Road Trip through Time

I think best on my feet, moving forward, doing something. I’ve had a lot to think about lately, so I decided I needed to move. This is the first year in long time I won’t be packing up, picking a new town, new house, new life. I needed to keep moving though, so a start-of-summer road trip was perfect. I’d heard from a friend of a friend that there was a good strawberry crop in southern Virginia, just a few hours away. The directions to the u-pick farm were delightfully southern. Highway for a few hours. Then take the Ferry by the old Fort.



Drive down the road until you see the abandoned house.


It’ll be on your right. Unfortunately a lot of people heard from a friend of friend, and the fields were pretty picked over. Worse, there wasn’t much to be had in the way of lunch. Don’t worry I managed to improvise. And by improvise, I mean wait until the farmer brought a fresh strawberry pie out of the oven and devour it while it was still warm:

strawberry pie

Pie isn’t much for substance though, and driving through backroads gives you the impression you’ve driven through decades instead of miles. This gas station proved it:.

035 034



They directed us to ‘town’ for lunch, where the feeling of turning back the clock only got worse.
The local movies theater’s summer display:


Pulled up by the post office:


old car

The post office (note the nuclear shelter symbol on the wall, I haven’t seen those for a while):


nuclear shelter


I talked to a few locals, and discovered I wasn’t back in time, just in a place that didn’t feel the need to catch up. Grabbed a quick lunch at the local diner, followed by some pictures of the only hotel in town (which sadly didn’t have a room for me for the night):


old houseI decided I’d rather head back toward my own era. One of the folks caught me shooting photos though. These digital snaps are my test shots. When I really shoot, it’s on a mechanical 35mm older than I am. I think that’s why he directed me to the tree outside of town – the one with “a skull in the roots”. At first you don’t see it, then you kind of do:





Needless to say, I was happy to get home. Even happier to be greeted by one of my amaryllis in full bloom. They only bloom at Christmas but I guess their calendar was a bit off this year.



It brought me a smile. People say time heals all wounds. My trip through time helped mine enough that I’m already day dreaming about the next one.


Random Musings Charleston

It’s been 15 months since I last moved. My feet itch. The clever north wind whispers to me of towns yet to be seen, friends yet to be made,  battles yet to be fought…

I’m looking for the next place, the new home. Because I’ve begun to catch myself feeling  like this:

No story left to tell ~ Magnolia Cemetery, Charleston, SC

There’s something attractive about the anonymity of hotel rooms. The way you shut the door and no one can find you. The new place, safe from everyone who knows you. The place where you can say you’ve always hated something and no one will remember when you loved it.  A place to reinvent yourself. A place where, when trouble comes to you, you sit under the branches of a tree and feel connected to everyone else who has done the same.

300 year old oak tree, Magnolia Graveyard

Because sometimes you find it’s time to close one door and knock on another one.

Lion Head Door ~ Meeting St. Charleston