Music Monday: All those pretty people

Fall always seems to arrive in an instant.  Even though I know by the calendar it has to be near, that first chill of the season still catches me a bit by surprise.  But it's a good surprise, like an unexpected visit from a cherished old friend.  It leaves me smiling.

For the first time in several years, or so it seems, we've actually had about three solid weeks of what I would consider fall weather.  Temps mostly in the 70's during the day and 40's or 50's at night.  We decided to take in some of the fall colors this weekend, knowing the leaves won't be much longer.

At one of the scenic overlooks, someone spotted a couple of hawks across the valley.  Watching intently, I soon noticed a few others.  And then, even more.  At one point, I counted more than twenty of the majestic creatures circling overhead.

It was stunning.

As they glided effortlessly and without a sound, I stood and watched for several minutes, feeling small, and in complete awe.

Getting closer to nature and a little father from everything else always serves to ground me a bit.  And I'm left to wonder why I don't do it more often...

For some unbeknownst reason, I had this particular song stuck in my head the whole day, to the apparent dismay of some in my party. (I'm amazed at how effortlessly I can sometimes conjure up dismay.  It's a gift, really.)  Anyhow, Kenny Chesney recently brought this song into the pop-country mainstream.  But I'm kinda partial to Charlie Robison's original version.  It's a little grittier.



So what are you listening to lately?

"Did you hear the ocean singing? Baby, did you sing along, as you danced over the water to some old forgotten song? Or were you even here at all?"

Wayfaring stranger

The prodigal blogger has returned.  He who was lost hath been restored to the ninety and nine.  So if you happen to be a shepherd, you should probably be rejoicing about now.  And if you're a father who has a son in his late thirties who's been missing for a few weeks, then by all means make a feast and kiss me.  On second thought, the feast will do just fine.

I sorely miss writing.  And hope to return to it on a much more frequent basis soon.  In the meantime, I have pictures!

October afforded me one more trip to the beach, where I kissed summer good-bye.  At least, I think that was her name. 

Isn't she beautiful?

Then this past weekend, we ventured over to the Little River Canyon area in northeast Alabama.  There we visited Little River Falls: 

The above picture is not Little River Falls.  Had it been, I probably would have been more than a bit disappointed after making that trek.  Also, if you look closely, I'm holding a cell phone in my hand as a point of reference, lest you think me a Philistine.

Fortunately, we did manage to locate Little River Falls a bit later.  I decided not to get as close to the edge of this one:

The afternoon consisted of lots of driving and a bit of hiking.  The trees, near the height of their autumn brilliance, combined with the waterfalls and sheer drops of the cliff walls provided a perfect backdrop for both.  Even though quite a few people were out, there were a couple of times when I could hear nothing but the rushing of the river below.  Absolute peace.

There was one sign which dubbed the area the Grand Canyon of the South.  And to think I'd never been there before, even though it's only a couple hours away.  Sometimes I think we tend to overlook the tourist attractions nearest to us.

I was hopeful of happening upon the remains of an old, abandoned theme park I'd read about which resided in the area many years ago, called Canyon Land.  You know my fascination with defunct theme parks.  It's even greater than my fascination with defunct relationships.  Unfortunately, Google can only get you so far -- in either endeavor --and I was unable to find it.  If I can get a bit more information on its exact location, it would definitely be worth another trip someday.

For now, it's just good to be back in the fold.

"Farewell, my summer love, farewell.  Girl, I won't forget you..."