We are at an age where our goals have shifted. I am not talking about a slight shift, but more of a cataclysmic movement in what we value when it comes to Worldly Goods. Commonly known as “stuff” or “junk”, we have accumulated collections of memorabilia and trinkets from years of long past adventures that have taken on mythical significance. Most of this stuff has no value other than the intrinsic value of good memories.

I’ve moved my Mythical Stuff and Worldly Goods many times over the years, carefully wrapping and unwrapping carved wooden birds brightly colored by 7th grade children in the Cayman Islands, painted maracas from Venezuela, a huge ceremonial drum from China, etc. Moving into a new home is not complete until the ritual of placing the treasured trinkets in a prominent place is done. There is a certain comfort in ritual.

But now, we are in a different season of life with a focus on the question of what will happen to that stuff. I can vision it in a yard sale where our kids will put a $1.00 price tag on it and tell shoppers that they will take 50 cents. So we are starting early to find homes for all these treasures and we are not leaving this legacy of stuff to chance.

We are full-blown into the process of downsizing and the next generation must step into our shoes and receive the gift of stewardship of “family things.” Or should I perhaps say, receive the burden of “family things”? Over the past year, we have passed down the old Irish doilies, the teacups, exquisite sets of china and old cookware, Baby blankets and 40-year-old, home-from-the-hospital outfits for the kids were unearthed from the cedar chest and given to those grown children. First grade artwork, letters to Santa, the Easter Bunny and the Tooth Fairy are now in the possession of their respective creators. We passed on the oak dining room table and hutch that my Grandmother saved for years to buy. It looks so treasured in Jamie and Scott’s dining room. Arnie’s Kevin received the knitted quilt made by his Great-Great Grandmother Westerman. The First Edition books that my Grandfather read to me and my Mother before me, went to Grandson Cameron who’s artistic soul will appreciate them.

Remember Better Homes and Gardens Baby Books? Those were hard to part with!  we have told everyone that they decisions about what to do with the “stuff” is now theirs and it comes with no superimposed guilt trip from us. We don’t expect to see anything displayed and we promise not to ask any questions. But I admit that I do wonder how many of the hand crocheted Afghans ended up as dog beds. You kids think I don’t know?

This movement to disperse our Worldly Goods makes no sense in light of the fact that Arnie and I still enjoy going to yard sales. Maybe we relate to others who are trying to downsize and get a handle on the rubble in their lives too. We don’t often buy anything anymore, but we enjoy finding the occasional item that is on the list we keep.

And looming large on our list of Worldly Goods that needs to be re-homed when we are gone is Cracker who will likely outlive us both. Who wants the parrot?

And finally, Arnie, can you say, “Baseball Card Collection”?

We have little access to the internet where we are here at West Hill Park for the summer, but on our days off, we head out to borrow wi-fi and the washer dryer from Kevin and Val in Arlington. And, of course, we wanted to borrow Grand-baby Nolan who is growing like a weed and changing every time we see him. He is the main reason for our trek north this summer and we want to capture every precious moment with him and his parents while we are here.

We do have a bit of access to over the air TV in the camper and one recent night, we enjoyed watching the finale of The Voice. Among other notable moments, I noticed that Pharrell had on an awesome hat. All it said was “Plant”. That set my mind to spinning. What a wonderful word. It implies investing in the future while enjoying the present process. I decided to deliberately notice what we “Plant” for the next 24 hours. Here are a few things that I have noted so far…….

The Seeds of Friendship: Our first plantings at our new campsite were Day lilies and iris from the garden of my dear friend, Karen, who I met over 20 years ago and have loved like a sister for all those long years.  Karen brought me cuttings and rootings from her garden. We share a love of gardening and growing things. All good things have blossomed in the garden of our friendship.

The Seeds of Awareness: we have created a collection of small notecards with a nature motif and a daily greeting to leave in the restrooms that we clean each morning at West Hill Park. We hope to plant an awareness that we have shared responsibility for keeping this beautiful place pristine.

The Seeds of Love:  Holding baby grandson Nolan today, we hope to plant the seeds of a lifelong  grandparent relationship that will  forever assure him that he is loved just for who he is.

The Seeds of Good Health; planting the summer kitchen herb garden is an investment in good health. Mint tea, basil and mozzarella pizza and spicy cilantro salsa will be the fresh and delicious outcomes. It is the first time in nearly seventeen years that I will have a New England vegetable garden and we are relishing the experience once again.

The Seeds of Commitment: Being in the woods this summer allows us to “plant” ourselves with renewed commitment to what we value. We are renewing the commitment to vegetarianism as well as remembering to value each and every sentient being’s experience of this life.

What might be the possibilities if we plant the right things. What did you plant today? I am interested to know!

It starts in a subtle and sensitive way. Far away across the mountain, a rumble begins to form that is imperceptible to human ears. A storm starts to brew in the distance and our first warning sign is the unease of a small dog. Hana begins to anticipate the coming weather before we even know it is there.

Hana has come to enjoy our travels together, but wherever we go, there is weather. And weather is unpredictable. As any new storm approaches, we abide with her, sad that she must undergo once again, the fear and the frustration of uncontrollable events. She only understands the anxiety of the moment and cannot anticipate the redemptive power of surrendering to the ebb and flow of life. She only knows it will come and does not understand that it will also go.

