When a Tree Falls...

I last wrote in late June about the logging efforts on the property next to ours.

I could have written about it nearly every day but it was my own personal angst, mine and my husband's. We have watched the forest dwindle as the logger, who initially was only going to cut out trees for lumber, moved to clear cutting.

Despite the fact that this is family land, it's not in our control and we could not stop this.

Below was the view out of my office window. I saw this every morning for the last 21 years.

This morning about 7:10 a.m. as I finished up an email, I glanced up and saw this:



At the very base of one of the trees stands the a*sholes, er, loggers. I immediately began to cry when I saw them. We had been told these trees likely wouldn't be taken away for $50 a tree pulp wood but...















I cried the whole time I shot these pictures, and felt the thump as the tree landed. It felt like my soul had been wrenched from me and I could feel the earth weeping.





This is what it looks like as I write this (with tears in my eyes and my heart just falling from my chest). I guess tomorrow the view will be completely different.

Damn, I loved those trees.

Summer Sunset

Books: Morrigan's Cross

Morrigan's Cross
By Nora Roberts
Audio Book, 6 hours
Read by Dick Hill
Copyright 2006

This is the first book in the Circle Trilogy by Nora Roberts. I picked it up not because of the author but because of the reader. Dick Hill always does a fabulous job in his book reads.

The book turned out to be much better than I anticipated and I will get the next in the series.

Hoyt is a sorcerer in 12th century Ireland. His brother, Cian, becomes a vampire. The goddess Morrigan charges Hoyt with the task of stopping the queen vampire, Lilith, from taking over the world on Samhain in the land of Geall.

The kicker? It's in modern day times, not the 12th century, so the goddess sends the sorcerer through time to his brother's house. Cian, a vampire who has decided to forgo drinking the blood of humans and instead focus on commerce, agrees to help.

Glenna Ward is a witch who joins the circle of six that is set to stop this apocalypse. Along the way the others join up, Larkin and Moria, from Geall, a magical land not on any map, and finally Blair Murphy (think Buffy the Vampire Slayer).

The book ended with a major battle, with more to come. Having now decided I like the characters, of course I must finish the trilogy!

And Dick Hill did a fantastic job as a reader, as always.

3.5 stars

MIL Update

My mother-in-law, E., had surgery for her broken hip, finally, around 9 p.m. or so last night.

It went well and she was in recovery by midnight. My sister-in-law stayed with her mother last night and everyone else went home for some much-needed rest.

My nephews spent the night with their grandfather. My husband has taken the boys and his dad to Shoney's for an all-boys breakfast this morning. He then plans to take his father to the hospital.

I have deadlines so I am home working. I likely will go up later today to relieve someone or just to visit or whatever I am asked to do. If they think I am better used elsewhere, like doing the in-laws laundry or something, I will do that too. I think things like that will be sorted out better once they have a firmer grip on what is happening, probably later this morning.

My sister-in-law called around 6:30 a.m. and said E. was resting comfortably and eating a little. They will try to get her up to stand on her leg today.

The doctor said he didn't anticipate she would be in a lot of pain, but I don't know how you can have something like that done and *not* have pain.

They will discuss rehabilitation with her later today. We expect she will have to go into a facility for a while, time unknown at this point.

My mother-in-law has scarcely been sick a day since I've known her, other than an occasional headache or a mild cold. She has always enjoyed good health. She is a very quiet and undemanding sort of person and she will worry herself more about my father-in-law, who has heart issues and carries around oxygen tanks, than her own health. She is an old-fashioned lady who caters to his every whim. He will have to get over that, I guess, at least for several months.

Getting old pretty much sucks. It is certainly not something to look forward to and no reward for a life well-lived.

Bad News Sunday

My mother-in-law, who is about 75, fell and broke her hip this morning. Spent all day waiting on a surgeon and an operating room.

Still waiting. Will update when I know more. Prayers, good thoughts, etc. welcomed.

Procrastination...

I am always on time, usually early. I never miss a deadline on my articles.

If I'm supposed to call someone at a certain hour or meet someone at a certain date, I am there.

But when it comes to doing stuff for myself? Fuhgedaboutid.

Time for my short story? Nope, the house needs cleaning.

Time to write a poem? Sorry, have to make a phone call.

Time to work on my article? Oh yes, the editor wants that!

Time to get serious about dieting? I'll do it tomorrow when I have a moment to research it.

Time to do something for the Board I am on? You name it, I'm your lady.

Time to work on your novel? Later, when the sun sets and its cooler...

