Archive for category Uncategorized

Great Smokin’ Park.

The Great Smokies National Park
is a smushed oval, about three times as wide (E-W) as high (N-S),
half in North Carolina and half in Tennessee.

Also the oldest and most visited of all the parks,
and the largest one, east of the Mississippi.
There’s no charge to enter.

Highway 441 cuts up the middle,
running 35 miles from Cherokee, North Carolina to Gatlinburg, Tennessee.

Newfound Gap is the high point of Highway 441
and also the lowest mountain pass through the Smokies (5046 feet).
A goodly part of the upper section of 441 is a ridge road
that switches back and forth from views to the west and views to the east
just as the Blue Ridge Parkway does (from north to south).

It snowed in the park last week, between one foot and two,
judging from what’s left on the ground.

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It’s only 40 minutes driving time from my house to Cherokee,
we discovered yesterday
(about the same from Asheville).
And about that much again to get up to Newfound Gap,
after lunch in Cherokee.

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We knew this, and it’s always been true,

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but one forgets, with the business of the days
how near this wonder is to us.

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The vistas stun, 50 miles across half a dozen rippling ridges.

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As you get higher you reach the deciduous tree line;

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after a transitional zone of both coniferous and deciduous,
it turns all coniferous.

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Some of the parking areas had room for more cars,
some were packed out into the highway,
especially at the popular trail-heads.
Many hundred hikers climbed to the chimneys.

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After a couple hours of wallowing
in the weird wondrous streetscape of Gatlinburg,
and all the people passing,

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back up to the gap, as night’s shade begins
pulling shadow blankets over the slumbering mountains

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and the traffic descends single file back to Cherokee,
going south, or going north to Gatlinburg.

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I grabbed a keystoned capture of the patinated plaque whereon

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the people of North Carolina, South Carolina, the United States
and the memory of John D. Rockefeller’s wife, Laura, share credit for the park.

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The ice and packed snow softened in the sun, and the 55­° temperature.

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but firmed up as dusky dark settled.

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Where the big trees (still) are,
a trip for another day.

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Yardly working.

What a difference a week makes.

We got about 14″ at the house a week ago
which revealed some usually invisible travel information.

Did this guy start from a hole in the ground
and make a run for the branch?
Or climb up from the branch to find the hole?IMG_20160124_115150876_TOP

Or this one come out from the porch,
or duck underneath?IMG_20160124_115213161

A hunter, naturalist, or gender-nonspecific scout
could tell if these were from the coming and going
of a narrow-footed mincing sasquatch,
or the launch marks of a rabbit leaping.IMG_20160124_115224884

Most intriguing are the ones that just stop
as if lifted by some racoon rapture.IMG_20160124_115445373

But by this week the snow has gone to ground and gone to air,
melted and sublimated down to traces,
and spring is getting busy.IMG_20160131_140238395

Freed from a foot of snow
clusters of lichen and fungus bloom on a broken birch stick.IMG_20160131_142031567

Rich loam-brown gills under
the dazzle-white caps.IMG_20160131_142016116

The English ivy is unperturbed, by the snow,
or by the mulch of birch, apple, maple, oak and hornbeam leaves
or by the broken sticks of inhabited birch.IMG_20160131_141953766

Spring is coming, or another, or several snows.

Life along the ground abides,
covered or not covered.

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20­°F — you still get hungry.

Winter is officially here when Garrison Keillor offers his annual celebration.

The weather, he says, is making a serious effort to kill you,
and that’s clarifying, it strips away non-essentials.

Your job is to stay alive.
You’re not a waitress or a plumber or a professor.
You’re a mammal.

There’s no distinction by class or talent,
there’s not even gender, if you’re dressed properly.

I found a warm blooded neighbor, well-dressed, a couple days ago,
emptying the birdfeeder on the back porch.
He didn’t mind the porch light, didn’t mind the bedroom overhead light,
not even the swivelling bedside lamp.

