Kathryn Magendie's Blog: Lonely Woman's Guide to the Galaxy, page 16

Crippled Bird . . .

One day a few years back, I looked out of my window here in my little log house in the mountain cove, and there was a little bird with a crippled leg. It had to hop about on one leg because the other one was crooked and bent back behind her. I watched that bird every day as she balanced on the feeder, as she hopped about, and as she managed to look graceful all the while. Until one day she wasn't there any longer and I've never seen her since—did she die of natural causes? Did something get to her because of her weakness? Did she find another place to feed that isn't as crowded by other birds at our bird feeder? I often wish she would come back because it was both painful and beautiful to watch her—I cannot aptly explain that feeling of pity and respect and awe as she'd hop about on one leg, land on the feeder with that one foot, perch on the tree limb with that one foot. Ever tried to stand on one foot? There you go.

I see injured or crippled animals and know that they may be surviving only because we are providing easy food. Take away that easy food and would they survive? Some people/naturalists may ask, "Should they survive?" They ask that because in the natural wild there is natural processes—the weak are weeded out and the strong survive. The weak do not breed or are not bred with because that weakness will be passed on, and if a wild critter is weak, it may not be able to feed itself, or feed its offspring, or get away from predators. We differ there, us humans, as we should, and because we can.

Nature isn't merciful—or is it is its own way showing mercy? Of course, nature doesn't allow for these thoughts, because it just is what it is. We humans interfere in nature because we can identify. We see a crippled or maimed animal and we empathize, we sympathize, we know how it feels, or know someone who knows how it feels, or have a loved one who knows how it feels—we attach human qualities to nature; we anthropomorphize nature (look at what some do to their pets, particularly dogs-dressing them in clothing, etc. They become family members and have evolved their characteristics—through breeding or otherwise—to fit in with us.).

Still, when I saw that beautiful bird find a way to survive seemingly unaware of its difference from other birds; I was filled with a joy that mixed with my pity and wonder. The little crippled bird, and all creatures, have an incredible will to survive, they have no time to feel sorry for themselves, for it is in their nature to find a way to live until it is time for them to die. And then that is what they do.

It's ironic that the "higher of the species," the more intelligent of them, the "higher evolved" on this planet earth, don't always have that will to survive or rise above our weaknesses. We can give up too easily. Find things toooo haaaarrrrd. We become discouraged. Disillusioned, disheartened. Sometimes we flat Give Up. Throw our arses out in the wild and see what that attitude will do for us, eh? But we also have the ability to hold up others when they need our strength. We use that empathy and sympathy to understand and then give charity.

I could metaphor this post all up and down for whatever it is a person, you-me-them-us, is going through right now--be that something small or something looming large, but all I really wanted to do was write up a post about this little crippled bird I so admired. I don't think I'll ever forget her.

(None of the bird photos are of the crippled bird - I never did take a photo and I sometimes wish I had, sometimes.)

I wanted to write something about my Oregon trip, but I keep holding it to me, as if it is a little gift I don't want to re-open, for it makes me both happy and sad to see the memories inside again.

Y'all have a wonderful day, rest of the week, and weekend.

Photos, Video, few Words . . . "Granny Kat" in Oregon

Like her Granny Kat, Lil Boop loves and is fascinated by rocks; she loves to have quiet time alone; she loves to contemplate with that far away look; she loves to put her nose to things and inhale information; she loves outside; she loves to dance.

See y'all on Wednesday with a regular blog post. I am so sorry I have not been by. With the novella to be released in the anthology (below-The Firefly Dance) and VK III (last in the Graces Trilogy) to complete for my deadline this month, and trip to Oregon, and R&T - *big deeeeeep breath* I am snarled in a snarly snarl world :-D

The Firefly Dance cover . . . and I am Home

Hi y'all - I'm home and all discombobulated - :-D --- It's that feeling of having a brain filled with little cottony clouds. Plane rides and time changes and most of all missing my little family there in Oregon. I will have pics and such later. For now, I will leave you with the cover image of the anthology where I have my novella PETEY, along with three other other authors' novellas. It's a beautiful cover.


