What Dog?

   Back in the past, when I decided one day to write a blog, it was a life change for me so I called it "Walking a New Path",  as it indeed turned out to be.

   That title is just as appropriate today as I sit here amidst a myriad of taped up boxes and ones yet to be filled with a previous life's stuff.

   Packing up an old life is a bittersweet time. This condo that we lived in for 20+ years provided Mayre and I with a base for many happy adventures and new friends in our lives. It is a place filled with memories, many of which brought forth tangible items that will fill these cardboard containers and will continue to reside in my mind as well as in a new place in Chattanooga.

   But like these boxes, time moves on, changes come, new adventures await.

   We are leasing our unit at Grandview to some friends, and they have graciously decided to furnish one bedroom for travelers, including us, so this place, thankfully,will still be in our future.

   So while Carolyn and I will spend most of our time in Chattanooga, living life together, unpacking boxes, reliving our pasts, this place on The Island will hear new voices, and furnish a venue for new memories for old friends.

   Questions abound as to what is to happen now on this new pathway.

   But the one we most want answered is:

   Who let the dog out?

Certainty of Dread

   It happens to us sometimes, the dreading of something that will certainly happen to us, or to our peaceful and ordered lives.

   Case in Point:

   After months of not being able to ride my bike, for various reasons over the past couple of years, I decided to bring my bike back to Chattanooga where we were spending most of our time.

   Buying a bike rack that would fit the back of Carolyn's SUV, we succeeded in getting it here, and I  enjoyed riding the neighborhoods around Harrison, trying to get some exercise into my daily schedule.

   The other day, at the beginning of my ride, attempting to shift down to a "let's get up this hill" gear, my chain missed the small sprocket on the front set and lodged between the frame and the chain ring. It was wedged in so tightly that I could not move it at all. Stuck was what it was, and fortunately it happened near the house so I could walk it home.

   After much poking and levering and searching for a way or some tool that would help me get that reluctant chain back on the chain ring, I gave up and went to the yellow pages to find a bike shop near me.

   I found one that sold my brand. It was near downtown in a new section near the river, and it had expensive repair written all over it.

   Nothing to do but bite the bullet and find a person to get me back on track with my exercise program, so I loaded the bike in the pickup, and made sure there was room on the credit card for a pricey fix to take care of my problem.

   I like to ride, and some things on the bike I know enough about to fix, but most of the time I find myself at the mercy of the bike technician. They tell me what will fix the problem, and I hand over the plastic. If they suggest something that will make the bike perform better, since it is over 10 years old, I go ahead and fix that also.

   I dreaded to take it in to the shop, but there was no choice. I could not use it in its condition.

   I did not know the area of the shop, only that it was on the north side of the river near downtown. The Waze app would take me to the address, so I found it with no trouble.

   The Trek store was busy with folks looking at new bikes, so I made my way to the middle of the store, to the repair section where I was met by Stephen who asked if I needed any help getting the bike in. After assuring him that I could do that, I went out and took it out of the truck and deposited the non-functioning piece equipment in the repair area, fully expecting to leave it right there for some days.

   The problem took Stephen a little time to remedy, but he got it loose and resettled on the right ring.

   Then when he asked if there was anything else that did not seem right, I braced for the inevitable "you really could use....." sales pitch .

   But what I got was:

      "These brakes could use a little adjustment, I'll just tweak them now."

      "Let's clean up this chain and let it move easier.."

      "Your brake pads will need replacing soon, but we can do that the next time you bring it in."

   After a pretty thorough going over and cleaning, he said that was all he saw, and began putting stuff in the computer to prepare the bill.

   Uh Oh, here it comes.

   After the repair and the going over of the systems on the bike, he gave me a bill for $25.

   An Andrew Jackson and an Abe Lincoln was all.

   My dread vanished. All I had worried about came to naught.

   I was happy, and Stephen had a customer that would not dread coming back.

   Trying hard not to appear too gleeful, I paid the bill and took my bike home, smiling all the way.

   Now that is the kind of commercial experience I like to have.

      No surprises..

      No big sales pitch to do more..

      Just  a smiling person on the other side of the counter who is happy to do an honest job and make sure all my needs were covered.

   Then the next day, when I went to ride my newly fixed bike, I realized he had also brought the tires up to riding shape with the correct amount of PSI (pounds per square inch) in each.

   An Unfounded Dread and Proud to be Wrong

   and Ready for Le Tour in 2020

 

Sunflowers to Sequoia

   Sometime in the past I wrote a post about "What do the Common Folk Do?", based on the song in the musical Camelot.

   Well, us common folk take short car trips, looking at the world through the camera lens most times with an eye to showing nature and sometimes situations that escape us if we move through God's world too fast.