But my flashlight, and my presence,
just two 1/8″ sheets of glass and 1/4″ of inert gas between us,
that gave me enough light for a picture
and made him feel unwelcome.

He descended, backwards,
like a white bronco in a slow chase.

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I told him he could stay,
if he’d just take off the mask.

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Sometimes a house, sometimes a bird feeding station.

The snow raises the stakes, if you’re a bird.
Most of what you’d eat is fourteen inches under a blanket
of the soft fluffy white stuff.

Birds of the north side.

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Southsiders.

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Southwest.

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Northwest.

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Eastward mobile.

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 From a little distance the feeders look like aircraft carrier in battle.
At any approach near enough to shoot a picture
the birds scatter, nine out of ten,
leaving just the bravest, or the hungriest,
of the finches, nuthatches, mourning doves, siskins,
juncos, blue jays, cardinals, sparrows, robins and the rest.

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New Year’s special.

Exercise your natural curiosity,
and feed for free.

¡EBOOKS FREE!

from the Ellen and Geoffrey Fletcher Mystery series

For five days in January 2016, the 7th to the 11th, Thursday through Monday

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Free from Amazon.com (the cover pictures below are links), available only in Kindle format. If you haven’t got a Kindle Device, Amazon will send a drone to your home (when they know that you are sleeping) and upgrade your microwave, or install a Kindle-reader ap on your computer or your tablet or on any reasonably intelligent mobile telephone (totally free). You will be everafter able to access many hundred thousands of ebooks, not just mine.

Every three months Kindle Direct Publishing invites all authors who sell books on their platform to trade income for exposure and offer their books for free. It’s a worldwide deal on all the Amazon stores (US, Canada, Britain, France, Germany, Spain, Italy, Netherlands, India, Australia, Japan, Mexico, Brazil). People who wouldn’t pay for a book from an author they’ve never heard of will take a chance on free stuff. So as the returns roll in, you get to see whether this will be the time there’s finally a bite from the Netherlands or Italy, or whether that firestorm in Japan (well, four books) will reignite. You take what fun you can find in the marketing process, and hope you pick up some new readers.

Let me know what you think: favorable comments warm the heart, unfavorable ones teach the necessary lessons. Comment here, or email mystery@budcrawford.com.

 

FitToCurve

The Asheville Story.

Heart Attack

The Williamsburg Story.

Here are a few comments from old readers.

review snippets (good ones only)

    Fit to Curve is a skillfully written mystery with complex characters and such a fascinating plot that I’m way behind on my chores.

    This series is a favorite with interesting plots and wonderfully drawn characters. Wish the author would write more of them. The type of book you don’t want to end.

    A bed and breakfast mystery. Super characters, well developed. You’re waiting for the other shoe to drop. A mouth-watering, good read. Love the old lady with the sharp wit. I’d like the recipes, too.

    The plot builds very slowly. But once I got into it, I was hooked. I liked the characters, and you get a lot of insight into them.

    This is too fine a novel to be mired in the mystery/suspense ghetto. It’s a good mystery, with a complex plot, all the mystery trappings, but the characters are rounded and attractive. The theme seems to me to be a consideration of morality – not just sexual morality (or immorality), though there’s some of that too, for those who like to read such descriptions, but all kinds of morality: for how high a price might you sell your soul?

    Heart Attack is a great read!

    This couple are a great addition to the mystery genre. Sharp and interesting with a bit of humor and spice.

    Snappy dialog. Geoff and Ellen are a great team. He has a definite intuitive method of assessing info and arriving at conclusions that baffle and irk his cohorts. Ellen is more conventional and together are a great team. Unusual mystery not easily solved.

COMING SOON:

Ghost Walk sample                                                                                                             Little Fishes sample

GhostWalk

The Charleston Story: seeking agent

Little Fishes

The Atlanta Story, editor ready

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New year walkabout.

Doesn’t matter what I think,
some bear’s been shredding them.

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Peck and peck. Repeat.
How much wood? You cannot imagine.

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Several layers interlaced living on decay.

