All Images and Text Copyright (c) 2009-2011 Michele Marie Summerlin Shimchock. All rights reserved.
All Images and Text Copyright (c) 2009-2011 Michele Marie Summerlin Shimchock. All rights reserved. I know a lawyer who will eat your face off if you use any of my stuff without prior written permission from me. Thank you.
"It would have to shine. And burn. And be / a sign of something infinite and turn things and people nearby into their wilder selves / and be dangerous to the ordinary nature of signs and glow like a tiny hole in space / to which a god presses his eye and stares. Or her eye. Some divine impossible stretch / of the imagination where you and I are one."
An excerpt from "Something New under the Sun" from Steve Scafidi's Sparks from a Nine-Pound Hammer
Sometimes, Michael has Thursdays off. Sometimes, we just like to get in the car and drive. Often, because you live in one place for so long, you take advantage of your hometown’s beauty and serenity.
Yesterday, we wanted to go to Paint Bank. Not only to visit the trout hatchery, but also because I just like to say, “Paint Bank.” Paint Bank. Paint. Bank.
Michael had to work in the morning, so we left around noon and headed up 311 through Catawba, into New Castle. Up Pott’s Mountain and around. Around so many bends. The Blue Ridge Mountains of Virginia are breathtaking, and I am ashamed of the fact that, at times, I get so bored with living here.
Days like yesterday will learn me every now and again.
We had the hatchery to ourselves, save for a family of four with two small children. There are candy dispensers full of fish food, and, for a handful of quarters, you can watch the fish dance atop the water’s skin. The tow-headed little boy, however, had a whole bucket full of food. I told Michael I, too, wanted a bucket of those dog-food-looking pellets.
“You have to be two to get those,” he said. My luck, huh? I just turned three.
(Dropping the five attached to that didn’t even help me. Not like it does when I want to buy a Happy Meal or order a grilled cheese off the kids’ menu.)
I wanted to take pictures of fish, too. The Paint Bank hatchery breeds rainbow, brook, and brown trout. Trout is a lovely, colorful species of fish. And tasty, too. However, we’ve found that the trout released into and caught too soon from our local streams tend to take on the taste of those dog-food-like pellets. And because I’m a naive photographer, I wasn’t thinking about how difficult it would be to take good photos of fish under water and the steady gaze of an afternoon sun.
Being adventurous people and because we love being in love and love each other’s company, we decided that, instead of venturing back down the mountains, we would take a left at Paint Bank and see where we would land.
State Route 600 crosses the West Virginia state line and turns into County Road 17, which runs through an unincorporated town called Waiteville, West Virginia. (It takes cajones to live back there. We must have been 60 miles from the nearest IGA.) The road follows the mountain valley through the Jefferson National Forest. Along this road we saw deer grazing in the fields and came upon a farm that raises bison.
I screamed like someone who had never seen bison before. I screamed at the top of my lungs at the love of my life. The Subaru screeched to a halt in the middle of this country backroad, and Michael broke out in a nervous sweat as I swung open the door and jumped out of the car.
“Michele, there’s nowhere to park! I can’t just stop here! What. Are. You. Doing?!”
I’m a sucker for majesty.
Along this road, we encountered beautiful old barns with faded and rusting tin roofs and rolled hay bales strung neatly in rows. I also saw a unique 15-foot travel trailer (you know, the kind you tow behind a truck). Its owner had built a quaint little roof over it. I would have taken more photos. However, I felt very strongly that Thursday was certainly *not* a favorable day to risk ticks and chiggers. Nor was it a very good day (or place) to get shot.
County Road 17 crosses back over the state line and turns into Big Stony Creek Road, or State Route 635. It passes along the back side of Mountain Lake and ends at 460 in Ripplemead. Heading back toward Blacksburg, we stopped in Pembroke, which is where we put in when we canoe the New River.
The air was thick and wet. The roads were polka-dotted with huge puddles. But the sun was still shining and strong. We realized we had been chasing gulley-washers all day, and a fresh storm was forming and getting ready to cross the river.
