The Gate

Today's riveting topic has to do with lanes.

Or driveways.

Specifically, the entrance to a driveway or lane.

Which my friend from high school

always called the gate.

(She'd call the entrance to this driveway a gate, even though it's not gated
and you can barely see the driveway--or the deserted house.)

It was a gate whether or not an actual gate existed.

My high school basketball teammate LaRue (aka Smith, real name Tammy LaRue Smith) lived down the way from me and occasionally needed a ride home from practice.  She lived along Route 198 just around the bend in the road between Mathews Chapel United Methodist Church and Ebenezer Baptist Church.  (She now lives in Richmond, but every time I go by her house--which is between five and fifteen times a week--I think of her.)

Her driveway had no gate or fence; in fact, there was barely a driveway.  There was just enough space to pull in and back out onto Route 198.

No matter.

Each and every time I took her home, she said, "Vogel.  Drop me off at the gate."

Well, she meant drop her off at the end of the driveway and keep on going, but I had to pull completely into her driveway to turn around and go back in the other direction. Every time.  So there was no dropping off except into her front yard--after pulling well past what she would consider "the gate."

No matter.

She still insisted I drop her off at the gate.

These pictures were taken in the Mobjack/Bohannon/North area of the county, where there are many long driveways with very pretty gates.  I tell this story because I don't know anyone in my midst these days who equates the end of a driveway with a gate, whether it has one or not.  I find it all fascinating.

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In unrelated news, the Mathews boys are all done with their season after losing to Surry Friday night at Lancaster.  Although it was a tough loss, they had a tremendous season.  I had fun at the game even if we didn't walk away victorious.  On Saturday, Daughter and I spent several hours at the Intermediate School (aka Thomas Hunter) watching rec league basketball.  Daughter kept stats for my friend Alda's daughter's game, which was great fun to watch.

In still more unrelated news, yesterday's temperatures reached the 70s, but today we're under a winter storm warning.

Bohannon

This quaint building is directly across from the one in yesterday's post.

It's one of the landmarks that make up downtown Bohannon,Virginia.

Business isn't exactly booming in downtown Bohannon, but that suits us just fine.

If we want a Starbucks or a Walmutant or a 

McDonald's --and many of us don't, ever-- we drive to Gloucester for all that.

Still, if anyone feels like opening up a Thai or Vietnamese restaurant, there is at least one commercial building in Bohannon that appears to be available.  It might be a fixer upper, but it'd sure be one of a kind.

I hope your weekend is one of a kind. 

Signs

Yesterday, on the way to a million and one errands, I took a spin down Bohannon.

I hadn't been to this part of Mathews in two years, maybe three a month of Sundays.

This particular building screamed for me to pay it some attention.

Not being the arguing sort, I did.

Gladly.

It was a productive trip.

(However, the weather continues to be less than cooperative. If we don't see the sun soon, there's going to be a CBW-led revolt.)

Wandering Wednesday

Today we're wandering down Bohannon way to an old place loaded with charm and character.

Not only was she photogenic...

...but she also provided a lovely frame for some of the surrounding homes and scenery.

Everywhere I turned there were scenes within scenes, if that makes any sense. Like the shot below of a door framing a glimpse at the interior and that distant window framing a glimpse at the other side. Frames, that's what I see everywhere.

Yes, I'm weird.  But that's really no secret.

In doing some research on the county for a side project, I happened upon a folder that contains all sorts of information on this place, and I took copious notes.  But I'm too tired to dig out all those notes because of a day that went like so:

  5:30 alarm, got dressed in the cold and the dark, grabbed strong, black coffee on way out the door to drive 50+ miles to work where I sat in agony for 8.5 hours because I've thrown my back out and no amount of pain reliever works but it only hurts when I sit except all I do all day long is drive sit at a desk and then I raced to my daughter's soccer game and then home to make dinner and then back in the car to the high school to retrieve son who watched volleyball game and then tried to come up with a blog post while still in agony from back pain and exhausted due to Life and don't forget school forms & fees due tomorrow and make sure you have clean clothes for work and the cat threw up and GET ME OFF THIS CRAZY RIDE!

You know, one of those days.

So for now let's just enjoy the scenery and not worry too much about the details, although if you have any background on this place, feel free to chime in.

p.s. Thanks for letting me vent, and of course I really don't want to completely disembark this crazy ride, I just want it to slow down some. Also, it would be nice if the ride came with a one-way ticket frequent flyer miles to Bora Bora, where I'd relax in my thatched over-the-water hut that had room service and daily maid service. Oh, Bora Bora, wherefore art thou?   

  

Surprises

I just love surprises, of any description. To me some of the best times in life are those which are not planned or anticipated. Unless we're talking about finding a caterpillar on one's pillow, which is exactly what happened to me last night. No lie.

Over a week ago, I went to Mobjack to photograph some churches, an old school and a wharf. Along the way were many unexpected scenes starving for attention, including this building which sits right next to the Bohannon post office.

Since traffic is nonexistent light in this neck of the woods, I pulled over across the road and started taking pictures. This window was particularly charming; the curtains, unexpected.

Someone who's been here a while can tell me what this place was, but I'm going to guess a filling station or a store. Maybe both. Maybe neither.

Regardless, it was an unexpected gift on my photographic journey.

Just like Friday last, when I was supposed to go to the library to do some research. The sunshine was brilliant, as it was in the shots above, so I never made it to the library just had to sneak in a few pictures. Except I wasn't sure where to go. I never am.

So I just drove on through the Court House and arbitrarily made a left at the Convalescent Center where I'll be living in a few short years. The road took me past the Tabernacle and then twisted this way and that.

All of a sudden, while debating which way to turn at an intersection, I noticed a man working on a tractor in the field and recognized him as Mr. C., someone I've loved from afar known for decades.

He jumped over the ditch as I came to a stop in the middle of the road. Leaning in to my open passenger-side window he began a conversation which lasted a good ten minutes. No, it was a great ten minutes. We talked. We laughed. We reminisced. And then we laughed some more. I could have stayed there in the middle of the road all day long. Talking and laughing.

Although I could write a book on our conversation, and maybe I will some day, my favorite part went like so:

Mr. C: Where are you headed this fine mornin'?

CBW: I don't know exactly. Wherever the wind blows me.

Mr. C: That's the very best place to go.

Indeed it is.

I'm almost always very pleasantly surprised.

Bohannon

This delightful old place sits on the side of the road in Bohannon, which is part of the greater Mobjack metropolitan area.

Just typing "the greater metropolitan Mobjack area" makes me chuckle.

May your weekend be chock full of sunshine and chuckles.