Today is Pippin's Third Birthday

My cat Pippin turned three today, and unfortunately I couldn't be with him most of the day, since I had church this morning, and then I was at Berea's Spoonbread Festival all afternoon. I wanted to share with everybody this spring photo I took of him and some flowers from a flowering bush that was hanging over my back deck this past May. Pippin was looking up above my house. He was probably watching a bird or squirrel.



The picture below is a better view of the bush and my big tree beyond. I loved these flowers when they were present. I'm now getting ready for fall.

My Beloved Clown Mask That I Painted and My Poem Honoring It

Back when I was in Humanities class in high school, I was given the assignment of coming up with a mask design, and my first choice was a clown, because I love clowns and I felt that they reflect my inner personality. The mask itself was formed over my face and I painted it afterwards. I have since then placed it on top of a teddy bear graduation bank that I received upon graduating from Berea Community School. My high school graduation cap and previous glasses of mine complete the look. My clown is a bit shabby looking from several falls it had, and the glasses have a loose lens, but I don't mind these imperfections, and I don't think my clown minds either, always smiling. I'm really attached to my clown. My clown is holding his diploma, and I imagine him as the class clown, much like I have made my teachers laugh. In my mind, he is really happy that I treasure him in my life.



Just this summer, I decided to write a poem to honor my clown. I wrote it when my family was away and I was left alone for a week. Writing the poem made me feel better.

An Ode to My Clown

I have a great love for smiles and humor,

And so when I was assigned to paint a mask,
I immediately wanted to paint you, my dear clown.
I knew that painting your face would be a happy task.

It doesn't matter that I painted one eye a bit narrow.

What matters is the big smile on your face.
Although you have suffered several unfortunate falls,
I have picked you up again and held you with grace.

Even with your paint chipped off in several places,
You haven't lost your sense of humor.
You know I will continue to care for you.
My affection for you grows all the more.

Sometimes when I'm upset or lonely, I turn to you.
You remind me so much of my friends who love me.
My friends lead me to smile during our times together,
And we console each other when we feel dreary.

May you and I continue to enjoy our relationship,
And may you bring joy to others as well.
It's been eleven years since I formed you.
May the rest of our years together be just as swell.

I placed the photo and the poem together in the silent auction at Cumberland Dance Week that took place in July, and the finished result proved to be well liked. I loved showing it to my friends and any other people who came by. They were very happy to see my clown and read my poem. Just a few friends of mine bid on the poem, but a couple of those friends wanted it so badly that they kept bidding against each other, and the price of the poem eventually reached $40.00. However, George Paul, the winner of my poem, decided to make a copy to give to Eric Schreiber, so now they are both happy. All the money went to the Lloyd Shaw Scholarship Fund, and I'm happy to support it. Like my poem says, after enjoying being alone with my clown all these years, it's wonderful to be able share my clown with people and let everyone get to know him. My clown's smile does mean a lot.

I'm Trying Out a New Background to My Blog

My blogger has a new feature that lets me choose from a wide variety of backgrounds from my blog post. It has been kind of hard to choose. This bookcase background and a rose background has been two of my favorites. These bookshelves reflect me as a reader and a writer. There are more shelves as you scroll down, making it appear as a super tall bookcase with lots and lots of books. I happen to have several wide bookshelves stacked together with lots and lots of books at my house, since I love to read. Daddy attached them to my walls for me. I look at this background and think of how many real books that I have. I love to write my own stories and poetry, plus draw and take pictures with my camera. I could imagine that these books in the background contain my own writings.

I may try out a different background later. I wanted to see what people think of this.

Remembering My Friend David Witherspoon

On February 18, my family got the very sad news that our friend David Witherspoon had died two days before, at the age of 61. David was Daddy's very best friend, and together they would play Daddy's composed music in the Berea Castoffs band for contra dances. David was also a writer, and I loved e-mailing him my poetry for his review. I grew up knowing David, and thought it was great being friends with another writer. He really liked my writings. David stopped playing music when he had a stroke in 2001 that took away his arm strength for flute playing, though he still managed to teach flute. Sadly, another stroke took his writing skills in 2006, plus removed his ability to even teach flute. Throughout the time I knew him, David lived in the countryside nearby the Great Smoky Mountains, and I loved going hiking with him whenever we got to visit him. David and I both have been really great hikers, and we also liked to just go out and enjoy nature, such as walking to the river that ran nearby his house. It's been years since I'd last went to visit David, but Daddy had just gone to see David last summer, during the time Mommy was away helping my aunt Jennifer recover from surgery. I was resigned to my task of staying home and taking care of our dog Rusty, though I wish I had begged Daddy to let me go with him and visit David. We had no idea how soon David would die.