   Take this morning, after a leisurely Saturday pancake breakfast, a tradition in the Carolyn kitchen, she spotted a note on Fb that the Sunflower farm would be open this morning. Maybe if we go early, we can beat the crowd.

   So, out to the truck, up highway 58 to Mahan Gap Rd., north on Ooltewah-Georgetown Rd. about a mile, and pull into the parking on the east side of the road.

Sometimes it is necessary to use the truck for more than just to and from transportation.

   Thirty or so acres of sunflowers in bloom:

   Amazing to see so many

   Some folks, maybe commoners too, use the yellow backdrop to have a photo-op with their dog.

   Some moms dress up the girls for a yellow and white shot, with the little boy as the contrast.

   The flower stalks are over the heads of the viewers.

   For the most part, the flowers are not harvested. Most of the acreage is leased out to a dove hunting group, and the flowers are allowed to just drop their seeds on the ground to await the dove season. The sunflowers planted here do not develop the seeds that are used in sunflower oil and other products, so there is not much, if any, commercial value.

   The farm produces strawberries in the Spring and pumpkins in the Fall as their main crops.

   The place is worth a visit, and it is free. It is amazing to see all these sunflowers facing toward the sun as it rises in the east.

   But the day was not finished.

   My charming wife suggested we drive down Birchwood Pike on our way home. This roads skirts the main channel of the Tennessee River and is directly across the water from the Sequoia Nuclear Plant.

   From Sunflowers, God's work in nature, to Sequoia, man's use of God's resources we seem to cover the wide spectrum of this day's adventure.

   And check the ingenuity of using a step ladder as a dock ladder. Good thinking.

   Oops, there is one more shot that I need to comment on.

   The whole field, when grown, seems pretty level, but very now and then one plant shoots up above the pack. I'm not sure, but I believe that this rogue plant is not a sunflower at all, but a periscope, painted to resemble the flowers and used for spying on all the people around. The perfect spy tool with a 360 degree field of vision as it mimics the real flowers following the sun.

   Perhaps these acres of yellow are not so mundane and innocent as they appear.....

   Big Brother?

 

Gentleman Yardperson Meets Yard

 

   One day, after Carolyn and I had been married a few months, the yardman, Randy, after a days work on the premises, presented his bill for payment. He had mowed, weedeated, picked up limbs and stuff from the yard, and anything else that he had noticed that needed attention.

   Now you need to know that my charming wife had lived alone in this house, with its three acres of property, for nearly 18 years, and needed help on this large lot to keep it up.

   Another factor in this story, is that, since Randy had done the work for a few years, all of the equipment that had been used over the years, fell into disrepair. Time had rendered most of it unusable as Mr. Randy used his own. (It still took all of one day to get that 3 acres under control)

   Back to the lawn service bill. A check for 200+ dollars got the place in shape for another 10 days or two weeks depending on the season, the rainfall, and the temperatures.

   Shucks, I need something to do around here, I could take care of all that. After all I had done it for years out in Apison where we had 25 acres, and here we have only 3. I was also a bit younger then, but I still felt pretty good.

   Let's do it.

   We bought some new equipment, a Cub Cadet mower with a 46" cut.

   Mowing was the easy part. Getting ready to mow, somewhat tougher. Moving fallen limbs and debris takes time, and then there is the disposal thereof. Burning permits, certain parts of the year when the risk of setting the world on fire is minimal, like October to April, are needed.

   Notice what we call the burning pile, piling up in in the south part of the back yard at the top of the hill. We just keep building it up until we can set it ablaze later. That will be fun.

   Seriously, I have enjoyed the working outdoors, just being useful. After all with my only time commitments being 2 hours of Pickleball on Tuesdays and Thursdays, I am available.      

   One day, a few weeks back, my sweet wife asked if there was anything else I would like to have to facilitate my new jobs.

   I mentioned something that every man needs in order to get things done, a pickup, right?

   Not one of these new monster pickups with the high price tag, but maybe just a smaller one, used, that could be used to scoot around in, haul some pine straw maybe, run to the station for some gas for the mower and weedeater, and just move other stuff as needed.

   We did not need two cars here, and we use hers to travel, we could get by with very little outlay of cash. We looked around casually while we pondered what to do.

   Then Wednesday we found a 2007 Ford Ranger, regular two seater cab, long bed, 67,000 miles, and it fits in the garage, too.

   The rear window had a lot of hunting and fishing stickers, and we had them remove all but 3. A small apple logo, and a one from the Ford assembly plant, plus the big Superman emblem at the top.

   Perfect for a Gentleman Farmer

   Now to find the cape that goes with it.

And The Winner Is.......

