My head is spinning. I am weary. Looking up reminds me of bigger things. NASA is celebrating the 25th Anniversary of the Chandra X-Ray observatory by releasing 25 never-before-seen views of a wide range of cosmic objects.

The second Saturday in July around these parts means a day of shape note singing at the John C. Campbell Folk School, which sits near the junction of North Carolina, Georgia, and Tennessee. It’s just down the road from here.

. . . my mother brought forth, upon this continent, a new four-pound-eight-ounce preemie: me. I arrived kicking and screaming, and pretty much haven’t stopped since. To shut me up, they popped me into an incubator and didn’t let me out for a month. My mildly deformed feet prompted the doctor to warn my family to keep their expectations low. “She may never walk,” he said.

My husband and I recently visited Rabun County, Georgia, home to the Foxfire Museum. Appropriately, it's a little hard to find using GPS, but a paper map will take you right to it. Even if you aren't familiar with the original project, the books, or the magazine, take the time to check it out.

It's been a while since I've posted two Nature Nuggets in one month, but I just couldn't resist! This one comes from my friend, Chris Helzer, who works for The Nature Conservancy in Nebraska. If you like this excerpt, check out his blog at https://prairieecologist.com/.

What a fun afternoon at the Elf School in Clay County, North Carolina! Kanute Rarey, founder of the Mountain Area Storytellers, invited three local authors to read some of our works during the Grand Opening celebration at the Elf School of the Arts, an artist residency focusing on photography, printmaking, jewelry, weaving, book arts, painting, music, and writing.

It’s such a treat to live in the mountains! I glanced outside early this morning and didn’t pay much attention to the doe hanging around just outside the window. She’s there often and is good company for our two dachshunds. But an hour or so later I did a double-take when I saw a wobbly-legged fawn enjoying its first drink. I can’t ever get a decent picture through a window screen, but suffice it to say, it looked much like this Image by -Rita-👩‍🍳 und 📷 mit ❤ from Pixabay. I’m tickled the wildlife is so comfortable with us, and I’m really glad we put a fence around our garden.

My good friend, Lyn Messersmith, authored today’s guest blog and graciously granted me permission to share. It appeared in her weekly newspaper column, The Lay of the Land, way back in 2014. I found it in an old box of clippings and I think it is still timely today.

We had quite a storm here over Memorial Day weekend. I’m grateful we fared better than those poor souls in other parts of the country, where a tornado outbreak wreaked terrible damage that cost lives and destroyed homes. My heart goes out to those families.

One of my short stories is featured in the Six-Minute Stories podcast on the Personal Stories Publishing Project website. Fit To Be Tied is the true story of an adventure that befell me while working on assignment as a newspaper reporter. The story also appears in Now or Never, the tenth anthology in the collection, released in March 2024. (Publisher Randell Jones did a great job reading my story. I neglected to tell him how to pronounce "Niobrara," so for those unfamiliar with the river, it is pronounced "NIGH-oh-BRER-ah" with the "BRER" rhyming with “chair.")

Where were YOU on May 18, 1980? I was at home in Hauser Lake, Idaho, building a pig pen. I noticed what appeared to be a big thunderstorm moving in from the west. But by midday, it got dark enough that the street light on the road by my house turned on. I remembered hearing daily news briefs about Mt. St. Helens' recent stirrings.

Today is National Nurses Day. A flash across my screen this morning reminded me of the many people for whom I am grateful. I’ve recently had several medical appointments and encountered many more health professionals than I normally do. Their knowledge, efficiency, and patience continually amaze me. They even broke through my unreasonable fear of needles to extract blood without me passing out.

Please take care of it.

Today's blog is a guest post from my friend, Pam Bergstrom, National Technical Assistance Agroforester who works for the Nebraska Forest Service  and the Natural Resources Conservation Service in Lincoln, Nebraska. She shared these thoughts in one of her newsletters, and granted me permission to share it.

Lucky me! Two of my three entries in the Cherokee/Clay Senior Games Literary Arts competition medaled. Mad Max won gold in the short story category, and Honoring and Honored at the Rosebud Wacipi took silver. My third entry, Alone, Invisible, and Forgotten, didn’t medal, but placed fourth in the essay category. Thanks to my fellow Ridgeline Writers members for your constructive critiques!

Today would have been my dad's one-hundredth birthday. In his honor, later this month I will launch his book: Dear Folks—Letters Home 1943-1946, World War II.

Clouds rolled in just as the partial eclipse began in North Carolina. But they held a silver lining. I sat in the yard, felt the temperature drop, and listened to the birds (and a few crickets) as they reacted to the diminished daylight. The cloud cover waxed and waned, obscuring the sun to varying degrees. At a certain point between blinding and invisible, I stole a few quick glances and observed the phenomenon without safety glasses. Foolish, I know, but at my age I take a few risks. It was amazing. Still, I’m glad I witnessed totality during the 2017 eclipse, shown here in my picture as it passed over Nebraska.

I’ve been trying to round out my reading list with several of the “classics” that I somehow passed over during my school years. Most of the books have been wonderful reads, but this one was tough. I checked out Homer’s Iliad from the library, and it took me two full weeks to wade through it.