Blue Ridge blog

I scream, you scream.

It would be lovely to have a 3 day weekend every week, wouldn't it?

I savored a slow, chilled weekend with visiting friends. There was no agenda other than eat way too much and drink a little, then, do whatever it was we felt like at the moment. Mostly we felt like sitting on the deck, enjoying the cool breeze, and chit-chatting.

Lately I've been in home improvement mode, and sadly for me, improving the home is almost always deviant, as is my nature. When it came time to think about making a scarecrow for my garden it got me to question what might scare me from eating tasty tomatoes and tender squash. I eventually ruled out a zombies or extraterrestrials in favor of a 3-D inspiration of  Edvard Munch's apocalyptic painting "The Scream." I crafted this beauty out of paper mache (of the Mountain Times variety) and plenty of spar varnish over the month of June.

It is theorized that Munch's red sky was inspired by  the devastating volcanic explosion of on Krakatoa, which led to eerie crimson skies in the Northern hemisphere during the frigid summer of 1883, often referred to as The Year Without Summer. It is a theory. Nonetheless, I hope it scares the varmits out of my garden;)

In any case, I have done an extensive search on the internets and this is the one and only "The Scream" scarecrow in Valle Crucis and perhaps, anywhere. I did find blow-up dolls, but we won't go there...

 

Tiny bug and moth float peacefully in the dog's water bowl...

Marie got a good night's sleep. It's easy to tell because her vision becomes keen as a bat (some would say even a bit batty) and she spots such riveting still lifes, such as the above death scene. Her quick instincts and reactions paid off in securing this shot because moments later, the dog, out of curiosity and thirst, slurped both the water and insects.

Where Form meets Fun(ction)

So my new office chair and I took a nice stroll down an ASU path today in hopes of finding a pleasant spot to take in the fresh air. I wish my eldest could have seen me. I would surely have been greeted with multiple eyerolls. As it was, the exam weary students I did encounter smiled in my direction, but probably only because I was carrying a huge lens and wheeling a freaky chair around. I was completely out of context--just like the Ron Paul supporters on the sidewalk this morning.

I needed this chair. My backside has not been happy with the gov't issue much-more-expensive seats provided at the job. While shooting dancers several weeks ago, I noticed one of these chairs sitting at a professor's desk. I read more, even all the negatives said about the exercise ball chair and because I rarely sit longer than 10 minutes at a stretch, decided to go for it.

My verdict? It is comfortable, if not a little bouncy and perfect for this Tigger-like gal who can rarely sit still for long.

And on to even happier things. A past Sunday school teacher was awarded the North Carolina Sportswriter of the Year award. Kudos to writer David Shaw for accurately summing up A.J. Carr's personality.

Carr may feel antsy in the spotlight, but you'd never know it by his gentle manner and soft, smiling eyes. As a do-it-all sportswriter for the state's second-largest daily newspaper, he possesses a journalist's version of bedside manner — the ability to put you at ease.

"Well, that's one of the most important things about this job," he said. "You want your subject to be comfortable. You want to be trusted and liked."

Indeed. A.J. Carr is not only liked, but beloved.

And look! There's D.J., aka known as David Jackson, aka "The Voice of the Mountaineers." He also was recognized at the NSSA awards as the the NC Broadcaster of the Year.

Who says good things don't happen to fine people?

Cha Cha Cha Chia a la Shrek....

Oh Silly Blue Ridge Blogger!
You have many more pressing items to focus your attention upon other than a co-worker's submerged and oddly euphoric Shrek Chia Pet, but you simply can't turn your head away, can you?
(The above image is all you get when a promised snow fall doesn't happen.)

If'n Shreck were a spud....

I took many photos today but by far, this is my favorite. Nope, I did not grow this potato nor did I draw the face on it. It was shared with me. You see, one of the hats I wear at the community newspaper is that of the photographer of bizarre produce. OK, I'm not gonna lie. I love this duty. To me, capturing images of rainbows, whirlygigs, firetrucks on parade, and veggies of all shapes and sizes and then seeing the photos inside the hometown newspaper helps keep the 'small' in a town. It balances the tragic in twisted metal wreck photos, the hate in the irrate letters to the editor and the sad in the drug bust du jour.

(now that's one ogre potato)

***Missing Appalachian State University Student****
Spring-break gone horribly wrong? Rob is looking for his friend, Virginia "Ginni" Woods.

Bonding over coyote urine....

I have a vivid imagination, but I swear I didn't make this up.

Yesterday while visiting Charles' farm, I saw farm manager Angie walk across Broadstone Rd. with an old feed bucket.
"Hey, do you mind if I follow you around and take photos of whatever you are gonna do?" I asked her.
She hesitated at first, and then gave a little giggle.
"Um well, I was getting ready to spread a little bit of coyote urine on the beets," she said.
I laughed. It was a sentence I never thought I'd hear.
"Where do you buy coyote urine?" I asked.
"No telling. Charles just told me to use it and I've been putting it off. I've never done this before," she admitted.
I'm a dimwit, so naturally I followed her into the field.
As we approached a row of beets she showed me damage caused by foraging deer.
"We were going to sell the greens with the root," she said as she fingered the leafless stems.
Angie bent down and opened the feed bucket. Inside were two containers, a ketchup-sized squeeze bottle filled with a thick brown liquid and a larger one with the same stuff in it.
She inspected the smaller bottle and I had to ask,
"Well, are you going to smell it?"
She looked at me.
"I reckon I should just to make sure it is coyote urine," she said as if she would know the difference between that and cow piss.
She raised the bottle to her nose and took a big whiff. Then she gagged and almost vomited.
When she finally caught her breath all she could say is, "That is nasty. Oh that is really bad."
I took the bottle from her and smelled it from a distance. And yes, it smelled like old rotten pee.
Angie bravely took back the bottle and got back to business at hand while I followed her down the row, photographing the process. We laughed the whole time at the absurdity of what we were doing.
A puff of a breeze came up and the stench permeated our noses. Like school girls running away from sweaty boys, we dropped what we were doing and giggled as we ran upwind to escape the stench.
"I'm glad you were here to experience this with me," Angie said.
"Yeah, I feel like we've gone through something special together," I said.

Where does one acquire coyote urine? The internet, of course.
And look, coyote urine is a pasteurized biopesticide. I did not know that.

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...