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More and more, the moss beats back the grass.
The extent of it is new and puzzling.


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Evergreen mountain laurel leaves are the thermometer of the woods.
At 43°F they look like this; warmer they lift and flatten;
colder they curl, tighter and tighter, into little tubes at zero.

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And here is 25°F, this morning.

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Walkabout in wonderland this afternoon.

Happy New Year!

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Seeing long and short.

I told the pretty little hornbeam, forty years ago,
that little maple sapling will not bother you,
I’ll keep it lifted and away.
There’s room for both, I said.

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The spruce looming at the bottom of the orchard was a seedling then,
its siblings all harvested for Christmas trees,
except one pine also grown too big for Christmas.
They’ve grown up entwined a quarter century since.

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Good year for cones on the high branches.

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The trees are transparent now
to the sky and the ridge across the valley
for half the year a solid mass of green.

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See through down to the branch.

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See right through the unending woods, almost.

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In every quarter see the horizon of ridgetop and sky.

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The leaves will be beautiful when they return.
But we’ll miss the long view through the silver trunks
just as much as we miss their dense green cloak.

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And lay the maple low.

The downhill trunk from a clump of maples
just let go during a storm a couple of weeks ago.

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The fallen trunk stretched almost 70 feet
shattering a lot of the crown.

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But the main body, including the lowest segment
looking like a rotten tooth
had to be chain-sawed into 4-5 foot sections.

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Excellent firewood,
after a spell of curing.

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It was a pretty good long healthy life,
but for the rotten tooth.

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Can’t blame bugs for this one,
this tree was woodpecker-certified bug-free,

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A tree on the ground
passes to other uses
as brush habitat, compost, lumber, stovewood.

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Little bear, bandit in the dark.

The porch light did not bother him,
nor my flashlight, not the camera flash.

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He was on a mission to feed,
having already eaten, it seemed, his entire family
and become fat as a bear cub.

The technique is, to spare himself acrobatics: tilt and spill.

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Tilt a little, spill a little more,

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then dine at ease along the rail.

I slammed the back door, four feet from him,
and he dove over the rail, to hide under the house,
for almost three minutes.

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Centrality of the Nutcracker tree.

Final stage dressing for our Nutcracker tree.
It’s been assembled, lighted, be-ribboned, and be-candy-caned.
The present boxes, filled with many-year-old air,
are set carefully — we try for artfully — around the base.

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If you magnify you can just see
the head of the Nutcracker
peeking up from behind the gingerbread house,
waiting for his reveal and Clara’s delight.

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It’s easier to spot him from the side.

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Ultimately, the curtain rises
and the tree becomes the backdrop for the dances.

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The outrageously inebriated maid
has just begun her wobbly dance.
Scandalized, we are.

Three weeks ago, on the stage of the Diana Wortham Theatre.

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Ready to roll: 2015 Nutcracker.

Here’s our Nutcracker kit, waiting to load onto the truck, thence to be unloaded at the theater.

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Just assemble, and dance.
Which the Asheville Ballet will do this weekend at the Diana Wortham Theatre.

Check with the DWT for tickets and details.

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The changes of the season.

In the woods
IMG_20151018_150153374the light of fall penetrates
IMG_20151018_150202909as the leaf canopy opens
IMG_20151018_150212623to the sun.
IMG_20151018_150233116In the old orchard, the sharing of the pears,
gravity being generous to the deer.
IMG_20151018_152104755Inside on the kitchen table
IMG_20151018_180301853_HDRthe last roses clipped before the first frost.

Turn, hang on, and finally fall.

They’ve all turned,
IMG_20151025_155359115_HDR half down, half still hanging on.
IMG_20151025_155348063_HDR We’ve peaked,
IMG_20151024_141410362and it’s been gorgeous,
IMG_20151025_155342490intense and varied.
IMG_20151025_155324311_HDRWhatever unknown mix it takes of sun and rain and chill,
IMG_20151024_141449608_TOPthis year has come round right.

Walnut row.

