Three Things

I love this shed.  In spite of the few minor cosmetic issues, I love it.  

Thursday is upon us once again which means it's time to share three things. I'll go first.

1. These pictures are of the potting shed referenced in yesterday's post about my visit to Carol's house and our walk in the woods. As soon as I spotted this structure I dashed over, introduced myself, and began taking pictures. This shed has lots of personality, but the windows were my favorite part. (The last photo below was my favorite of all.)

2. Last night after racing home from a long day of work to retrieve CB Daughter from basketball practice, I spilled into the front door and dove head first into the dinner making process, do not pass Go, do not even change out of your work clothes or take a moment to collect your thoughts because teenagers must. Eat. NOW.

After CB Son and I exchanged a few pleasantries, he proceeded to inform me nonchalantly that there was a basketball game at the high school. Ordinarily this would cause me to grimace because it would require two more trips for me that evening: one to deliver him and one to retrieve him.

In this instance, however, I realized he could drive himself in my car, since he now has his license. And I still grimaced.

Sure, it's nice that he can drive legally now, but this opens up a whole new can of Worry--an extra large vat of it, in fact. Nevertheless, we went over the rules for easing me into this concept of him driving alone at night:

"Text me when you get there. Text me when you leave. But dontchoodare text while driving. Drive directly there and straight home. Do not pick up or drop off anyone else or venture elsewhere after the game. Night time driving is different. Even if you think you can see, animals dart out. Big ones. Other drivers may not be able to see at night even if they are perfect drivers in the day. Yes, I fully realize I sound like the stereotypical mother but I can't help it. Just yesterday you were in a bassinet and today I'm handing you my car keys. Cheeseandrice, where did the time go and how much longer before you all leave me in a corner of the arts and crafts room at Sanders Assisted Living?"

We really did discuss all of that and more, except for the cheese and rice part and the assisted living scenario, which occurred only in my head.

I am pleased to report that we both survived this major milestone. It was far easier for him than for me, a trend which no doubt will continue with each step he takes away from me towards adulthood.

Serenity now.

3. This Saturday night Baby Sis and Middle Sis will be in town to celebrate my father's 71st birthday. We're planning a big dinner for us and a few neighbors, but any time our family gathers it morphs into a dance party. All I can say is it's a good thing I've been running here lately, because I think I'm going to need lots of endurance.

4.  (Because three is only a suggestion...) Between the son officially driving and the upcoming weekend celebration, I'd like to state for the record that I really, truly, love my family dearly but at the same time really, truly dream of some day escaping if only for the rest of my life a week, to Bora Bora.


Now it's your turn to share three (or more) things. 


 Whatever you want. 


 Anything at all.

A Walk in the Woods

Last week I received an email from Carol, a Mathews resident who lives below the Court House near where I sometimes go for a jog.

She asked if I'd be interested in taking some photos at her house, which backs up against a very dense woods.  Although she talked of the possibility of poison ivy; dangerous, half-fallen trees; sinkholes,  and muddy conditions, I gladly leapt at the opportunity and headed to her house on Friday.

Poison ivy?  No worries.  Half-fallen trees, hidden tripping hazards, and muddy conditions?  Bring it on! These are necessary ingredients for any misadventure adventure of mine.

Dense woods.

Carol hadn't been back in these woods for a couple of years due to the conditions (such as the aforementioned holes and half-fallen trees) but also because she has had knee problems.

My fearless enthusiasm for the woods combined with her need for a walking companion meant we were a well-matched team.

She and I set out on our adventure, she armed with pruners for the briars, and I with my camera.

By the way, this particular day was so cold my hands would have been numb if they were submerged in a flaming fire.  For the first time this winter I actually donned a hat (without claws) and a scarf in addition to my usual gloves and coat.

It was bitterfreezingcold.

Off into the woods we dashed.

About midway through was a clearing (of sorts) where sunlight sparkled on some brilliantly green moss.

Look!  Green!  

Excited at this discovery I quickly became distracted at what else there was to see and soon lost all track of Carol. She had told me that if I came to a very deep ditch, that was where her property line ended.  So off I trotted in search of this ditch.