As the wind begins to gust and howl and the heavy rain thunders on the camper roof, her slight anxiety swells into a state of fright that is distressing to watch.

The storm, a parable for life’s way of throwing unexpected and unwelcome events our way, has not only snatched the promise of a quiet afternoon of lying outside on her favorite rock, but it has invaded her life with palpable peril.

She finds refuge where she can….in a corner, curled into a ball, in a favorite bed or pacing the floor endlessly while the wind howls and bays. After it subsides, she is exhausted and carried away by peaceful dreams………she must dream of being swept up by a gentle breeze and floating up above the thick dark clouds and into clear skies. As the sunshine peeks through, she forgives the rain quickly and continues on with her doggie plans for day. Barking at the chipmunks and watching for the dog walkers who she feels are encroaching on her qweendom.

And the pattern does not change, only the location. The storms come and go. As Henry Miller memorably put it, “All is change, all is flux, all is metamorphosis.” The very weather itself, even life’s stormiest spells eventually come to pass. Although we cannot will them away, we can surrender to the belief that the unclouded blue skies will return. Meanwhile, maybe those cloudy days make us think more clearly? Maybe they make us appreciate the contrast’s that nature offers to the human experience? Do we need the dark days to appreciate the light? All are questions to ponder.

Getting through Pennsylvania was challenging due to some of the worst roads we have encountered yet. It was bad enough that we are going to plan around it on the way back to Florida in the fall. Weather and truck damage to the roads goes unrepaired, waiting to shake and jar your vehicle down to the last nut and bolt. The camper bounced along behind the poor truck like a tantruming child being dragged by the arm out of Wal-Mart. It seemed to creak, groan and screech in protest to having to roll across the potholes and breaks in the road.

But we seek the Wildwood and the Riverbank, so I have to admit that there are rewards for the wild ride getting here. River Beach Campground and Kittatinny Canoe Company is just off the highway and very near the Delaware Water Gap. It seemed like an appealing place to pull into and use as home base while we explored the Gap as well as the historic town of Milford, Pennsylvania. We were looking for a mix of nature and culture on this stop off and found it here.

Arnie had a Chance Encounter with Mrs. Jones, the spirited owner of Kittatinny Canoe Company, who grew up in the business. Her son now manages the operations for this 76-year-old business that conducts canoe tours and white-water rafting on the Delaware River. For the past 26 years, this company had spearheaded the drive to cleanup the Delaware and they host an annual event for about 100 volunteers who clean up a nearly 70 mile stretch of the river. On this coming Saturday, there will be a film crew coming in from California to video a white water trip and with the river up as high as it is, Mrs. Jones anticipates that it will be a great trip.

After setting up camp and settling the critters, we headed out to explore Dingman Falls in the Delaware Water Gap. We had done some research on this area of the country and really wanted to make it a way-stop. The 330-mile Delaware River is the centerpiece of a 12,765-square-mile watershed located in the states of Delaware, New Jersey, Pennsylvania, and New York. Though a relatively small watershed compared to other river systems in the United States, it provides water to 20 million people–almost 10% of the nation’s population. Dingman Falls is a centerpiece of the park. The Appalachian Trail passes through this park and boasts a reputation as one of the toughest parts of the AT. 

Go figure…….unlike the state highways, this back road into the wild wood was just fine! We reached the trailhead to Dingman’s Falls on a beautiful morning that was brisk and headed out for a walk in the woods. The hike passes through a hemlock forest, along a tributary stream that runs into the Delaware River. It is prime brown trout habitat.

We hiked up to Silver Threads Falls first. This smaller fall is a sharp cut in the rock that falls right out of the mountain in a steep verticle descent, sending gossamer threads of mist into the air. It splashes down into the stream, continuing on into the Delaware. Right around the small fall, is a micro-climate created by the mist, that nurtures ferns, tiny moisture loving plants and ground cover.

 All along the way, the tiny spring wildflowers were starting to bloom and blanketed parts of the forest floor.

Silver Thread Falls

Continuing through the forest, we spotted a Pileated Woodpecker, some red-winged blackbirds, Baltimore orioles and a red-headed woodpecker. The path goes along the stream, so the whole hike is accompanied by its music. We chuckled that anyone who needs blood pressure medicine should try coming here first!

Arriving at Dingman’s Falls, visitors are awed by the beauty of this pristine fall nestled in the forest setting. Waterfalls are an aesthetic that requires no technology. It is kinetic art with no artist, only a creator. It is a conversation between the rock and the wind that we can ease-drop on and perhaps take away some comfort. The fall create an extra rich and moist environment in the immediate area surrounding it. Arnie commented  that it was like looking into a terrarium. All of the unique plants that found a niche in the rock crevices are tiny and beautiful. This is truly a place to protect.

There is a quote from Heraclitus that I first encountered in Dr. Clark’s class at Plymouth State University. I took graduate courses during summers and his course, The Philosophy of Education was memorable. He was a wonderful teacher and a fascinating lecturer.  This morning reminded me of it. Heraclitius said, “No man ever steps into the same river twice for it is not the same river and he is not the same man.” The water running so fast reminded us that each moment in life passes quickly and becomes a memory in only an instant. I have so many cherished memories of times beside a stream just like this one.

