Last night’s visitor was a slip of fur, no bigger than two palms cupped together. A tiny bunny came up to the porch, pausing like a shy traveler who has taken a wrong turn. It was late enough that the world was softened with quiet, the kind of quiet where you can hear the crickets speak in steady rhythm and the night breeze move leaves like a deck of cards being shuffled slow.

The little one froze for a moment, tiny ears up, body still as if carved from shadow and moonlight. Then a twitch of the nose, a shift of paws, and it dared a step closer, investigating some unseen secret only rabbits know.

It didn’t stay long. A few breaths, a whisker’s time, and then it bounded back into the dark, swallowed up by grass and mystery. But for that moment, it was just the porch and bunny, a small sweetness stitched into the evening.

I half expect to see it again tonight, checking in like a neighbor, making sure the world keeps its gentle corners.

#backyardzoo #rabbit #bunny #roanokeva

On the drive past Old Salem Days, a roadside sign made me grin. “Lemonade, Water & Puppies” Three little words that worked like a pocket spell for happiness. I could see it in my head, a shaded stand with cold cups sweating in the heat, tails wagging against ankles, and laughter drifting down the street like music. Sadly, when we went down the road to see, it had vanished like a tiny Brigadoon, not a trace to be seen.

The September sun leaned warm but not punishing, a light breeze tugging now and then. By the time we reached Old Salem Days (that takes place on only one day, by the way), the streets were already crowded, people moving in waves between booths, voices overlapping with the smell of food smoke and snazzy classic cars.

Somewhere along the way we started wondering what to call the folks who live in Salem. The idea that stuck was Salemanders. It feels like it belongs in a friendly folktale, part neighbor and part myth, carrying a spark of fire or a shimmer of magic in the pocket. A name that makes the town feel even more alive. (Unlike Salemite, Salemian or Salemster)

Current mood: playful
Current music: sunshine, rainbows, and lollipops

My brother and I, Easter, on or around day 1490 or so. (Today is 20,676), bro, left, showed up around day 750.

Note my groovy teardrop peace sign necklace and his amazing ash-blonde hair. Even I was dishwater blonde in a Captain Kangaroo-style bowl cut (which was the fashion of the time)

Not shown, my matching jacket that went with the pants, channeling Herb Tarlick before WKRP ever aired. 

#atlantastreet #brotherlylove #fashion #oldphotos #folkservice #easter1973

I think the papa skunk came by yesterday morning, just as the air was settling and before the first light slipped out from behind the ridge. His tail is black and his markings so dark that at first glance he looked almost like a badger wandering across the grass. I like to imagine he is the father of the babies I saw earlier this week, circling close, checking that the ground is still safe for them.

He moved slowly, as if he belonged here, lingering only a little before vanishing into the trees again. It feels like a continuation of the same story, these small visits layered together, the family returning in turns. Each sighting could stand on its own, yet when I think back, they begin to form a gentle rhythm.

#skunk
#roanokeva #backyardzoo
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I won’t ever be one to mourn the death of an active fascist and nazi. His political leanings and actions contribute to so much harm. But I do understand the gravity and consequences of this event. We’re essentially watching a timeline of events that I don’t think we can depart from. And rightfully it should turn our stomachs. But a man who said that a certain number of gun deaths are to be assumed and absorbed in order for business to continue as usual—in his words—to protect the 2nd amendment, this is a logical and fitting death for this man.

I’m not sad for his passing. I’m sad for the magnitude of violence we are not prepared to face as a nation. And I’m scared for all of us.

Runes Drawn:
1. Algiz (reversed) – Blocked or inverted: Protection, higher self
2. Uruz – Strength, health
3. Ansuz – Communication, insight

I Ching Hexagram (bottom to top):
– Young Yang (7)
– Young Yang (7)
– Young Yin (8)
– Young Yang (7)
– Young Yin (8)
– Old Yin (6) – changing to Yang

Hexagram #54: Marrying Maiden

A chipmunk crossed my path today, quick and precise, as if it had somewhere important to be. The little fellow paused at the edge of the porch, cheeks already bulging with the spoils of early September. Seeds, maybe acorns, some small cache of treasure tucked away for the coming cold. He sat upright like a tiny sentinel, whiskers twitching, tail flicking in rhythm with the breeze.

