Music

Night on Bald Mountain

August 15, 2026 Sally2 Comments

Today’s SoC prompt is Bald, Balled, Bawled. I fell asleep last night trying to think about the last time I bawled so I could write about it. When was it? I couldn’t remember.

When I sat down to write this morning, bawled was out the window and bald was in. This is what came out —

A few weeks I was in Maine. On one of the days, we hiked and reached an overlook that had one of those pictures that identified the mountains we were seeing. One of them was called Bald Mountain — and immediately I was transported to my childhood.

We had a vinyl record that I listened to often. On one side was The Sorcerer’s Apprentice – Fantasia, and, because of that, Mickey Mouse was on the album sleeve. On the other side was Mussorgsky’s Night on Bald Mountain.

I started singing Night on Bald Mountain to my friend — DAH DAH Da-Da-Da-DAH DA-DA da-da-da-DAH DAH! He looked at my like I had two heads. How does one sing a piece of classical music?

Truth be told, the Mickey Mouse side — The Sorcerer’s Apprentice was too scary for me, so I preferred the foreboding music of Bald Mountain.

And the day we were on the hike, the weather kept thinking about raining, although not a thunderstorm. Still the vista was cloudy and gave me the sense of potential storm, as on Bald Mountain.

This may or may not be the vista that identified Bald Mountain, but it was from that same day.

If you’re not familiar with the music, take a few minutes and listen to the Mussorgsky piece. Picture a little girl putting it on the record player in her room and falling asleep to it. That may explain a lot about me.

A Trip to Maine

July 31, 2026 Sally2 Comments

This is my response to this week’s Writer’s Workshop prompts

12 things I learned and/or grew to appreciate this ~~month~~ week (because I’ve been in Maine for the week):

I now know the difference between a tadpole, polywog, and froglet. This is a polywog:

A tadpole doesn’t have any legs and a froglet has all four. This polywog, as you can see(maybe), only has two legs.

2. Maine blueberries grow low to the ground and are tiny, compared to our New York blueberry bushes. They are harvested with special rakes. They have blueberry bushes in Maine, too, but those teeny berries from the ground plants are PACKED with flavor. Who knew?

3. There is more than one Fort Knox. My dad was stationed in Fort Knox, KY, and it’s known for all the gold there. But before that Fort Knox, there was a Fort Knox in Maine built in the mid-1800s. It’s a massive granite fortress built on the edge of the Penobscot River.

4. Perspective is always important. When you’re looking from the outside, you can’t see in very well (see top Ft. Knox photo). But when you’re looking from the inside out, the world just seems to open up.

5. The Penobscot Narrows Bridge is one of only five bridge observatories in the world. The other four are in China, Thailand, Slovakia, and South Korea.

Looking up at the Penobscot Observatory from our car.

6. Perspective is always important. (Yes, I already said that.) Looking down and looking up are totally different views.

Looking down from the Penobscot Observatory at our car.

7. Beaches hold amazing surprises.

We found this crab shell on the beach full of… we didn’t know! It turns out they are Marine Springtails, a relative of the snow fleas I’ve seen at times in New York. They’re an important part of the beach ecosystem, part of nature’s clean-up crew.

8. Museums are fun.

We stopped at the Penobscot Maritime Museum, mostly because of this guy beckoning us in. I learned more about sardines than I thought possible.

9. Sometimes kids don’t appreciate museums.

“Boring who needs fishermen dont prezerve fishing”

This was in a box of comments that I looked through. It made me laugh — and feel a little sad for the kid who wrote it.

10. Museums can be very funny for kids (big and small) who engage with them.

This photograph was hanging in the ladies room at the Penobscot Maritime Museum. It was taken by a turn of the 20th century photographer, Charles Coombs, who was also an undertaker and taxidermist. The picture made me laugh.

11. Floating classrooms can be massive.

The big ship in the back is called The State of Maine and recently came into Castine, home to the Maine Maritime Academy. Its primary purpose is for training Maine Maritime cadets while also being available for federal humanitarian assistance and disaster relief mission. We went to see it but couldn’t get any closer than this.