Any excuse will do, it seems. Time apparently is my number one nemeses.

I have made any number of efforts to tackle my personal projects. Most that I fail at are long-term initiatives, like losing weight and writing anything longer than an article.

I lack a stick-to-it-ness that evades me.

About four weeks ago I received my weekly Marketing Minute newsletter from Marcia Yudkin. She runs a marketing website and apparently works 24/7 on her business.

I am no marketing genius but figure it's something I ought to know, being a writer and all. I read the newsletter looking for ideas that might apply to what I do, which is write little articles for local publications.

Four week ago, Yudkin offered a 10-week weekly email course in procrastination for $20.

On impulse, I signed up for it at about 6 a.m. one Friday morning.

The result has been a series of emails urging me to examine my work habits and figure out what is holding me back.

It took me nearly six days to open the first email. It sat in my box, pulsing and growing larger and larger in my mind until I finally clicked on it. I was putting it off, you understand...

Subsequent emails have lain in my in-box for several days, although not as long as that first one. This behavior alone tells me something. There is something there I am not dealing with, some fear of doing something for myself that keeps me from moving forward.

Don't know what it is yet, but maybe by Week 10 I'll have figured it out.

The email course also comes with unexpected boosters about the middle of the week. This has been helpful, too. Reminders to think about why I procrastinate.

I have never met Marcia Yudkin, who is sending me these prompts. She wrote a book in 1988 called Freelance Writing for Magazines and Newspapers: Breaking In Without Selling Out which I still have. I found it useful at the time. I daresay it's outdated these days, what with the Internet and all, but the basic tenets remain true.

Later when I ran across her name and website somewhere, I remembered the book. Quite a number of years ago I subscribed to her free marketing newsletter.

She finally snagged me again, I guess.

She's published a number of books and on the surface, anyway, appears to have a thriving business. She's into something I'm not really interested in, which is PR, but it's still writing.

Whatever she does, I bet she doesn't procrastinate.

Invasive Health Insurance

In 2006, I developed a number of health issues, one of of which sent me to the ER with chest pains.

My doctor ordered a stress test, which thankfully came back negative. The ol' ticker wasn't the problem, but I was pretty sure of that anyway.

The event triggered an inquiry by my health insurance company, and they stuck me in a Care Program for people with chronic issues. Even though the results were negative.

I admit I am not the healthiest person. I am overweight and I am chemically sensitive. However, no one treats me for chemical sensitivity except my acupuncturist (thank the Creator for Chinese Medicine at this time in my life).

I am pretty sure all of my issues in 2006 had to do with the installation of new carpeting in the bedroom that January, but I can't convince anyone else of that.

At any rate, now I get these aggravatingly invasive phone calls from my health insurance provider on a regular basis. An RN is on the other end.

This person wants to know how I'm doing, what my blood levels are (as if I go to the doctor every three weeks to get that checked; I think not), and if I managing my stress well.

It's a different nurse every time, and each gives you different advice. Each goes into different types of histrionics over my health care condition, as if I am going to drop over dead in the next 30 seconds because I have moderately high cholesterol. Or because I have mild asthma. Or because I'm overweight. Or whatever they happen to pick up on.

Yesterday it was my blood pressure. What is your blood pressure? the lady wanted to know. I have no idea, I said.

Well what was it the last time you had it checked.

I said I didn't know.

Well, what do you think it was?

I threw out a number. 120/90. (I honestly have no idea what it was.)

Oh, that's high. You need to go to the doctor right away (actually, that is not really a high number. I asked my husband the EMT.).

I told you I was making that up, I said. I have no idea what my blood pressure is, and even if by chance it was that when I saw the doctor in March, I HAD THE FLU and don't consider that a good yardstick.

Well, then you should go to Walmart and get your blood pressure checked right away. You need to keep an eye on that and have it done. We'll call back next week for those numbers.

I'm not going to Walmart by then, I said. I live in a rural area. I don't go to Walmart that frequently.

You can't get your blood pressure checked within the next week? She was incredulous.

No.

Well then we'll call your doctor and get your last numbers, the nurse huffed, obviously unhappy at my unwillingness to get in my car that very moment and go have my blood pressure taken.

That's fine, I said.

To top it off, I have told them since they began calling me that I could only talk on Thursdays, and yesterday was THE FIRST TIME they actually called on a Thursday.

Last week one of them called on Tuesday just as I was headed out the door. I actually hung up on her after I told her I couldn't talk and she just kept right on asking questions.

I guess there are people who welcome this constant intrusion on their personal lives, but not me.