It continues to be a splendid season for leaves.
IMG_20151025_155316554_HDRExcept, the walnuts have mostly dropped theirs.
IMG_20151024_141417301But all along the row,
IMG_20151024_141531246half still attached to the branches and
IMG_20151024_141523256half on the ground.

The green husks fire off the mower blades
like little mortar shells.

Blow up.

While appreciating the sweep of fall below the hay field
and up the south-facing ridge,

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there’s a funny blob on the grass, way over on the right.

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Oh, yes, it is: the ever elusive ground hog,
seeking presumably additional ground to hog.

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Perched in plain sight
if your eyes are sharper than mine.

Just imagine.

All my writerly instincts go to presentation: show, don’t tell. You shouldn’t explain, just give your story what it needs, enough oxygen for your characters. Good writing serves this end. If a reader is pulled out of your story by clever language, that’s a mistake not a score.

My firm belief. Except, every once in a while, when something is both exceptionally brilliant and moves the story. I’m reading a Greg Iles book, just now, a Penn Cage mystery, dirty dealings in Natchez, one of several. And here’s the sentence:

The past was fighting its way to the surface like a sunken corpse filling with the gasses of decay.

It’s taut and graceful and strong. Right on the edge of just too pretty. But, damn, it’s in a paragraph about dredging a swamp to pull up the bones of long-ago murder victims.

And that makes it okay? Yeah, it does. Probably it’s okay anyway.

Free Fall.

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There’s always room for a new reader.

¡BRIEFLY FREE EBOOKS!

from the Ellen and Geoffrey Fletcher Mystery series

For five days in October 2015, the 16th to the 20th, Friday through Tuesday.

Try one book (or both) for FREE.

      Free on Amazon.com (the covers below are links), available only in Kindle format. If you haven’t got a Kindle Device, Amazon will send a drone to your home (when they know that you are sleeping) and upgrade your microwave, or install a Kindle-reader ap on your computer or tablet or any reasonably intelligent mobile telephone (totally free). You will be everafter able to access many hundred thousand ebooks, not just mine.

Every three months Kindle Direct Publishing invites all authors who sell books on their platform to trade income for exposure and offer books free, or at a reduced price. It’s a worldwide deal on all the Amazon stores (US, Canada, Britain, France, Germany, Spain, Italy, Netherlands, India, Australia, Japan, Mexico, Brazil). People who wouldn’t pay for a book from an author they’d never heard of will go for free stuff. So as the returns roll in, you get to see whether this will be the time there’s finally a bite from the Netherlands or Italy (the only ones I’ve never gotten), or whether that firestorm in Japan (well, four books) will reignite. You take what fun you can find in the marketing process, and hope you pick up some new readers.

FitToCurve

The Asheville Story.

Heart Attack

The Williamsburg Story.

review snippets (good ones only)

    Fit to Curve is a skillfully written mystery with complex characters and such a fascinating plot that I’m way behind on my chores.

    This series is a favorite with interesting plots and wonderfully drawn characters. Wish the author would write more of them. The type of book you don’t want to end.

    A bed and breakfast mystery. Super characters, well developed. You’re waiting for the other shoe to drop. A mouth-watering, good read. Love the old lady with the sharp wit. I’d like the recipes, too.

    The plot builds very slowly. But once I got into it, I was hooked. I liked the characters, and you get a lot of insight into them.

    This is too fine a novel to be mired in the mystery/suspense ghetto. It’s a good mystery, with a complex plot, all the mystery trappings, but the characters are rounded and attractive. The theme seems to me to be a consideration of morality – not just sexual morality (or immorality), though there’s some of that too, for those who like to read such descriptions, but all kinds of morality: for how high a price might you sell your soul?

    Heart Attack is a great read!

    This couple are a great addition to the mystery genre. Sharp and interesting with a bit of humor and spice.

    Snappy dialog. Geoff and Ellen are a great team. He has a definite intuitive method of assessing info and arriving at conclusions that baffle and irk his cohorts. Ellen is more conventional and together are a great team. Unusual mystery not easily solved.