12. Sunsets are beautiful everywhere.

family · Life

Hike to Star Field

June 23, 2026 Sally9 Comments

This was originally written in March 2016 but has sat in my draft file since then. The RDP word of the day is trail which led me back to this post.

Temperatures were in the high 30s to low 40s that January day. Winter has been funny this year.

The warm air beckoned, Come! Come outside and play!

My daughter heard the call.

“I’m going to go for a quick hike to Star Field,” she said as she headed out the door.

Star Field was our go-to hike when the kids were little. From where we parked, it was about a 1 mile hike over easy terrain to a field with a great view of Otsego Lake. The kids could dawdle in the woods and not get lost because the road/trail was wide and straight.

She called a few minutes later. “The road is closed,” she said. I had forgotten that it was a seasonal road. “I may park in that lot off Lake Road and hike up past Natty Bumpo’s cave.”

The alternate route to Star Field was significantly steeper. I hadn’t been that way in years.

At home, I was trying to figure out what to have for dinner. My father isn’t a big pasta fan. That cuts my choices of things-to-make-for-dinner-that-everyone-likes-to-eat in half.

The phone rang again. “Hi, Mom,” and I knew immediately that something was wrong. She sounded shaky and scared. “Ummm…. Ummm… I slipped. There’s ice under the leaves and stuff on the trail.”

“Are you okay?” I asked.

“Yeah… I’m a little shaken. The trail was icy and I slipped.”

The more she talked, the better she sounded. She hadn’t worn the right shoes. She hadn’t figured on the ice. She thought she could find her way out by going up. She talked and talked and developed a plan.

But then she sent me this picture:

“It was a slow slide,” she said, “and this tree stopped me. See? I’m right by a drop-off. The tree saved my life.”

Now it was my turn to be shaken and scared.

“Don’t try to climb up,” I said. “Let me get help.”

“Who are you going to get?” she asked. “I’ll be fine. I’m pretty sure I can climb up to the trail.”

I stared at the picture on my iPod.

“Please stay where you are,” I begged. I wracked my brain for someone who might be able to help. I even called my outdoorsy son in British Columbia. Like he could help. He had some suggestions, but I was also watching the clock. We only had about another hour of daylight.

Here’s where the draft ended — but I’ll finish the story for you.

I went to the Adventure Department at the sports center where I now work. It was late in the day, but I had the photo that I showed the guys who were getting ready to go home.

One of them jumped up. “I’ll go get her,” he said enthusiastically. Within minutes, he emerged from a backroom with ropes and carabiners and all sorts of other gear slung over his shoulder. “Don’t you worry,” he said, as he headed out the door.

Of course I worried.

I couldn’t go with him because of other people who were depending on me.

It was an act of blind trust — but his exuberant confidence set my heart at ease.

And when my daughter walked through the door less than an hour later, I was thrilled.

fiction

Riding the Bus

May 31, 2025 Sally5 Comments

I climbed onto the bus and smiled. We don’t have buses like this where I come from. As a newby traveller, I was determined to make my way places using public transport.

I only spoke English. “Should I learn their language?” I asked my friends from home.

“Nah, everyone speaks English,” more than one person had said.

It turns out that not everyone speaks English, especially in the smaller, more isolated cities.

The bus was mostly empty. I rested my head against the window and closed my eyes listening to the rumble-hum of the bus, the psssssshh of the airbrakes at each stop, and the murmur of words I couldn’t understand.

Suddenly I recognized words whispered in English.

“Your job is to grab the old lady and tie her up,” said a male voice in a gravelly whisper.

“Hush,” replied another male whisperer.

“She’s the only one in earshot,” said the first voice, “and I doubt she speaks English. Besides she’s sleeping.”

As they reviewed their plans to rob a rich woman in her home, I listened in horror.

Quickly I came up with my own plan.

The bus stopped in a crowded market area. The men behind me got off. I followed.