The smell of the northern forest, the sound of the running rocky stream and the brisk air brought me right back to cherished days fishing the New Hampshire brooks and streams with my Grandfather. He took me fishing for native brookies all through my growing up in woods like this. He was a very gentle man and a perfect guide for a small girl. My love of being in nature and the confidence that I can negotiate it was one of the gifts he gave to me. He taught me to move quietly and slowly in the woods, so as not to disturb its balance. He instinctive knew which rock the salamanders and snakes would be under and instilled curiosity where fear might have been as he turned over rocks carefully so as not to hurt any creature while he introduced me to them.

Barta’s good-humored, down home teaching on these fishing trips were really life lessons in consequences. He never said, “Don’t do that.” He simply stated what would happen if I chose to do that. And, sometimes I did.

1.    If you want to fish, you have to dig your own worms. If you want to eat, you have to      clean your own fish.
2.    If you step on that slippery rock, you risk getting a dunking.
3.    If you stick your finger in his mouth, you will see how sharp his teeth are.
4.    If you fish in the running water instead of the pools, you may run out of daylight          with  no fish in basket.
5.    If you tell your Grandmother what you did, she might not let you come next time.

I did 1-4 despite the warnings. I never did number 5.

On today’s hike, I found myself instinctively looking for good pools and noticing what flies were near the surface. I could hear the creak of the lid on Barta’s smelly old reed fish basket. I saw forked sticks that would have made perfect trout carriers. As Arnie and I await the birth of a new Grandchild, it was a beautiful morning to meditate on the lessons learned many years ago in New Hampshire woods from a beloved Grandfather.

Natural Chimneys is a park and natural rock structure located near Mount Solon in the Shenandoah Valley, Virginia. We found this unique campground during our research into designing an interesting route that would meander us northward. Our research revealed that the rock “chimneys” formed from limestone that began to accumulate and harden into stone about 500 million years ago in the Paleozoic Era, when the region was underwater. Over time, enormous upward pressures of magma and widespread geologic upheaval, which created the Appalachian Mountains combined with erosive forces of water and destroyed weaker layers of stone. Eventually, this created the rock chimneys that tower as much as 120 feet above ground level.  It sounded intriguing, so we booked three nights to give us time to explore the park and the general area too.Augusta County owns the property and maintains the facility with the able assistance of Camp Host, Anita who welcomed us and was a delight to meet.

Leaving the Interstate, we drove past peaceful Mennonite farms on a winding road. Okay, let me be honest: Arnie drove, I crocheted. If I keep my eyes down on winding backroads like this, the scream stays stuck in my throat and does not escape out my mouth along with not very well thought out expletives. Try as I might, I am not a good rider and this kind of road just pushes all my buttons. I imagine the sound of the screeching tires and the slow motion roll of the truck and camper as it careens into the ditch. See, I can even obsess just writing about it. I’ll stop now, slow my breathing down and go back to descriptions of peaceful farms, etc.

There are picturesque Mennonite farms, both large and small along the way to Natural Chimneys. During our stay, we had to watch out for speeding buggies and we did enjoy visiting the market. There were lots of old fashioned crafts, food and free wi-fi! Who could ask for more?

The park is located along the North River. Did I mention that we had days of rain while we at this site and the river rose to its banks. There were flash flood warnings issued and I kept waking up at night imagining that the camper would wash away or sink the wheel rims in mud. Oh, here I go again.  Deep breath.

Natural Chimneys is home to a very unusual sport. If you were to visit this park on most days you would hear the happy sounds of campers setting up their sites with the sounds of birds chirping in the background. However, if you were to visit on the 3rd Saturday in August, you would be transported to mediaeval times and the sounds of thundering hoof beats of horses charging by as modern-day Knights and Maids compete at the Joust would overwhelm any sounds of the 21st century.

The course was quiet while we visited, but Natural Chimneys has been home to the oldest jousting tournament in North America since 1821. This tradition has made Mt. Solon home to the National Jousting Association and the National Jousting Hall of Fame is housed within Natural Chimneys Regional Park. The giant rock formations of seven “natural chimneys” ranging from 65 to 150 feet give an illusion of a giant castle, which provides the perfect backdrop for the tournament. We are sorry that we missed all of the excitement!

This is a lovely park and it’s Natural Chimney formations draw crowds from all around with or without a joust. These unique structures  began as a series of tunnels and underground caves eroded by over 5 million years of wind and water. Visitors can explore the caves at the base of the chimneys or just enjoy a picnic in its shadows.

For those who are a bit more adventurous, there is a ¼ mile hiking trail overlooking the chimneys. The view from above is spectacular but the trail is fairly steep and strenuous. Tree roots and rocks also make the path a bit challenging but the view is well worth the effort. In addition to activities surrounding the chimneys themselves, the park offers other activities such as camping and swimming. Everyone from Lords and Ladies to Knights and Knaves will find something to enjoy in National Chimneys Regional Park.

The town of Mount Solon itself has some interesting architecture. It is a tiny town that clearly is struggling to keep its identity, like many rural American towns.

             This little white church, the Post Office and the Library make up most of the tiny downtown. A very small grocery store supplies necessities too.

Arnie visited an interesting museum while I did laundry. (Given that the museum was about Baseball, I felt like I got the better deal.) He chatted with the two gentlemen who keep up the museum and learned that the memorabilia they have collected represents the second oldest organized baseball league in the country, established in 1924. In their collection, they had items from all of the various players who came out the Rockingham County baseball league. This league produced a number of major league players along with other pro-sport athletes including Alan Knicely who played for the Detroit Tigers. Darrell Irvine who played for the Red Sox and Jamie Harris who played for the Pittsburgh Pirates. The County runs a 28 game season plus play-offs. It was a fun find in a little rural town that was collected with love for the game.

