I was asked which tarot card resonated most with me. After a very brief moment of consideration, I have settled on the 7 of Cups for now.

I would not want it as a tattoo, though.

It represents pure imagination, endless choices, illusion, and dreamwork.

Divination-wise, it tells you to embrace your wild dreams and fantasies, but also warns of “wishful thinking” and the danger of being overwhelmed by too many options. (I often suffer from analysis paralysis)

Spring has been working quietly behind the scenes here in the hills, and this week it finally tipped its hand.

Driving through Roanoke the other morning, I started noticing the first splashes of pink-purple peeking out from the gray woods. The redbuds are coming in.

Not loudly. Not dramatically. Just… steadily.

One day the trees are bare sticks against the sky, and the next day there is color dusted along the branches like someone went through with a watercolor brush and tapped a little life onto everything. The redbuds always arrive before the leaves really show up, so the blossoms sit right there on the bare limbs where you can see them clearly. No hiding. Just color.

Around here that usually means the season is turning for real.

You see them along the parkway, tucked beside older oaks, scattered through neighborhoods where they have been quietly doing this same routine for decades. Little flashes of magenta standing out against the still-muted woods. It is the sort of thing that makes you slow down a bit on the road, if only for a moment.

The redbuds are not the loudest flowers of spring. They are not big like magnolias or flashy like tulips. They just show up early and do their job, adding a little brightness when winter has not quite packed its bags yet.

And somehow that feels just about right for this place.

Around Blue Ridge Mountains country, spring does not crash in all at once. It leaks in. First a few warmer afternoons. Then the daffodils. Then the redbuds, glowing along the roadsides like quiet little lanterns.

It is a good reminder that things keep moving forward, even when the woods still look half-asleep, or the seasons can’t decide to be warm or cool just yet.

Those blooms are easy to miss if you are not looking for them, but once you spot the first redbud, you start seeing them everywhere.

And just like that, the color is back.

#doodle #digitalmarkers #redbuds

September 7, 1960 : A Morning That Quietly Changed Roanoke

There are mornings that feel ordinary until you look back and realize they were anything but. This morning, the sun spilled soft gold over the Blue Ridge hills, and the streets of Roanoke were humming with school buses and the smell of fresh asphalt. But in the minds of a handful of families, this was no ordinary day.

It was the day their children would walk into history.

For years, the promise of Brown v. Board of Education had hung over Virginia like a ghost, something everyone knew was there but nobody really acted on. Segregated schools were still the rule, and local authorities were slow, cautious, and often resistant. And yet here were these parents, rising early, brushing breakfast crumbs off the table, tightening shoelaces, steadying small hands, and saying quietly, today is the day.

At Melrose Elementary, two sisters, Nadine and Cassandra Wilkinson, held their mother’s hand tightly as they climbed the broad steps. Their father, Reverend R. R. Wilkinson, was away that morning on NAACP business, but his fight was in every stride they took. The air smelled of schoolbooks, waxed floors, and something heavier too, courage, hope, and just a touch of fear.

Inside the classroom, whispers followed them like shadows. Some kids stared. Some adults watched from the corners. Some neighbors peeked through windows. Outside, eggs had been thrown at another family’s car on the way to a different school, a reminder that not everyone welcomed this change.

But the children kept walking. Hands raised, eyes forward, hearts beating a rhythm older than the city itself. They did what ordinary kids do, answered questions, turned pages, learned. And yet every word, every action, was quietly defiant.

Across town, at Monroe Junior High, a young girl named Cecelia Long remembered the same mixture of nerves and determination. She said later that the fear of whispers and unkind comments was heavy, but she felt the weight of something stronger, the knowledge that she was doing the right thing.

By the end of that first school year, more and more students crossed the lines that had been drawn in law and habit. It would not be quick. It would not be painless. Integration in Roanoke, like in much of the South, would take years, meetings, protests, petitions, and relentless moral pressure. But that morning, September 7, 1960, was the hinge on which the door began to open.

