Birdhouse

These houses and trees live down Mobjack.

(That one trip to Mobjack a few weeks back sure produced a lot of photos.)

A bird was resting comfortably on the front stoop 

of his house as I slowed down to take his picture.

Although this particular little bird stayed on his front stoop, the bird known as Chesapeake Bay Woman flew the coop this past weekend.  I traveled to Delaware to visit my friend Iris. It was great to get away for a much-needed break, but Life didn't seem to want to let me have too much of a diversion.  I came down with what sounds like walking pneumonia bronchitis on Saturday.  (Insert the sound of a heavy sigh--abruptly interrupted by a hacking cough--here.)

In other news, Daughter made the high school varsity soccer team. She is one of five girls on the team of twenty-two.  There are two home games this week: Tuesday and Friday nights.

I hope my (self-diagnosed) bronchitis improves by Tuesday, so I can assume my proper place in the stands screaming and hollering at full capacity.

Have a great, cough-free week.

Mobjack

Yesterday, after enjoying a leisurely morning of not having to rush anywhere,

I went to the grocery store, and then, on a whim, decided to drive to Mobjack.

I needed some new photos; I am tired of going to the same places.

Mobjack is out of the way for me.  I only make it down here three or four times a year.

Yesterday's bright sunshine made it a worthwhile visit.

If it were warmer, that bench would be very inviting.

But it is still very, very cold.  Way too cold to sit on a waterfront bench.

Good news about this seemingly never ending, depressing state of cold is in sight, however.

Last night I attended the high school's spring sports meeting, where they herd parents and students into the cafeteria to talk about concussions and forms and schedules and how schedules will definitely change and how your student must attend school in order to play and other informative details relating to the next round of sports.  Then they herd you into a smaller room specific to your spring sport--in our case that is soccer.

So, in spite of the fact that winter and basketball season are ongoing--with a game Thursday at West Point and at Charles City on Saturday--and in spite of the fact that there will be no rest for the weary in between basketball and soccer, the good news is SOMEBODY SAID THE WORD SPRING!

Hodgepodge

This weekend was a whirlwind of activity kicked off by Daughter's Friday evening's soccer game against Middlesex, which ended in a tie, 2-2.

(Guess who scored both of the goals for Mathews?  Anyone?  Bueller?   Hint:  She's near and dear to my heart.)

Friday and Saturday nights involved good food and good friends.

Before I knew what hit me, Sunday showed up on the doorstep.  Realizing I hadn't taken any new pictures, I headed out in search of anything more interesting than the azaleas in my front yard for a car ride that took me from Gwynn's Island to Bethel Beach.

Edwards Creek, Gwynns Island

In the marsh near Onemo

Approaching Bethel Beach

This week we have three more soccer games, unless Mother Nature decides that three games in one week is too much and sprinkles some rain showers on one or two of them. Speaking of the weather, and we may have been, it has been unseasonably cool here lately, especially given that we're already a day past Cinco de Mayo.

I'm really looking forward to some warm weather, which no doubt is right around the corner along with the mosquitoes, fiddler crabs and other sordid nuisances assorted creatures that come with the heat and humidity.

Soccer

This was a scrimmage against Warhill.  It was ugly and also brutally cold

These pictures are from a scrimmage about a week ago against a double A school. Mathews is single A. The game was, dare I say, atrocious.  I'm not sure how many points we lost by, but it wasn't pretty.

(Also, I am not sure what the appropriate rules are for spelling out or capitalizing As when it comes to schools, so just overlook any blatant errors I may have just committed.)

Here we have two #7s and two #12s.  What are the chances?

Fast forward to last night, the opening game of the season.  Not only did they play much better, but they won, 4-3

Seven has always been my lucky number.  By chance she was given it.
Also, on her arm is a special designator for her status of captain.

At the risk of sounding like an overly boastful a really proud parent, my daughter scored 50% of the goals.  Two of the four.

Did I mention this is a co-ed high school team, and many of the teams they play against have all boys and no girls?  

I think I'm going to like this soccer season.

Sandbank

One of the first places Johnny Pugh took me on our excursion last week was the site of the former Sandbank Wharf which lies at the end of Route 602.

There's not much left of it thanks to a series of storms, including the hurricane of 1933.  Referencing that storm, the book History and Progress, Mathews County, Virginia, compiled by the Mathews Historical Society, says "Practically all wharfs and steamboat landings in the county were either badly damaged or entirely wrecked, and the loss to oil companies with distributing stations on the waterfront was severe."

Johnny provided several photos of Sandbank back in its heyday for use in my book.  Chances are good I'll be able to use them, assuming they meet the publisher's specifications (mainly for size - the quality of the photos is excellent), but for some odd reason they will not upload to this blog post. I was really hoping to provide a glimpse of what this wharf looked like back in the day.

(I get a "server rejected" error if anyone still awake reading troubleshoots these things.)

If I weren't so tired from all the running around today, I'd figure it all out.  And by that I mean I'd have Chesapeake Bay Son help me. And when I say help me I mean I'd walk away and let him figure it out because I lack the required patience.

But he's asleep after a very long soccer game played on a field so long it spanned from Williamsburg to Toano in temperatures and winds rivaling the Arctic tundra.

Although not much remains of Sandbank, I still find the place hauntingly beautiful.

A few questions for this fine Wednesday:

1.  If you are from this area, what do you know about Sandbank and/or the storm of 1933?
2.  Is there anything more soothing than blue skies, blue water and white sand? If so, please let me know whether a passport is required and how soon I can come for a visit.
3.  How is it possible that a person who once wrote college term papers in three different languages cannot figure something out that her teenaged son would intuitively know and fix in a matter of seconds, all the while chuckling under his breath at his mother's ineptitude?
4. What tips do you have for mothers who obviously have never attended night soccer games in Siberia cold, far away places?  Evidently blankets are standard and folding chairs are not.  All those years of Saturday morning YMCA soccer games did nothing to prepare me for high school sports.
5.  Have a wonderful Wednesday.