The Cedar Glade...

is what it was always called.  Mostly cedar, pine and few hardwoods grew here on the rocky side of the ridge.  Before the tornado you could not see the sky line well.  Now it looks bare to me.

 Seeing the top of the ridge is something new in my lifetime.

Years before my memory Dad and Mom had goats

 on this hill side keeping the underbrush clear.

  The briers make it almost impossible to walk.

Here lie the roots of an ancient cedar torn up by the tornado but the loggers were able to save it for lumber.  Much they could not for if a tree is twisted so will the lumber tend to twist.

You can see the healed twist in this small tree.

Many cedars could not be used for lumber

but can be split for fence posts

A pair of Osage Orange or Bodark trees

 One gone one twisted and split but still living. 

Supposed to be the best tree for making bows.

It is sad to see the destruction 

but the tiny cedar trees are growing again.

In sixty years you'll never know the damage that was here.

Returning from my walk

A frost bitten vinca tries to convince me its spring.

Twelve Inches Is Too Much...

except when it's a foot! (I know, that's bad!)  

Rain...the ponds are full, the creeks are flowing, the grass is even trying to grow.  At least, it wasn't all at once, that's our four rain total...for the week.  Water gates to clear, washes to fill, mud to sink into...fun At The Farm.

Mushrooms and toad stools come to life,

and the flowers rejoice.

The sun's light in a blue sky

reflects from fowl,

 winging their way to warmer climes.

After The Rain...

the earth breathes a sigh of contentment.