Hana and Wicca really enjoyed this park because there was no need for leashes. Most everywhere we journey there is a 6 foot leash rule. At Natural Chimneys, there were so few other campers and we were so spaced out that the Camp Host encouraged us to let them enjoy their stay off leash. They loved it! They had a good frolic and even enjoyed the children’s playground. Wicca loves to ride on anything that moves, so she explored the playground like a goat and loved to be pushed gently on the swingset.

Even though most of  our time spent at Natural Chimneys was wet and chilly for our fair Florida constitutions, we left well rested and glad  we could see such a beautiful area of the country

Traveling and meeting new people gives us an opportunity to practice the Buddhist principles that help guide us. Respect is a central principle that we try to practice. When we come to a new campground, we hang out a collage/sign that says, “Respect for All Creatures.” It features pictures of some of our beloved traveling companions of the furry kind. This sign and those creatures help to create conversation and a connection with other campers.

Respect is a feeling of admiration towards someone’s virtues or achievements and expressing that admiration through words and actions. In our travels, we try to stay open to  Chance Encounters; opportunities to meet new people who we can learn from in one way or another.

Sometimes, when we first encounter people, we may form an impression of them which is wrong or incomplete, but we do our best to keep talking until we find common ground.  To respect a person is to be open enough to take time to get to know them better, to give them the opportunity to reveal other sides of their character, and to make the effort to become aware of their good qualities and, where appropriate, to honour those qualities. The Buddha said that the ability to feel respect is a great blessing. We have been blessed so far on this trip.

We can also respect animals, different religions, the property of others and the environment. Camping puts us in close proximity with all three and gives us the opportunity to respect all of these things. The Buddha said it is good to respect virtues such as hospitality, discipline and awareness. As we become temporary neighbors with people from all walks of life and from many different places, we get to practice  these virtues too.  So, we thought it might be fun to stop on this rainy day in the Virginia mountains and reflect back on some of the Chance Encounters that have happened so far on the trip. Here are a few folks who have crossed our paths so far who we particularly respected for their accomplishments :

Willard and Bobbie: We had attended a nearly private concert with these two wonderful gentlemen who are well-known on the Mountain Music and Bluegrass scene. In chatting with them and listening to their stories, it was sometimes hard to tell where the line between truth left off and story telling began. Bobbie cracked us up pretty good a couple of times.

He told about a time when an old friend from Galax had to enter a nursing home. Bobbie knew his old buddy had always enjoyed his music over all the many years they had known one another, so he took his guitar over to the home, sat down and played him some of the old songs. After he played and sang for about an hour, Bobbie packed up and got ready to depart. He wished his friend well and said, “ I hope you get better.” HIs friend replied, “ I hope you do too.”

He also told a story about a visitor to the area who stopped off at one of the roadside Springs to get a cool drink of water. As he approached the Spring, he noticed a rather rumpled old woman with tobacco stains running down both sides of her smile. She offered him her gourd to dip himself a drink. His mind raced wondering how to solve this awkward situation. “How can I be gracious and not hurt Granny’s feelings?”, he thought. He examined the gourd  and noticed that the long thin handle was hollow. The visitor gratefully took the gourd from Granny, turned it upside down, wrapped his lips around the long handle and drank deeply. Turning to Granny, he said, “Thank you kindly, Ma’am.” She grinned a black toothy grin back and replied, “You’re welcome. Isn’t it funny that you drink from that gourd just like me.”

That one cracked us right up! We have such respect for these two gentlemen who have cultivated a deep appreciation for the culture of where they live. Their hospitality to us as visitors and their generosity in sharing their accomplished music and stories made our visit memorable.

        Doris and Bailey: We happened to camp beside an elderly lady who was traveling alone. She was driving a medium-sized Class C Coach that would be a challenge for anyone to negotiate in many situations. Imagine our surprise when she came out of her camper with a very large, muscled and handsome Doberman. Bailey is the kind of dog that you might think would take a very physically able and assertive owner to keep him behaving properly in close campground quarters. But Doris was frail and unsteady on her feet. It was a challenge for her to even come down her stairs and walk to sit at the picnic table. At first glance, it seemed like a puzzling match and we looked at one another with concern. Being a die-hard dog lover, I just had to go over and admire this beautiful animal and ask Doris if she needed any assistance.

Here is the rest of the story: Doris is a retired Licensed AKC Judge of Dobermans and several other working and herding breeds. This is no easy accomplishment. It requires years of experience, training and study. She was a contemporary of many of the people who I grew up with and knew in the dog show world when I was a young person showing and handling. We had a wonderful time talking and reminiscing and it was such a pleasure to meet her. I soon realized that Champion Bailey is the perfect dog for her. He moved carefully around her, taking caution not to knock into her, moving slowly to accommodate her unsteadiness. He sat quietly staring into her eyes as we talked, occasionally putting his massive head into her lap. Doris raised many dogs over the years and, at eight years old, gentle Bailey will most likely be her last. She shared that he gives her a sense of safety and companionship and that, “He is my boy.” I was so touched to meet this woman who was a part of turning the reputation of this amazing breed around and producing dogs like Baily who represent the breed with such dignity. I have so much respect for her accomplishments and her genuine love for the breed.