“Excuse me,” I called. They turned, and I snapped a photo of them on my phone.

“I’m scheduling a ‘send’ of this photo to the police. Meet me here tomorrow at this time with my cut and I will cancel the send,” I said, and slipped away.

This is my contribution to the Unicorn Challenge. The rules are easy: 1. Use the photo for inspiration, and 2. No more than 250 words.

~~Sometimes~~ Most of the time my ideas are bigger than 250 words. That’s the hardest thing. I don’t think I did this idea justice, but I did bring it in at 250 words!

Life · photography

Visiting British Columbia

February 18, 2024 Sally3 Comments

It even says it on their license plates, Beautiful British Columbia, as if our eyes are deceiving us. Yes, this is a beautiful place.

I had to fight the urge of pulling over on my drive up from Seattle to take some pictures. The mountains are breathtaking. The trees stand tall, erect, pointy and somehow brave.

It’s so very different from the Northeastern US, where the mountains are lovely, but older. The trees are also lovely, but more are deciduous; they seem to go with the flow of life instead of the unmoving strength of those giant pines.

Ah, I know, I’m probably way off base. The oaks and maples have deeper roots, right? And I’ve seen tall pines toppled with their root system, shallow and broad, turned on edge like a wall.

But this is my submission for Stream-of-Consciousness Saturday — a day late — and I’m not going to go back and correct what may need correction. When I saw that the prompt was “Photograph,” I thought, Yup, I’ve taken a few photographs over the past few days.

We’ve gone walking every day. Two days ago, my son and his wife wanted to take me to see some glorious vista — which I’m sure would have led to not a few photographs. However, we started up the logging road and it got steeper and steeper and steeper.

“Are we there yet?” I quipped two minutes into the hike.

Twenty minutes in, after a couple of rests, I asked them to guesstimate if we had gone a quarter of the way yet. He studied the map on his phone. “Umm…. maybe just under a quarter,” he said.

We turned back at my request. I walk A LOT, just not straight uphill.

Instead we walked along the Fraser River which was lovely. The only photograph from that walk was of an immature eagle who stared down on us as we passed.

Yesterday, we walked along the Vedder River, a river which changes its name to Chilliwack once it passes under a bridge, so I saw the Chilliwack River, too. In fact, I only photographed the Chilliwack.

But my favorite picture of the day was one I took immediately as we started on the path. It made me laugh — and it still makes me laugh.

I love when people have a sense of humor.

I really want to know who thought of the poop fairy.

In Beautiful British Columbia.

Travel

Dubrovnik

July 21, 2017 Sally2 Comments

On one of our first nights in Dubrovnik, I told Leah that finally I was starting to understand parts of Isaiah 60, the scripture I’ve been trying to memorize for months.

We don’t have any walled cities near where I live. I needed to walk the walls of Dubrovnik to “get it”.

Foreigners shall build up your walls… (Isaiah 60:10)

One of our guides told us that back when the city was being built, men coming to trade were expected to bring stone to Dubrovnik and the women eggs. Stone for building. Eggs for the mortar that would hold it all together.

Your gates shall be open continually;
day and night they shall not be shut… (Isaiah 60:11)

The gates were, most definitely, open. The drawbridge was down, the moat dry. In fact, part of the moat had been turned into a playground.

Swallows screeched and soared above us down the narrow streets. Pigeons nested right in the walls. Every time I saw them, I thought about this verse.

Who are these that fly like a cloud,
and like doves to their windows? (Isaiah 60:8)

I know that the Isaiah passage is actually talking about Jerusalem, which is the city I most want to visit. How Leah and I happened to end up at Dubrovnik was serendipity.

But I’m so thankful.

It wears the scars of recent violence —

Inside the Franciscan monastery in Dubrovnik

But the bustle and busy-ness of the place tell a different story.

Violence shall no more be heard in your land,
devastation or destruction within your borders;
you shall call your walls Salvation
and your gates Praise. (Isaiah 60:18)

One day, I pray, we will have no more violence.