When we talk about standing up to tyranny, we often think of battles and riots. But sometimes tyranny is quiet, patient, woven into everyday life. And sometimes, standing up to it looks like walking into a classroom where people don’t want you, holding your mother’s hand, and learning anyway.

That day, Roanoke’s children did that. And that is courage. That is history. And, somehow, that is Roanoke.

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There was a time when Roanoke did not exist.

In the early 1800s, the valley held only a small crossroads village known as Big Lick. The name came from a natural salt deposit nearby where animals gathered, and where travelers eventually stopped as well. A few homes stood along dusty roads. A tavern. A store or two. Little more.

If you had passed through then, you would not have guessed a city was coming.

Everything changed in 1882.

That year the Norfolk and Western Railway chose Big Lick as the location for its major rail shops and division headquarters. It was a practical decision – the valley provided a good route through the mountains and a natural junction point for expanding rail lines.

But the effect was immediate and dramatic.

Workers arrived by the hundreds. Boarding houses appeared almost overnight. Streets filled with construction. Where fields had been, brick buildings rose. The quiet crossroads was suddenly a railroad boomtown.

Within a year, the name Big Lick was abandoned. The growing town adopted a new name: Roanoke.

Much of that early boomtown has vanished or changed, but traces remain if you know where to look – old rail corridors, brick warehouses, and the industrial footprint that shaped the city’s early growth.

The Roanoke we know today began with that single decision by a railroad company in 1882.

Before the skyline.
Before the Star.
Before the city.

There was only Big Lick.

So you finally picked up a Baofeng and you are cruising the frequencies in the Roanoke Valley, looking for something a bit more… mysterious than the local fire dispatch or the Poor Mountain weather bot. You want the spooky stuff. You want the numbers.
First, the bad news: your little UV-5R is like bringing a knife to a gunfight. Numbers stations live in the Shortwave (HF) world, and the Baofeng is a VHF/UHF beast. You won’t hear Moscow on a rubber duck antenna in the middle of Salem. But don’t throw your radio in the Roanoke River just yet.
The 2026 Spy Log
If you want to hear the actual ghosts in the machine, you have to go digital. Using a WebSDR (Software Defined Radio) lets you borrow a massive antenna in Europe or the Caribbean to hear what’s happening on the HF bands right now. Here is your current target list for March 2026:

How to Listen from the Star City

• Step 1: Head over to the University of Twente WebSDR. It is located in the Netherlands and has a massive “Mini-Whip” antenna that picks up Russian signals like they are next door.
• Step 2: Under the frequency box, type in 4625 and select USB.
• Step 3: Watch the “waterfall” (the scrolling blue/yellow display). Look for the solid vertical lines. That’s where the secrets are hiding.

While you are waiting for the next transmission, keep that Baofeng on 146.985 to hear the local Roanoke ham scene. They might not be spies, but they usually know where the best burgers in Vinton are.
Stay tuned, stay cryptic.

I asked for a list of the lies our president has told in the last 24 hours.

Only 5, but they are a big 5.

The reply:

In the last 24 hours (ending mid-afternoon on March 12, 2026), President Trump has made at least five documented false or misleading claims during press interactions and social media posts.
While the exact “count” can vary depending on which fact-checking organization you follow, here is a breakdown of the specific claims identified by reporters and analysts since yesterday:

Ukraine’s War Origin: Falsely claimed Ukrainian leaders started the conflict, which began with the Russian invasion of their sovereign territory.

Foreign Aid Comparisons: Inaccurately stated the U.S. has provided three times more aid to Ukraine than all of Europe combined; current data shows European collective aid exceeds U.S. totals.

Iran Military Strength: Claimed Iran’s armed forces are at the end of their line, which contradicts current Pentagon assessments of their active maneuvers.

Gas Prices: Stated that gas is below $2.30 in most states, while the national average remains closer to $2.92 with no state average currently that low.