Nigel: Our meeting with Nigel was an interesting one for Arnie. Nigel is a long distance adventure bicyclist with an interesting story and Arnie was a long distance bicyclist himself for many years. Nigel is from Preston, England, about 40 miles out of Manchester and he had recently flew in to Dulles to begin the Transamerican and another route north. We met him Solon, Virginia at Natural Chimneys campground where he stopped off to shelter over on a rainy chilly night. He is doing about 50 miles per day over 86 days. Arnie enjoyed hearing about his travels on bike through England, Spain and Norway before he tackled the States. We had to respect his stamina and his enthusiasm for seeing the world in this most intimate way. We felt sorry that the weather was being very inhospitable to him, so Arnie went over with a bowl of hot vegetable soup, an egg salad sandwich and rhubarb crisp. We hope that the hot meal reinforces his statement that, “Americans are the friendliness and most welcoming people in the world.”

It takes all kinds and we sure do enjoy our Chance Encounters with all of the characters along the road. They are all teaching us to to take the time to look for and find what unique thing there is to respect about all people and creatures. They make us feel at home wherever we are.

The new camper has all of the niceties that our much loved little model had and a few more. We affectionately called the old Jayco, “Dinky-Doo”, as it had hardly any room to maneuver. Despite the tight quarters, we had many good times in it and were grateful to be laying down at night on a mattress instead of a tent floor. It was the perfect camper for us at the time.

But times change and, given that we will be spending nearly 6 months on the road this trip, it seemed prudent to trade Dinky-Doo in for something that would allow more than one person to stand at the same time. So we said a fond goodbye to Dinky and with a grateful wave for the good times, we drove off with a Heartland Caliber that feels spacious indeed in comparison.

It is fun getting to know a new coach. They all have their idiosyncrasies and it does take time to get familiar with how everything works. There is quite a bit more to think about because this new unit has two slides and more bells and whistles. There are a myriad of details to remember; did we remember to plug in the voltage meter, is the pressure regulator hooked up, is the fridge switched over to gas, is there any gas in the tanks? Is everything out of the way of the slides, are the steps retracted, are the chuks in place, etc, etc, etc.

For instance, one morning, I meant to push the switch to extend the awning and I unexpectedly hit the switch for the dining room slide instead. You should have seen the look on Arnie’s face as he, the table and his fresh cup of coffee began to slide inward. He looked stunned as I turned to him to say, “Something is wrong with the awning, I can hear the motor, but…….it’s not moving out.” I was so surprised to see he had moved in about three feet closer to me than before I turned around!

And then there is the little matter of the toilet. Just so that you have a visual, camper bathrooms are quite tight quarters, often with overhead cabinets, nooks and crannies for storage and a foot pedal toilet.

This day, we had pulled into camp and were setting up. I usually take care of the inside tasks while Arnie sets about unhitching, leveling and hooking up to water, electric and sewer outlets. One of the new bells and whistles that our new unit has is an outlet to pressure clean the black water tank. For camping novices, the black water tank is the one that holds the nasty stuff. We empty it as we depart each campground so it is fresh when we arrive at the next one. But fresh is a relative word. There is always a bit of residue and that is why the pressure cleaning function is provided. You just hook a hose up, make sure to open the outside valve to the black water tank and flush until it runs clear. With the right equipment it is quite a smooth and sanitary procedure despite what you might imagine.

This day, we rolled in tired, hungry and road weary. I got things set up inside and started dinner while Arnie hooked up the utilities. After just a bit, I heard a noise that I had never noticed before and went to the rear of the camper to investigate. It sounded almost like a motor with running water. What could it be? I called to Arnie and asked him. He went to check on the mystery noise and soon I heard him banging about the rear of the camper and the mystery noise stopped. He didn’t come in with any explanation, so I assumed that all was well and the problem solved because the noise stopped. Never assume!

I needed to empty some dog food into the black water tank, so I went into the bathroom and with my foot, depressed the pedal that opens the value on the toilet to flush it. A fully pressurized volcanic brown jet of yuk burst forth from the open toilet going straight up into the air, hitting the bottom of the overhead cabinets and then dripping down the walls. I only had the value open for the split second it took to react and remove my foot from the pedal, but it was time enough for my toilet, now know as Vesuvius, to send a shocking shower all over the bathroom. It seems that Arnie had hooked the water up to the wrong outlet, pressurizing the closed black water tank. When I opened it suddenly, the pressure had to release somewhere and up and out was the only direction. That would be why there is a sticker on that connection that says, “Make sure that the black water tank is open before making this connection.” But who reads these things? Clearly not us! I didn’t even know we had that connection until this fortunate discovery.

I will be eternally grateful that I was standing up erect while dumping something into that toilet rather than in a seated position at the time of explosion. I could have been bending over it and gotten a face full too. As it was, the spew missed me completely. Not a drop on the lily white blouse I was wearing at a time! Our bathroom was not so lucky and Lysol is now my very best friend.

As with most incidents like this, it’s funny now and no one got hurt!

And I know we are not the only ones. Watching a man and his wife set up their fifth wheel at a neighboring campsite, we heard a sudden crash and saw the front of their fifth wheel camper descend onto the tailgate of their pickup truck. It was bone jarring and, while we felt bad for them, we were perversely comforted by the fact that we were not the only idiots making careless errors. We related to the husband’s terse comment to his wife, “Just don’t talk to me right now.”