In the meantime, I’m thankful to have visited Dubrovnik.

Life · Travel

Ominous Beginning

May 25, 2017 Sally9 Comments

The man seated ahead of us on our Newark to Paris flight was large and loud.

I missed the beginning of the “discussion” because we were getting situated in our seats, stowing my pack in the overhead compartment, turning my phone to airplane mode, finding both ends of the seatbelt.

My ears tuned in at — “NO! You listen to me!”

His angry voice rose above the murmur of the other passengers who were doing the same things I had been doing.

The flight attendant, a neatly-groomed small-framed man who spoke excellent English with only a trace of a French accent, remained calm. “Sir,” he said, “I’m trying to explain.”

The passenger interrupted. “I’m paying your salary,” he bellowed. “You need to do what I say.”

“Please listen to me,” the flight attendant said. I was amazed at how unrattled he was by the confrontation. “I cannot give you two pillows right now –”

“I need to be comfortable on this flight!” the man interrupted with another bellow.

“Sir,” the flight attendant began again, “if you will listen, I will explain.”

I looked out the window at the raining pouring down outside, wishing I could be almost anywhere but there, where the groundwork was being laid for the next ugly airline confrontation. Getting my phone out to record it didn’t cross my mind.

“As long as your explanation includes a second pillow — ” the man said, interrupting again.

“Yes, sir, I have to wait until everyone is seated. We have only enough pillowcases for the passengers on board,” the flight attendant said.

“Well, what’re THOSE?!” the man asked, pointing to a small pile of pillows in an overhead compartment across the aisle.

“Those are pillows without pillowcases,” the attendant said.

“Gimme one of ’em,” grumpy man demanded.

The flight attendant complied, repeating the fact that it did not have a pillowcase on it.

“See?” the man said snidely. “We found a peaceful solution.” His sarcasm cut rudely through his words.

As he plumped his pillows and settled into his seat, the flight attendant moved down the aisle to assist other passengers.

I sighed. It’s no wonder Americans have a bad name.

The plane was quickly prepared for take-off and didn’t linger long on the runway.

Once in the air, the man ahead of me signaled the flight attendant as he walked past. He beckoned him to lean close, so he wouldn’t have to yell, but I could still hear.

“I’m sorry for the way I treated you,” he said. “I was out of line.”

“No problem, sir,” said the flight attendant.

Above the clouds, the rain was gone. The sun truly looked like a silver lining.

And the angry words were washed away in one man’s humility.

I more than survived the experience. In an unexpected twist, I was blessed by it.

A to Z Blogging Challenge · Faith · family

Community

April 4, 2016March 20, 2017 Sally5 Comments

John 5 begins with the story of Jesus at the Bethesda pool where lay “a multitude of invalids.” The belief was that after an angel troubled the waters, the first one in was healed. Jesus spoke with a man who had been there for thirty-eight years.

“Do you want to be healed?” Jesus asked him.

“Sir, I have no one,” the man replied. No one to put him into the pool when the water is stirred. A multitude of invalids, but each concerned for himself.

To have no one.

In contrast —

C is for Community.

My father and mother enjoyed traveling after my father retired, but as my mother’s dementia grew worse, traveling became more difficult. One night in New York City, my father awoke to hear the heavy hotel door click shut and realized that my mother was no longer in the room. He found her in the hallway. Another time she got away from him at the airport, and still another time she wandered off in Greece.

On that trip to Greece, their last big trip, the other ladies in the tour group saw the need and began watching out for my mother. What began as a group of strangers ended as a caring group.

My mother and father on their trip to Greece

Strangers at the start, friends by the end

“Without a sense of caring, there can be no sense of community.” Anthony J. D’Angelo

Community doesn’t have to be intimate to be functional. Even a small thing, like holding the door open for someone struggling with mobility, can be an act of community. It says, “I am willing to help you, even if it inconveniences me a little.”

Sometimes community is very intimate. I was horrified to see that my mother had had an incidence with incontinence while visiting an old friend of my father. “Oh! I’m so sorry!” I had said when my mother stood to go. “Let me get something to clean that!”