I'll be back to regular posting next week. I am almost done with VK III -- publication date set for sometime in October. Photos on Monday and writing a post on Wednesday - twice a week seems fine to post, dontcha thank?

The anthology will be out soon - probably on a Kindle promo first in about two weeks, and then whatever, wherever, and etc.

See you all next week! :-D

Summer Photos, no words: walk in the cove at Killian Knob

Now, Second dimension Kathryn is on her way back from Oregon, where she will converge with First dimension Kathyrn - chaos ensues.

Summer Flowers, No words - a walk at Moody Farm Road

Second dimension Kathryn is still posting while First dimension Kathryn is in Oregon . . .

Through The Wormhold on Science Channel

I could say "Hello from Oregon" because as you read this I will be there; however, I haven't even arrived there yet. In fact, I am sitting here in my leather chair in the little log house and it will be Tuesday the 12th before I fly out--the day before this post goes live, which is still a few days away from today as I write this. But, since I am able to post ahead of time - I can be two places at once. As if I am in another dimension and this other dimension Kathryn is posting while the first dimension Kathryn plays with Little Boop. And as for the other Kathryns in the other dimensions, well, who knows what they are up to *laughing*



On that note - if you haven't wtached The Science Channels "Through the Wormhole," hosted by Morgan Freeman - you must! you must!

Hair Dryer Antics Update & Oregon here I come. . .

Okay my friends - first off, your comments to the hairdryer "do not use while sleeping" post made me laugh! Haw!
In response, a reader friend sent me this: Sleeping with a blow-dryer and eating toilet paper: Reality show exposes strange addictions - so it just goes to show you, my friends, you can list umpteen-gamillion warnings on a product and we will laugh at them and go "whatever!" and then come to find out someone out there has done them or is doing them, and maybe worse. Soon, the pamphlet for "do not do this" will be the size of War & Peace if they are going to warn us against every conceivable thing a person will and can do, much to our continued and amazed, "You must be kidding  . . . "
I'm really here on a Monday, instead of with my Random Photos/No Words, because tomorrow, Tuesday, I board a plane for Oregon to visit my son, daughter-in-law, and Lil Boop! I am so excited. I leave behind my GMR, little log house, psycho cutie dog and not quite fat dog, my mountains, cove at Killian Knob, and et cetera and fly up up and away to the Land of Oregon where I will be for two weeks.



Lucky me.

Reading the fine (and kind of ridiculous & funny) print . . .

short hairI didn't use a hairdryer for over 10 years, and in fact, I never brushed my hair for over ten years-not kidding. My hair stayed short to boy-short for those years or more. All of a sudden, I have hair that's grown about chin length, and I figured I needed a decent hairdryer, and I even dug out a brush, ungh.

So I went to Sally Beauty Supply and bought this fancyish hairdryer with Ionic something another and ceramic doodly doo dah day, and molecule flippity floop doop, with tourmaline zippity do dah zip, and it wasn't the most expensive, but more than I usually would think I'd pay for a hairdryer.


Last night I was reading the information sheet, and there were the usual, "Don't put this in the water or around water or with water" while using or plugged in. Common knowledge, but I understand the need to tell people they shouldn't be blow-drying their hair while bathing or showering--do they really? but well, okay, maybe someone doesn't know this yet. Maybe someone wants to do two things at once in this busy old time: bathe/shower and dry their hair.

But this one sentence made me laugh. I'm giggling now as I write this: Never use while sleeping .
hair growing out wily nilly before dryer - dang, I had to start brushing it as I obviously didn't do here

I kid you not. Never use while sleeping is one of the warnings/instructions in the information sheet of my new hair dryer. Haw!
my new hairdryer
Okay. Well. How did they come up with that one? Had someone been drying their hair in bed and fallen asleep and mayhem came calling? I'm shrugging.