Daddy and I went to David's memorial service together, right in the middle of a dance weekend Daddy was playing for in Berea. Daddy was given permission to miss the daytime workshops so we could go down to the memorial service in Pittman Center in Tennessee, near where David had lived. We were lucky enough to have a sunny day so we could be outdoors. I met David's brother Bill Witherspoon, as well as his first wife and his girlfriend. Daddy took the picture below as sections of David's memoir was being read, and it meant a lot to me to hear David's own words talking about his life. We also heard sections from David's novels and poetry book. I would love to read his recently published writings, though it would also make me quite emotional now that he's gone. You can see the instruments of David's jazz musician friends who played at the service. I hadn't even known David had played jazz before he took up the flute. I was fascinated to hear other people's stories about David, while continuing to be sad of course, that David has died. Daddy himself was invited to speak at the end of the service. I couldn't take a picture of him speaking, since he had his camera hung around his shoulder as he spoke. I was glad Daddy was able to speak however, and tell everybody just how much David meant to him.


Daddy and I visited the roadside creek both before and after David's memorial service. I could just imagine David standing with us. The creek was rushing towards the river we had driven alongside earlier. It was very audible during the service itself, and it was nice hearing it while people honored David and read from his writings. In this picture that Daddy took of me after the service, I was holding onto the program for the service, which had a couple of pictures of David on it. One is a boyhood photo of David balancing parrots on his shoulders and head in a parrot jungle in Florida. The other picture is a more familiar picture of David standing on a wooded trail that's likely in the Smoky Mountains. My name tag has a photo of David too, which is not visible in this photograph. I'm keeping the name tag along with the program. It's nice to have these pictures of David.

I have gotten in the habit of writing memorial poetry for those close to me who have died, and I thought it would be appropriate to write a poem for David too. This poem that I wrote a week and a half ago was inspired by a special butterfly I saw at the service.

A Memorial Visit From a Butterfly

By Rachael White

Here I sat at a sunny outdoor service
Memorializing my friend David Witherspoon.
David was a very beautiful flute player,
As well as a writer and nature lover like myself.

At the service’s end, two flutes were being played,
Off to the side and hidden from my view.
I was content just to listen to the flute music,
And observe the peaceful natural surroundings.

As I looked out towards the roadside creek,
A butterfly appeared, diving low before leaving us.
I was probably one of the very few to see it,
Since so many people’s heads were turned away.

Little yellow butterfly, flying free,
If it is indeed David who sent you here,
Can you tell him that I have seen you,
And feel blessed by your presence?

Can you tell him that I will continue to write,
And take walks on outdoor trails?
I believe David’s spirit will be with me,
And I will remember you, my butterfly friend.

I also thought that walking around and photographing nature around my house would be a nice tribute to David, starting back before I wrote the poem. This flower below grew on the far side of my front yard, and by the time I was photographing it, it was starting to show aging, but I thought it was still a nice flower to be in honor of David. The late afternoon sun was shining on it.

The sun had already gone behind houses by the time I took this next picture, but I really wanted to get a picture of this redbud tree framing the front of my house. Even without the sun shining down, I think it looks lovely. The redbud tree is actually on the property of my neighbors Tina and Jason. On the way to David's service in Tennessee, I kept seeing redbuds alongside the highway. Those redbuds gave me comfort as I thought of David and our shared love for nature.

As I returned to my driveway, my cat Pippin decided that he wanted to rest upon the brick pillar that stands at the end of the driveway. It is funny how he has one leg hanging out. My neighbor Elizabeth Crowe's house is shown here, along with her redbud tree.

These flowers were growing in Tina's yard right beside my driveway. They did not last long afterwards, so I'm glad I preserved them in this picture.

