Ridgefield

This wonderful building is on Ridgefield Road, near Wayland Baptist Church, which is where I park my car when I go on my six-mile run.

(I haven't gone six miles in a couple weeks now; my excuse is there's been no time.  But I hope to reacquaint myself with this particular six-mile route  this week! soon.)

I've posted seventy eleven thousand many photos of this structure over the years and never cease to be entertained by and attracted to it.  Alas, I know none of its history, none of its stories, none of its connections.

All I can tell you is it sits patiently on the side of a very quiet road down which I love to run. It doesn't require attention.  It doesn't insist on acknowledgement. It just is.

Poison Ivy

This isn't the same house referenced below, but the brush was just as bad as or worse than this.
Actually, this house is near Antioch, not terribly far from where the incident below occurred.

For several days now I’ve been in denial about the fact that I have poison ivy.

Does one actually have poison ivy or is it more appropriate to say that one has contracted  a rash due to poison ivy or is one simply allergic to poison ivy and is this as painful to read as it is to scratch write?

The fact of the matter is, up until now I could wallow in poison ivy and never feel any effects.  Chesapeake Bay Son?  If he so much as looks at it, or someone utters the words poison or ivy he’s broken out for weeks, in agony. It’s terrible.

(Around here we pronounce that last word TERR-rhymes with her-uh-bull.)

But I grew up here in the country, spent years, days and hours on end wandering around in all manner of weeds, tall grass and woods and never once was sensitive to it.

Well, OK, maybe once. 

Here recently after messing around with some clippers in an area that I know is rife with poison ivy, one small bump appeared on my ankle. I pointed, ridiculed and laughed at it, and away it went.  The End.

But last week something happened.  Something I was hoping to avoid telling.  Something I wasn’t exactly going to share with anyone, much less the internetz since it may or may not have involved me setting foot on property that is not public. Just for a minute.

I was jogging down my favorite jogging road, which for purposes of this story shall remain nameless even though I’ve named it millions of times before. 

Anyway, I got to thinking about this magnolia tree which stands in the middle of the woods close to the road.  I thought how oddly situated it is amid so many pine trees and then got to thinking how usually magnolia trees are planted purposefully in people’s yards (unlike pine trees which grow in my some people's gutters).

Perhaps this tree was marking the site of an old house.

So I slowed down from a jog to a walk and peered into the woods near the magnolia.  (Anything to take a break.)

Lo and behold, I saw an old house sitting way back off the road, hiding in a very dense thicket.

Knowing no cars would be along ever for some time, I hopped across the Grand Canyon cavernous ditch and scampered back into the woods. There was lots of waist-high brush everywhere (and I was wearing shorts) but I didn’t pay it any mind. I was dead set on two things: escaping the ferocious winged monkeys known as Mathews Mosquitoes that had suddenly descended out of nowhere now that I was in the woods; and getting a closer look at that house.

Well, the mosquitoes were so bad I couldn’t open my mouth without ten flying inside focus on the house, although the little bit I saw looked charming. After trudging several hundred miles yards through dense jungle brush, swatting at winged monkeys mosquitoes the whole time, I turned around and headed back to the safety of the road, already scratching at the damage done by those mutant insects.

By the way, today, when I asked how things were down Bavon, my high school classmate Johnny Pugh replied that the mosquitoes down that end of the county were "taking off and landin' like jet planes." Bavon is Mosquito Hell Heaven, but I think these woods I was in could give even Bavon a run for its money. Regardless what part of the county we’re talking about, we grow insects big—monstrously big-- here in Mathews.

Finally I made my way back to the main road and resumed my run, swatting at real or perceived mosquitoes or anything that made a buzzing sound inside around my head. I drove home and thought nothing more of the incident.

Several days later, I started itching.  Bad.  And then the rash appeared. 

I either have poison ivy or the beginnings of malaria, or possibly West Nile Virus.  Either/or, take your pick.

Rest assured it will be a cold day in hell Mosquito Heaven before I venture into those woods again.

The End.

This isn't poison ivy. But just pretend that it is. Also pretend there are mosquitoes the size of bald eagles descending so thick you can't even see this window. Then wonder if the rash you have is caused by poison ivy, which you've never had, or malaria, which you probably do have based on exposure to unusually large, unusually dense, mutant mosquitoes.