So focused was I on my mission that I completely forgot about Carol, who was focused on pruning briars and inspecting trees and other plants she hadn't visited in a while.

All this is an excruciating long a long way of saying we became separated.

Way back in the woods.

On the coldest possible day of the year.

And she has bad knees.

And there are holes and tripping hazards and trees hanging precariously.

Etc.

Around each tree there was another surprise.  Green moss; interesting tree stumps, drainage ditches, and lots of loblolly pines swaying in the occasional gusts of very strong wind, gusts capable of dislodging tree limbs and half-fallen trees onto unsuspecting passersby.

For example.

Sure, this ditch water looks calm, but way up in the canopy of these woods were wind gusts.  Trust me.
 The pine trees were creakin'.

As a side note to this story which does actually have a happy ending, Carol is doing some research into the history of the various drainage systems and ditches in our fair county, and when I told her about my favorite document, the Mathews County Soil Survey by the U.S. Department of Agriculture (circa 1962), she shocked me by informing me she already had a copy! You could have knocked me over with a feather. I've never met anyone who was familiar with the soil survey!

(It's a wealth of information.  Click here or here or here for previous posts relating to the Soil Survey. They may just make you laugh.  Or cry, depending on how tired you are of hearing about my favorite document.)

Anyway, there came a point in time where I realized I couldn't hear Carol behind me any more.  After I reached the end of her property, I turned around and went back, expecting to find her somewhere along the way.

Except I didn't find her anywhere along the way

Not only that, but I couldn't hear anything.  No crunching leaves, no snipping clippers, no nothing.

Silence.

She must have gone back to the house, it's so daggone cold, I thought.

So back to the house I trotted, dodging briars and low-hanging limbs, hopping over fallen trees and leaping over mud holes.

The front door was slightly ajar.  I knocked on it, poked my head inside, and said Hello?

No answer.

So back into the woods I trotted, dodging briars and low-hanging limbs, hopping over fallen trees and leaping over mud holes--this time stopping every few steps to listen for footsteps which are so easy to hear when the crispy, dry leaves carpet the ground.

Silence.

Back to the house I sprinted again (dodging, hopping and leaping my way out), this time wondering if maybe she was in some back room and didn't hear me the first time.

At the door I stepped in a little ways, stepped in some more, called her name,  realized (again) she wasn't in there, and dashed back into the woods, more than a little out of breath from all this dodging and leaping.

Sinkholes.  Mud.  Thick patches of briars.  Bad knees.  Hasn't been back here in a couple of years.  Oh no, I thought, she's fallen and it's my fault and she can't call for help because she's face first in quick sand or in so much pain she's writhing in agony barely able to move.  How could I have been so ridiculously unaware of her whereabouts?

And then, seemingly out of nowhere, she appeared.  Safe and sound.

Perfectly fine! Cool as a cucumber.

All that worry was for naught.  Thank goodness.

I didn't let on how worried I'd been.  No need. She was fine.  I was fine.  It was all good.  I did casually mention that our trek in the woods most definitely counted as vigorous exercise.  Oh yes indeed it did.

She then took me around and showed me some of the beautiful plants on her property that she believes were planted by one of three sisters who originally owned the house.  She told me that the shed (above) in these woods was likely used as a potting shed.

In the coming days I'll share more photos of this wonderful shed, which was one of my favorite parts of the journey.

In the mean time thanks so much to Carol for inviting me over and sharing her stories, her artwork, and her beautiful woods with me. I look forward to returning in the spring for pictures of all her flowering shrubs--as well as her artwork, which I thought was magnificent.

*************

Note:  Carol's husband, who passed away several years back, was a California artist whose work may soon be shown at Gloucester Arts on Main. She was telling me stories about him and his work, when I asked about a stack of canvases over in a corner of her living room.  They were paintings she herself had done, and they're also worthy of showing, in my opinion. Unfortunately, due to the cold weather which pretty well numbed any functioning brain cells, I did not even think to take pictures of her artwork.  Next time.  Thanks, Carol!