It started getting dark, but before I went inside, I took a picture of the sunset nicely framed by the trees from my vantage point on my driveway.

On the day I wrote my poem, I took another walk to inspire me, with my poem freshly on my mind. As I set out on my usual walk around Berea Municipal Utilities, I took this picture of the view in front of me while walking down the hill. I thought the flowering trees looked lovely. The utility building is off to the right, just out of view. The big white building in the background is the Berea Quaker meeting house, with my pastor Kent Gilbert's house beside it. Brushy Fork Creek is running through the trees where the walking path disappears from view.

I took this close-up picture to my right from the same vantage point. I just love this big tree and how the path winds around it.

I walked down to the tree and onto the grass to get this next picture. I wanted to get the beauty of the tree, despite the shed that has been built beside it.

As I reached the other side of Berea Municipal Utilities, I discovered these white flowering bushes growing beside the path.

I got to the creek, which is so much calmer than the creek where David's memorial service was. Once again, I could see water bugs hopping across the surface of the water. I took this picture, where a ripple caused by one of the water bugs is visible in the bottom right corner.

Looking to my right, I could see rosebud blossoms just slightly visible through the bushes.

I got this spring creek view on my left, while standing on the gravel.

Back on the walking path, I found this beautiful spot where I admired these two tree trunks growing together, and the reflection below.

This is another glimpse of the creek from the same vantage point.

I finally stood on the bridge leading to Kent's house and the Quaker meeting house. I took this picture just as my camera battery gave out. Throughout this walk, I thought of feeling David's spirit with me, just as my poem said.

Just as I was walking back uphill towards the end of my walk, I was startled by a blurry movement crossing the sidewalk in front of me. I then discovered that resting on the street beside me was a brown rabbit that had managed to come up to me. I was quite surprised to see that rabbit, and wished my camera still had battery power so I could take a picture of it. I immediately thought of the butterfly at the service, and imagined that this rabbit was another sign from David. The rabbit was with me for just a moment before it hopped across the road and disappeared into the trees. It was my first time to see a rabbit on my walks, and it gave me comfort like the butterfly did. It's nice to have such animal encounters while remembering someone else who loved nature. I had this walk in mind as I went back to my house and worked on my poem some more. I worked hard on my poem before I came up with the finished version above, and I think David would have been proud of me.

David's brother Bill has now read my poem, and he liked it so much that he put it on David's Facebook page. As of right now, I don't know how to get onto that page, even though I'm on Facebook, but it's nice knowing my poem will reach readers who also treasured David as a friend, musician, and writer. I went ahead and put my poem on my own Facebook page as well, as another way to share it. Through both poetry and photography, it's nice to remember David and pay my own honor to him.

Mommy's baby chicks, ducks, and geese

I mentioned in my last post about how Mommy and her fellow first grade teachers at Silver Creek Elementary School hatched chicks, ducklings and goslings in incubators from eggs supplied by our friend Frank Jenkins. We got to keep the new babies overnight the Friday before Easter. I was at my house and got a call from Daddy that Hazel and Sage were there, and Mommy was about to take the new babies home from school and take Easter pictures out in the front yard. I was awaiting that call, but before I went over, I hurriedly took my own Easter outdoor pictures with my New Lanark stuffed bunny, which I got published in my last post. By the time I reached my family's house, the pictures were already taking place. I'm posting some of the ones that were taken, both before and after I arrived.


Sage enjoyed seeing the goslings, ducklings, and chicks wandering around on the blanket that was set outside.

Emma got in the pictures.

This next picture is funny, with one of the baby geese perched on Hazel's very pregnant belly.

Sage wanted to see how the gosling was perched.

It is cute how she made a pouch for two of the chicks.

This gosling was on Emma's lap.

I really wanted to get into the pictures, but Sage had an unfortunate accident, and everything was taken inside, with the chicks, ducks and goslings put back into their boxes. Mommy talked about taking more pictures, but then she and Hazel got engaged in cooking supper. I begged Mommy to let me have some pictures, and she finally let me go outside for pictures, though she only got three of the chicks for me to hold, and not the basket or ducklings and baby geese. I thought it was nice to hold the chicks in my hands anyway. This first picture is my favorite, with my big smile. I like the flowers in the background.

