March 22, 2004 - 7:53 p.m.

Mountains

I love the Blue Ridge Mountains. This may seem a little extreme for someone who has never set foot on said mountains; I have merely flown over them many times, but it is still true. There is an incredibly soft, comforting beauty about those ridges in any season that touches me deeply. They are the kind of mountains, rolling, undulating, that are more serne than breathtaking, but are gorgeous nonetheless. They resemble slumbering giants beneath blankets of red clay and southern wood. I am always disappointed when clouds or evening obscure my view of them from the plane.

These mountains are not the only ones close to my heart. I was born in Missouri, the topology of which, if displayed as an EKG, would alarm a cardiologist, though not nearly as much as that of, say, Illinois. Still, I don�t feel comfortable living in any place with a horizon that is not protected by geological guardians. There is something cozy and warm about being surrounded by peaks. Though born in the flat Midwest, my formative years were spent in southern Tennessee, in the valleys of the Appalacian foothills. Those hills, and their stands of dogwood, redbud, and tulip poplar, were perhaps the most redeeming quality of the backwater in which my family found itself. In college, I nestled myself in a tiny town in the Berkshires where hiking trails vastly outnumbered bars. The mountains made walking to class, even in the bitter winter, a joy, and have imprinted themselves on my heart as permanently as they are ensconced in the school song, �The Mountains�. The ideal setting of my dream house is a place with a beach in the foreground and mountains in the background.

But is isn�t just my soft spot for peaks in general that makes me so fond of the Blue Ridge. They are a landmark signifying that I am nearing Charlottesville and Sam. Their appearance is like sighting a sign saying �You�re almost there.� The fact that they are lovely is an added bonus. I suspect that no matter what may come to pass in the future, I will always associate that particular range with Sam and our bittersweet weekends in Charlottesville - sweet because we are so comfortable and happy in each other�s company, bitter because the weekends end all too quickly and are too far apart.

This weekend was perhaps more bittersweet than most. Sam and I did our usual cooking and cuddling, he gave me some soccer instruction, and wandered the city a bit together. Unfortunately, Sam also found out, when we got to his place on Friday from the airport, that his grandmother had passed away. I was glad to be able to be there for him, though. It�s always hardest to be apart when one of us is going through a tough time. I�d like to think I was a comfort or at least a welcome distraction. :)

Now I am back to my everyday life, but at least today was a good day. The kids were cheerful, did their chores without complaining, and we had fun together. That certainly makes the transition from a short visit with Sam to a long stretch without him a bit easier to bear. The continuing cold weather - it didn't even get above freezing today - is making me grouchy, though. Didn't I say a few weeks ago that March was coming in like a lamb? Well, it certainly appears to intend to go out like a lion!

today's project: getting the kids to scoop some of the winter's accumulation of dog doo in the yard

Did you know? Russell Crowe has a platypus on his farm.

consecutive days of workouts: zilch - Sam and I kicked a soccer ball around on Saturday (not really a workout) and I opte

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flutter back - fly ahead