Train whistles in the south in the a.m. hours

We live in the south, albeit not the deep south. Our south is the mountains, the Appalachian south, the Allegheny range view where on a hazy day, no matter what season, your view is a soft gray-blue combination of mountains and lonely. I can see why so many people find the mountains to be mystic, full of secrets and things that are beyond normal comprehension. They're beautiful, but they don't look inviting. If you go for a drive in the middle of a sunny day, it's dark and cool in the higher elevations, and it becomes very easy to lose your sense of time and direction. I was brought up by someone from the mountains, my father being from way back in the hills in Tennessee. I believe that melancholy plays a significant role in the hills. While I'm not melancholy in general, perhaps that is where I get my hint of the melancholy every now and then, and it manifests in my reaction to some sounds and smells.

We live not far from the railroad. It's not in our backyard or anything like that. You can't hear the train going through, chugging down the tracks at all. But what I do hear, particularly in the late summer evenings or the early summer mornings before dawn, is that long, soft-as-cashmere whistle that emanates from the train as it passes through the railroad crossing. Throw in some honeysuckle on a breeze, and suddenly the world stops for a few seconds while I live in the moment. It is the utter culmination of reaching the point of total relaxation, even if for just a few seconds. I feel my body tune itself towards the sound, and I breathe. There is nothing quite like it. I listen for it daily before the sun ever debuts. It has been part of my morning routine for over twenty years. 

Meanwhile, in the yard, lots of color is popping out all over. Yellow coreopsis and Siberian blue irises are in full swing. These will last for a couple more weeks, then the irises will be done for the year. The coreopsis will bloom periodically up through autumn. It's nice to walk out the back door and see these happy golden flowers! 

The front porch is ready for ice tea, tomato sandwiches, a box fan and chit-chat or reading. Now, we just have to get warm enough to utilize it. Looks like next weekend will be in the 80s, so I suspect the mornings will be perfect for some time out there with a book. Plenty of that to come in the near future, I hope. I do have some red and white checked bunting that will be put up around the banisters next weekend. That will add a bit of pizzazz for summer, which will be here in about five weeks. 

Look at Bunny! Isn't she fabulous?! Yesterday afternoon was a tad cloudy, but it was warm-ish (well, I had to wear a jacket later in the day, but . . . still better than freezing). We spent some time outside with Bunny and babies, part of our weekend routine. Bunny would live outdoors if we would let her, but it's not allowed. She's only outside under supervision to keep her safe. Other than that, she's required to be inside. As you can see, she's a very good girl.

And here is Bunny with her babies, all looking out the front door, wondering "why aren't we out there?!!" This little crew loves being outside. Unless the weather is terrible, they get to go out at least once a day, twice a day on the weekends. Bunny is second from the left. Look how her babies are outgrowing her! 

We finally head into warmer weather this week, so I made pasta salad yesterday, old school style with Dukes mayo, vinegar and just a hint of sugar and salt, fresh onion, peas and carrots, and cheese diced up. Refrigerated overnight, it will be eaten cold with saltine crackers and a slice of tomato. It tastes like spring turning into summer, which, if you are me, that really is a thing. Train whistles, honeysuckle, pasta salad, hazy mountains - all of this is my change of season melancholy. It's lovely, though. It's a good kind of melancholy, it forces me to just "be." I'm not great at that, I move around a lot, I'm too busy for my own good some days. But I have always invested in and been good at celebrating the season with sights, smells and tastes. I hope I never lose that ability; it brings me such joy.

Here's to the next coming season, where the food has flavor, shorts and t-shirts rule the fashion world, and the breeze carries the smells and sounds of life.