Psalms in the Smokies

Bless the Lord, O my soul!

O Lord my God, You are very great;

You are clothed with splendor and majesty,

Covering Yourself with light as with a cloak,

Stretching out heaven like a tent curtain.

He lays the beams of His upper chambers in the waters;

He makes the winds His messengers,

Flaming fire His ministers.

He established the earth upon its foundations,

So that it will not totter forever and ever.

You covered it with the deep as with a garment;

The waters were standing above the mountains.

At Your rebuke they fled,

At the sound of Your thunder they hurried away.

The mountains rose; the valleys sank down

To the place which You established for them.

You set a boundary that they may not pass over,

So that they will not return to cover the earth.

He sends forth springs in the valleys;

They flow between the mountains;

They give drink to every beast of the field;

The wild deer quench their thirst.

Beside them the birds of the heavens dwell;

They lift up their voices among the branches.

He waters the mountains from His upper chambers;

The earth is satisfied with the fruit of His works.

He causes the grass to grow for the cattle,

And vegetation for the labor of man,

So that he may bring forth food from the earth,

And moonshine with makes man's heart glad,

So that he may make his face glisten with oil,

And food which sustains man's heart.

The trees of the Lord drink their fill,

The cedars of Cherokee which he planted,

Where the birds build their nests,

And the eagle, whose home is the fir trees.

The high mountains are for the wild black bears;

The cliffs are a refuge for their cubs.

He made the moon for the seasons;

The sun knows the place of its setting.

You appoint darkness and it becomes night,

In which all the beasts of the forest prowl about.
The young cougars (and mountain folk) roar after their pray

And seek their food from God (at the local brewery).

When the sun rises they withdraw 

And lie down in their dens.

Man goes forth to his work

And to his labor until evening.

O Lord, how many are Your works!

In wisdom You have made them all;

The earth is full of Your possessions...

They all wait for You 

To give them their food in due season.

You give to them, they gather it up;

You open Your hand, they are satisfied with good.

You hide Your face, they are dismayed;

You take away their spirit, they expire

And return to their dust.

You send forth Your Spirit, they are created;

And You renew the face of the ground.

Let the glory of the Lord endure forever;

Let the Lord be glad in His works;

He looks at the earth, and it trembles;

He touches the mountains, and they smoke.

I will sing to the Lord as long as I live;

I will sing praise to my God while I have my being.

{Psalm 104, edited slightly to fit the land and wildlife of the Smoky Mountains,
 lying majestically across the border of Tennessee and North Carolina}
{Pictures taken in the Smokies, circa August 2011}
{Do you see why my heart aches for this land?}

A Southern girl's survival kit for winter in Chicago...

So.  Things have been a little heavy around here lately.  Sorry 'bout that.  But when I feel all light and airy and free, I rarely need an outlet for that on my blog: I simply live it.  It's when things are difficult and stretching that I often come here for relief in a pent-up breath exhaled and an understanding reader.  Thank you for being that.  

But yesterday, as I walked my chilly half-hour walk to work, I realized this: out of six in Chicago so far, this is the second winter I've not complained all the way through, and the first I'm actually enjoying.  Of course, that could be utterly due to the a-to-the-mazing temperatures we've been experiencing here.  I don't know what it's like where you are, but here in the Midwest, we've had one heaven of a wintertime.  Well, maybe snow-lovers like my kiddo Matthew disagree, but me -- I'm all about 40's and 50's when the average is closer to 10's and 20's.  Yessirree.  

That said, I've now spent one-fifth of my winters in Chicago, and if (heaven forbid) it were 12 degrees and blizzarding outside (which is actually doubtful because -- as we (now-) northerners know -- there is such a thing as "too cold for snow"), I wouldn't sweat it (which sounds logical, but under all those layers, you'd be surprised!).  Of course, it almost seems like spring here right now; but as Chicago's springs are often confused and put off by lingering winters, I wouldn't be surprised if it were also true the other way around.  Either way, winter ain't over yet.  And I'm OK with that; I'm ready for it.  Because if there's one thing Chicago winters have taught me, it's "Deal with it."  Yes, Chicago winters are that prosaic and heartless.  

So, for all those who wonder how and why I deal with it and don't just move back South where I belong (coughmomcough), here's my list, my three (yes, only three!) essentials for happy-ish survival.  This is how I get through winter in Chicago, and -- if you find yourself here one wintry day -- how you can, too:

1. Long Underwear = Life-savers.  Forget the those bulky thermals you wore as a kid when it snowed a quarter of an inch and school was declared out and you somehow managed to roll a very tiny, very dirty "snowman" out of the grass (based on my North Carolininian experience).  I honestly don't know how I'd have gotten through a Midwestern winter without these -- well, for lack of a better term, underpants.  They're made of the same fabric as a slip, so as you can imagine, they don't make you feel 5 inches wider, but they absolutely keep you warmer.  I try to walk to work every day if it's not absolutely horrid out, and this is how I've done it.  Nineteen degrees with a wind-chill of 7, you say?  No prob.  I've got my long janes.