Yes, it was one of those moments. Just don’t talk to me right now.

We are back in one of our very favorite places to be, central Virginia, along The Crooked Road, Virginia’s Heritage Music Trail. The purpose of stopping here for a few days on the journey north was to visit several venues that we missed last visit. We have visited most of the major venues on The Crooked Road to hear mountain music and we are working on a few more this trip.The music has not disappointed again! If you would like to know more about The Crooked Road, you can visit them  on Facebook.

Arriving in Fort Chiswell, we checked into the Fort Chiswell RV Park which is a favorite stopping off point for snowbirds driving north. Coaches from every state pull in to layover on their journey and it has been fun chatting with fellow travelers. There is a school of thought that every person on the planet is connected with someone else through just six other people. Six degrees of separation. There seems to be some science behind the theory that supports it. Anecdotally and from our own experience, it seems likely, as we are always meeting folks who share some common people and places with us. These Chance Encounters are kind of amazing.

For example, as we were getting into the truck to head out to a concert on Friday night, Arnie noticed that the Road Trek van across from us had a New Hampshire plate on it. He called over to the couple sitting at the picnic table and asked what part of New Hampshire they were from. “Campton”, was their answer. My jaw dropped. I grew up in Campton! We chatted for a bit only to discover that Selma and Coke’s son is married to the daughter of my childhood babysitter, Ginny Dunstan. Ginny’s younger sister, Rosie Uhlman Pendoley, was my best friend all through grade school, high school and college. I could not wait to text Rosie and tell her who I was talking with at that very moment. Before they left the next morning we enjoyed some blueberry pancakes together and made a pledge to drop in on them at their son’s Campton Coffee Shop this summer when we go to visit Rosie.

After meeting the Levin’s, we headed to the art gallery of Willard Gayheart, who is renowned not only for his pencil art, but also as a major force in the preservation of heritage music in Virginia. He is commonly known as the Norman Rockwell of Appalachia for his detailed drawings of traditional musicians and mountain people. Willard’s Front Porch Gallery is a venue on The Crooked Road, Virginia’s Heritage Music Trail.

On Friday night at the Gallery, there is a very small intimate music jam and I had called Willard earlier that day to be sure we would be welcome. Willard graciously invited us to join them. His partner Bobbie Patterson is no less respected than Willard and has been inducted into the Virginia Music Hall of Fame for his recording of so many old-time mountain songs and his contribution to preserving them for generations to come. Willard and Bobbie played together for 38 years and they play with a smooth ease that reflects their friendship. It was a privilege to sit with them and chat about the history of the music that Arnie and I love so much. This was a special night for us because there were only four people in attendance and we really got a rare opportunity to know these two sweet gentlemen better.

The Washington Post did a nice article on Willard and you can read it by following this link.

http://www.washingtonpost.com/wpdyn/content/article/2006/09/21/AR2006092100542.html

Saturday night we drove over to Floyd to the Floyd Country Store, another venue on The Crooked Road, where a concert was being held. Foghorn String Band played to a full house and an enthusiastic crowd of flat foot dancers. I am not sure which we enjoyed more……the music or the dancing. This band has traveled all over the world representing traditional mountain music and aiding in the preservation of the old-time songs. The band said over and over that it was a special treat for them to play in an environment where people not only appreciate the music, but also know how to dance to it!

Sunday, we went over the mountain via the Big Walker Mountain National Scenic Byway to visit the Big Walker Mountain Country Store in Wytheville, where a mountain gospel band called Valley Grass was playing.

The road winds through some stunning farming country with many old homesteads along the route.

The store is yet another venue along the Crooked Road and it is situated on the highest point on the Big Walker Mountain National Scenic Byway. It is definitely off the beaten path and driving up the winding switchbacks is a bit reminiscent of going up Mt Washington in New Hampshire. We were eager to visit and see what it is about. After a rainy start to the day, the sun broke through and the clouds drifted away just in time for Valley Grass to start playing. This is literally “front porch pickin'” with the tight vocal harmonies backed by fiddle, bass, guitar and mandolin sent out over the mountains from an elevation of 3405 feet.

         This is the view from over the fence where we sat to listen to the music.

We sat through the first half, eating homemade ice cream and then decided to set out to hike the trail that leads to Monster Rock behind the store and hear what the beautiful music sounded like from up above. The music echoed and moved through the mountains as we climbed and filled us with a gratitude for this moment in time when we were together, alone in the woods and being blessed by harmony in all senses of the word.

We’ve been spoiled by Florida’s flat hiking and climbing an incline was a reminder that Florida trails are fun and easy compared to this!

The Mayflowers and the violets are peeking through and the snow is just recently gone.

Monster Rock

 The wild rhodadendrums are in bud now alongside the trail.

Breathtaking views are all along this trail.

To learn more about Big Walker Mountain or to hear some of Valley Grass’s music:

http://valleygrass.weebly.com

http://www.facebook.com/valleygrass

http://www.bwcountrystore.com

Grammy and Grampa found you an Appalachian made sweater at the Big Walker Mountain Country Store and we are bringing it to you in just a few weeks. Looking forward to meeting you, little one, and being a part of your own unique and creative journey!