“No, no,” the woman had said. “Your job is to take care of your parents. I can clean this up.”

Community.

Looking out for one another.

Circling the wagons in Greece, in Florida, in Cooperstown.

We can be community to those we encounter. We just need to be willing.

A to Z Blogging Challenge

Journey

April 13, 2015March 20, 2017 Sally1 Comment

J is for Journey.

The bigger story of our lives is constantly being retold is smaller stories every day.

For example, my journey to Laity Lodge was series of steps which I could break down thus:

Car ride to Binghamton
Bus trip to NYC
1. First bus to Monticello that broke down
2. Second bus that safely delivered us to Port Authority
Waiting at LaGuardia

Shuttle to LaGuardia
Waiting in LaGuardia
Flight to Charlotte
Hurry through Charlotte airport from one plane directly to the boarding line for the next
Flight to San Antonio
Shuttle to hotel
Night in hotel
Ride to car rental agency
Meeting up with friends
Drive to Laity Lodge
1. Stop for Texas barbecue
Time at Laity Lodge
1. Rest
2. Refreshment
3. Music
4. Laughter
5. Solitude
6. Fellowship
Drive back to San Antonio
Flight to O’Hare
Traversing the tunnels of O’Hare
Flight to Syracuse
Ride home

Each step has at least one story, complete with plot and interesting characters.

Sometimes I’m running. Sometimes I’m waiting.

Sometimes the bus breaks down or the flight is late.

Sometimes richness surrounds me and I am a partaker in a great feast.

Sometimes desert solitude surrounds me.

Sometimes my companion is a friend who laughs easily and shares their story.

Sometimes my companion is a stranger drinking screwdrivers to soothe the anxiety of flying.

Although I may look back on those four days as one trip, they really were a series of smaller stages, interactions, minutia. High points, low points, tension, and joy.

Peter Guber said it this way:

Every journey that is successful has culs-de-sac and speed bumps. I carry a wisdom gene through my life through the good, the bad, and the ugly.

Life is a journey. I’m glad I like traveling.

Travel

Assistance

April 1, 2015March 20, 2017 Sally1 Comment

Q: How many stories can I eke out of one bus trip?

A: This is the last one. I think.

When I began the trip, I was determined to have writer’s eyes and ears, paying attention to the details and scribbling them down. Once I reached my destination, that plan evaporated, like a puddle in the Texas sun.

Still, I now have this notebook full of notes. When I pulled it out this morning to help me recall the next leg of my journey, I realized that I had left out a little chapter about my bus ride.

Here is the story verbatim from my notes.

*****

I’m dozing.

Dubai mom walks to the front of the bus.

“Anyone have a paper bag?”

Someone gives her one.

She goes back to her seat and hands the bag across the aisle.

Vomiting.

Take-charge nurse-type across the aisle from me calls back questions.

“Does she have asthma?”

“Yes.”

“Does she have an inhaler?”

No answer — vomiting.

“Does she have a pump?”

“Yes.”

“I’m coming back…”

Thank you for these little heroes on a bus.

“I work in a hospital,” she said to me later, “used to work in the ER.”

*****

As fair and lovely as Dubai mom was, ER nurse was dark and strong. She reminded me of Hattie McDaniel who played Mammy in Gone with the Wind.

I was so thankful for both of them. Dubai mom (who turned out to be from Greene) was compassionate and caring enough to not ignore the distressed passenger across the aisle from her. ER Nurse was exactly the kind of person to handle such a situation to a safe conclusion.

Another woman in my vicinity kept muttering that the driver is supposed to stop if someone is sick. However, we were already an hour late, and he was hired to drive, not talk; I’m not sure that compassion was in his job description either.

A final note from my notes on this (“she” refers to Dubai mom)

“Quite a ride, wasn’t it?” she said, smiling.

Was she referring to the broken down bus or the vomiting woman?

Blogging from A to Z Challenge — my word for the day: Assistance