COMING SOON:

Ghost Walk sample                                                                                                             Little Fishes sample

GhostWalk

The Charleston Story: seeking agent

Little Fishes

The Atlanta Story, editor ready

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Persistant summer greens.

Looks like a lawn, an expanse of close-cut green,

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if you don’t look down to the details.
Oh, there is a little grass blended in.

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Lemon balm, fresh as morning, all year long.

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The fern fronds are evergreen,

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ordered and skilled in their geometry

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beyond anything we have ever done in ours.

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Summer color wrap up.

The color’s right, but
I’m not persuaded these can be crabby apples,
half the size of grapes.

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White with yellow pollen curls, one shy bee.

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White and golden pollen.

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Pale butter yellow, minutes from finishing.

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Halloween orange and pollen gold.

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Gaudy glistening glad.

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Softly spikey, opening for business.

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Spiral down and out, dusted from the day’s work.

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A table treat, just beyond my screen,
table treasure cut.

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Meanwhile, in the grass, sign of summer’s end,

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previews colors to come.

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Rabbit range.

Stalking the wild creature.

30 yards

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20 yards

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10 yards

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5 yards

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3 yards

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2 yards

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1 yard

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Hey! You’re crowding me.

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Red-reds sometimes break the camera.

There has to be a setting

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somewhere among all those menus

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that each drop new menus down

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in hyper-dimensional interaction

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an option

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that can tame

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the red out.

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Snakes in the grass, alas.

We call them our yardvarks,
IMG_20150801_152354557_HDRthe creatures who emerge
IMG_20150802_203605920from the woods
IMG_20150802_203558629to share
IMG_20150802_200613549pears
IMG_20150802_200452158and the cracked corn
IMG_20150802_200444349we put out for wild birdsIMG_20150718_235737836_TOP

if the bandits haven’t cleared it all.

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Pretty is.

Pretty sometimes just is,
enough, with no buts, ands, or ifs.

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Bees! Pollin’s up! Limited time offer.

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Even the silly flowers

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and the wild willies.

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Here we go again

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with the pollination invitation.

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It doesn’t get any better

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where the bee sucks — oh, yes — right there.

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Don’t be greedy, don’t crash and burn from overweighted knees,
a hundred yards from the bee tree.

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The curve turns,
the dead heads tossed in the brush
free the stems to bloom again.

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Apologia for shorter leaves of grass.

Early days for us in North Carolina, the late ’70s,
friends stopped by who had moved east to Asheville from Albuquerque.
Twenty minutes into our tour I realized they were incredulous and a little disturbed.

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A way through the hay to the compost heap.

Most of our discussion had been about our arsenal of implements for felling plants:
chain saws, bush hogs, brush hooks, mowers, weed-eaters, tillers, pruning saws, loppers, and shears.

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The see-through part of the big barn.

Seemed pretty reasonable to us.
We built our house and sheds with lumber cut from the woods;
we had to find the barns before we could use them;
our garden plots had to be taken back from the Johnson grass;
we couldn’t set our fruit trees without beating back the locust and sawbriar around them;
we had to get the snags out of the branch and open the old logging roads.

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Down the road towards the house.

Since grass is what continues to grow after repeated close cuttings,
(grass plus a dozen tough persistent weeds)
we created pasture for our animals in the summer and hay for them in the winter
by mowing the fields, pushing the edges back to the old fence lines.

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The path up to the warehouse.

Ten years of underuse, as a farmstead, ten years more of no use at all, and we found
we had acquired a wild and raggedy place. A great deal of what we had to do
was, indeed, a kind of war on plants.

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The walnut row (hiding behind the first one).

More precisely, a selection for human purposes of some species over the others.

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The house from above.

I asked our visitors, what was wrong, why they had stopped walking?

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West side.

The answer was, in New Mexico, if you find something green
you put a fence around it and bring water.
You do not cut. Not ever.

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North side.

They could see it was different here,
but they still thought we were mad.

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The road in front.

