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Guardian angels. I have reason to believe they are real.

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This is all. #past and #future

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The Witch Hazel Tree is a-laughing at me. She spies many things that we never see. She's dancing tonight on snowed-silver moonlight; would-be winged moon-fliers she woos with delight. Snow queen, sweet-perfumed, she riddles me this: Last blooms of the year? Or Spring's first festive kiss??

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Warm in Preston County

I had to drive out to Preston County today. It's a haul. One I know well but haven't made for a while. Not since I moved away from my Arthurdale home a couple years ago. Of course the weather was bad. In Preston, it stays winter all through winter. So I dreaded the dicey P-county winter-slippy roads. You gotta drive around what I call "tight-sphincter turns" because when you pass through you're constantly feeling for fish tails ...and finding them (usually as someone is passing the other way)... and in those moments EVERYTHING tightens. ... I finally pulled into the doctors' office and no sooner had the door open than a couple in a nearby car called out to me: "You got a flat." Shit. Of course I do. I thank them for pointing it out. Hurry inside. On the way out I mention in the waiting room that I need to find the nearest place to fill my tire with air. Or try to. One man in carhartt jacket and pants tells me there's a gas station just down the road. ...But I'll have to pay 50 cents (he said under a raised eyebrow). Then he says, "Hell, I have a pump in my car." Of course you do. This is Preston County, where the unofficial motto is, "We been stuck before..." I follow this guy out and he proceeds to try to put air in my tire, pointing to all the tell-tale nicks and creases that indicate that the tire isn't likely to hold any pressure at all. It's cold. Even my two-year-old mentions it. Then this guy says, "It's supposed to drop to negative 12 in Terra Alta tonight." "I guess if you live out there you gotta expect that," I replied. Then he said something that stuck with me and woke me in the middle of the night to record the memory. He said, "You know, though, it seems like I'm never warmer than when I'm in Terra Alta." That took me aback a little. Kinda poetic. His words resonated with me. I guess they resonated with him too because he repeated himself, "Yeah it might be cold everywhere but it seems like I'm always warm in Terra Alta." ... Meanwhile, the tire stayed flat. The man advised me to take it up to the Walmart. Warned me not to be taken advantage of by So-n-so who would try to point out every problem your car had and charge too much to fix it. Then I was on my way. Slowly. Next thing: Walmart waiting tire room. And several friendly faces reassuring me that it would all work out. I believed them. Reluctantly. An hour and $7.50 later, after a series of altogether pleasant conversations, and a show-n-tell of how impressively ruined my tire was, I was on my way. It was getting late and it was cold. Really cold. The wind picked up. The snow started blowing sideways. Im driving on a spare tire and a prayer. Of course. I'm in Preston County. This was so typical. But coming up over the hills, the sky appeared and it looked like a Japanese painting. I could see some planet gleaming low on the horizon, like a diamond in the sky. The gusty blue and grey and white scene was ...so pretty. And... I just felt so warm. Of course I did. I love Preston County.

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An Appalachian must-read. Well-writ blog that sings a hollow tune.

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Painting used as the cover image for Alan Fitzpatrick's latest book (Place of the Skull) on 18th century indigenous North Americans (and the trouble that came with Europeans and their rum in those days).

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Wow to this

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WHAT IS YOUR EARLIEST HUMAN MEMORY?

I remember dissecting milkweed blossoms in a field next to the runway at the Marshall County airport in WestV.

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In Preston County, we're like the most Made in West Virginia.

Bosque

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I'm bush whacking my way through... Wheeling. The city of Wheeling. If I didn't know better, I'd say the zombie apocalypse has come and gone. Because I'm following a street, I can see the electricity poles still strung with cables and street lights. But trees are growing out of foundations. It's all been reclaimed by nature. Perfectly. This neighborhood was torn down about 40 years ago. Landslides made the buildings too expensive to maintain. So it was abandoned. I grew up in this town, but I have never been here. I've never seen this side of Wheeling. And it's not as if there's nothing to see. I can't believe my eyes. Silly iPhone snapshots hardly capture this place--I'm not sure I want to capture this wild place. I've never been proud of where I come from before. It's such a strange new feeling, hometown pride. Suddenly I'm feeling protective.

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Raymond Dale Grimm Jr, son of Mildred and Raymond Grimm Sr. from Campion, Pennsylvania. Feb 7th 1948 – May 17th, 2014 “Be happy honey, just be happy…” simple but true. To all of his friends he was known as Dale. He was raised in a small burrow-like town called Indian Head ...this is actually a street, but growing up he always referred to it as town. Dale had three beautiful and musically inclined sisters and he was the second to the youngest, singing baritone. Music was a big part of his upbringing through church and then later, during his Navy years, he sang soul music in a band overseas. Many people befriended him through his karaoke performances in Morgantown and around campfires throughout West Virginia and Romney. During his beer drinking days there was really nothing he wouldn't do or try at least once. He would give you the shirt off his back and his smile could light up a room. He was the dad that drove around blasting the radio with Bob Segar and a car full of singing people from all walks of life. He loved being active. Early on it was tennis and softball; however, hunting, fishing, and darts were the three sports to which he remained true to the very end. He had a green thumb and spent the last couple of years rekindling his love of gardening with his great friends Chuck and Glynis. He foraged mushrooms, ramps and berries every year and made the best raspberry cobbler ever! He was a passionate observer of wildlife and often, at the dinner table, would make our family hush to listen to a bird chirping out in the front yard tree. He was the only dad I knew in our South Park suburban neighborhood in Morgantown, WV, that would hang his fresh caught deer from the maple tree in the front lawn. He always said that you shouldn't live too close to another house....if you could throw a rock and reach your neighbor, you were too close. The countryside is where he felt at home, that is where he spent his last days and that will be his heaven. Thanks to lovely friends like Ron Cunningham. He is survived by two daughters Joyce Grimm (San Francisco, CA) and Desiree Romanowski (Tampa,FL), along with three grandchildren Cole (13), Seth (9) and Emma (7). His ex-wives include Ella Marie Grimm followed by Karen Grimm... Both the best ladies in the world! His death was preceded by his eldest sister Carol Rose but his two other sisters Marsha Yoni (Champion) and Doris Mankamyer (Rising Sun, ID) are alive and well. Some may have known him as the buff telephone lineman from the former AT&T and CNP phone company on the Mileground in Morgantown, West Virginia. He will be missed but his spirit will live on in each person he touched. We love you dad...Make your heaven mountain man!

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WVPublicNews takes home a bundle of AP awards tonight. Very proud in the Virginias.

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The Joy

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For...

I’m grasping to hold onto sweet tiny details. And with only the tools at hand. Which are growing (even if only in concretely intangible ways). Life is, after all, just fleeting.