Land and Sea

Have a wonderful weekend.

Three Things

Sailboats on Queens Creek

On Thursdays if I have energy enough to post, I usually share three (or sometimes more) thoughts which tend to be unrelated. And I encourage you to do the same. The more off the wall the better. Just let your mind roam freely and share whatever happens to be passing through.

Here are my three things:

1. Remember when I went crabbing a while back? (Click here or here  or here if you don't.) Most of the pictures from that trip are posted on my Facebook account. The publisher of Chesapeake Style magazine saw them and asked if she could use one for a future cover. Of course she could! Click here for the on-line version or grab a copy at the newspaper stand of one of our local merchants.


2. Last night when I arrived home from work, there were multiple surprises awaiting me. I absolutely love surprises, live for them even--especially when they don't involve ant infestations or lawn mowers that spontaneously decide not to start when the grass is knee high. One was a package filled with goodies that included two bags of very exceptional coffee. The other involved work being done that I could never complete myself. I am exceptionally fortunate to have very kind, very generous friends. THANK YOU. Just thank you.


3. Friday the temperature is predicted to be close to 100 degrees. I hope to be in the air conditioned Mathews Memorial Library,  the Chesapeake Room in particular, researching something for the person mentioned last week who is piecing together a family puzzle dating to the 1600s. Fascinating stuff. Plus it gives me a valid reason to spend hours rummaging through the microfilm and books at that library, which believe it or not I love . (I am a cheap date very easily entertained. Public libraries are like amusement parks to me.)


That's all I have to report from this neck of the woods. Please feel free to share three, four, six or more thoughts relating to what's going on in your world.  Whatever you want, anything at all.

Sailboats on Queens Creek.  Still.
Just closer up this time.

Some Questions

This is the evening sun highlighting the dock belonging to my neighbor across the creek.

That cute little shed on the left has always caught my eye.  The former owner of this property (who ran a charter boat operation) used it for all kinds of exciting things--like cleaning fish.

Perched on a pole to the right of the dock this particular evening was Mr. Heron, who spent the better part of a half hour primping and preening at the end of his long day.

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In other news, after the storm the other night, the temperatures dropped drastically.  Yesterday was absolutely stunning even if I did waste it spend the majority of the day trapped in my office toiling away.

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In honor of the middle of the week, and since I have nothing interesting to report to liven things up a bit, how about I ask you some questions?

1.  What's your favorite day of the week and why?

2.  If that cute little shed above were yours, what would you use it for?

3. This heron spent at least half an hour fixing himself up.  If you were trying to spruce up (say for work or a night out), how much time do you require?

Thanks for playing along and have a great day.

Green

This cornfield lives on the road leading to the public landing referenced yesterday.  The trees, fields, lawns, gardens, marshes--everything around here seems to be glowing an emerald green lately.

This is my favorite time of year, especially since we've suffered only a few really bad days of horrible, oppressive heat and humidity.

Speaking of oppressive heat and humidity, which sometimes spawn storms, last night as I left work in Williamsburg a fierce thunderstorm bulldozed its way through. I'm pretty sure I haven't seen rain and winds like that since one of the last hurricanes, although it didn't last very long.

Driving home along the Colonial Parkway, I saw white caps on the York River that rivaled scenes from that show Deadliest Catch. The schooner tied up at the Yorktown waterfront was being tossed about like a cork. We won't talk about the extremely ferocious winds whipping as I crossed the dreaded Coleman Bridge.

Once I arrived in Mathews, though, it was almost as if nothing happened. Evidently the worst passed to our south.

This post, which started with the color green and a public landing before morphing into white caps and hurricanes schooners at Yorktown, is now forcing itself to a merciful close.

Thank you for stopping by.

p.s. If you live in the Richmond-Hampton Roads area, did the thunderstorm impact you at all? 

Town Point Landing

Yesterday I drove to the public landing below the Court House (otherwise known on maps and signs as Town Point Landing)to go for a brief jog.

The heat wasn't oppressive, but the sun was just high enough to make a prolonged jog feel like prolonged agony. No sense in overexerting one's self unnecessarily, that's what I always say.

After some brutally hot days last week, this weekend's moderate temperatures were a welcome relief.

The pleasant weather and little bit of idle time gave me the courage inspired me to tinker with my camera, which as of last week abruptly informed me it quit without even the common courtesy of two weeks notice. It just up and quit. Just like that.

If I didn't love that camera so much, I'd call it insolent.

Before giving up and declaring my camera officially fired dead, I tried new batteries.