Probably we were and are still. The native plants unchecked
have all the other fields and edges and woods.

We will hold on a while longer, here and there, for people purposes.

 In the temperate rain forest.

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Somewhat charming marauder.

Well, time to come out from my house
and see what’s to see.

Sure, upstairs, it’s your house, for the time being.
Don’t get attached.

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Whot, may I not stonden here?

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I suppose you’ve never heard of an attractive nuisance?

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Not me, joker, but thanks,
it’s you, with your dangling boxes of food.

IMG_20150718_235527462_TOP
You think I haven’t earned this?

IMG_20150718_235427596_TOP

What did you do to deserve your dinner today?

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Dusky dark.

Venus is brightest, as it usually is. Jupiter’s just up to the left.

“Evening stars” just days before the last nearly perfect conjunction.

IMG_20150628_211920102
The moon has slid up and sidewards, as it will do, from any conjunction,
she’ll be back in a moonth.

IMG_20150628_211235176
But the weird light is almost a solid thing.

IMG_20150614_205539739
A flower you could stand on.

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Fletcher Mysteries: free for the Independence Week-End.

¡FREE EBOOKS!

from the Ellen and Geoffrey Fletcher Mystery series

For five days in July, 2015, the 2nd to the 6th, Thursday through Monday.

Try one book (or both) for FREE.

      Free on Amazon.com (the covers below are links), available only in Kindle format. If you haven’t got a Kindle Device, Amazon will come to your home (they know when you are sleeping) and upgrade your toaster oven (at no charge!), or install a Kindle-reader ap on your computer or tablet or on any reasonably intelligent mobile telephone (also, totally free). And you will be able ever after to access several hundred thousand ebooks, some of which are quite good.

Every three months Kindle Direct Publishing invites all authors who sell books on their platform to trade income for exposure and offer books free, or at a reduced price. It’s a worldwide deal on all the Amazon stores (US, Canada, Britain, France, Germany, Spain, Italy, Netherlands, India, Australia, Japan, Mexico, Brazil). People who wouldn’t pay for a book from an author they’d never heard of will go for free stuff. So as the returns roll in, you get to see whether this will be the time there’s finally a bite from the Netherlands or Italy (the only ones I’ve never gotten), or whether that firestorm in Japan (well, four books) will reignite. You take what fun you can find in the marketing process, and hope you pick up some new readers.

FitToCurve

The Asheville Story.

Heart Attack

The Williamsburg Story.

review snippets (good ones only)

    Fit to Curve is a skillfully written mystery with complex characters and such a fascinating plot that I’m way behind on my chores.

    This series is a favorite with interesting plots and wonderfully drawn characters. Wish the author would write more of them. The type of book you don’t want to end.

    A bed and breakfast mystery. Super characters, well developed. You’re waiting for the other shoe to drop. A mouth-watering, good read. Love the old lady with the sharp wit. I’d like the recipes, too.

    The plot builds very slowly. But once I got into it, I was hooked. I liked the characters, and you get a lot of insight into them.

    This is too fine a novel to be mired in the mystery/suspense ghetto. It’s a good mystery, with a complex plot, all the mystery trappings, but the characters are rounded and attractive. The theme seems to me to be a consideration of morality – not just sexual morality (or immorality), though there’s some of that too, for those who like to read such descriptions, but all kinds of morality: for how high a price might you sell your soul?

    Heart Attack is a great read!

    This couple are a great addition to the mystery genre. Sharp and interesting with a bit of humor and spice.

    Snappy dialog. Geoff and Ellen are a great team. He has a definite intuitive method of assessing info and arriving at conclusions that baffle and irk his cohorts. Ellen is more conventional and together are a great team. Unusual mystery not easily solved.

COMING SOON:

GhostWalk

The Charleston Story: seeking agent

Little Fishes

The Atlanta Story, editor ready

 

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Trees and textures in the dusky dark.

