Cricket Hill

Please tell me I'm not the only one who sees the eyes and mouth on this tractor.

Unless I'm mistaken, it's whistling, too.

A friend from this blog who owns a home in the Cricket Hill area asked me to watch her garden while she was out of town.

(Watch = Water + Note to Self: Please don't forget to water, thank you very much).

Anyway.

The tractor above lives peacefully in the woods on the way to her home. I've admired it for some time.

Another thing I've admired is the view from her dock.

I've had the privilege of sitting in one of those chairs and can tell you that once your feet hit that dock, all stress is immediately released to the universe.

Shifting gears, today includes (unless it rains) a soccer game in Windsor, which is exactly 3,000 miles from Mathews or 2,500 from California, depending on which way you're traveling.

A blog post which began with a whistling tractor and could ramble into perpetuity unless forced to a conclusion ended with pink chairs and a trip to Windsor is now coming to a merciful close.

The End.

Traffic

Road leading off Gwynn's Island to the bridge

Here in Mathews, there's really no such thing as traffic.

Our roads tend to be tranquil.

Peaceful.

And for the most part our drivers are in no real  hurry to get anywhere.

Unless you count the Kamikaze commuters on Route 14 headed out the county towards Gloucester at 6:30 a.m. every weekday.

Sure, there are busy times in the Court House, especially on Friday and Saturday mornings  in the summer when locals and tourists box each other out at the deli counter of the Best Value or Food Lion gather at the local grocery stores to purchase their weekend necessities.

Dirt lane near American Legion Hall

But for the most part, our roads are sleepy and lazy.

Just like me.

Intersection of Town Point Landing and Rte. 14

Pretty much the only time I can recall any noteworthy traffic events was when they were putting in the sewer lines last winter, or here recently when they reconfigured Ward's Corner.

Even then, I took great joy in waving to the guys holding the Stop or Slow signs.  Having to stop wasn't an inconvenience or a frustration at all.  It was almost nice having something different tossed in to the otherwise routine and uneventful trips to the Court House.

I lived in Northern Virginia for 13 years, where the whole notion of traffic was originally invented.  Whoever invented that traffic set down some very rigid rules, such as "The minimum time it will take to get anywhere is At Least Ten Times Longer Than Necessary x Two, Squared, Then Cubed, Or Until You Burst Into Tears, Whichever is More Painful And Takes Longer." 

Route 198, Hudgins.
I know this guy on the tractor.

I'm very content living in a place where the most frustrating traffic inconvenience is a slow-moving tractor traveling to the right of a solid Do Not Pass No Matter How Much You Really Want To yellow line.

Route 198 near the Ruritan Club and CBW's house and Smither's Cemetery.
The guy on the tractor lives just up the way.  

Last but not least as it relates to traffic around here--I love living in a place where honking your horn is assumed to be a greeting rather than a sign of road rage.