I found a Space Pebble in my library book

So, I was at the library the other day and I chose a book because it had the word "moon" in the title.
Keeping the Moon by Sarah Dessen.
My sweet little old rascally boy absolutely loves the moon and stars so even though the book was for me to read to myself (and not to him) the title caught my eye.
That evening, with my boy settled in his crib snoozing and my husband settled on the couch watching TV, I settled myself at the kitchen counter with a heaping bowl of Grape Nuts cereal and blueberry yogurt and I began to read Keeping the Moon.
Munch, munch, read.
Read, read, munch.
Suddenly, I stopped mid-sentence & mid-munch.
I'm on page 7 and Colie, the coming-of-age teenager in Keeping the Moon, is eating Grape Nuts & yogurt!

Whoa!
Wow!
Huh?

Maybe it isn't so bizarre as it seemed to me at the time. But, come on, I've never heard of this author, never heard of this book which I picked from the shelf for no other reason than the word "moon" in the title and then as soon as I start to read it I'm eating the very same somewhat odd-ball, health-freak food as the book's main character?
Yes, yes, it is bizarre, too.
But also pretty cool.
And Keeping the Moon turned out to be one of the best reads I've had in quite a while, by the way.

That's bull

Two years from now, this herd may or may not be relocated. A new elementary school is slated for construction here but an alternate site is also under consideration. I don't think these guys really care, though, as long as they've got grass & hay to eat, a full water trough and plenty of room to roam and drop piles o poop.

The sunset stands alone

Though I'm writing a few words here, the brilliance of the setting sun composes its own poem ... at least it does for those able to look into the sky and quietly allow the unspoken beauty to etch an imprint on their souls.
In the early and mid-1990s I worked at a child care center that had a bank of windows all along the front of the building allowing for a wide-open and clear view of the setting sun each day. Whenever the sky offered a particularly spectacular display, I would point it out to the children who would always be duly impressed. Their parents, however, upon arrival to fetch their offspring, had never noticed the beautiful gift set before them as they drove to the center and most -- if given a "heads up" to the setting sun by a child or myself -- didn't care to pause even for the briefest moment to absorb the healing power of nature's wonder.
It baffled me then and it still does...that so few appreciate such a wondrous (and free) display.


Limestone County -- my favorite spot to view the sunset at Holt-Springer & Ezell roads.

Lauderdale County -- right at the spot where the Elk River meets the Tennesse.

Athens -- above the houses right across the street from my house. I took this one from my front porch just before rocking my toddler to sleep. He likes to reach his little hand up and say "kye!"

Limestone County -- Davis Road, where I grew up.

Ditto.

How this mountain did arise

Space Pebble Mountain.
What a flaky title, huh?
Well, yeah, kinda. Unless you know the backstory.
Having that info will make it seem even more flaky for some.
There are others, though, who will get it...who might even dredge from their own memories some place(s), some thing(s), some tiny wedge(s) in time - their very own Space Pebble Moment(s).

We were a motley crew in our late teens with our lives stretched promising before us.
We could do anything. We could be anybody.
Someday.
Someday.
Some Day.

We often gathered on the river's edge at a spot of which very few were aware.
We dreamed.
We planned.
We imagined all the wonderful somedays to come.

Each moment, each new epiphany, we held in our hands for just a moment, like a magical, mystical pebble snatched clean and fresh from space. We imagined our space pebbles piling up just below our bluff until they created an island rising up from the water.

We dubbed our imaginary island of youthful inspiration Space Pebble Mountain.

Twenty years have gone by since then and most of us have settled into lives of quiet conformity.

Sometimes, though, I still remember exactly how it felt; the awesome wonder inherent in the youthful imaginings of what lies ahead on life's long road.

Somehow, though, for most people, this wonder, this freedom gets swallowed up in adulthood; lost under the weight of real-world responsibilities.

So here I am, indulging my mind with memories piled high as Space Pebble Mountain.

Lately, as I rush about from here to there, caring for my family, shopping, cooking, cleaning, working, I've begun allowing myself to slow down...to see the space pebbles all around me still...that beautiful sunset, that tangle of tree branches against those dramatic twilight clouds, that tenacious clump of grass emerging from that meandering crack in the sidewalk, and so on.

And you know what?
I've discovered that I'm still just as free as I was back then.

My spirited, happy, creative inner 19 still exists even if my driver's license does say I'll soon be physically 40.

It's not about the trappings of adulthood.
It's about whether you get lost in those trappings and thus lose the ability to appreciate the beautiful things in life.
From the obvious beauty of a spectacular sunset to much more subtle beauties like the pride in a toddler's voice when he announces he's done his "bi-niss" (um, can we say "time to potty train?") every day I'm finding wondrous new space pebbles all around.

Yesterday...

Yesterday, the sky spent the day in a threatening smash of gray on gray.

But here

was a bright red leaf
that didn't care a lick about the gray skies or the
threat of rain to come.