No fewer than three different sets, to be exact.

Yep.

While most people would have given up after the first failed attempt, most people do not have loose batteries rolling around in the bottom of their camera bag, some of which may have been tossed there after dying in the middle of something; others of which are perfectly new, never used. Commingling unabashedly with the dead ones.

(CBW is one of the most scatterbrained unorganized people you'll ever meet, unlike some people she knows who keep spreadsheets detailing the last time they received a hair cut, how much it cost, and how long said hair cut lasted before having to go for another one. CBW only wishes she were making this up. She will go to her grave mystified by such people. However, these same people would never dream of having dead batteries anywhere near fresh batteries, much less rolling around loose having parties together in the bottom of a camera bag. So there's that. )

Anyway.

For now the camera is working. We shall see.

In other news, only a few long short weeks stand between CBW and the annual Griswold family vacation, which is the one precious week a year that a very comfortable distance is created between her and aggravation major responsibilities.

Hopefully you have something fun and/or different to look forward to in the coming weeks that will create a break from your normal routine.

Sky

Sunrise on Queens Creek

These were taken in quick succession a few weeks ago. It's amazing how quickly the sky changes when the sun is rising or setting. Sometimes in the 30 seconds it takes to locate my camera and dash outside, what I intended to capture has vanished.

Speaking of my camera, I am loath to report that mine is acting up again, and that's an understatement.  For the time being I'm in denial that anything serious can possibly be wrong, especially since only recently I sent it and $100 to Canon to repair another major problem.

The stages of CBW coping with an issue as large as this are as follows:

1. Denial
2. More denial.
3. Crying Whining.
4. Paralysis (Or an inability to address the problem even if no longer denying one exists.)
5. More Whining.
6. Frustration. And lots of kettle-cooked potato chips.
7. Something Needs To Happen (Because potato chips denial and whining aren't working. This is not to be confused with acceptance. CBW considers a broken camera an absolutely unacceptable part of her life.)

Currently I'm only in Stage 2. I've convinced myself that if the batteries (which I just changed last week) are replaced, the camera will be just fine.

At some point after reaching Stage 7 (which could takes weeks), I will send the camera back to Canon--again. However, I refuse to spend another $100 for them to fix it.

It might be time for Plan B, which entails high-powered rifles because I do not do well with change and just want my old camera to work properly retiring my favorite camera forever.

Please pass the kettle chips tissues.

Regardless of all this whining, I intend to make the best of the weekend, which is upon us once again. Have a great one, and thanks for stopping by.

Family Tree

Sometimes I am utterly amazed at what's placed in my path courtesy of this blog.

This family Bible is a perfect example.


Many, many months ago, Mathews Mark (remember Mark?) asked me to come by to look at a bunch of things from his grandfather's attic. This Bible and the names inside were of particular interest to me.

Although I intended to research the family listed, my paying job and lawn mowing responsibilities family commitments got in the way.

The Bible sat in the back of my car for weeks.  It's still there.

Then one day I received an email from someone who stumbled across the blog while researching a project otherwise known as a biography of the Peyton family of Mathews.

One of several other family names she's interested in is Marchant.

Guess where this Bible, sitting (temporarily) in the back of my car, is from? The note above says the home of one Dr. Melvin Marchant.

Guess how many Marchants are listed in this Bible?

Lots and lots.

And then some.

(What are the chances? I find myself randomly in possession of a Bible loaded with Marchant family history, and I dawdle before returning it. Then an email from someone researching the Marchant family appears. Eerie, almost. Time to buy a lottery ticket.)

Tomorrow I am meeting the person conducting all this genealogical research.

In addition to the Peytons and Marchants, she's interested in any info on the following families:

Long/Longest
English
Forrest
Keeble

I know a very little bit about some of these families and feel confident I can point her in the right direction.

But if you have any info you'd like to share, please leave a comment or send an email to ChesapeakeBayWoman@gmail.com.

As always, thank you for reading, contributing and tolerating and indulging me.

Friday Evening Drive

Trumpet Creeper

On a Friday evening that was supposed to be uneventful, my friend Waterman JP stopped by and asked if I wanted to ride down to a super secret spot where he goes oystering. Always up for an adventure, particularly when it entails oysters a place I've never been, I said yes.

This super secret oyster place is so secret, I am not allowed to reveal its name or location, but to get there you drive below the Blah Blah and before you get to Yadda Yadda you turn left and drive to a place he calls the Blahblah Blah.