Voter Fraud: Repeated claims of massive numbers of noncitizens voting, despite election officials and studies confirming such instances are extremely rare.

BE AWARE!

Democracy and Justice PAC (also referenced as Justice for Democracy), led by former Republican Delegate A.C. Cordoza, is at it again. I just got a text from them misrepresenting Gov Spenberger trying to get me to vote the wrong way  on the coming redistricting. They are trying to trick people into voting against their interests. 

Text I received is below

This is the same group facing intense backlash for mailing campaign literature opposing Virginia’s April 21 redistricting referendum. The mailers use civil rights imagery and compare the initiative to Jim Crow-era voter suppression, urging recipients to vote “No”.

The Virginia Legislative Black Caucus and other Democratic officials have condemned the mailers, stating the claims that the redistricting effort targets Black Virginians are false.

Abigail Spenberger’s actual statement regarding the redistricting is as follows:

As early voting begins tomorrow on Virginia’s redistricting amendment, voters should know that Virginia’s approach is different. It is temporary, directly responsive to what other states decide to do, and — most importantly, it preserves Virginia’s bipartisan redistricting process for the future.

“I supported the formation of Virginia’s bipartisan redistricting commission in 2020, and that support has not changed. What has changed is what we’re seeing in states across the country — and a President who says he is ‘entitled’ to more Republican seats before this year’s midterm elections.

“Virginians have the opportunity to take action in response to this extraordinary moment in history. That’s why, as a Virginia voter, I’m voting in favor of this amendment.”

Governor Abigail Spanberger

Things are noticeably quieter around here at the moment. BHK is out of town for a few days on work business, which means the usual household rhythm has shifted a bit. For now, it is just Pearl and me keeping an eye on things.

Pearl spent most of the first evening camped out in the den, looking a little mopey. I suspect she was missing BHK. Cats are funny like that – they pretend not to care until suddenly they very much do. Today she bounced back, though, and we had a pretty solid round of playtime. Since I already manage the important logistics – meals delivered on schedule and litter box operations – the core infrastructure of Pearl’s lifestyle has remained fully operational. Still, she clearly notices we are down one of her primary humans.

I started the morning over at the Y for a swim and a bit of gym time, which felt like a good way to get the day rolling. After that it was a fairly relaxed stretch at home. I ran a few loads of laundry, cleared out the dishes, and did the usual light straightening. The cleaning crew is coming tomorrow, so there is a certain minimum standard that must be maintained. One cannot let the place devolve into chaos while on “bachelor time.”

In between those minor chores, the afternoon unfolded in a pleasantly low-key way. I put some music on, spent a while wandering around Minecraft on the PlayStation, and generally let the day move at its own pace. Dinner was as simple as it gets – reheated some leftover stir fry and called it good.

All in all, a quiet but perfectly serviceable solo shift here in Salem. That said, while the solo calm is nice for a day or two, the house definitely feels better when BHK is here. Looking forward to her return on Friday. I miss her quite a lot.

Circa 1976, when I was just old enough to wander around on my own a little, $2 at the woolworths lunch counter would equip me with two comics ( 25-35 cents each) spidey and a horror book. The remaining $1.30-1.50 allowed for a grilled cheese meal that included fries, a coke, and .25 for server.

— Scottobear (@scottobear.bsky.social) 2026-03-09T19:43:23.177Z

Circa 1976, when I was just old enough to wander around on my own a little, $2 at the woolworths lunch counter would equip me with two comics

( 25-35 cents each) spidey and a horror book.

The remaining $1.30-1.50 allowed for a grilled cheese meal that included fries, a coke, and .25 for server.

Jwz made  a cute little json bomb for ai scrapers

See code for details

<script src=”https://app.heycafecdn.com/application/external/embed.js” content=”profile” resource=”scottobear”></script>

I am now on a new social network that is privacy focused, ad free, and a safe space to share. hey.cafe/r/scottobear , let’s see how it goes