2. The Beach Boys.  Oh yes.  Again, this has saved my wintry walks to work.  When I turn on the Beach Boys in my ipod, the world gets brighter.  The snow begins to melt, the winds die down, the sun boldly shines through the dissipating clouds, and a smile appears out of nowhere on my wrinkled up grumpy face.  Or at least that last part.  Who doesn't get warm feelings when listening to "California Girls" or "Surfin' USA"?  Also, listening to songs like "Fun, Fun, Fun" inevitably makes me walk a little faster, which not only burns more calories but also gets me to my destination and out of the cold even faster.  Win-win.

3.  Clementines.  Or as one Trader Joe's cashier called them, Adult Candy.  I didn't grow up eating clementines, but now I don't want to face another winter without them.  They not only give me the extra-needed Vitamin C that my body craves as it fights off all the colds and stomach bugs that are viciously making their rounds this time of year; these pint-sized oranges also give one a warm feeling of tropical beaches and itsy-bitsy-teeny-weeny, yellow-polka-dot bikinis and summery smoothies.  In case you haven't noticed, half the battle with a Chicagoan winter is in one's own mind.

So that's it.  My sensory three-step plan to a less-than-grumpy season of death.  My trifecta of happiness in the midst of what would otherwise be dark and dreary and frigid-beyond-your-imagination-if-you-haven't-yet-crossed-the-Mason-Dixon-line bitterness.  A Southern girl's survival kit for winter in Chicago.

Summertime

Summertime, and the livin’ is easy.

Fish are jumpin’ and the cotton is high.

Oh, your daddy’s rich and your mama’s good lookin’

So hush, little baby, don’t you cry…

The dog days of Summer have come to the city of Chicago.  All it took was a few sequential days of 90’s for me to realize it.  As I pealed away the dead, limp buds of petunias and snap dragons, baked brown in the heat of July’s merciless sun, I heard it… The cicadas singing their deafening song, announcing the late arrival of a season that’s been around for a month but has hardly been noticed.  And I felt it… the hot breeze that just barely keeps the sweat off my brow and my thirsty lungs from suffocating.  And I knew it.

Summer in this city is just not Summer to me. 

Yes, I take part in the long, warm strolls down charming avenues with ice cream cones in hand.  

I make my way to the beach and play volleyball like Old Man Winter will never return. 

I even find myself in the dog park, catching lightning bugs in the darkening dusk. 

But Summer is lost.  I think I left it behind when I left Carolina…

The land of warm riverbed squishing between my toes. 

The land of weeping willows draped across dark but … shhh… secretly alive creeks.

The land of water moccasins that we don’t mind as long as there’s a shotgun or shovel handy. 

The land of swelteringly hot but gloriously peaceful sunsets carelessly painted across breath-taking skies.

I see Chicago’s charm and beauty in the Spring and Fall.  But this city seems to skip the romantically wild season that is Summer, a season not found in overpopulated beaches, overheated asphalt, or air-conditioned skyscrapers, but in wind-blown fields running green and white forever, in bare feet doing their best to keep up, in quiet evenings of star-gazing and moon-whispering, in gentle laps of water on the old, dirty bulkheads…

One of these mornins’, you’re gonna rise up singin.’

Then you’ll spread your wings and you’ll take to the sky.

But till that mornin’, there ain’t nothin’ can harm you,

With daddy and mama standin’ by…

There’s something so old and sad in that song, some longing that I’m not quite sure I ever knew before.  

     But I think I know it now.

The Perquimans River, my home

N. Carolina's state flower, also part of my wedding bouquet: the Dogwood

Missing Mill Park - Hertford, NC

We used to stare into these trees for hours, looking for eagles' nests.

Perquimans River's famed Log Turtles

Another attraction of my homeland: Shelby Lynn Harrell

So, the joke goes...

One beautiful afternoon, the pastor of a small Southern town decided to make the rounds to visit some members of his congregation.  After chatting a while with one, he'd move on to another, and all was going fine and dandy until he knocked on the fifth door on his route.  No one answered, so he knocked again.  After trying a third time, he got out a pencil and paper and left this note on his apparently absent congregant's door:

"Revelation 3:20"

The following Sunday there was a business meeting involving elections after the church service, for which ballots were taken up and given to the pastor.  He read each and kept tally, and all was going fine and dandy until he came upon a ballot which only read:

"Genesis 3:10"

*****

For your reference:

Rev. 3:20 - Behold, I stand at the door and knock; if anyone hears My voice and opens the door, I will come in to him and will dine with him, and he with Me.

Gen. 3:10 - I heard the sound of You in the garden, and I was afraid because I was naked; so I hid myself.

*****

Please note: This joke works best (and maybe only) if told with a heavy Southern accent.