Bandana Rhythm

Fun afternoon with my favorite local band, Bandana Rhythm. They're rehearsing for their upcoming appearance at Hilloween, opening for Old Crow Medicine Show.

Chicken salad and bluegrass and lots of laughs in the High Country of North Carolina. My cheeks still hurt from smiling!

Silver Anniversary

 

Celtic Heritage is 25 years old today!

Twenty-five years with the mission of promoting the "heritage, history, culture, and traditions of the Celtic lands through the medium of music." Ninety productions in all ... plus ... managing tours and appearances and producing albums by Marcille Wallis/Marcille Wallis & Friends.

Happy Birthday to us!

"Helene's Unheard Warnings"

The article linked below is long, and for me tough to read. I do not live in Yancey County, but in Mitchell, the county just to the north. The North Toe River flows less than 300 yards from my house; what saved me is that the house sits well above the river.

The most severe damage to my house occurred fairly recently, when a tall oak likely compromised by Helene fell in windy (nowhere near hurricane/tropical storm strength) conditions. 

As a native Floridian, I’ve had a lot of experience with hurricanes, including multiple major (Category 3 or higher) storms … I’ve told people that Helene was unlike anything I’d experienced, and this article helped me to understand why that is so.

From the article: “If we had an evacuation order, we certainly would have moved,” a father of nine who lives in Yancey County said.

“I went to bed not worrying about it,” said a woman whose family has lived in the area for at least five generations.

Read the full story (published in ProPublica, in May): https://propub.li/3TsPB0X 

Needing Hope, Finding Hope

Made my trash/recycling run today. 

My normal route was closed due to bridge repair. 

So I took the long way around, along a route that I hadn't traveled since ... you know. 

And I cried. You'd think I'd be used to seeing the effects of water violently reshaping our land, but I'm not. 

I'm not viewing pictures of some faraway war-torn land. I'm seeing, in real time, with my own two eyes, the evidence of Helene's war on the High Country of North Carolina. It's personal, and I'm gutted. 

I see dried mud along the crudely-carved riverbanks of a river that looks to be twice as wide as it used to be. I see the decaying trunks of uprooted trees. I see the flotsam and jetsam of people's lives: a car bumper here, some other object mangled beyond identification there. 

And I see where homes were, the evidence that they were ever there existing only in my memory. 

I dried my tears and went about the business of sorting my discards, then turned to retrace my route along the ravaged river's edge. 

I turned west to go back home, and as I drove higher, away from the valley, I saw golden clouds above a high ridge, the beginnings of a sunset. 

Was that color gold? Not really. I don't know what that color was. 

And then I came home, to see this color. Is it pink? Is it rose? I don't know what that color is. 

But as that pinkish hue is the most prominent color, even in a darkening sky dotted with darkish clouds, I have decided that it, and the earlier-seen goldish hue, are the colors of Hope.

A Month After Helene and the Thousand Year Flood

It's been a little over a month since Helene came to visit.

Thought about posting “Before and After” pictures representative of the vast damage done in this area. But I have deliberately not taken/shared pictures of what I’ve been seeing, because … I dunno … wanting to respect others’ privacy and help preserve their dignity?

Y’know, I had NO idea as to the severity of the storm at first. Didn’t lose ability to communicate until about 8:30am after the storm. It was still drizzling rain, so I didn’t venture out until that afternoon (Friday, 9/27) and then only in my yard to do a little cleanup. It wasn’t until Saturday, when I still had no power, no water, no cell service, and things still seemed oddly quiet, that I went out for a walk.

And then I saw all the broken trees and downed power lines and was unable to walk certain streets. Didn’t take long at all to realize how incredibly fortunate I’d been.

But you know what? Most of the people you run into say pretty much the same thing: “We were spared. We were lucky. We’re counting our blessings.” Doesn’t matter if they lost power for a week or if they’re still without power. They may still be bailing water out of a nearby stream to flush their toilets. They may have had a tree sitting on the roof or on a car. They may still be crossing a stream on a temporary footbridge to get groceries/supplies. They are still saying, “Others had it so much worse.”

Damage this widespread is going to take a long time to repair. It’s only natural to suffer occasional frustrations and express impatience … and maybe sometimes to feel a little bit of envy for others who’ve been able to get back on their feet a little more quickly. But over and over I see patience and resilience, and hear expressions of gratitude for the many Helpers, both from within our area and “from off.”

Babysitting Ripley

Today's gig: Babysitting Ripley while cousin Sally, accompanied by her husband Judson, is off to Asheville for a medical appointment.

We are safe with our warming fire. And I am grateful for the utility workers and road crews who are working out in this cold to bring safety and warmth to WNC. I'm grateful for those who donate money and supplies and volunteer time to relief stations dotted across the region. I'm grateful for agencies -federal and private alike - who persevere in the face of misinformation, suspicion, and criticism to provide assistance to those struggling in the aftermath of Helene.

Things are getting better ... one day at a time.

Three Weeks After

Twenty days after Helene. Nature can bring devastation, but it more often gives us beauty. And I am grateful.

The Snow Capped Black Mountains,

captured yesterday by photographer Thomas Mabry