Meanwhile, I will use my new hairdryer: not in the bathtub or shower. Not near any puddles of water. I won't insert things into it. I will "keep my hair out of it" (yes, that's another one: "Keep your hair out of it." I won't use with a voltage converter. I won't use it outdoors. I won't "direct hot air towards eyes or other heat-sensitive areas."

And most of all! I will not use the hairdryer while sleeping.

Huhn.


VK III is humming along nicely. I'm pleased with my progress and will have no problem making my deadline. All that worry and angst and stressing over nothing—Virginia Kate pulled through for me: yay VK! This book, as I've said before, had to be ripped out of me, and part of that is because of some darker places I had to write about.

In other news, and I can't remember if I mentioned this before. BB has sold foreign rights to a Russian Literary publisher, so Tender Graces and I think Secret Graces (not sure about Sweetie) will be in Russian! I can't wait to see how that turns out.
not a firefly :-D
The Firefly Dance has had some delays, but soon as I know more about that anthology I will pass it on.

Now, y'all go have a good great day. And remember: Do Not, Ever Ever, Use Your Hairdryer While Sleeping!

Photos, no words: A walk in my Cove on Fourth of July

HAPPY FOURTH OF JULY MY WONDERFUL FRIENDS!

Bluegrass . . .

While winding along I-40 one morning, the sun roaring over our Smoky Mountains with every bit of arrogance the sun deserves (and only the mountains can face the sun without averting a gaze), I listened to Bluegrass—the soul-filled mournful fiddle crept up the back of my spine and settled there, vibrating until my entire body strummed and thrummed.

The roots of Mountain Music, our Bluegrass music, arrived here with the immigration of people from Ireland, Scotland, England, Africa. Early settlers of Western North Carolina were Scots-Irish, and when they arrived, they brought with them their songs and their fiddles and they expressed the human condition through their vocal and instrumental storytelling, passing them down from generation to generation, each voice, each instrument, each condition molded and formed to fit, yet at the same time, as ancient and consistent as mountain life itself.

In those early pioneer days, women generally weren't allowed to play banjo or fiddles, so they sang, passing down from mother to daughter their musical stories. The story-songs had as big impact on Bluegrass music as the instruments. Listen to the tone of their voices and hear the plaintive melancholy that seeps into the bones and stays there, a part of the marrow, a part of the people who live in and love these mountains.

Scottish influence wasn't all gloom and woe, for they brought their love of fun and dance with them, as well. Cool mountain evenings brought laughter and music as ancient as these old mountains, and the connection from Scottish Mountain to Western North Carolina Mountain cannot be mistaken when the ear is tuned to the past intersecting with the present.

From the sideboards of American homes, Bluegrass music entered living rooms live from the Grand Old Opry from the musical stylings of Bill Monroe, Lester Flatt, Earl Scruggs, Chubby Wise, and Cedric Rainwater. Live performances are something we radio listeners do not get much of now with the onslaught of recorded music, and yet, without the recording of music, how much of the old mountain music would reach the ears of a population who will never sit on a front porch and stomp a foot in time to soulful renditions mourned out as if from the pricking of skin to let the music bleed away, deep red and thrumming, dripping down into the mountain earth where up springs a unique, rich, and varied mountain life and its song.

Now you all know I always say for us to support our writers, musicians, artists!

So, here's a few places to check out bluegrass, or variations of it, and feel free to add your own in the comments if you like:

The Get Down Boys

Steep Canyon Rangers (this is the Western North Carolina bluegrass band that actor/writer/musician Steve Martin joined up with)

The String Dusters


Robert Frost's Banjo

My brother's "california bluegrass - Saga of Virginia Kate" (and again, as I've said - I do not receive compensation for this! It goes to the musician, of course!)


(photos all taken by kat magendie)