Little Boys and Dirt Roads

I have often said that my highway to heaven is a dirt road. Dirt roads take us to places unknown and seldom seen. We enter another world where a good ATV ( commonly referred to as a 4 wheeler in my part of Appalachia) or your own feet are the best travel options. When I was a kid we would head out on an old dirt road like the one in the feature image ever chance we got. These roads often contain mud holes that more akin to ponds than potholes. In the spring and summer they’re normally full of tadpoles and newts. My brother and I would escape the heat of the mobile home by finding one of the largest holes we could back under the canopy of the trees to play in. We’d come home covered in mud after riding our bicycles through the mud as hard as we could. We were pretending to be motocross racers. We’d slam the brakes in mud and throw it out as hard as we could. Whoever could make the biggest splash was the winner. We’d play Evil Knievel too. (For those too young to remember he was the most famous stuntman of my youth. You can read about him here). My poor mother would have two boys who looked like mud monsters by the time we were done.

Later in life I would walk these dirt roads at a slower pace while stalking deer or just out exploring. Walking a road like the one in the feature image is kinda like being on a treadmill with people throwing mud, rocks and tree stumps at your feet. The mud settles in low spots and it’s a perfect way for a beginner to find animal tracks and learn about tracking.

Today necessity keeps me on the nice pavement. I walk through a world of concrete and asphalt. But I still long for an abandoned dirt road with a huge mud hole and a good off road bicycle.

One Spring Day

An isolated spot, a big tree and a blue sky with big puffy clouds. It’s all part of the simple pleasure of childhood. With the only exception being a spot in the higher elevations of the mountains (where I actually saw ice flowing out of a spring. Winter has finally ended. The near eighty degree weather has arrived and there’s just the right amount breeze coming out of the southwest. It’s time to open up the windows, shoo away the doldrums of the grey and lifeless seasons left behind. Breath in the fresh air and cleanse your spirit. Bathe your eyes in the cool green of the new growth. Watch your step as you stroll along the wooded path. The sleepers have awoken. There, in soft mossy beds by the trail. Orange with red spots. It’s an eft lumbering on its way to the pond where it will transform into a tiny aquatic dragon and lurk among the sunken roots and branches. He’ll join his cousins, the frogs as they gather for a chorus before the next rain. It’s a very good day indeed. It’s real life. And, it’s happening now.

Lifecycle

From the first warm Spring rain you awoke to the life giving glow of solar affection.

For a season you bathed in radiance and grew strong enough to withstand the violence of the summer storms.

Strength has now faded and your tasks are complete. All that is left is to carry your golden glow to the forest floor and sleep until the time of rebirth when the sparrow sings and glory awakens you once more.

– Lloyd A Dempsey II

I have always observed that God’s Word is written first on nature. The life cycle of the deciduous trees of Appalachia teaches me that a Christian is conceived in Grace. The leaves don’t go and pull down the light from the sun. It is freely available for them to receive. We as humans don’t call down grace. It’s already here and freely available to anyone. In order to receive the life giving light of the sun the leaves must both awaken and open to receive the light. The Christian must also be awakened and open to receiving the grace of God. It’s the light that makes leaves strong enough to withstand the storms. Our strength is in Christ. At the end of the season the energy collected by the leaves stays in the leaf and is added to the fertility of the forest floor which is taken up by the roots of the tree and used to produce a new leaf. The Grace of God is carried into death by the believer until the day that Christ returns and wakes us from mortal slumber and we are made new.

NEW ADVENTURES

I simply love living in the Appalachian Mountains. Skyscrapers and busy streets are nice but for me nothing beats a long winding road and a great view of the New River Gorge as seen here from the Hawks Nest State Park overlook in Fayette County West Virginia. It’s a place where you can look down on the valley and watch birds soaring peacefully through the canyon. Occasionally you hear the long droning of a train horn as it crosses the river. I have it on good authority that kids would jump the train in certain spots and catch a free ride up the mountain. Not something that’s recommended today but a couple of generations ago things like this would be common.

In the Early 80s I would see people hangliding from the canyon rim and today we have zip lining tours close by.

I believe that there’s plenty of adventures still left in these hills. Who knows what tomorrow’s trend will bring? Perhaps I’ll ride a drone up river and photograph from angles I can only dream of at the moment.

Be at peace tonight friends and dream of new adventures.

Lloyd’s Lens Photography on Facebook

A Friend’s Joyful Greetings

Shoot all the blue jays you want, if you can hit ’em, but remember it’s a sin to kill a mockingbird.” That was the only time I ever heard Atticus say it was a sin to do something, and I asked Miss Maudie about it. “Your father’s right,” she said. “Mockingbirds don’t do one thing except make music for us to enjoy.

– To Kill a Mockingbird

On any given day during the warm weather you can hear the seemingly unending song of the Mockingbird. This little guy is the impressionist of the Appalachian mountains. He incorporates little bits and pieces of other bird’s songs into his call. They’re really quite easy to get started up. Just a few sharp whistles and they’re going to answer you. Not only will they answer but they will try to out do you! I’ve even heard them pick up on police sirens and car alarms. The one pictured here occasionally mimics a backup beeper from the local garbage truck! All of background noise is fair game to be turned into music by a mockingbird. Truly Atticus had it right as did Miss Maudie. The joy of being greeted with a song every morning by the mockingbird at my home and then again by a different one at my day job is hard to describe. I guess you could say that it’s like God himself is wishing you a good day.

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