Plaasabilities

When I was a kid I had a favorite poem, The Swing, by Robert Louis Stevenson. How do you like to go up in a swing, Up in the air so blue? Oh, I do think it the pleasantest thing Ever a child can do! Up in the air and over the wall, Till I can see so wide, Rivers and trees and cattle and all Over the countryside-- Till I look down on the garden green, Down on the roof so brown-- Up in the air I go flying again, Up in the air and down ! Back then I could often be found in the backyard giving the swingset a workout, usually while singing my favorite church songs at the top of my lungs. Childhood joys are so simple, aren't they? Now, decades later, some things haven't changed. I still love to go up in the air so blue, but now I drive a car to the top of the Smokies where I can see over the rock walls to the streams and green valleys below. My feet may be firmly planted on the mountaintop, but my spirit is flying -- up in the air and down! And yes, I...

"Come" West Prong Little Pigeon River, Sugarlands.  Great Smoky Mountains National Park © 2014 Kristina Plaas, All Rights Reserved On a sunny winter afternoon, I wandered where a path followed The river, cold and clear, As it descended from sugared mountains Towards the tourist-trap filled town. Some come seeking 'shine and souvenirs in crowded shops and clogged streets. I come seeking solace and solitude among the towering trees and water crashing over rounded rocks. Thirsty pilgrims journeying To the promised land. While promises of dubious worth are fast fleeting, The river remains steadfast -- Flowing through flood or snow Or drought of fall. Eternal water for the soul. And I come. I have been looking though my photos files for the year and selecting those that speak to me most for a year-in-review feature on my Facebook page. The problem is I'm finding more unedited images that i now have the skills to refine so I...

Rosebay Rhododendron (R. maximus) at The Sinks. Little River Road, Great Smoky Mountains National Park © 2014 Kristina Plaas, All Rights Reserved Some days it's all I can do simply to hope that tomorrow won't be a repeat of today. Of course that doesn't always happen, some things by their very nature are repetitive. We never mind when nice things repeat themselves, but it's those not-so-nice things that we'd rather not experience over and over again. Today was about staying home and doing those repetitive chores that I dislike -- laundry, dishes, mopping floors, more laundry, sorting through piles of stuff and tossing out what is unnecessary, hauling trash out to the dumpster, more laundry. Just when I thought I had a task completed something would happen and I'd end up redoing part of what I had just completed. Grumble, grumble, sigh. It can't be helped, I know, but I still sigh. In my weariness and frustration I was trying to decide what I should e...

"Benched" Colorful maple tree in front of the Sugarlands Visitors Center Great Smoky Mountains National Park © 2014 Kristina Plaas, All Rights Reserved Trees BY   JOYCE KILMER I think that I shall never see A poem lovely as a tree. A tree whose hungry mouth is prest Against the earth’s sweet flowing breast; A tree that looks at God all day, And lifts her leafy arms to pray; A tree that may in Summer wear A nest of robins in her hair; Upon whose bosom snow has lain; Who intimately lives with rain. Poems are made by fools like me, But only God can make a tree. I was blessed with the opportunity to escape to the Smokies today. I had a meeting in Pigeon Forge at 2 PM so it made perfect sense to take a leisurely drive along the Little River on my way. I was impressed with the amount of colorful leaves that still remain, mostly on the hillsides, but also some along the river. The sky was a brilliant blue and the trees were varying hu...

Middlin' Middle Prong Little River, Tremont Great Smoky Mountains National Park © 2014 Kristina Plaas, All Rights Reserved Nothing Gold Can Stay Nature’s first green is gold, Her hardest hue to hold. Her early leaf’s a flower; But only so an hour. Then leaf subsides to leaf. So Eden sank to grief, So dawn goes down to day. Nothing gold can stay. Robert Frost, 1923 As a nature lover and photographer I eagerly await the first hints of buds emerging from the trees in early spring. I adore the bright, cheery green trees in the Smokies in April. That green evolves to a deep, velvety hue as summer progresses then, before you know it, hints of gold show up in early September. It's just a tease, of course, as the richest red and golds won't show up until late October. It's futile to wish those rich hues would remain. Fall always has it's way as wind, rain, and snow turn the golds to brown and down, down, down they come. Gone. The gold is gone. The leaves ar...

No longer forward nor behind I look in hope or fear; But grateful, take the good I find, The best of now and here. John Greenleaf Whittier (1807-1892) American Quaker, Poet, and Abolitionist As I was getting ready for church this morning I was reflecting on this past year and how quickly the months have flown by. It's been a remarkable year, though things haven't always gone the way I thought they might. That's the challenge of placing expectations or time frames on things one can't control -- when things are different you have to learn to adjust. I was raised to have goals in life - things to work toward and accomplish. At an earlier time in my life I fared pretty well at achieving many of those goals. When my health deteriorated and I wasn't able to do as much as I wanted, it was easy to look back with longing for that which I felt I had lost. Reflecting back from time to time is good, but looking back with longing limited my ability to look...