2.2.2026 – library closed

library closed
fines accrued during closure
will be forgiven

Watching the weekend weather, all the maps showed the cold and wet and snow swoop down out of the north … and come up short of our little corner of South Carolina.

That was close enough for most Government offices and businesses down here.

I got a number of emails and texts

And on Saturday afternoon some sort of visible precipitation started to fall, emergency emails and text messages poured into my phone.

 As temperatures fall below freezing tonight, melt water may freeze and create icy spots on paved surfaces such as bridges and overpasses, primary and secondary roads, parking lots, sidewalks and driveways. Black ice is difficult to see and distinguish from dry surfaces. The deceptive nature of black ice can catch you unaware while you are driving or walking, causing you to lose control of your motor vehicle or to slip and fall.

And

Motorists are urged to use extreme caution, especially on roads that are less traveled, shaded areas, bridges, and overpasses, where ice may not be visible.

They talk an awful lot about ‘black ice’ down south and most locals will say that from birth they are told to stay away from the dread ‘black ice’.

I am convinced that the locals are convinced that if they drive on black ice, the car blows up.

But we got out.

The coffee shop we drove to … was closed.

Roads we wanted to use … were blocked.

We got to the library to see the building all dark and a sandwich board outside the front door saying that due to the weather, the library was closed.

We drove around back to use the drive-thru book return to see that THE BOOK RETURN was closed due to weather.

Now that was something new.

Never had I seen weather so bad that library books couldn’t be returned.

Not to worry though, as the sign said, fines accrued during closure will be forgiven.

WOW.

I was shocked.

And reminded of the time I was working with a sweet little lady name Rose at the Cascade Branch of the Kent District library.

A patron came in with an unusual hard cover red bound book and engaged Rose in a long conservation about overdue books, damaged books and late fees.

I listened but stayed out of the conversation and let Rose handle the whole thing.

The patron explained and they talked and the patron explained and Rose listened.

The patron smiled and explained and Rose listened.

I kept to myself and just stayed out of it.

The conversation wound down as did the Patron and Rose took the red bound book, walked over to the cash register and rang up an amount and the patron paid up and left.

At the end of the library day, we would close the doors and do some clean up, straighten chairs and wait for whoever was in charge to finish closing up.

We would all end up in the back room by the door and we would chat for a few minutes.

With everyone else in a group standing there, including Diane, the wonderful Library Director, I asked, “Rose, what was the deal with that lady’s book?”

“OH,” said Rose, “Her kids got a bird guide and then left it out on their back deck in the rain.”

“What did she say she did?” I asked (all so innocent).

“OH,” said Rose, “She said the binding fell apart so she took it to a rare book dealer to be rebound.”

Hence the bright red hardbound cover of this ordinally paper bound bird book.

“Gosh,” says I, “what did she say that cost?”

By now everyone on the staff knew I was up to something and were waiting to hear this through.

“OH,” said Rose, “She said it cost $30 to be rebound and it took a while, so it was late.”

“Wow,” I said, letting that sink in.

Then I said …

“Rose … how much of a fine did you charge her?”

“Oh,” said Rose, “$4.00.”

Rose, that poor sweet lady, looked all confused as everyone broke out laughing and Diane looked at me, shaking her head with one hand over her mouth.

“Well,” said Rose, “she maxed out. $4.00 was the most I could get.”

12.18.2025 – hello, sun in my face

hello, sun in my face
watch, now, how I start day in
happiness, kindness

Hello, sun in my face.
Hello, you who make the morning
and spread it over the fields
and into the faces of the tulips
and the nodding morning glories,
and into the windows of, even, the
miserable and the crotchety—

best preacher that ever was,
dear star, that just happens
to be where you are in the universe
to keep us from ever-darkness,
to ease us with warm touching,
to hold us in the great hands of light—
good morning, good morning, good morning.

Watch, now, how I start the day
in happiness, in kindness.

WHY I WAKE EARLY in Devotions: The Selected Poems of Mary Oliver by Mary Oliver (Penguin Press: New York, 2017).

This was the moments before the sun came up out of the Atlantic Ocean today, December 18, 2025. One of the shortest days of the year.

I go from fighting with the morning traffics where everyone who has to be to work on 7 am, tries to makes over the bridge and through the woods of Hilton Head Island even though there are only two roads.

