Started the morning with a gentle shuffle out the door to the Salem YMCA. The pool was quiet, the kind of soft blue that invites you in without a word. Drifted through a few laps, letting the water unkink the knots and smooth out the leftover sleep. Afterward, did a little time on the machines, enough to get the muscles humming and the blood warmed up. The sort of modest workout that feels like a small high five from the universe.

Came home to the comforting rhythm of chores. Laundry tumbling in the background like a polite storm. In the kitchen, I set up a mini burrito workshop, this one powered by farmers market bounty and a little kitchen alchemy. Spring mix for a bit of crunch and green life, cheese for comfort, and “meat” made with Impossible burger cooked up with black beans and corn. A dollop of sour cream, a drizzle of taco sauce, then rolled each one up into tidy parcels. A whole tray of them, each smelling like a promise.

The cat arrived right on cue, her expression a blend of entitlement and curiosity. To ease her very real fear of missing out, she received a single dignified fingerprint of sour cream. Peace restored.

Plenty of burrito fixings left for tomorrow’s dinner, which feels like a small gift sent forward in time. The house is quiet now, laundry done, kitchen warm, day stitched together with simple goodness.

Woke up this morning to a dippy doodle that crawled out of the subconscious when  still half-caffeinated. A little forest spirit stepped onto the page, bold as you please. A walking log with one big watchful eye, twig antlers like radio towers picking up secret frequencies. He carries a staff topped with another eye, which seems a bit redundant, unless you’re the sort of being who requires multiple viewpoints at once. Understandable. Mondays are like that.

There’s something friendly about him though. A guardian more than a threat. The sort of creature who wanders the twilight edge between trail and dream, tapping the earth with his knotted staff, checking for… well, whatever treefolk check for. Maybe he’s listening for root gossip. Maybe he’s making sure no one’s stealing the forest’s socks.

I like the way the lines shimmer around the eyes, like little bursts of silent magic. You can almost hear the gaze. He feels like the patron saint of getting slightly lost on purpose. Of wandering down the wrong path just to see where it goes. A fellow wanderer of green corridors and mossy shortcuts.

If I see him next time on the Greenway or tucked beside a foggy ridge, I’ll nod politely. You never ignore someone with that many eyes, disembodiedor not. He’s doing important work. Plus, he looks like he gives good trail advice.

#sketchbook #forestguardian #wyrdwoodwalker #doodle #oddfriends

Cold morning light filtering in through the blinds today, the kind that makes the house feel like a quiet aquarium. I stayed in for most of it, body reminding me in its own grumbly language to take things slow. Sciatica humming along the back of my leg like an old electric wire, a collection of assorted aches chiming in just to form a chorus. Not the worst day, but not one for wandering far, either. The universe sometimes taps you on the shoulder and says stay close to home, friend, and listen.

So I did. Put the kettle on, shuffled from room to room like a hermit crab deciding which shell felt right. Every tiny movement a negotiation with muscles that have strong opinions. The cat was pleased with this, taking my enforced stillness as an invitation to supervise from nearby cushions. A slow day is a lap day, in her view.

Outside, the wind rattled the last stubborn leaves still hanging on, the trees looking a little more winter-boned with each passing hour. Clouds moved like old ships across the sky, and I watched them through the window instead of being under them. There’s a comfort in that. Some days the world can be observed from behind glass.

I read a little. I napped a little. I stretched the sciatic nerve in careful truce-seeking motions. It didn’t stop complaining, but it calmed down enough to let me breathe more easily. Pain has a way of shrinking the map of your day, but it also sharpens your attention to the small good things. Warm blankets. Hot tea. A favorite song drifting through the room like slow fog.

Not every day needs to be an adventure. Some are quieter, gentler, lived in short steps and soft corners. Today was one of those, and somehow that feels okay.

Tags: #dailyobservations #sciatica #cozyhermitday #stayingin #smallcomforts

A little colder now, and the trees know it

The air nipped at me this morning. Not a bite, just that small, curious tap on the shoulder that says, Here it comes. I stepped outside with my mug and watched a thin veil of breath drift ahead of me like a shy ghost. The neighborhood birds felt it too; their calls were brisk, no-nonsense, as if they had errands.

The trees have started their slow retreat into winter colors. Not the fireburst of peak autumn anymore, but the quieter palette. Russet edges. Cinnamon browns. Golds sinking into umber. Each leaf looks like it is storing some last secret of warmth before letting go. Even the evergreens seem to be standing straighter, bracing for the season shift.

Walking the greenway, I noticed how the sunlight comes in at a different angle now, brushing everything with a steeper, paler glow. The mountains around Roanoke seemed half-dreaming under it, wrapped in those soft grays and dusty blues that show up when the year is winding down. Any day now, the morning fog will start clinging to the ridges like a blanket that refuses to be folded.

