Blue Ridge blog

On Neat things...

Score one for blogging. Yesterday I had a real life feel good moment as a direct result of my blog. I met Spuz. Spuz reads my blog. She read it while living in New Jersey and has since moved to the Linville area to live near family. She called me because she wanted to show me some of her embroidery work and ask my permission to enter a work of hers, borrowed from one of my photos, in the Avery County fair. We got acquainted over unsweetened ice tea at the Famous Louise's Rockhouse. Next she invited me to her new home. Spuz weaves magic via needle and thread. Truly, her work needs to be seen up close to appreciate it. From samplers to complex pieces she is a master artist. But she's way too humble to admit it. When I asked her about each piece hanging on the walls of her home, I noticed how she associated each work with a period of time in her life.
There are stories behind each one of her pieces and I get that.
Spuz should blog.
Finally I asked Spuz about her name.
As she tells me:
"When I was born, the term 'spuzzy' was a fashionable word for something neat and special. I was the first child, thus earned the name 'Spuz'."
Sweet and such a fitting moniker for her.
At the end of our meeting, I received a hearty hug from Spuz and
I left her home driving back to Boone feeling spuzzy all over.

P.S.- If you go to the Avery County fair be sure to look for Spuz's work and then comment VERY loudly how you like her work. We're working for a blue ribbon here people.

When sometimes all you can muster is a heavy sigh....

Last night as my husband and I walked out of Watauga High School, we high-fived each other as we celebrated the first of our last things we'll ever have to do as parents of children in public school. We never ever have to go to Open House again.
Whew.
OK, the experience is not horrible, but other than putting a face to the name of a teacher our child sometimes mentions, the exercise is almost pointless. Sure, I did glean a bit of helpful information in the 'Just for Seniors' meeting beforehand, but that was separate from the Open House.
Since we've done this thing 12 or 13 times before, we know the drill. We sit in small chairs. We watch teacher write email address on the bulletin board. Teacher says things about the class. Then parents try to impress the teacher with their questions.
Whoever coined the phrase,' There are no stupid questions,' was wrong.
Just last year my all time favorite stupid question was served up to our daughter's math teacher:
"My daughter already did her homework you gave her today. May I turn it in now?"
The question of course, was followed up by great big sucking up noises. To the teacher's credit, she didn't miss a beat and ignored the woman.
Another favorite stupid question of mine was asked two years ago when a woman raised her hand in English class and in front of God and everyone announced her daughter's huge emotional problems. "You're going to be able to deal with that, right?" she asked the teacher. "See me after class," the teacher replied.
Although last night was fairly tame (overall parental attendance was low), we did hear one entertaining question which I fear to reveal because I never know who reads my blog anymore.
But, when I heard it asked in French class I knew immediately I had a winning stupid question submission to our private little contest. And almost immediately I knew my husband agreed because from behind he gave my ponytail a pull.

I'll file this post under 'The stupid things Marie does when she is bored'....

The photo is an old Studebaker for sale and is sitting in front of the Taylor family farm in Valle Crucis.

Scene

I've seen many scenes over the past several weeks. I'm getting particularly familiar with Hwy 321 between the Wendy's intersection in Boone and downtown Columbia, SC. Made the turn-around trip twice now in a week.
Someday, but not tonight, I'd love to tell you more about the Possum Hollow Night Club, the Quickie Mart, the Dixie Diner, Crepe Myrtles and all things southern that should be cherished for well, their lovely southern-ness. All of which, are seen on the colorful route Hwy 321.
In the meantime, I offer you a Valle Crucis scene of the Taylor's horse shoo-ing the flies away with his tail this evening. I like the way the distant hills fade in the sidelight in this photo. This is true.

Death by Hummingbird

Some days it doesn't pay to get out of bed in the morning.
Me? I woke up just fine and am having a good day, but this poor little hummingbird in the gardens of the Mast Farm Inn is having a rough go of it. Apparently, the bird impaled a flying something with it's beak and now has the dead corpse stuck on it. I watched in amusement as it tried its best to git rid of the evidence.
And because the internet is the place of all possibilities, I post my evidence of death by hummingbird. It is unlikely you will ever see such a thing in mainstream media. Only here, my friends.
Oh I know the quality of this hummingbird photograph pales in comparison to that of Hugh Morton's, but remember, I am the twisted Blue Ridge photographer who has brought such odd shots to the world such as THIS, THIS, and THIS.

Wanna see what happens when a preying mantis meets a hummingbird?

P.S. The hummingbird turned down my offer to help.
P.S.S. I wish I had been there to see how the bird and insect met....
P.S.S.S. Any ideas for a good caption?

More photos of dumb hummingbird on the jump...

Fluttering around...

The blossom of a clover bends slightly under the weight of a visiting butterfly.
Like the butterfly I have been fluttering around from place to place searching for photos, but I haven't scored much. I'm wondering if it is me, or the heat? Most afternoons when I have a window of free photo searching time, people and things have been driven inside- a respite from the upward bound temperatures, I suppose.
It did rain just a little yesterday...Maybe I won't leave a cloud of dust trailing behind me when I fly down my gravel drive.

Hay!

We deposited eldest in Columbia, SC Saturday morning. The move in was neither as complicated nor as hot as everyone had warned us about. I'm beginning to believe that Columbians wear a 'hot' badge of honor the same way Boonies talk about surviving winter up here...
Regardless, eldest did jump from the freezer into the frying pan, and I am mildly amused by that...

I wandered around Valle Crucis yesterday and found someone had baled hay in the land behind the Mast Store.

An unofficial but hardy welcome back to Boone!

Dear returning ASU students,
I picked these black and gold flowers just for you as a sincere welcome back to the High Country.
Despite the current power struggle between the Town and the Gown, there are plenty of locals delighted to see you back in Boone, if not for the surge of youthful energy you bring to our sleepy town, then at least for the huge inflow of cash your parents back home infuse into our local economy.
Please study hard, have fun and walk or take the Appalcart whenever possible.

I'll see you at the football game. Go APPS!

Sincerely,
Marie

P.S. Be nice, y'all.

Sealed with a kiss and a few tears...

Today I mailed eldest a letter to her P.O. Box in Columbia. She hasn't left for college yet, but I wanted her to reach into the mailbox for the first time and get a prize.
The idea came to me earlier while shopping at Bare Essentials. I saw a card with a quote by Eleanor Roosevelt. It contained a positive message for my daughter knowing full well I would be at a loss for anything wise and witty to say when it came time to actually put pen to paper.
I was more accurate in my predictions than I had wanted to be.
I sat in my Jeep in front of the Boone Post Office and scribbled off a few blubbering sentences to eldest. I licked the envelope and sealed it with a kiss.
Enter the tears.
I rarely cry, but for the past couple of weeks there has been this undercurrent of tension that only a hard core boo-hoo is capable of curing.
And buddy, if I had known ahead of time, I would have called the Town of Boone's public works department and had them send a bucket. Collecting my tears had the potential to also fix the town's water problems.
Instead, I simply made a foolish public show of emotions as I ran into the post office to post the letter.
I retreated to my Jeep and drove to the Kmart parking lot next door where I sobbed loudly for a few messy moments.
All's better now.

When you are sorrowful look again in your heart, and you shall see that in truth you are weeping for that which has been your delight.  ~Kahlil Gibran

The photo is of a Joe Pye leaning over Herb Thomas Rd in Valle Crucis...

Barns and dahlias; it's a rural thing....

Nearly every old barn in the mountains is accompanied by a chorus of August blooming dahlias.

Hello!