The fun part is that for about a half mile before it splits, the road is 5 lanes wide and closes down to two lanes either side of the split.

There are all of us who work on the island and then there are those poor visitors who think they had driven hours to leave the woes of traffic behind.

I do feel sorry for them as I yell at them to get out of my way.

Then off to the left on the little used Cross Island Parkway and all at once I am on the Cross Island Bridge with the only view available on the island because any island in the low country … is FLAT and covered with trees.

And off to my left is the Atlantic Ocean and 1,000s of miles of nothing and the sky and the rising sun.

Best preacher that ever was,

Dear star, that just happens

to be where you are in the universe

to keep us from ever-darkness,

to ease us with warm touching,

to hold us in the great hands of light—

good morning, good morning, good morning.

Watch, now, how I start the day, in happiness, in kindness.

Quite a transformation for the scant miles and few minutes of just a little bit ago.

12.4.2025 – but what is it then

but what is it then
that is here, here in this world,
and … and yet not here?

But what is it then that sits in my heart,
that breathes so quietly, and without lungs—
that is here, here in this world, and yet not here?

Book of Time #7 as published in The Leaf and Cloud by Mary Oliver (Da Capo: New York, 2000)

Park road at Sunset on Pinckney Island, November 2025

The sunset is within 30 days of its lowest point on the horizon and it’s just before 5pm.

The sun shine off to one side and the road curves away.

Here and not yet here.

There is a silence that breathes so quietly and without lungs.

The park closes at 5 p.m.

Well.

The park closes at sunset and today, that is 5 p.m.

The park closes at sunset and the park closes at 5 p.m. both are correct.

They say that the gates will open when you approach from the park side after hours.

But have never wanted to test out this theory.

As the Sheriff in Fort Myers, Florida said about crime after Hurricane Helene, “We have a very active natural night life that discourages after hours looting.”

Time to go.

12.1.2025 – will bring you big things

will bring you big things
the colors of dawn-morning
beauty of rose leaves

Sunrise – Dawn over Skull Creek, SC

A Wooing

I will bring you big things:
Colors of dawn-morning,
Beauty of rose leaves,
And a flaming love.

But you say
Those are not big things,
That only money counts.

Well,
Then I will bring you money.
But do not ask me
For the beauty of rose leaves,
Nor the colors of dawn-morning,
Nor a flaming love.

The collected poems of Langston Hughes by Langston Hughes, , 1902-1967 (New York : Knopf, 1994)

11.30.3035 – mystery of trees

mystery of trees
and water and all living
things borrowing time

Salt Marsh on Pinckney Island, SC at Sunset, Nov 28, 2025

They used to say we’re living on borrowed
time but even when young I wondered
who loaned it to us? In 1948 one grandpa
died stretched tight in a misty oxygen tent,
his four sons gathered, his papery hand
grasping mine. Only a week before, we were fishing.
Now the four sons have all run out of borrowed time
while I’m alive wondering whom I owe
for this indisputable gift of existence.
Of course time is running out. It always
has been a creek heading east, the freight
of water with its surprising heaviness
following the slant of the land, its destiny.
What is lovelier than a creek or riverine thicket?
Say it is an unknown benefactor who gave us
birds and Mozart, the mystery of trees and water
and all living things borrowing time.
Would I still love the creek if I lasted forever?

Debtor by Jim Harrison as published in Songs of Unreason (Copper Canyon Press; 2011).

What is lovelier than a creek or riverine thicket?
Say it is an unknown benefactor who gave us
birds and Mozart, the mystery of trees and water
and all living things borrowing time.

Walking on Pinckney Island, the day after Thanksgiving at stopped at this spot, looking west, where I have stopped hundreds of times.

I have stopped hundreds of times but I have never stopped time other than by capturing a moment using the phone on my camera.

Back it the day, it might have been called a still shot, I guess from the painters, still life.

Nothing about this picture is really still.

The tide is moving the water out at 6 knots.

The Sun is spinning away at 1,000 miles per hour.

The earth tips 1 degree north of south each day depending on the season.

The clouds and marsh grass move with the wind.

Everything is in motion.

All by accident.

No Artificial intelligence.

No photoshop.

Say it is an unknown benefactor who gave us
birds and Mozart, the mystery of trees and water
and all living things borrowing time.

I might have captured the moment but the time is borrowed.