There’s a comfort in this little chill. A reminder that the world is always turning the page, even when I’m moving slow. I like that feeling of putting hands in pockets, tugging the hoodie a little tighter, listening to the leaves skitter across the pavement like tiny travelers on their own migration.

Winter is close enough to smell on the wind. Not here yet, but leaning in. Whispering. And I find myself ready for it, or as ready as anyone ever is. Let the cold come gently, like this. Let it arrive with soft footsteps and silver mornings. I’ll meet it on the porch with a warm cup and a grateful sigh.

It is now the temperature outside that makes me irresistible to chilly women and snuggly animals, as i throw off a wave of warmth that than put the most cranky baby into nap-mode.  I have used this power only for good since obtaining it in my youth.

Seeing if I can crib the new design for the Salem RidgeYaks in my own style, just for the fun of it. Maybe I’ll get a tshirt made up to wear to a game?

Images are, 1. my doodle,2. actual design, and then 3. a more direct replica of the logo to make into stickers or something for laughs.

#SalemRidge Yaks #digitalmarkers #doodle #SalemVA #Roanokeva #stickerideas @ridgeyaksbaseball

Watched Spencer’s Mountain for the first time tonight. It’s one of those Technicolor postcards from the early 60s where everyone’s sunburned and smiling, even when the world’s rough around the edges. Henry Fonda with that mountain-man gentleness, Maureen O’Hara glowing like a lantern in every scene. You can almost smell the pine and hear the crickets through the static of an old tube TV.

It’s a story about family and pride and scraping by with your hands, about trying to make something bigger for your children than what you started with. The Spencers don’t have much beyond the land and each other, but that’s the whole sermon. No preacher needed. Just a little dust, a lot of heart, and the constant push to climb one more ridge before sundown.

The movie hums with that small town rhythm, laughter on the porch, work in the quarry, dreams that stretch just past the next hill. You can see the bones of The Waltons taking shape here, that same love for place and kin, the same ache between what is and what might be.

There’s something soft in it that movies don’t often have anymore, not sweet exactly, but earnest. Like it believes in decency. Like it trusts the land and the light to tell the truth.

#nowwatching #SpencersMountain #firsttime #AppalachianHeart #simplethings

My nervous system can’t handle Walmart, but I’ll drive hours through the backroads of remote Appalachia alone with no cell service just to explore an abandoned farmhouse.

Out on the backroads again, where the air hums low and steady and every bend of the road feels like it’s keeping a secret just for you. My nervous system, bless its fragile wiring, can’t manage the sensory assault of Walmart, too many lights, too many voices, too much everything all at once. But drop me in the hollers of remote Appalachia, no signal, no GPS, just the crackle of the radio fading out somewhere past civilization, and I’m at peace.

There’s something grounding about an old farmhouse half swallowed by weeds, the kind that seems to breathe on its own. Boards sigh when you step inside, dust motes drift like memories in the morning light. I can hear the wind crossing the mountains outside, slow and patient. Maybe I find comfort in the stillness of what’s been left behind, places that don’t ask anything from you but quiet attention.

It’s funny what feels safe and what doesn’t. Some people need crowds, others need ghosts. Me, I’ll take the soft creak of an abandoned porch over the hum of fluorescent aisles any day. Out here, my nerves finally unclench. Out here, even the silence feels like company.

#Appalachia #backroads #abandonedplaces #quietcorners #introvertlife #roanokeva #doodle

A surprise sprinkling of snow drifted in before sunrise, soft and quiet as a held breath. Just a dusting – the kind that doesn’t quite stick but still turns the world silvery for a blink. The air held that hush that only snow brings, a sound thinner than silence. Later, as twilight settled in, the flakes returned again, swirling in streetlight cones like ash from some secret celestial fire.

Tonight the thermometer’s on its way down to 26°, sharp enough to remind the trees to tighten their bark and the rest of us to reach for another blanket. You could almost taste winter on the wind – the clean edge of it.

Stopped by to see the Salem RidgeYaks today – yes, actual yaks, shaggy and serene, standing like misplaced clouds in the pasture. Their coats are thick as storybook winter, long bangs hanging over calm, curious eyes. They move slow, deliberate, as if time itself runs a little gentler around them.

Some folks say they don’t really belong here – that yaks aren’t native to the Blue Ridge at all, that they’re creatures of the Himalayas, not these soft Virginia hills. Maybe that’s true, but looking at them under the gray November sky, with the mountains rising behind like folded blue paper, they seem right at home. Far be it for me to deny any creature welcome to this place.

The cold wind lifts their fur; they blink, unbothered. The ridges breathe mist, and for a moment it’s easy to believe the world fits together in ways that make quiet sense.

