Another lovely sleep in this cozy, luxury cabin. I woke around 4:30 am, for some reason convinced that a bear was going to break the window and come bursting in looking for food. I glanced out to see a bright moon glimmering over the mountains in the front view. I lay awake for a good hour, but seeing no sign of the sun behind the hill, I didn’t want to stay up worrying about a potential bear attack. I fell back and slept uneasily until about 8am when we both woke up, our bodies sensing it was way past time for coffee. We enjoyed a leisurely morning getting ready, not bothering to go out for breakfast, just having a small nibble of things here, then sitting on the swinging bench and soaking in the sun. Before we left for Joan’s, I placed my rinsed clover flowers on napkins out in the sun to dry, then helped a large beetle right itself as it struggled on its back with legs flailing in defiance at the sky. Poor icky thing. We pushed him off on his way in another direction than the cabin. He’s got a right to live, but I didn’t want to invite him in, either. Then we headed off into the winding hills.
Today was for hitting the antique and flea markets, grocery and dollar stores so Joan could stock up on necessary items. The first thrift store we stopped off had loads of stuff, and I picked up a cute little pink and brown purse that seems like it should fit all of my crap, including my snacks! I also picked up a pair of crystal taper candle holders shaped like stars and an adorable little bottle that I thought would be great for a tincture or other potion. After scouring the first place, The Antique Mall was our next stop, which is half antique store, half flea market. The antiques area was packed with neatly arranged funky old stuff from apothecary jars, toys, shoes, skates, sewing machines, baseball mitts, collector’s glasses, cook ware, clothes, books, old irons and roll presses, ice boxes, jewelry, collectors coins and paper currency, painted plates of The Beatles, old 45s and all manner of old nostalgia. I thought of our friends and family back home that love antiques (my dad’s mom, Grama C, and our good pal Carrie would have gone crazy in that place—Carrie, the dish sets OMGS!!) If I had my young life to do over, I would have spent more time outfitting our apartments with quirky stuff from thrift and antique stores. We limited our purchase to a single, glass bread bake dish. But I was coveting loads of things, including old ink pots and several cast iron skillets.
The next couple of stops were mostly just for food stuffs, but we found some really awesome clothes items that we couldn’t resist at a store that was kind of like a Walgreen’s back home. John picked up a pair of sleepy shorts, and I scored some stretchy pants, a lovely summer dress and a flirty, magenta top. See, I’m not just all about tee shirts and jeans! We lunched at a place that overlooked the Potomac called Park & Dine and were glad to finally take a load off our feet, getting out of the sun.
Everyone seems to know everyone around here; they all wave or honk anytime they drive by. I remarked how amazing it is that these people live miles and towns apart, and yet they know so much about each other. John and I have lived in the same condominium for 12 years, and we only know the names of two of our neighbors who are mere feet away. It’s a different sort of life out here. A funny little exchange happened yesterday; a lady at the Roadkill Café meant to ask Joan how her son, Kenny, was doing, who is currently undergoing another surgery and then resuming more cancer treatments, but mixed up the names and mistakenly asked her how, John, her deceased husband was, and in classic Joan-style, she said, “John? He’s deader n’ a doornail!” She has these funny little Joan’ism’s that I keep meaning to remember so I can write them in the blog, but then I forget!
She then drove us around, showing us where various family members live or used to live, brought us through “downtown” Artemas, warning us that if we blinked, we’d miss it. She told us about what she and the locals refer to as a “nudist colony”, but is really an inter-faith spiritual sanctuary. She said, “Well, people say they can hear drummin’ and that they have fires and stuff, they sell wine. Some people say they’re witches and stuff.” (She always says, “and stuff”). She seemed intrigued by it, because she then drove us down a beautiful little lane, and we noticed the signs directing to the sanctuary. I was a bit surprised when I realized she was taking us to the place, and knew it immediately for what it was: a pagan-safe haven (being a heathen myself). Unfortunately, we came upon a group of guys that seemed as inbred as could be, giving us queer looks, and Joan made some snarky remarks, muttering something like, “Look like a bunch o’ winners. Don’t glare at me, I can go wheree’er I want to!” but she turned the car around and we drove off. I was excited to buy some magical mead!! Oh well, another trip maybe we’ll partake of some nude fire ring jumping while toasting the gods with sweet wine!
Then it was back to the trailer to shoot more photos of deer in the prairie grass, trying fruitlessly to catch the hummingbirds on camera, and yakking over tea. Joan then took us back to the Roadkill Café for ice cream treats. It was a very relaxing day. Now, Hubby and I will be heading onto the porch for some stargazing!
Love and hugs!
R&J
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