A Mother's Wisdom

On this Sunday afternoon in February, I was surprised to find temperatures outside in the 50s as Kuma d.o.g. and I finally left the comfort of our city home to venture out to the cabin for some much needed exercise and peace of mind.

On such a beautiful pleasant day, driving the final distance would be such a waste of opportunity so I parked the Jeep and we hiked the last few hundred yards as we've done so many times in the past.

Circling the still frozen pond, I wondered what life was beneath the ice as tracks like vapor trails in the sky were visible just under its surface. Cracks and breaks in the ice left evidence of some living mammal comfortable in such a fridged environment surfacing here and there. Perhaps a beaver had taken up residence in our little pond; an animal that loves water year round with no concern of winter's chill.

Once at the cabin, filling the feeders for both feathered friends and furry little rodents that frequent where treats are always present relaxes the soul as I realize once again that life among nature is as rewarding to the dependents as those providing them nutrition.

The wine bush in the cabin offers a bottle of Dancing Bull Merlot to accompany me to the porch on a this winter's evening. The kitchen cabinet surrenders a fresh box of Hot & Spicy Cheez-It crackers to compliment my beverage while awaiting the arrival of my dinner guests.

In the distance, and at least 4 miles to the east, the sound of a Norfolk & Western railroad train can be clearly heard as it hauls West Virginia coal to the north.

My late mother always told me when the train could be heard so loud as if it was just beyond the nearest eastern hill, a heavy rain was not far behind.

As I sit and enjoy this February evening I'm again reminded of my mom's wisdom and those happier days left behind.

By the time we departed, a heavy rain began to fall.

An evening on the porch.



The wine bush.