Scenes from Ridgefield Road

These were taken last week from Ridgefield Road, where I hardly ever occasionally like to go jogging.

It's a very peaceful road.

Just to clarify, I wasn't jogging with my camera.  These were taken afterwards, from the safety and comfort of my car.

This ordinary looking field actually held a little surprise the particular morning I was there.

Although you can't tell in the photo above, the shot below shows several young turkeys.

I startled a whole herd   flock?   bevy?  covey? family of turkeys that included about 8 or 10 babies.

They had no interest in having their pictures taken, but I managed to capture at least three, possibly four of them below.

(I'd draw arrows to the two that aren't quite visible but surprise! I don't know how since I don't even know how to edit pictures, much less add arrows and stuff.)

The quaint house below lives just beyond the field where the turkeys were.

You know that chain draped across the driveway was just begging me to hurdle it.

I used to be a halfway decent hurdler back in the day. Sometimes when I go plodding along barely faster than a walk jogging I often flash back to those days and wish I could run one more race. They were only fifteen or sixteen seconds in length, these hurdle sprints, but man were they intense and action packed. Since hurdling again is probably out of the question, however, I have decided I really want to join a roller derby team.  If anyone out there has connections, I can guarantee you I'd be a great addition to any team.  I have enough speed and attitude aggression to make up for three people.  In fact, Big Hair Envy and I are talking about attending a roller derby match? meet? event later in August.  I personally can't wait.

Anyway, I felt like hurdling the chain but didn't, for obvious reasons not the least of which was why not just step over the dang chain-- there's no need to hurdle it--but no matter what there's the whole trespassing thing.

So, for the time being I opted to keep on going.

The End.

p.s. Is there a specific/more appropriate word for a flock of turkeys that includes babies?  Deltaville Jamie, are you reading?  You always know these things. Thanks in advance, expiring minds inquiring minds want to know.

Ridgefield Road

Here lately about once a week, I drive down Route 614, Ridgefield Road, to Wayland Baptist Church; park my car; and go for a barely faster than a walk light jog.

From Wayland, I take Ridgefield to Beaverlett post office, then make a right on Beaverdam Road.  Then I make another right on the Autobahn Route 14 back to a right on Ridgefield.  Make sure all of this is clear, because there will be a quiz at the end.

It's so peaceful and quiet on this road.  Very rarely does a car go by.

The woods lining either side of the road are chock full of birds and bugs and unknown creatures that make the most wonderful, peaceful, soothing sounds.

It's like stepping into a parallel universe where there's no deadline looming stress.

I keep telling myself I need to bring my video camera down here to record a walk on this magical road. The sounds even more so than the sights would be so wonderful to capture.

That'll have to go on the list of Things I Intend to Do One of These Days If I Ever Live to See This Book to Fruition.

In the meantime here are a few shots from the vicinity.

Below is one I took leaving Wayland, with the same stretch of road above reflected in the rear view mirror.

Warning:The dirt on CBW's mirror is even worse than it appears.

Who said you can't take a photo while parked in the middle of the road? (Sheriff Howlett, put your handcuffs away hand down.)

The red barn over there has always mesmerized me.

I have yet to learn much about it or rather, I've forgotten whatever I heard, but it just beams with character.

And now for the pop quiz:

1.This is a question for those whose technical knowledge extends beyond the DOS operating system, which dates back to Chesapeake Bay Woman's last first foray into the world of computers.  Using Google Whatever or one of those I-Things, please tell me how far I am jogging if I start at Wayland Baptist Church, take Ridgefield to Beaverdam to Route 14 back to Ridgefield and Wayland. If it is fewer than 3 miles, please don't answer this question.  Or lie and say it's more. Thank you in advance for your cooperation.

2.True or False. Chesapeake Bay Woman would rather drive ten minutes to the Middle of Nowhere; park her car; and jog all around the vicinity of Nowhere in 200% humidity on the hottest day of the year thus far than work on her book, which is due in almost a week.

3. If a tree falls in the woods near Ridgefield Road and Chesapeake Bay Woman isn't around to catch it hear it, when will she ever learn that there is a very valid reason why Nike did not select "Just Procrastinate" as its slogan?

OK, so this was more of a rhetorical question sort of quiz, but if anyone can measure out that route for me, I'd greatly appreciate it.

Have a great weekend.

"The gate" (aka the driveway entrance) at Wayland. I'll post pictures of the church  grounds soon.