Dandelion time

At first I thought the stress of the week had addled my mind, or maybe a big chunk of brain cells got lost in transit, but then I remembered where I was. This is, after all, Appalachia, so I should not be at all surprised to read that the Pike County Sheriff had this to say about a recent spate of shootings: "I cannot confirm that there is no one on the loose who is not involved with this. If he is, he's armed and dangerous."

I've read those sentences a dozen times trying to untangle the negatives, and if he's saying that there's no one out there who's not involved, then I think we're all in trouble.

I, on the other hand, am as far away from trouble as I can possibly be. I arrived home yesterday to a house full of family, including my adorable granddaughter, who thinks a field of dandelions is about the greatest thing ever. Concern about my mom's health is on a constant slow simmer on my mind's back burner, but up front I see sweet girl bubbling over with energy, laughter, and song. We can throw rocks in the creek, run like the wind across the field, track down the woodpecker making a racket in the woods! Who could be blue when we're surrounded by fields of green and gold?

The minute we turned onto my road yesterday, we saw signs of welcome: a pileated woodpecker on a roadside tree, an indigo bunting flying across our path. It's good to be home, even if it feels as if some of my brain cells are still circling over Akron.