I hold you

I was missing Dagny on Monday night, having not seen her all day.

So Audrey, goosed by my text, went into Dagny's room.

Where, although she'd been put to bed, the baby was not even close to asleep.

It had only been a few minutes.

This is what ensued.

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Happy Wednesday

The struggle was real

Several weeks ago we all traipsed out -- yet again -- to Peak.

This was before it got so hot here.

These days, a five-minute sortie into the back yard to point the hose at some flowers calls for a half-hour lie-down in a cool, dark room.

But on that soft late-spring evening we yearned for fresh air and exercise in rare and rustic environs.

Dagny, like most children, upon feeling the boards under her feet, sets off at a trot.

The 1100-foot-long truss-style Harry Easterling Bridge over the Broad River -- a major feature of the Peak to Prosperity Passage on the Palmetto Trail -- suspends one between sky and water while providing spectacular views.

Sometimes there are bald eagles flying in the area. So far, not while we've been there.

One can only hope. I always pack my long lens, so as to be ready.

Here's something I did capture.

I don't like spiders any more than the next person but one must admit, their architectural acumen is impressive.

There's lots of human-made graffiti on the steel supports. Tonto. Bubba.

I'm probably not supposed to -- and I would never be so crass as to add to the collection -- but my guilty secret is that as long as the contributors keep it wholesome, I like the writing.

I guess that's just the cowgirl photographer in me.

Following the lead of lock-loving walkers at the Lake Murray dam, folks have begun adding decorative and meaningful padlocks to the bridge's fencing.

Some mark time. Others get right to the point.

A young woman who works at my dentist's office got engaged out on this bridge. Her name is Hilary. I don't believe padlocks were involved, but a bargain was struck and she's gone from bridge to bride.

Long ago -- one hundred-fifty springtimes back, give or take -- Confederate soldiers burned this bridge so that Sherman's Yankee troops couldn't use it.

The old stone supports still lie in the water, which was low enough at the time of our excursion, you could see them.

The old bridge and the sky and the passing water have seen lots of things. Many struggles and more than their share of joys.

Lots of sunsets, a steady stream of hopeful lovers, numerous shutterbugs, and hundreds of laughing, running, wondering children.

Speaking of children, you can't tell from these photos but Dagny was a trifle under the weather that evening. She had some sniffles and became whiny in a relatively short amount of time.

She's heavy to hold and heavier to carry. Audrey had done her fair share of it and handed the baby to Papaw.

Dagny wasn't happy with that development. She wanted to be in the arms of her mother.

In fact, she became the picture of insistent unrequited yearning. Reaching, squirming, gesturing, brow furrowed, already-dark eyes clouded with dismay.

We laughed -- gently, lovingly -- at her discomfiture. It's true what they say: The struggle is real. The heart wants what it wants.

In answer, in acceptance, and in its God-granted timeless wisdom, the old river kept on flowing to where the sky reaches down through the trees to hold its hand.

It was dark when we got home. Now we have these memories, and the togetherness that made them possible.

And that is all for now.

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Happy Monday :: Happy Week

Beyond the pail

I found this these on Amazon:

And laughed so hard, I took a screenshot. Just to share it with you.

Pales in comparison, said Erica when I showed it them to her.

What a card.

And that is all for now.

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Happy Friday :: Happy Father's Day Weekend

Birthday girl

Happy Second Birthday

to

Dagny Clare

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Happy Tuesday

D-Day plus seventy-two

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My daughter visited Normandy, France, in 2005.

She stood on the cliffs overlooking Omaha Beach. She knelt beside the marble crosses of the American Cemetery at Colleville-sur-Mer.

June 6, 1944 was a day of impressive, world-changing victory for the American military and the Allied Forces.

Audrey brought this figurine back from France, as a gift for me. It depicts the joy with which American soldiers were greeted on the day France was liberated at such great cost.

Our daughter wept when she described, to her father and me, the things she had seen and felt at Normandy.

As an American, I'm overwhelmed by the sacrifices made for me, even many years before I was born, and continuing around the world today.

I'm tired of mentally-challenged liberal nitwits apologizing for America. She is the greatest nation ever to grace the soil of Planet Earth.

She is exceptional in every way -- not least, and to the everlasting detriment of innocent multitudes, in the exceptional stupidity of her current "leaders."

It's been said before but I'm going to say it again:

If you don't like the United States of America -- if you do not treasure all that she stands for, if you refuse to accept all that she represents, if you cannot bring yourself to gratefully acklnowledge all that she has given to the world -- then by all means, leave.

You won't be missed.

And that is all for now.

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Happy Monday :: Happy Week :: God Bless America