It is neat how the orange chick is looking towards the camera in this next picture.

The dark chick and the light colored chick look cute together in the picture below.

I was quickly made to go back inside, but that night I took my own pictures of the chicks, ducklings, and goslings in their boxes. The chicks were first. I noticed how the chicks loved to perch on top of their food dishes. I managed to get a picture with both the food dishes being occupied.

I then turned to the box housing the ducklings and goslings. The four goslings were eager for water, while the baby ducks enjoyed resting with each other. I like their close companionship. It is funny that in this photo, it looks like the woman featured in the newspaper photograph is lying down and holding a giant duckling on her chest. The duckling seems to be looking into her face.

There kept being lots of scampering around in the box, and I managed to get a close-up picture of one of the ducklings resting all alone. Since the word "College" happens to be right beside the duckling, I like to imagine that the duckling is dreaming of attending college.

The duckling had a friend come join it, causing it to rouse up again.

The water dish proved to be a big gathering place. One of the ducklings is hard to see in this picture. It is in the very bottom of the picture in the shadows by the dish and the geese.

This duckling and gosling were a sweet pair at the food dish.

I wanted to get more close up photos of the chicks perched on their food dishes, and I took this picture just as one of the other chicks was sticking its head completely through a hole in this dish, making for a rather funny picture.

I thought this chick that perched on the other food dish is a beautiful chick with its stripes running down its back.

The chicks were snuggled up with one another, dozing off as I took the last photo of the night.

Frank Jenkins wasn't coming to collect the chicks, ducklings, and goslings until the following evening, so I had more time to spend with my new friends before he came. After arriving from my house, I noticed the ducklings and geese were in a different box with sides more of an even length all around. The goslings were busy pecking holes along the cardboard.

I thought this was a nice example of ducklings and goslings lying down together.

This duckling looked cute in between two goslings, lined up in a row.

I turned to the chicks once again, with the food dishes now side by side. The chick perched on the left food dish remained there for a long time.

When Mommy got home, Frank was already here, but he was sitting with Daddy at our outdoor fireplace, where Daddy likes to grill food. Mommy led Frank in and showed him the ducklings and the goslings first, since they were right next to the door. Mommy explained to him that a baby goose and a chick had hatched just that day. I had forgotten about what Mommy had said the day before about them still being unhatched in the incubators at school. From what Mommy said, both the baby goose and the chick could have easily died unhatched. I managed to take a picture of the chick before Mommy set it into the box again. Mommy was naming it Lucky, along with the baby goose that just hatched.

I looked back at the newly hatched gosling in its box. This gosling was so much smaller than its peers. I was rather confused when I first saw it that day. After having heard its story about its late hatching, I took a rather sweet picture of it lying with three of its bigger siblings. I like how one of the other goslings is looking right at it as they rest.

Later on all of the ducklings and goslings decided to rest together, making for a very cute group picture.

I remained fascinated with the tiny gosling that almost didn't hatch, and watched it walking along the box with a duckling friend, before the two of them decided to rest together.

Just shortly after I took that picture, Mommy took out their food and water, removed the heat lamps, and totally shut the box up, so Frank could take it away. It was time to say goodbye to my new friends, and I was rather sad. I imagined the ducklings and goslings weren't very happy, with their peace being disrupted and being shut up in the dark. Mommy then took the food and water away from the chicks and I hurriedly took one last picture of them before Mommy removed their heat lamps as well. They were clearly running around and talking to each other, wondering what's going on. I knew they would ultimately get to live on a farm, but they would have to have a long and miserable car ride before that.

I met Frank's wife, Deborah Thompson at the Berea College Country Dancer convocation the following Tuesday, and she shared the very sad news that the tiny gosling that was born late had in fact died. I had gotten so attached to that gosling and had taken such sweet pictures of it with the others, and now I found out that it was no longer alive. I had admired its ability to get along and socialize with the others despite its tiny size. Now I felt that I had truly lost a friend. At least the chick that almost didn't hatch is still doing fine. As I mourned the little gosling, I knew I still have Hazel's new baby boy to look forward to. My nephew can be born any time now, and I've been anticipating spending my first moments with him. I really hope he has a good birth and turns out healthy. I think he will be happy with his new family.