Annette and I relaxing in the Floyd Country Store, with the stage behind us.

A Lazy, Fun Trip to Floyd

Floyd, about 40 miles southwest of Roanoke, is one of those little fun weekend/weekday runs that seems to always come equipped with a surprise or two.

The surprise yesterday was that Annette Marcuson and I didn't find my new pal Susan Huff at her Soup Shop ... which isn't open yet, but will be in a couple of weeks. As it turns out, we were 45 minutes late getting there because we couldn't stop talking to each other.

Instead, we got a tour of the under-construction, mustard-colored facility in Copper Hill and found it to be a place we will return to when it finally opens next month. Susan makes soup that is so good, it will make you cry.

We also met her famous-architect husband, John, who was actually helping put together the final shop--I mean like a construction worker. Good dude, that John, with a solid appreciation of his Energizer Bunny of a wife.

On into Floyd, we settled on the Parkway Grille for lunch and the little shop downstairs that reminds me of Roanoke's Co+op in Grandin Village: Lots of stuff that is good for you. Annette was thrilled ... until she discovered some of the prices. But it is a lovely store and I left with a couple of "everything" bagels, which I have no business eating. 

The obligatory stop at the Floyd Country Store where there was no live music on a Friday afternoon (that came later), but it presented a nice place to recon.

I think our best discovery was in leaving town and finding this tiny bakery across the street from a wonderfully-atmospheric abandoned old home. Annette is an artist and the house brought out the sparkling imagination in her. I shoot photos and jumped at the black and white opportunity the house presented. (The black and white shots of the house below are mine, the color photos are Annette's. Hers are presented smaller here because the resolution is small.)

This was one of those special days where not much went as planned, but everything turned out just as it was supposed to ... which meant we loved every minute of it. 

I mean, how are you going to resist this?

Annette loves barren trees, especially when the clouds provide the "leaves."

That's me sneaking up on the back to take a photo.

The sun bleaches the front of the old house.

That's the old man assuming the photo stance.

I like this towering view.

The devil is in the details.

The stories this old house could tell. We found a huge iron pot in the crawl space, that could have been used to double-double toil and trouble boil.

The roof shingles provide wonderful texture.

God only knows how many miles this old chair has on it. 

This decorative work is on the front porch.

Not sure what these vines are, but my guess is they provide great shade in summer.

Wonder if the local kids trick-or-treat here on Halloween.

The house is angles, lines and texture that invite the creative mind.

 

 

Annette and I at the old train tunnel on the Blackwater Trail.

Lovely Spring Day on the Blackwater Trail

Lynchburg artist Annette Marcuson and I did the Blackwater Trail greenway walk today and I was vividly reminded what a lovely piece of urban engineering it is. The trail ambles alongside downtown Lynchburg, but is shielded by a steep slope and a lot of vegetation as it hangs close to Blackwater Creek, which feeds into the James River at Parcival Island.

It's a good bike ride and a great walk. The walk is made even better with a leisurely stop at the Depot Grill, which featured filet mignon/poppyseed soup today, one of the best beef soups I've ever tasted. We sat leisurely with the soup, thoroughly enjoying each other and capping a completely satisfying day.

Nice. Very, very nice. 

 

These Southern Bluebells are a very real signal that something good is coming.

More Indications of Spring in the Air

My talented buddy Linsee Lewis and I strolled down the greenway in Salem's Greenhill Park today and found all kinds of goodies you don't normally see when the trees are full of leaves.

The first hint of that lovely, delicate lime permeated the woods, but a look beneath some of the leaves and across the Roanoke River revealed pink and blue bluebells and a couple of stone buildings--kilns, I think--of some perhaps 19th-century vintage, along with promise from many of the trees. 

Here's a look at some of what we saw, including Linsee burning up her brand new Nikon F4 camera, a cool little white jewel that takes mighty fine photos. 

We wound up the early part of the day at Mac and Bob's with monster calzone. 

 

Ruby Spence (left) as Helen Keller (left) and Ryan Long as Annie Sullivan stole the show.

A High School Play Makes a Statement

It has been quite a long time since I sat in the audience for a high school play, but tonight was special. My last appearance was when I was 17, a senior at Cranberry High School in Avery County North Carolina. I forgot the name of the play, but I had the lead in it until a football injury required surgery. So, I got to watch and not to act. The play sucked.

Faith (left) and Linsee Lewis.

Tonight, my friend Linsee Lewis, whose acting in local productions I have admired for years, asked me to see "The Miracle Worker" at Salem High School because her daughter, Faith, was in charge of sound (which she did well).

It was basically a high school play until Ruby Spence and Ryan Long made their way onto the stage. Miss Spence, a sophomore, was simply riveting as the deaf-mute child, Helen Keller. Junior Ryan Long, as Keller's teacher Annie Sullivan, also shown in a remarkably physical part. Misses Long and Spence spent a good half of the play wrestling, kicking, pulling, shouting, crying. 

The performances were remarkable when you consider that this was a high school play. When Keller uttered the word "wa-wa" at the end of the play, I simply could not stop a large, intrusive tear from speeding down my cheek and losing itself in my beard.

A thoroughly enjoyable evening for me, and I didn't have a kid on stage. Go figure.

 Texas Tavern: It Is What It Is ... Still

The reason most of us eat at the Texas Tavern in downtown Roanoke, I hypothesize, is that it is a landmark, an icon, a legend. Some of us--like me for example--continue to try to find what we remember from 40 years ago. And we simply can't. The food has changed, our tastes have changed, standards have changed.

On my way home from the St. Paddy's Day parade around lunchtime today, I fought the temptation to load up on TT specialties and lost. Here is my plate of a hotdog, chili (spelled "chile" on the menu) and a cheesy western. None of it tasted as I remember. The chile was thick and grainy, the cheesy western had the egg and hamburger cooked separately instead of as one unit, and the hotdog was mashed almost into an unrecognizable state (which, frankly, is not unusual in my experience).

Still, except for the chile, it was tasty, left a heavy aftertaste and will ultimately give me a bathroom experience of sorts. It's still the TT and it is still what it is.

These lovely people huddled in a bank doorway awaiting the parade.

St. Paddy's Parade: Cold, Lots of People, No Horses

Because it was colder than a Siberian cocktail in downtown Roanoke, I didn't stay until the end of the St. Paddy's Parade, so I didn't see the big beer Clydesdales. Actually, I walked all the way to the end of the parade and didn't see them and later heard they were in hiding.

Frankly, I don't mind. I don't much like beer commercials. But I did see a lot of people, damn near frozen, snuggling under anything that could warm them, including each other.

I had my trusty Nikon strapped over my shoulder, so I took bunches of pictures. Here are some of them. Enjoy, especially if you didn't go. This is a pretty good representation of what it was like.

Love me some roller girls.

Wholesome roller girl.

Not a beauty queen. Should be. 

And a selfie of the bundled-up photographer (moi).