Just beyond that bridge and to the left are a set of rapids. In the center, a small, wooded island. To the far right, a narrower waterway. This is where, on one river trip and having just cleared the rapids, Michael and I realized that we had forgotten the keys to our second car, parked up-river at our take out spot in Ripplemead. This is where we drug Big Red, our old Coleman canoe, against the raging current through that narrow waterway. This is also where I almost lost a whole toenail.
(Because, in all of my infinite wisdom that day, I chose to wear Tevas instead of tennis shoes. And, no, I have never worn Tevas to the New River again.)
The thing about the New River at Pembroke is that it looks so tranquil, like the epitome of peace. But it is not. It is vicious. It flows north for a reason.
After a short prayer for my toenail so soon ripped from its fleshy bed, we headed up 460 into Blacksburg. It was time for a visit to PK’s. Michael filled his belly with some of his favorite chicken wings, and I had the best turkey-and-smoked-gouda sandwich that I have ever eaten.
I snapped this final photo from the car window, the last blue crescent moon of sky light before running into rain.
Michael was just barely finished mowing the yard this morning when the phone rang. I answered it, and on the other line was his lovely, wonderful mother saying, “Oh, shit! I forgot today was the last day for the WV State Fair! Do you all want to go?”
Of course we wanted to go. We would do anything for that lady. And if the State Fair was where she wanted to be, well, we would be right there with her. I’ll admit. The prospect of spontaneous state fairing was exciting to me. I’m all about the spontaneity.
What follows are things we saw, gawked over, made fun of, and genuinely enjoyed. I hope you to do! Thank you, Momma Kay, for such an amazing day!
Very large pigs at Napper’s House.
Momma Goat standing over her babies.
Soulful Goat with stories in his eyes.
HAMS!
Three Baby Goats getting’ their grub on.
Another Baby Goat chowin’ down.
Momma and Baby Goat Chillin’ with a capital C.
Dwarf Bunny
Dwarf Bunny snoozin’.
Bunny wondering, “Who the hell is checking me out now?”
Monster Bunny. You may have seen her in your nightmares.
Angora Bunny. “I will NEVER be a sweater!”
Floppy-Eared Bunny. “I’m not sad; my ears were just made that way.”
BBQ Shack was the real deal!
Yours truly getting ready to devour the largest ear of roasted corn that I’ve ever seen! It was oh-so-good.
Pavlov’s Ducks
Baby Turkeys catchin’ a tan under the sun lamp.
Baby Chicks on the playground.
Animated Sun Catchers.
John Deer Tractor made of hay bales. Hey, it won 1st Place!
Mmmmmmm. Oversized Cinnamon Buns. No, we did not eat one.
Toward the Midway. Momma had to get her smoke on.
Papa says, “Hey! There were just there a minute ago. Dang!”
Just outside the midway.
Future Farmers of America. Michael said, “Good tenderloin!”
Midway.
Another Midway shot.
Swings! Round and round. And round we go. Where we’ll stop? Nobody knows!
Midway food rules!
Headed to the Horse Show?
More Midway madness.
Shaquille O’Seal. Fo’real.
More Midway madness.
Best in Show. The quilt display was plentiful, and the craftsmanship was simply amazing!
Tye Dye! A few of my favorite things.
Cornstalks.
Winning melons. No. Not mine. :)
Squash! We’ve got your squash here!
Veggies.
More quilts. Do you know the tremendous amount of time that it takes to make a quilt?
Tomatoes. Yummy summer.
Award winning hot peppers.
Unlike any hot peppers I’ve ever seen.
Quilts of the smaller sort.
Very large octagon quilt. My eyes crossed, then it set off a migraine. No lie.
Proof that we really were at the West Virginia State Fair!
Mechanical Bull. Needs no further commentary.
That’s Puddin’ the Cat. Ruler of the house where we parked our car.
That’s Booger the Posing She Dog. Also a member of the household where we parked our car.
This is our $5.00 parking spot. Its proximity to the Fair’s front gates was fabulous.
The people who let us park our car in their yard were so friendly. In fact, everyone we met today was nice. The only thing missing (or that we couldn’t find) was a beer garden. Turns out, we didn’t need it. The handcrafted Ben-Ellen Doughnuts produced a very similar effect. I would have taken a picture of them, but I was far too busy stuffing my face with that homemade goodness. Maybe you can make the trip there next year to see for yourself.
