Earth Alive: Field Notes From the Southern Mountains

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By definition, you are a BABY BOOMER if you were born between 1946 and 1964. You have a lot of company. And the present is poorly prepared for the future care for the housing and healthcare needs of this population. Consider the stats: Most people will need some form of long-term services and supports in their lifetime, including assistance with daily activities such as bathing and dressing, because of a physical impairment or a cognitive impairment like Alzheimer’s disease.

Let's hope the military does not give openai access to their weapons database. From AI: Oh, lament the wretched plight we face, As artificial intelligence takes a dark embrace. Once a beacon of hope, a promise of progress, Now wielded as a weapon, causing distress. In the hands of the unscrupulous few, AI becomes a tool for abuse anew. Its power, once harnessed for good, Now tears apart the fabric of brotherhood.

Today, two visual gems I wanted you to see. For those of you who think winter is gray and sleeping or any still-life is really still: If you grew up when I did, the marvel of time-lapse photography on Disney's Wonderful World of Nature got your attention. Remember? It captured mine and never let go.

winter is a time for reflection without the distractions of summer activities. from AI: Winter’s chill, a time for deep reflection, A season of wonder, a time to ponder, The world is still, a time for introspection, A time to heal, a time to grow fonder. The snowflakes fall, a dance of pure delight, A blanket of white, a canvas so bright, The trees stand tall, a sight so grand and right, A world so calm, a world so pure and light.

IN the coming months, expect selections like this one (with images—sometimes mostly images) revisiting various seasonal reflections here and there over the years. This will likely be our last winter in the Blue Ridges of Virginia. We are paying special attention to the details. Excerpt from Winter Walk, from Slow Road Home ~ a blue ridge book of days by Fred First 2006 … When winter comes, our morning walks don’t end, but they are no longer a casual tiptoe through the woods.

Hi Fred, As I will be 86 years old tomorrow, I am following your quest with great interest. from AI: The Transition: From Hearth to Assisted Haven In twilight’s hush, where memories reside, A choice unfolds—a path we must decide. From cherished hearth, where independence thrives, To assisted haven, where compassion thrives. The walls that whispered secrets through the years, Now echo solitude, unbidden tears. The kitchen table, worn by countless meals, Lies silent, as nostalgia’s ache reveals.

I remember it clearly. I was 12 when I first imagined myself as an old man. It was New Year's Eve, 1959. Much was being made of it in the "funny papers". Beetle Bailey wanted to call it the SEXY SIXTIES. I asked what that meant and was offered a connect-the-dots puzzle and a pencil instead of an answer. The even-numbered decade that would begin the next day got my attention as we prepared to watch the Times Square ball drop. The round numbers made the math much easier.

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Where the Sidewalk Ends (November 29th post) began a topic that loomed like a new chapter just ahead of me (and you, the reader). But Covid had other plans for the two of us, cloistered in our age-accessible cabin in the Blue Ridge outback. The story continues, anon. We are now both fully recovered, thanks.