The air has just started to carry the faintest hints of autumn – not quite crisp, but leaning in that direction. The trees are still green, though you can sense they’re gathering themselves for the slow cascade of color to come. Watching the chipmunk felt like seeing the season in miniature: urgency without panic, preparation without fuss.

He studied me for the briefest moment, eyes bright and unblinking, then darted back under the hedge, gone as quickly as he appeared. Just a heartbeat-long reminder that even the smallest neighbors are busy setting their houses in order.

I’ll take it as a gentle nudge to do the same.

#chipmunk #roanokeva #backyardzoo #autumniscoming

Day 20671 Skunk Family in the Porchlight

Last night brought unexpected guests. A skunk mother and her four kits padded up to the porch as we finished grilling veggie burgers and hot dogs inside. We watched through the window as they explored with gentle boldness, the little procession lit by porchlight like a traveling family of night wanderers. It was a quiet visitation, more wonder than worry, leaving only the memory of their small procession in the dark.

Today I stayed close to home, catching up with chores and making ready for the week ahead. The washer and dryer hummed through multiple loads, baskets of laundry finally caught up. Out in the garage, I set about some overdue organizing, shifting boxes and reclaiming a little order from the clutter.

Current music: acoustic guitar gently circling

Current mood: touched by the quiet magic of skunk visitors

Out of the pre-dawn came not one skunk, but a mother and her four tiny shadows. Each striped in miniature, each step a little wobbly, but all tumbling faithfully after her. They followed like a living ribbon across the yard, pausing to nose at the grass, stumbling and righting themselves, learning the art of being wild.

She waited for them with patience, a guardian cloaked in black and white. Watching their procession felt like catching a secret whispered across generations – the knowledge of how to move, how to belong, passed down in soft steps and stripes.

#skunk #wildlife #backyardmagic #nightvisitors #smallwonders #naturemoments

Missing my little Newton.  It’s been a couple of years since he passed, but my heart still breaks sometimes. He was my best friend for so many years.

Met Larry Bly today, from Cookin’ Cheap. He was sweet and kind, took the time to talk with us for a bit, his words carrying that same gentle humor that once spilled from the TV kitchen. Standing there, it felt less like meeting a celebrity and more like catching up with an old friend who had simply stepped out of the screen.

The air around us seemed brighter, time bending in on itself, bringing echoes of that cluttered set and easy laughter. He spoke with warmth, as if he’d known us longer than a passing moment, and for a while it felt like we were part of his show, tucked into the rhythm of his stories.

A small-world magic, brief but golden, like memory and daylight stirred together.

#cookincheap #larrybly #sweetmoments #smallworldmagic

Cookin’ Cheap is a nationally syndicated cooking show, originally hosted by Larry Bly and Earl “Laban” Johnson, Jr. Cookin’ Cheap was taped in the studios of Blue Ridge Public Television in Roanoke, Virginia. It began its national distribution through the PBS system in 1981, and more recently did a syndication run on the GoodLife TV Network.

This afternoon we returned to Nakhon Thai, and the owner’s eyes lit with that curious recognition – as though we had not simply come back, but had been expected. The gray sky hung heavy, and the neon sign glowed brighter against it, like a beacon for travelers between worlds.

We sat outside in the front space, on the concrete stage where little metal tables and chairs waited, their thin frames trembling at the touch. Around us the air carried the smell of basil and garlic, and in the distance, the traffic rose and fell like a restless river. If you listened long enough, the engines almost became voices, carrying old songs and warnings down the valley.

The meal arrived in pieces, each one an offering: chive dumplings soft and green as spring shoots; spring rolls breaking open with hidden warmth; shrimp bound in golden noodle threads, fragile and shining like charms meant to keep away ill luck. Drunken noodles with tofu came tangled, wide ribbons breathing fire and sweetness together, and the pad prik kring brought a red heat, sharp enough to wake even the cloudiest day.

Our server moved quietly, almost like a figure from a folktale – someone who appears at the edge of the story to guide you forward, and then slips back into the mist. Behind us the restaurant windows fogged, blurring the decor and the tables, while in front of us the road stretched on, carrying its endless chorus of tires and horns like the chant of unseen spirits.

When we finally rose, the concrete felt different underfoot, as if we had stepped back across a threshold. The scent of basil and chili clung to us, following close, and the roar of traffic no longer seemed like noise but like the low murmur of something vast, still speaking to us long after we had gone.

#NakhonThai #drunkennoodles #goodvegetarianfood