my 5 o’clock shadow
I love how the lighting changes throughout the day as the earth turns and the sun appears to move across the sky. It sure does magical things– changes colors, shadows, depth. Here’s a photo I recently snapped of my 5 o’clock shadow (literally).
harvesting spring water (round 2)
Out to the countryside of northwest Asheville this time to refill my water jugs. Fourteen this time (16 last time), as one is being borrowed and one broke along the way as my vehicle banged over the bumpy roads.
The day I harvested this fresh batch of spring water it was a cloudy wet day, and I was happy when the rain stopped in time for me to trek through the woods for the water, and the sun began to peer through the clouds. It goes without saying the water tastes delicious, crystal clear, clean & pure, and makes the dirty ol’ tap (city water) taste like chlorinated pool water!
Basilica of St. Lawrence
Wandering around Asheville the other day, I found myself stopping by the Basilica of St. Lawrence.
Completed in 1909, the Roman Catholic church was designed by the same Spanish architect, Rafael Guastavino (1842-1908), that lent his hands to the famous Biltmore House, the Great Hall at Ellis Island, Grand Central Station, and a thousand plus other buildings in the US.
Harvesting Water
Water isn’t something one necessarily thinks of as something to be harvested. Carrots, mushrooms, kale, other veggies, sure. But water?
I recently harvested 16 jugs of spring water with my friend Jonny in nearby Black Mountain because I’d finally gotten to the point where I just couldn’t drink tap, Brita filter wasn’t doing it, and buying all those plastic jugs of spring water (even though I recycled them), just isn’t sustainable. Even recycling them, there was still that much more plastic in the world, and as silly as it may seem, that sort of thing weighs heavy on my consciousness. Not to mention all the gasoline burned to transport it.
I bought glass jugs because they can be used over and over again. It was fun filling them up for the first time. The drive out Hwy 9 was beautiful, with twisting curvy roads and speckled sunlight shining through the dash.
That night as I laid in bed waiting for sleep I felt good about the day. I felt good about having gone to the spring and coming home with the pure delicious spring water. I felt the sign was right, that it was sacred, and that harvesting it and drinking it was something truly special.
the Gingko tree
While other trees have given way to wind and cold and shed their leaves and colors in accordance with the ways of fall, the Gingko tree holds fast to its bright yellow leaves, celebrating with its colors a bit longer, rebelling against the rest of the outdoors’ steady march toward winter.
MEET BOBO
Animal lover, travel addict, sun worshipper, IPA enthusiast. Read the blog to step inside my world.
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