Coils of birch bark.
IMG_20150531_202527821_TOPFrond friends.
IMG_20150531_202046720Down the Coop’s right-of-way.
IMG_20150531_201813092_HDRBlueberry abundance this year,
if the hail don’t fall and the jays allow.
IMG_20150531_201531949New butterfly bush,IMG_20150531_201516616replanted where the old one stood.
IMG_20150531_201347175Just doing strangely what they do.

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Fancy dress turning tattered.

The splendor softens, droops,
IMG_20150531_202629541petals drop and begin to recompose.
IMG_20150531_202000233The flowers relax, still gorgeous,
IMG_20150531_202213678but become a little tawdry,
IMG_20150531_202144186spent.
IMG_20150531_202305811While others tense, waiting to explode,
IMG_20150531_202320660become white flowers, like the leaves,
the size of dinner plates.

Will the clematis … clutch and cling?

All up and down the trellis, open for business,
IMG_20150531_153622804_HDRblooming from sheer delight in the transubstantiation
IMG_20150531_153630145_HDR of sun and water and dirt.
IMG_20150531_153640016_HDRAlso sex.

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Getting it done.

They’ve got all summer now,
so you’d think
IMG_20150510_192730257there’s no reason for hurry.
IMG_20150524_202703559But they’ve each signed up for a very particular window.
IMG_20150524_202026448Get it up, get it open, let it down, thank you ma’am.
IMG_20150524_201927774It can be a dirty business,
IMG_20150524_201948270leave you tired, arrayed in droopy fading splendor.
IMG_20150524_202549544Unless you claim the ground that holds you, the air you breathe.
IMG_20150524_202224250Unless you’re lemon balm
IMG_20150524_202301192or peppermint
IMG_20150524_202323055then nothing messes with you,
you’re locked on for perpetuity.

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Alas, the leaves of grass emerge.

Last week’s front yard was wild and rich.

But when you live in the woods
IMG_20150510_192530372you have to strike a deal with encroachment,
yours and the wood’s. Mark the edge.
IMG_20150524_201901860Mowing machines make possible tick-free passage,
IMG_20150524_201854858cut the blueberry bushes from the jungle,
IMG_20150524_201829324and give perimeter plants a chance at light.
IMG_20150524_202138451You can park a car, and find it in the morning.
IMG_20150524_202627599Defend your pots and beds and plots from wild things.
IMG_20150524_202833332Thanks, Huskvarna.


Update. The day after this picture, they were gone.
IMG_20150509_184221753Fledged or lunch, depending.

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From my porch …

I can see the internets.
IMG_20150510_192629399_HDRThey’re above the ridgeline, just over the trees.
IMG_20150510_192615011They gather at the disk,
IMG_20150509_183732880_HDRconsent to capture, then descend
IMG_20150509_183704040_HDRto the router cable.

Now I’ll flip the flow and transmit my post
past every frumious bandwidthsnatch.

Good night, Gracie.

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One eye up and one eye down.

He’s got to make sure the butterfly beneath him
IMG_20150509_184116439doesn’t fly off on his watch.
IMG_20150509_184100137But straight across the road, the other eye
IMG_20150509_184221753oversees the new new-hatched sparrows
tucked into the bank below the garden.

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Hurry spring, comes the hot breath of summer.

One day, as the stink bug watches,
IMG_20150510_192310312is enough to blow up a bud.IMG_20150510_192246917Everything in such a hurry
IMG_20150509_183950869to get it done,
whether in the pots
IMG_20150509_183453755or among the herbs.
IMG_20150510_192730257But meanwhile in the lawn
the marauder buttercups are special forces,
IMG_20150510_192530372unchallenged they’ll hand off to
saw-briar and blackberry and locust.
IMG_20150510_192500901The mower is ordered
which is a little sad  for what it will take down
but a lot necessary for what it will allow to come up.
IMG_20150509_183412689_HDRThe little entities we favor
cannot stand against the native ferocity
always alert and ready to resume dominion.IMG_20150509_184236184

They will have it back, and soon enough,
but we shall extend our moment here a little longer.
With all due respect.

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