#SalemRidgeYaks #SalemVA #MountainLife #RoanokeValley #RoanokeVA #doodle #earlysnow

A variant on this

https://www.lemontreedwelling.com/jalapeno-popper-wonton-cups/

Made in the style of buffalo chicken dip, but with jackfruit, in wonton

Also played a little Dead Island 2 on ps5 – free if you already pay for plus

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dead_Island_2

🌊 Carvins Cove, November

Carvins Cove keeps its own kind of time. Out there, just beyond the last of the city’s neighborhoods, the world hushes itself. The reservoir stretches wide and still, a mirror for the gray sky. A few brown leaves drift across the surface like tiny boats heading nowhere in particular.

The air smells like pine and cold water. Somewhere down the trail, a woodpecker knocks out a slow, deliberate rhythm. You can hear the creak of tree trunks leaning, the faint sigh of wind moving through the hollows. Even footsteps sound softer here, as if the earth has learned to listen.

The mountains fold around the water like a secret. You feel it when you stand at the overlook, that small tug in the chest that says, stay a little longer. The light shifts hour by hour, gold to silver to blue, then gone. The surface of the Cove catches every change and holds it for a heartbeat before it disappears.

A few fishermen linger on the shore, jackets zipped up, lines quiet in the water. They do not talk much. The day does not ask for conversation. It just keeps breathing, slow and even.

By the time the sun slips behind Tinker Mountain, the world feels rinsed clean. The first stars appear, sharp and pale. You can almost hear them if you stand still long enough.

Carvins Cove does not shout. It does not sparkle or call attention. It waits, patient and deep, content to be the place where Roanoke comes to remember how to listen.


—

#Roanokeva #CarvinsCove #BlueRidgeMountains #Virginia #AppalachianQuiet #NovemberLight #NatureBlog #SlowDays #StillWater #MountainReflections #ValleyAndRidge

🍂 Explore Park, November

Explore Park sits at that “edge of the world”-feeling spot, where the Blue Ridge Parkway dips its shoulder toward the valley. November has folded itself over the trees like a faded quilt, russet, smoke, a whisper of frost along the grass. The cabins there lean with the kind of contentment you only get from watching decades of seasons pass.

The air tastes like woodsmoke and riverwater. The Roanoke River moves slow, carrying bits of leaf and light, as if both were the same thing. A heron stood in the shallows this morning, perfectly still, patient enough to let the sun find its way through the gray.

You can walk for an hour and meet no one. Just the creak of the trees, the shuffle of a squirrel who thinks it’s invisible, the distant hum of a car on the Parkway, a reminder that the rest of the world still spins, somewhere beyond the pines.

Every bench here feels like a memory. Some carry initials carved long ago, some just the worn shape of someone who once needed to rest. The park is quiet but not empty; it is full of echoes that do not need to be loud to be heard.

By late afternoon, the light goes honey colored, catching on every last stubborn leaf. Then the chill slides back in, and the trails dim. Time to head home before the fog rolls up from the river.

Explore Park does not ask you to do much, just to walk, breathe, and listen. November does the rest.

#Roanokeva #BlueRidgeParkway #ExplorePark #Virginia #AppalachianAutumn #NovemberLight #NatureBlog  #MillMountainMoods #ValleyAndRidge #SlowDays #QuietPlaces

Community Support Initiatives
– Providing food and assistance to families in need since 1993.
– Operating a store where qualified individuals can choose items for free.
– Offering various volunteer opportunities and ways to support the community.

Youth Fundraising Activities
– Friend’s grandson’s baseball team conducting leaf removal as a fundraiser.
– Donations-only service, teaching youth the value of earning money.
– Seeking neighbors who might need yard work services.

Neighborhood Social Events
– Planning a winter soup gathering for neighborhood residents.
– Seeking ideas for fun social events like ‘game nights’.
– Appreciation for the successful appetizer event.

Community Property Enhancements
– Board initiative to improve common areas and make them more attractive.
– Planting low-maintenance greenery in various locations.
– Pleased with the overall appearance of neighborhood yards.

Capital Reserve Fund Amendment
– Proposal to amend covenants regarding new homeowner assessments for capital reserve.
– Changing the fixed $250 fee to an amount set by the board of directors.
– Aims to build the fund to cover HOA liabilities and avoid broad-based assessments.

Board Member Elections
– Two board members’ terms expiring this year.
– Larry Hurt and May Wenge willing to serve another term.
– Nominees approved for a three-year term starting January 1st.

Budget and Mailbox Updates
– No due increase anticipated for 2026, with a monthly due decrease.
– Mailbox numbers replaced with durable 3D decals from a small business.
– Pleased with the improvement over previous peeling decals.

Community Safety and Maintenance
– Encouraging residents to report suspicious activity to county police.
– Leaf removal contract specifies mulching, not collecting, for better soil.
– Discussion pending on HOA’s continued obligation for gutter cleaning in 2026.

Streetlight Concerns
– Complaints about new stark white streetlights replacing amber ones.
– Residents finding the new lights excessively bright.
– Seeking contact information for the county to address the issue.