Power
Wishing for each reader of Balance a Day of Pentecost that reignites your own spirit in a powerful way.
~ Steve
Pepsi-Cola Sign
Years ago, when I was using my Minolta X370 film camera, I sought out soft drink ads painted on brick walls. I have a small collection somewhere of the photos I took while hoping to preserve a glimpse of quieter marketing methods than were current for cola companies of the time. My favorite is of an Orange Crush ad painted on a building in Belton, SC.
Well, last weekend, while riding through Raeford, NC, to one of the bird trips, one of the women in my truck excitedly announced that she had just seen a Pepsi advertisement painted on an old brick wall. She was quite enthusiastic about finding it, and I was impressed; I didn’t know other people recognized the specialness the medium.
On the way back after seven hours of birding, talk turned again to the cola sign. The woman who had noticed it pleaded that we should stop and see it better. I wasn’t arguing! So we stopped, and this beauty became one of the best finds of the whole weekend.
Ferns While Birding
Here are some photos of surroundings during the bird trips of Friday and Saturday. Except for the last in this series, these were taken in Moore County, NC, near the town of Southern Pines.
Just getting started.
Cinnamon fern and bracken fern.
The open spaces were filled with bracken.
An elegant cinnamon fern below the millpond dam at Raft Swamp. This is in Hoke County, NC, south of Raeford.
I did not obtain pictures of several other fern species we observed, including ebony spleenwort, netted chain fern, and royal fern.
A Good Weekend
The one-year birthday of this blog came and went without me having computer access to mention it. Friday was the day, and I was in the middle of a fine Carolina Bird Club meeting in Southern Pines, North Carolina. It was over two days of enjoying old friends and new acquaintances while immersing ourselves in the search for birds. I hope to show some pictures of it here, soon.
Antreville Wedding, Abbeville Bricks
Officiating a wedding is one of the most under-appreciated functions that a pastor can perform. It’s not that way every time, obviously, but parents with money and families of society tend to view the church sanctuary as their private gazebo and the clergy as a noisy part of the chancel furniture. Wedding policies, in their minds, are for people without enough extroverted gumption to circumvent or ignore them. Mention of God is tolerated, just as long as it is clear that the bride is the center of attention and the reason we are all here. The fact that I don’t allow such nonsense to prevail in weddings that I lead keeps me safely away from the gates of society’s plush boundary. And I’m pretty okay with that, except for some sadness for those who can’t realize the loud emptiness of what they call the good life. But even when the pastor doesn’t gently redirect the parents’ misguided wishes, appreciation is low. As soon as the pastor dismisses the congregation to the reception, he or she is then dismissed from further thought by the wedding’s party. There is no intent to develop relationship with the church, but mainly pragmatic recognition that the church is bigger than the clubhouse, prettier than the Moose Lodge, and less expensive than either. (This discussion is primarily true for non-church members; members whose children get married in the church are generally better, and those occasions are great blessings.)
But that’s not what I wanted to write about. (How long has that been brewing?!) I got to attend a wedding this past weekend, and it was fun. A cousin was married at Shiloh United Methodist Church in Antreville, where I was raised, so it was a nice little homecoming for me. I saw people who were my Sunday School teachers when I was a kid and a high school friend I had not seen since high school. Cousins came from Tennessee and Charleston and Hilton Head, and I got to sit in the pew and be one of them.
The wedding accomplished, we stood under the old cedar trees where the men used to smoke between Sunday School and preaching, and caught up with each other. Then we drove to Abbeville. Here’s a photo of some of the gathered cousins, taken inside the Belmont Inn, the site of the reception:
The couple dancing on the porch while wedding party and guests stand around.
To make an odd posting even moreso, let me show you some pictures of bricks. I like bricks, and Abbeville has lots of them.
The Belmont Inn
The Opera House
The Courthouse
The Main Street Square, and old buildings with antique shops
After I drove away and was headed back home toward Lancaster, I remembered that I never spoke to the pastor. He was not the pastor of that church, and I didn’t know him, but I still wanted to say hello. I saw him at the reception, standing with a koozie-wrapped beer bottle and talking to some other guests, but I never broke away from the cousin hilarity to speak. Hmmm. I wonder how he felt about the whole thing. I just hope some folks from the family made him more welcome than I did.
The River
It was a genuine joy to be paddling again. Nothing literary here, just some images and lists of things noticed.
Spring green.
Many fishermen were out in boats. One boat, with two men and a small engine, could not outrun me.
These six balls I pulled out of shoreline trash. They look like a small solar system. I also saw five other basketballs and a volleyball. (Click here for a related posting.)
A dragonfly rode the tip of my bow for a long distance.
A few birds, in random order: Great Blue Herons, Green Heron, Osprey (several), Spotted Sandpipers, Barred Owl, Northern Paurla, Hooded Warbler, Prothonotary Warbler, Blue-gray Gnatcatcher, Double-crested Cormorant, Carolina Chickadee, Barn Swallow, Cliff Swallows, Turkey Vultures, Mourning Dove, Belted Kingfisher, Red-eyed Vireos, White-eyed Vireo.
Looking uphill — the rapids at Landsford Canal.
Many fish were popping the surface all around me below the rapids. I paddled over to some fishermen and asked what they were catching, and one of them said white bass. I don’t know white bass, but he caught one during the minute I was there, and then so did his buddy.
Once while floating slowly in the middle of the river, a snake head appeared in front of the kayak, its body swishing side-to-side behind. I paused to see if it wished to come aboard, but it submerged, apparently continuing its fishing excursion.
Two kayakers drove up as I was ending my trip. As I lifted the Q700X out of the river and placed it on the shore, the man said, “I’ll bet that thing can fly!” “Yes.” They were new to me, so we made introductions. Their boats: Perception Carolina and Wilderness Systems Pamlico. We were all using the same paddle, though: Werner Camino. As they drifted away downstream, I wanted to be back out there with them.