(Step right up, folks!  In the center ring we have the most ridiculous sentence ever written by a person who, in spite of herself, wrote a book not long ago--a book that was actually published!)

This might be the most graceful cedar tree I've ever met.

But back to shellfish.

Waterman JP tells me that he breads and freezes the spectacular oysters he retrieves from this super secret place, which means even in the summer/warmer months he can indulge in the delicacy whenever he wants.

(There's an old saying that says you should never eat fresh oysters in a month without an "r" in it, which tends to rule out the summer months. Whether there's truth to that or not, I have no idea. But it's usually a good idea not to tempt fate when your name is Chesapeake Bay Woman, who once got so sick off crabs that she was begging to die. Luckily nobody was listening. Is anyone still reading?)

My father whips up The Best Batch of fried oysters I've ever had anywhere. The secret is in the breading (of fresh, local oysters) and he has that process down pat.

Waterman JP, however, says he can whip up a mean batch of fried oysters himself.

I'm thinking there needs to be a taste test. Soon. And I'll be the judge.

In the mean time, thanks, JP, for another educational and entertaining evening.

Now. When are you gonna fry me up a batch of oysters?

Roadside Scenes

These were taken last week

from the road that winds its way from the Court House

to Haven Beach.

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The Chesapeake Bay Family's Father's Day celebration was fun and quirky even by our standards and a little unconventional. Cuz where's the fun in conventional?

An evening filled with good food and lots of laughs culminated with a family outing on the Gator (a contraption featured in yesterday's post).

We visited neighbors, picked a few blackberries, and all in all had a splendid time.

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How did you spend the day?

Father's Day

Saturday afternoon I returned from a six-mile run jog to find my parents frolicking in the front yard on the Gator. After a brief exchange, my mother asked if I'd read her latest blog post.  I hadn't.

Click here for her Father's Day tribute.

Click here for my 2008 tribute.

I consider myself extremely fortunate to have them both in my life.

Happy Father's Day.

Overcast

Thursday's weather was a little strange.  As best I could tell the forecast did not include rain, yet all signs pointed in that direction.

(I say "as best I could tell" because I never listen to, watch or read forecasts. So what am I talking about when I say the weather was strange? Why did I assume it was supposed to be sunny?  Did I see it in tea leaves? What made me so certain it wasn't supposed to storm?)

In spite of what I read in the tea leaves what I thought the weather should be, the wind was strong, the tide was unusually high, the temperatures were cool, and the clouds were foreboding.

Sort of like a nor'easter--minus the rain and flooding.

After a 5 1/2 mile jog that began and ended at Salem United Methodist Church, I took a drive down to Aarons Beach.

As I type this Thursday evening, I've just returned from lighting a bonfire in the back yard. The wind is steady and the temperature continues to drop, so I turned off the A/C and opened up the windows. As a result the entire house now reeks of campfire smoke The subtle smell of the fire is in my hair the air. Life is good.

Hope you have a great weekend.

Happy Father's Day.

Windows

This building is on the road going down to Wayland Baptist Church,

which is where I sometimes park my car to go jogging.

By the way, I'd better start getting serious about the jogging. Baby Sis,  Mental P Mama, and I are signed up for a half-marathon (13-ish miles) in November.   Ann Marie is doing the full marathon! That's like more than  26 a thousand miles!  Since roller skating is an unacceptable means of participating (I checked), I really need to get serious about this running business.

Anyway.

After a recent four-mile jog, I stopped here to snap a few shots, even though I've taken this building's portrait many, many times before.

These days I'm way more paranoid than usual a little paranoid about buildings being torn down, since several of my favorites recently succumbed to a bulldozer.

As a matter of fact, a farmhouse right across Route 14 from this particular structure was razed shortly before I took these pictures.

Sherlock Holmes I figured out what was happening when, over the course of a week or so, I noticed the preparations, which included the removal of all the windows; trimming and removal of nearby trees; and the telltale sign:  a bulldozer precariously close to the house.

So, although I've previously posted pictures very similar of this very structure, I'm not ashamed to share more.

Because you just never know when this place will be gone for good.


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p.s. Please hold your applause while CBW trots to the stage to accept her award for "Blog Post Containing the Most Fragmented Sentences and/or Sentences Beginning with Conjunctions/Prepositions/Strikethroughs and/or Words Passed Off as Sentences, Such as Anyway."  

Weather Vane

This adorable structure which looks like a combination home/outbuilding/shed/garage/church with a cockeyed steeple lives in Bavon.

I'm not sure how accurate that weather vane is, but I admire its tenacity.