On one of the seven bridges at Magnolia Plantation

We have stayed for two nights at a favorite campground, Jolly Acres, in St. Georges, Ga. Jolly Acres is a very easy hop off in  of the Interstate and a quiet place to catch your breath on a long journey. We stayed here last year on the Crooked Road Trip and it is the only repeat visit to any same campground that we will be making on the itinerary for this trip. The amicable owner of Jolly Acres meets arriving campers in a gracious Georgia manner with a freezer bag of his secret recipe Sweet Italian Sausages that he has his butcher make up for his customers. What a nice greeting as we check in to Jolly Acres! There was no question at all what was for dinner and we unabashedly set aside our vegetarian ethic for one night.

I sat in the gazebo at Jolly Acres to write. It was screened in and kept out the bugs! Much appreciated.

We  intended to lay low for a couple of days at Jolly Acres, do some laundry in the nice facility here and generally rest up. But we had stopped off at a rest area, met a nice lady familiar with the area and she had encouraged us to be sure to take a drive down Plantation Road while we were there. She extolled the virtues of three plantations that are now on the Historic Register and told us especially about Magnolia Plantation and its extensive gardens. So much for the nap……we got up the next morning, traded the nap for the map and off we set.

THE MAIN HOUSE

Magnolia Plantation and Gardens is a historic house with gardens located on 464 acres along the Ashley River. It is one of the oldest plantations in the South, and listed on the National Register of Historic Places.  The house and gardens are open to the public and we enjoyed a tour on a warm, breezy Charlotte day.

We took the trolley tour in order to see as much of the various sections of the plantation as possible. It is too large to walk in a day and we only had this one day to explore. According to our tour guide, the plantation dates to 1676, when Thomas and Ann Drayton built a house and small formal garden on the site. It is the only plantation that remains under the control of the original  family after 15 generations. The main house, historic Drayton Hall. was built in 1738 by John Drayton. The original Plantation house was burned during the Civil War, likely by Union troops. In the aftermath of the Civil War and postwar economic disruption, John Drayton opened the gardens to the public to earn money as a tourist attraction. In 1870, “Magnolia-on-the-Ashley” were the first private gardens opened to the public.

ARNIE IN FRONT OF ONE OF THE FORMAL ENGLISH GARDEN AREAS; we always think about how much his Dad would have loved seeing the gardens we visit.

Magnolia was originally a rice plantation, with extensive earthworks of dams and dikes built in fields along the river for irrigating land for rice cultivation. After the civil war, the family estate was struggling to stay solvent and the solution was suggested by their African slaves from rice-growing regions. Slaves suggested the idea of cultivated rice and then  created the earth works to support it, laboring in the hot, bug and snake infested reclaimed swamp land to make a viable enterprise. They cut trees, built dams to divert the water, created the rice paddies and accomplished the cultivation. The rice they grew became known as Carolina Gold. For a time, rice rescued the failing plantation economy, but after emancipation, there was no labor to sustain it. The remnants of these paddies remain in testimony to the suffering of the people who worked them. The plantation maintains one for bird habitat today.

 In the lower level of the main house, is a “history room”. We were intrigued by the old artifacts and photos housed in the room. It is staffed by a congenial Southern lady who can answer any questions for visitors. She explained that Magnolia became known for its gardens after the Reverend John Grimke-Drayton inherited the property in the 1840s and developed them. Through his mother, Grimke was the grandson of Thomas Drayton, who bequeathed the plantation to him on condition that he take the Drayton surname. Through his father, John was a nephew of  Sarah Grimke and Angelina Emily Grimke. There were formal photos of these sisters sitting on the baby grand piano and, believe you me, you would not want to mess with these sober two! Their pickle faced scowling stares would stop a train in its tracks. The best tidbit of history that we learn is that the sisters used their money and influence as secret abolitionists despite the fact that their family had been major slave holders. Hidden behind the white bonneted scowls were kind hearts that worked to enforce their Episcopalan principles of freedom for all!

We found some of the images of the Grimke sisters that are displayed in the History Room on line.

Grimke-Drayton, an Episcopal minister, began to have the gardens reworked in an English style; According to legend, this was done to lure his bride south from her native Philidelphia. (Maybe that’s why Arnie works so hard in our tiny garden? I do find him so alluring when he comes in all covered with dirt)  The Reverend is among the first to use Camelias in an outdoor setting (1820s), and is said to have introduced the first Azalias to America. Under his supervision, the gardens of Magnolia on the Ashley became well known in the antebellum period for their azaleas and live oak trees. Some were in blossom during our visit and the Magnolias were just budding.

Another visitor to Magnolia in this period was  John Audubon for whom Magnolia’s Audubon Swamp Garden is named. In the history room, there is a stunning book that measures a huge four feet x four feet and puts on display a full set of his bird prints. These are priceless prints right at eye level so that you can see the detail in the work and marvel at it. He was a frequent visitor to the gardens to observe and paint. Walking the quiet gardens in his footsteps is humbling for any artist.

IF you are interested in reading more about the Reverand Grimke-Drayton’s ministry to his “Black Roses” as he called the children of the slaves on his plantation, follow this link. We think it is a fascinating story and bit of history.

http://www.magnoliaplantation.com/ministry_of_the_black_roses.html

THE BRIDGE IN THE ORIENTAL BAMBOO GARDEN

Of the five cabins on site, four were built-in slavery times and one about 1900. They have been restored to differing periods: 1850 and other decades after the war, into the twentieth century, as they housed free as well as enslaved workers. The interpretive program reflects African-American history at the plantation, From Slavery to Freedom. Archeological work is revealing more about the lives of both slaves and free black workers, who were skilled gardeners and craftsmen.