   When we last left the Bowman Blacksburg house, this being after round 4 of the Sensational Sorry Tournament where the 5 inmates of the house were locked in a terrific battle for the crown, a legacy that will be passed down for years and entitle the winner with the permanent status of an icon in the Hall of Fame of Sorry players, the scores were:

      David.             18
      Laken              16
      Miss Carolyn  16
      Papa                14
      Lucy.               12

   Then the final game as the world awaited news of the victor and stood ready to proclaim the "Sorry Player of the Year" for 2019.

   It was no epic struggle, rather a beat down as the winner soared and the others were left with the smoke on the path.

   Miss Carolyn showed her tactical skill set and walked, or ran, away with the title.

   She was the Sorry Champion, and as she stood looking into the future for the next world to conquer, the rest of us were forced to admit

   That we were just "sorry".

   But fun was had by all, and four weary combatants could only force a smile and vow "to get her next year".

   We'll See....

Stealing Thunder

   Today we are stealing some thunder from Donna and Noel and family, the originator of the tabletop tournament for vacation days with kids.

   Since Carolyn and I are teen sitting for a few days, and the rain is coming down outside, we are instituting our own version of the tournament. Since there are 5 of us here today, we are playing 5 games of Sorry with one player sitting out each game. Winner will get 10 points, second place 5 points, third, 3 points and fourth 1 point in each game with the winner of the Sorry tournament being the one with the most points.

    At the end of game 2 the scores are:

      Laken 10
      David 10
      Lucy    9
      Miss Carolyn 6
      Your's Truly   4

   Update after game 3:

      Miss Carolyn 16
      Laken             15
      David.            13
      Lucy.               9
      Y.T.                 4

   Stay tuned for future developments.

An Unplanned Adventure

   Between the bookend events in Virginia this trip, Drew's graduation from Blacksburg High and our teen sitting stint beginning on 6/6, we caught a beautiful unplanned day and decided to make an exploration upcountry.

   Beginning at the juncture of US 460 (the main route into West Virginia from Blacksburg) and Virginia State Route 42 into New Castle, we drove the 40 miles or so of this scenic, two lane roadway  on a "chamber of commerce day", blue sky, puffy white clouds and lots of green grass.

   A day or two earlier, we had been in Newport, a village on 42 right off 460, and so I use a shot from that day to begin our odyssey. A 1916 covered bridge only used for walking these days.

   We were cruising along, just enjoying being out together, when my wife said to me, "you may not have noticed, but we just passed a really pretty church that looked like a good picture". I had noticed the building and I did turn around and retrace my steps back south.

   Parking a little way from the church, I took a couple of shots. Level Green Christian Church, established 100 years before we were born, in 1836. A neat church in a pretty setting. The main structure of the church dates from 1896 with subsequent additions in the mid 1900s.

   While standing at the car thinking about what kind of folks had attended this house of worship for all these years, I happened to look west up the nearby hill and noticed a cemetery at the top of the rise. There was a cemetery behind the church, so this must be a community one. Could I find a way to the top?

   Driving a short distance south, a sign proclaimed Williams Cemetery standing next to a farm road going west. Right away we were confronted by an old house, no telling what the age. It must have been some home in its day.

   The double track roadway went by the house and then began its rise toward the cemetery. After stopping to open the gate, we traveled to the top to find a well maintained acre or so of hilltop. With a view across and up and down the valley, it was a reverent spot. We spotted graves from the middle 1800s all the way to 2019. And what a view!

   Returning the the highway, we spotted an older car in the weeds beside the track. My question was "what was the make of the car and how old was it?" Check the Malibu on the steering wheel.

   Stopping to take a shot of the barn in the field near the old house, I trudged into the hay field and took a few shots. From its appearance, it looked to be still in use, at least for storing hay.

   Coming out of the field, we noticed a couple on the road with backpacks. Chad and Laura were thru hikers on the Appalachian Trail and had begun their trek at the trailhead near Springer's Mtn. down in north Georgia, and were walking to Maine. They had covered 600+ miles to this point and had a heap more to walk before they reached their destination 1500 more miles north. We wished them God Speed, and they walked out.

   The views on Route 42 were so pleasant, that we almost forgot why we were there on that day. There was a courthouse at New Castle, county seat of Craig County, and almost reluctantly we continued north.

   A few miles from the town, we spotted a historical marker and stopped to read:

   Eastern Continental Divide as you can read.

   From an overlook, we could see New Castle below.

   What began as a courthouse trip, gave us much more than we bargained for.

   But, while I sorta doubt it will be a cover story in Southern Living, for a couple of retired people, it turned out to be a picture perfect day.

   And we got pictures of three Virginia courthouses:

   Giles County, founded 1806, located in Pearisburg.

   Craig County, New Castle.

   Botetourt County, in Fincastle.

   What a Day!