Road Trip

I was thrilled to be invited to the Garden Club of Virginia’s 80^th Historic Garden Week.  Last Thursday, my Farmville fave, Faye, and I took off on a road trip through the most beautiful rolling hills this side of the Mississippi.  The grand estates, well- appointed homes and charming parsonages situated from Norfolk to Leesburg, graciously opened their doors and garden gates for the hoi polloi to traipse about.  Our destination was northern Virginia, somewhere in and around Warrenton.  After picking up friend Kay in New Canton, we breezed along Highway 15 to rendezvous with friend Beth in Little Washington. (It’s not really named Little Washington, that’s to squelch confusion with THE Washington.)  The way to Beth’s house was one-lane, following a babbling stream and chocked full of scenery.  We were stopped short, literally, at the bridge.  No go.  Not crossing today. The paving crew from VDOT said we could retrace our steps and go WAY around and come in on the backside of the property – somewhere in parts unknown.  No thanks.  We called (once we back-traced enough to get a cell signal) and asked Beth to meet us up and out of the hollow.  She did. 

 There was no mistaking that I was in the company of Master Gardeners.  My day-tripping companions hold offices in their Garden Clubs and humbly understate their own magnificent gardens.  I was clearly in the midst of garden giants.  They know the name (and I’m speaking of the scientific name) of every tree, bush, shrub and flower.  They reel off varieties of flowers like I might speak of draft beer.  I was in awe.

We toured all but one of the sites, including Leeds Manor Farm (built for Chief Justice John Marshall), The Hume Parsonage (1855 Episcopal Church rectory), Glen Gordon Manor (1833 Wells Fargo stagecoach stop), Locust Grove (fabulous B&B with a wine cellar dating to 1765), and finally Standen Still, my favorite, a English Arts and Crafts stucco home with a steep cedar shake roof. 

I may have been the least trained in flora & fauna, but no one was more enthusiastic and thrilled to be included on such an excursion.  We laughed as we put the miles behind us, sipping on ice coffee and rubber necking all fields & flowers, fences, barns, houses and horses for 150 miles and back again.

I cannot close without mention of our box lunch provided by Chef Faye.  By golly, she puts Martha Stewart and Paula Dean to complete shame.  Delicious AND healthy, our individual lunches were packed in recycled mushroom containers, complete with three-bean salad in tightly sealed mason jars, a delightful chicken salad roll-up and cookie! 

Kay brought out her famous cream cheese & cucumber sandwiches and we dined like queens.  Cloth napkins & sweet mint tea topped off the ambiance. It was picture perfect!  It truly was.

Life Is Good

Yesterday – Tuesday, was one of those perfect days.  Nothing terribly special – no “over the top” happening – just time on a lake with a friend and time at a concert with George. 

In the aftermath of Monday, with the gut-wrenching bombing at the Boston Marathon, Tuesday’s roses smelled especially sweet.  How easy it is to slip into the rhythm of one’s day and forget to…well, smell the roses.  That ho-hum, almost blind perspective, where one day melts into another, is an easy place to dwell.

Then, in the blink of an eye, one stride of a runner and a cloud of white smoke, we are jolted to attention.  Everything shifts, again.  Our awareness of how precarious and precious our time is washes over us.  These moments come to us all too often.  Some carry national headlines.  Others, like the death of a loved one, are felt by an entire town.  And still others, like a cancer diagnosis, are personal and are felt by family and friends.   

 I have adopted the premise that no-one can hide from these blind-siding collisions.  My senses are ramped up to full throttle, and I’m on full alert….for life.  Yesterday’s paddle on the Sandy River Reservoir complete with a picnic lunch and a pair of soaring eagles, surely symbolizes the goodness in life. The college students’ jazz performance last evening most certainly celebrated the remarkable talents and exciting futures these young folks have.  Strolling home with George after enjoying a beer at our neighborhood pub, gave pause for some reflections.

 Bad things do happen to good people.  Life isn’t always fair.  Evil is real.   How you choose to deal with these truisms is how you measure your own serenity and happiness, and likewise how you impact the lives of others. 

I believe most folks have a good heart.  I think we’re connected with a common bond to help one another, figure it out and get along.  We need each other.  I believe life is good.  

Bring it on. 

A Little Getaway

We treated ourselves to a little getaway this past weekend and drove up to Roanoke.  After dropping Woody off at the pet resort, we took our time driving 460 W.  Bedford was on our must see list and it didn’t disappoint.  It’s a charming spot with a vibrant downtown, interesting Farmer’s Market and beautiful homes; many very grand with miles of fencing and sweeping views. 

We had reservations at the Hotel Roanoke and I had splurged just a bit to secure a “corner room with superlative views.”  The room was lovely and the view was grand, but our neighbors in the next-door suite were ready to party hardy.  Peals of laughter and squeals of “OMG you won’t believe…” blew through the walls like we were right next door.  Oh yeah, we were.   George chalked it up to day drinking and figured the rowdiness would calm down as the night wore on.  I figured different.  I gotta hand it to George; he very gallantly offered to ask the front desk for a room change….that’s never happened before.  And, he came back smiling with a new key to a new room on a new floor.  Seems he saw the “girls” exiting the room and there were an even dozen…all dolled up and ready for anything.  We made a good call. 

Our new room had its own issues…broken bedside lamp and the sink wouldn’t drain, but brushing our teeth over the bathtub seemed a small concession to make for a good night’s sleep.  God, we’re getting old.

We drove out to Hollins College where Jenny went all four years and found it just as beautiful a setting as it was 20 years ago. Then on to Black Dog Salvage -  a true delight. We wandered about totally enthralled with the vast array of inventory.  George found the wood stove he's been searching for and a deal was made.

 Saturday evening we milled around Center on the Square, Roanoke’s reinvented downtown and enjoyed pizza and beer at a Bar-B-Q joint.  The live music just wouldn’t get going so by 10:00 we walked back to the hotel, only to discover the hotel bar had a fellow playing acoustic guitar.  It topped off our evening.

Easter morning breakfast in the hotel dining room was fabulous!  After a month of oatmeal, I felt entitled to eggs and hash-browns, not to mention the muffin I consumed.  All delicious.

The trip back to Farmville was sobering.  We had a bit of deja-vue from last Sunday’s harrowing drive through a snowstorm.  Having decided to take the Blue Ridge Parkway back to Bedford, we realized too late that visibility was zero.  The fog was so dense it felt like rain.  It was a very long 20 miles before we could exit and come down off the mountain.

 We are grateful and very lucky to be alive.  I’ve learned there was a terrible 95 car pile- up due to the fog near Galax, VA.  Folks died and many were injured.  Next time I’m tempted to take the scenic route, I’m going to make sure the conditions are safe.