Continuing our  walking tour of the gardens we found them are divided into separate areas that focus on particular plantings. Our favorite was the Bamboo Garden but it would take two full days to see it all. Major garden features include:

• Barbados Tropical Garden – indoor tropical garden.
• Bamboo Garden
• Biblical Garden – plants mentioned in the Bible, with Old Testament and  New Testament areas
• Camellia Collection – First Camellia  plantings date from the 1820s, with current plantings containing nearly 900 varieties. Nearly 150 were bred in the gardens’ nursery.
• Cattail Wildlife Refuge – approximately 500 acres, with tower for bird observation.
•  Magnolia Plantation’s famous mirroring Cypress Lake

• Cypress Lake -Bald Cypress trees, up to 100 years old, along riverbanks and wetlands.
• Flowerdale (50 acres) – Oldest sections established 1680. Formal plantings of annuals set within triangular beds enclosed by boxwood hedges.
• Long Bridge – Built in the 1840s, one of seven bridges on the grounds
• Maze – replica of England’s famous Hampton Court maze
• Nature Center and Zoo – domesticated animals typical to Southern plantations, injured or orphaned native animals, and exotic birds
• Swamp Garden – emphasizing indigenous plants and rich ecosystem.

Below are some views of Cypress Lake. Much attention is given to retaining habitat for area wildlife.

          The preservation of this remarkable tract of land and history is expensive and a real challenge. We hope you get to visit someday and partake in the peace of walking the gardens in the footsteps of critical figures in the abolition movement.

The Woodbine Opry

Nestled in the little town of Woodbine, Georgia is a home to bluegrass, gospel and old time country music known as the Woodbine Opry. We had stumbled across it while researching interesting things to do and see on the trip up to Uxbridge Mass for the summer. Their facebook page showed that there are regular coach trips up from Florida to the Opry, so there must something to this? We decided to stay nearby and stop in and see what kind of musical action could possibly be happening in a little Georgia town.

If you look up their Facebook page, you will soon see that the Woodbine Opry looks like fun! There are lots of smiling people. Possibly they are smiling because it is free! That’s right! The Opry charges no admission fee and they welcome all who would like to come and appreciate their down-home style. On Fridays, the local talent puts on a show from 7:00 to 9:00 that is strictly Bluegrass and Gospel. Fiddles, guitars and autoharps come out to belt out some toe tapping old songs with rollicking lyrics full of innuendo that kept us laughing all night. One of our favorites of the night was a funny rendition of an old Buck Owen’s song called Foolin’ Around. Here is the chorus:

I know that you’ve been foolin’ around on me right from the start
So I’ll take back my ring and I’ll take back my heart
And when you’re tired of foolin’ around with two or three
Come on home and fool around with me

The pitch may not have been perfect and timing was often off, but the sincerity and the love of the old time songs was enough to make you as warm inside as if you had just threw down a pint of moonshine. In fact, Mr. Sam apparently had done just that……….or at least a six pack………….the band played back-up to him while he twanged the fiddle (which they said he just got last Christmas) and sang a rather libation liberated version of Turkey in the Straw. The singing might have gotten him the hook at a city talent show, but we loved it right along with all of the other listeners, most of whom knew him. He had an ear to ear grin and was clearly living a dream to be up there singing and picking with the boys. Those boys were laughing as hard as we were and they all took off their Stetsons to him when he finished.

A couple of the locals started the Woodbine Opry and they were part of the troupe on stage Friday night. One elderly gentleman, Hoyt is the founder. He had a bit of trouble getting up on stage what with his bad knees, but once he began to sing, you could tell he is the real deal. After his first number, he stated , “It’s nice to see so many good lookin’ people out there tonight!” An audience member called back, “Well Hoyt, I didn’t know you cared!” And so the night went, with familiar banter back and forth between the performers and the audience. These are neighbors, getting together after the work week to connect through music that has been passed down proudly through the generations.

Friday nights gospel and bluegrass jam was rollicking good fun and gave no hint of what was to come on Saturday. We arrived not knowing exactly what to expect. Saturday is billed as Old Time Country and so it was. A group of very polished and experienced musicians came together to play and sing some of the real oldies but goodies, the songs that undergird the folk movement in music. Some of the musicians travel up from Jacksonville and have played together for years. What talent! Everyone played multiple instruments and each one sang professionally. It was three straight hours of honest good old country interrupted only by the 9:00 Cake Raffle. We went back home with an Amish Pineapple Upside Down cake and it went down easy with a cold glass of milk before bedtime. Admission was free for this priceless performance too, although they passed the hat for the band and we hope they did well as it was a pretty packed house.

It was so entertaining to watch all of the older couples dance the two step. All were decked out in their best cowboy shirts and cowgirl skirts and boots were, of course, required attire. Some of them were up and on the floor all night and I don’t know where they got their energy, but I think it must come from a love of these old familiar songs.

The Woodbine Opry is well worth a trip up I 95 to enjoy a bit of musical history hiding just over the Florida/Georgia line. Y’all come up now, ya hear?”