Who stopped de raiinnnnn......? Don't matter; the cove sopped it up like biscuits and gravy

Last night it rained again. But, I'm happy for the rain. See This Post at our YOG (year of gratitude). We needed rain. The creek is filled again. Despite a tossing and turning beginning, when I opened my eyes this morning, it was already daylight: good, I needed the sleep as much as our creek and cove needed the recent rains -- and Sun now pours into our little log house at Killian Knob. Oh!

Have you met our Fat Lazy Labrador Jake?

Well, Good Man Roger is painting a series of paintings that just make me laugh or smile, or go "awww!" He calls them: Le Chein Rouge. Have you ever seen "the blue dog" paintings? This is GMR's version *teehee* ... Fat Lazy Lab Jake is unfazed by the attention. As my brother Tommy says, "Jake has about one expression..." and he proceeded to show me those "one expressions" ..."Here's happy; here's sad; here's contemplative; here's 'I'm hungry'..." (and those expressions are as you see above) while I laughed...it's true! Unless FLLJ sees someone he thinks is an intruder - oh! Then the sharp white fangs are exposed, the lips drawn back in warning, the low growl: it's quite terrifying to UPS people and other strangers come round the cove. He is a good watcher of the cove and all his domain.

The Le Chein Rouge are at top of this post- and I am not giving them much justice as I took the photos in a hurry (I am the most impatient person...geez). GMR gave these LSU collars, since these are for someone(s) who loves LSU.

I spoke with the most beautiful person yesterday! She has a soft southern accent. Her voice is filled with energy. She is a sincere and thoughtful person. Someone I would feel comfortable around. Hmm, maybe I should use this as a contest to win a book! Every day I'll give a hint and see if y'all can guess who I am talking about *laughing* --unless this person has said something on her blog about how she talked to this weird Kat Mountain Woman who cackles when she laughs and says things like "huhn...." and "Lawd!" and "Well, la tee dah!" teeheehee. We talked about books and writing and publishing, etcetera. I have a hard time talking on the phone - it's weird, but it's hard for me to follow conversations and I sometimes accidentally interrupt - my brain needs to either write conversations, or I need to look at someone in person to follow the convo properly. Huhn. I hope I made any sense at all....haw!

Now, on to Sunday Breakfast; then, I want to come visit you all. It's too late to do anything else with Tender Graces manuscript....in spite of the fact that I woke up at 2:00 AM, was it Friday?, night in a panic and emailed Bellebooks and said "Oh no oh no!" and they said, "oh too late too late!" *laughing* So, that's that. La Tee Dah. Huhn.

UPDATE!: OMG! Just received an email from BB: BelleBooks is the BEST! They did go in and fix that thing I woke up at 2AM worried about - no one would have known what it was, no reader would have known, but it was something I'd wanted to have at the beginning...and they did it! They put that in! Even though they said they couldn't, and I said, "I understand" because it would be extra work and time and etc - but they DID IT! This is the beauty of the small independent press - they love you and work with you. *BIG GRINNING*

Walking in a winter wander-land...

In our cove at Killian Knob, we walk, and we point to tracks. There, tire tracks where a tourist started up and then had to turn around...the tracks abruptly stop and I can imagine the terror of the tourist as they contemplate what to do, then deciding to just give up and turn around, park down and walk up; slip-slidy steps. Or, the sliding SUV tracks for the tourist who decides to try to make it up the steep part of the road-oops-tracks in the ditch.

There is the bunny tracks, then the tracks that follow it.

There is blood on the snow, just a little.

The bear tracks that morning.

We see a pair of feline tracks and those tracks go up almost every driveway in the cove--GMR calls it our "Security Cat" of the cove. We laugh.

Deer leave delicate musings.

A soft white feather is frozen; it looks like a strange snowflake, it's feather tips pointing to a blazing blue sky full of crystals.

Our tracks - big ones, smaller ones, doggie ones.

Fat lazy Labrador paw and snout tracks here, there, here there, here there, here there.

Some of the tracks disappear over the edge and towards the creek where the water is cold and icy. Some disappear and maybe forever.

We pause at human prints. Who? Who is walking in our cove? Go Home, we sometimes say, even though we know we shouldn't. If the tourist is loud and leaves lights blaring, we glare at their footprints. If the tourist is respectful of our mountain quiet and dark, we fondly say, "Oh, look, they took a walk." Sometimes there is a commotion in the snow - dogs or children or adults playing, rough-housing, having the time of their lives --maybe up from Florida - waking astounded by snow snow snow!

Sometimes, the tracks are unknown - we peer at them closely...what is that? That's feline, but large, or, that's canine and large and hungry and hunting.

Once, half a rabbit - luckily the upper half. We hurried on, sure we'd interrupted something's meal. We imagined eyes watching, waiting for us to move on...hurry...hurry.

A leaf frozen in a cup with a tiny frozen lake inside for tiny unseen skaters to fly upon.

One perfect snowflake with all its points showing upon Fat Lazy Labrador Jake's black coat.

A headless snowman the tourists' kids fashioned and then abandoned for Florida's sand sculptures.

A shiver of pleasure - the cold is not so bad. the cold clears the head. the cold is a part of the mountain winter. the cold brings snow and fireplace fires and hot chocolate and mittens on grown women and scarfs flying behind as multi-colored flags and furry boots and breath that can be seen and it is good.

Icicles pearl on branch.

Ice sculpture at the drainage pipe -making the ugly breathtaking.

Our tracks lead home to the little log house. We were THERE they say...and there! Our tracks announce our walk. Our tracks fall away and then lead back.

one tiny set of tracks hurries to safety.

Security Cat knows all.

(PS - one set of tracks I forgot - and until I was vacuuming and saw the little lost forgotten tuft of fur; well, she reminded me - my old girl's ghost tracks. How she loved her mountain walks...)