
Two options two doors they stand there awaiting which river I choose to ford
Life has many different decisions some right some wrong
Which ones you choose will help right your life's song
For  better or  worst a choice must be made
Its time to get up ,and let your life's song play.

In the early morning mist- a fond memory

Its dark,and cold.The smell of coffee ,and last nights meal linger as the light of the fridge glows through the cheap venetian blinds.Sounds of others stirring getting there gear together starts the excitement.The moon still hangs over the earth but is starting to slowly lower back below the tree- line. The light from the kitchen table reflects off old family pictures ,of hunt weekends of the past. Long forgotten jokes,stories,and memories. The front screen door creaks behind  us as we quietly step  down the front stoop. The grass is white with dew almost as if a light snow had fallen,and a heavy mist has rolled in . The creek gurgles along as we cross to the other bank. Slowly the woods come to life with the slow but sure calls of song birds bob-white quail ,and crows. Then a loud cackle cuts through the air like a knife. My blood runs cold.My father gets out his call ,and responds to the turkey with  a quiet yet alluring sound. Immediately 3 birds call back.The hunt has begun. We quickly get set up on the edge of a clearing.My heart begins to race ,and my breathing increases. A large Jake begins his walk down through the woods to search for his prized hen. My fathers whispers to me reassuringly that he is going to be a great kill ,and to keep your gun still,and be patient. I try to keep still but the thrill of the hunt has gripped me ,and will not let go. He slowly comes into a closer view. I raise my gun,slowly ,and take off the safety.Times slows down my heart beat just barely audible.The sound of the gun was drowned out by the adrenaline that had me shaking like a leaf. The bird falls.Suddenly a huge rush comes over me ,and I let out a long satisfied sigh. My aim was true,and I could relax ,and take the bird back to camp to show off to the rest of the group. I had fulfilled a tradition that had been passed down through generations of fathers ,and sons.

Visions of Summer

 Everyone wears their Sunday best. The sounds of the band starting up, starts the parade of kids that are hopping off jeeps and trucks to get to the front door in time. You breath in the sweet summer mountain air of mid July, and know this is where you belong. The brook that runs along the old Barn that the dances are held in adds to the great sounds and sights of a summer night in the mountains of North Carolina. The sweet sound of a fiddle and the accompaniment of a guitar, banjo, and stand-up bass start things up as tons of people of all ages go into the barn .The guys  take a girl by the hand and head for the worn dance floor that is just about to fall through but maybe next year. So many have shuffled across these floors for decades .Following Glen Bannermans’s calls as they echo throughout the old barn.  So it begins with the bowing and curtsying, and grabbing the hand of your dance partner. As you look around the room you see all the different people that you have grown up with over these 15 almost 16 years of coming here. Then you see some you don’t know that are experiencing this unique tradition for the first time they don’t quite know what to do awkwardly shuffle stepping across the floor. But the great people that have done this before, and remember there first time always lend a helping hand. After the Dance if you are a true to the tradition of a Saturday night in the North Carolina mountains . You head to the blue cone for some ice cream. It is a small little shack with a big neon blue cone hence the name that sits just in front of the old rail road tracks in town . Everyone sits around, and talks about how there year was, and who likes who, and who was looking good at the dance. Who was going to play ultimate Frisbee tomorrow? Friends having fun without worry just enjoying stories, and laughter shared between them. Then you all go back to a friend’s house to hang out play guitar, sit by a fire, and just hang out listening to the swirling of the creek, and all the noises that are coming with the steady nightfall of the North Carolina Mountains. 

Learning To Surf- A short story

The morning is a warm one. The sun is rising on the horizon I sit and watch the waves rising in falling in such unison it feels like they have practiced the same song and dance for generations . Rise crash fall .Rise crash fall. Over, and over. I wax my board in circular motions and start out to the water. Bam. Right away I am hit with the cold clash of water to skin like needles stinging in your arms. I keep paddling till I reach the calm past the breakers were everything is slow and monotonous, until that perfect wave comes through.  I sit and I wait, and wait for that perfect wave to send me back to the beginning so I can paddle all the way out again.  Then it came rising on the horizon like a giant shadow steadily gaining size and speed  it was upon me paddle, paddle, and paddle pop up into a pose to try to keep my balance as I try to ride this  aqua roller coaster . I rose upon the wave like the ruler of the seas on my water chariot riding through my kingdom.  It was chaos yet peace as I road across the water with surprising calm I felt the power of the wave behind surge me toward the shore .It almost felt that time slowed down while I road across my water highway to the sandy horizon. Finally the wave dissipated to foam, and I fell off the board into the water.   Whoosh another wave goes over me carrying some other ruler of some other kingdom. I get up and shake the water from my ears and start the epic battle between man, and nature back to that place of calm, and nirvana where the world seems to be still except for you, and the wave. The place where you are moving on something besides fossil fuels, you move by the organic force of motion that many people forget about but this always will show you who is in charge of the world. Not men nor women nor national leaders, but God the creator of the seas and land.  I rise up again a little more familiar with the rush of speed once you stand up on the board. I once more fly across the water to the shore. I get to shore again it is time to go in for lunch I will be back though I can’t escape that feeling of flying across the water with quiet grace like falling. It is not a loud sport all you hear is the quiet rumble of the wave underneath you as you glide across the water. 

New in town

I am new to this whole blogging thing . I started this blog to talk about things that are happening in our community ,and our world. I just am giving "my two cents" on the matter. Also I will just talk about what ever pops into my head that sounds remotely intelligent. I feel like if one is to start a blog they have to say something extremely deep that will change the way mankind thinks or something lame like that. I can assure you that I will not fall to that level.I just want to talk about things that are on the common man's level.