I want out of this horribly invasive program. I didn't ask to be in it in the first place and I find it such an invasion of my privacy that if I so much as think it's one of these nurses calling I don't answer the phone. Yesterday I wasn't paying attention when I picked up. Besides, they hadn't been calling on Thursdays!

What I don't know is if I have to be in the damn program or not in order to keep the insurance.

Thursday Thirteen

1. I'm down to my last vehicle payment on my Toyota! But the final bill from my lender ... was very late.

2. For 59 months, no problem. The very last payment, which I knew would be slightly different, and ... no bill.

3. I wondered briefly if it was a scam to ensure I owed more money by not paying on time. Being old fashioned, I still pay by mail.

4. I foxed them and found my statement online and paid it that way, though.

5. The mail service seems very slow these days, but I still think a letter for 42 cents is a good deal.

6. I relish a letter in the mail more than an email. You can't get your hands around an email.

7. Once my mother mailed me a birthday card from Salem, which is about 25 miles away. It reached me three months later.

8. The card had been to Pennsylvania and Ohio, according to marks on it. I don't know why.

9. I can remember when stamps were about 10 cents. I suspect that makes me rather old.

10. Of course I can also remember when gas was 25 cents a gallon and when my parents thought $1 was too much to pay.

11. The rise in postage and the rise in the cost of gasoline are not compatible, are they?

12. I always thought being a mail delivery person would be a good job, if you didn't mind walking or being on your feet.

13. Rural route carriers get to drive around in a vehicle, and that doesn't seem so bad. I imagine they know all kinds of things about my neighbors, don't you?


Thursday Thirteen is played by lots of people; you can learn more about it here. My other Thursday Thirteens are here.

BZZZZ

Too Sad

I am too sad to write

when the world is bound

by those who chain

the souls of lovers.

Too blue to cry, even,

when the word comes down

that the days grow shorter

and minutes die, tick tock.

To scared to blink

I only stare at the remains

of dreams I used to know

laughter I thought I heard.

Too sad to write

too blue for tears.

Quiet Grace

Independence Day

These photos were taken on July 4, 2007, at the Town of Fincastle festivities at Breckinridge Elementary School. A similiar event will take place tonight.

Thursday Thirteen: The Bucket List

We watched The Bucket List Saturday night. Nice movie.

Of course it brought up two things: my own bucket list and whether or not I want to be buried or cremated.

On the latter point, I don't think I will be cremated because my husband's family does not do that. When I mentioned it as an option to my husband he informed me he could not do that to me.

But as for a bucket list? Well, I thought I'd see if I could come up with a Thursday Thirteen for that. So here you go, in no particular order:

1. Write a novel and have it published.

2. Write a nonfiction book and have it published.

3. Visit my relatives in California.

4. See Niagara Falls.

5. Do something that helps a lot of people.

6. Invent or discover something that has a great impact upon society.

7. Restore a broken relationship in a manner that would not be detrimental to either one of us.

8. Pray and/or meditate more regularly.

9. Find my true passion. Or acknowledge if I already am doing it!

10. Lose my fear.

11. Learn to dance.

12. Inspire other people.

13. Get close to a person who is younger than I.


Thursday Thirteen is played by lots of people; you can learn more about it here. My other Thursday Thirteens are here.

I See You

Books: Confessor

Confessor
By Terry Goodkind
Audiobook read by Sam Tsoutsouvas
Copyright 2007
24 hours of listening!

The last of the Sword of Truth series culminated in much preaching from the author through his characters and a great deal of repetition.

Having listened to all of these books, each of which was exceedingly long, I rate this as the weakest.

Goodkind brought back almost all characters of any importance, contriving ways to add them to the plot.

Richard is a slave along with his beloved Kahlan. Kahlan, the last confessor, has lost her memory and doesn't know who she is. Richard, the Lord Rawl, has lost his gift for magic.

The book goes through many twists and turns to reunite the two and get their powers back. And of course the world will end if the Imperial Order continues its march through the New World and into the People's Palace.

Along the way there were many treatises about being left alone to live your life however you want, and many admonishments about how bad it is to have religion and group think, etc. And look for the solution, don't think about the problem.

While I agree with the advice, I tired of hearing it over and over and over and over and over again. I am not the only one to think this - there are a lot of bad reviews about Goodkind and many of the last books of this entire series at Amazon.

The first book, Wizards First Rule, was excellent. I really liked that book. The series began falling apart about midway through the 11 books it took Goodkind to finish this up. The writing worsened considerably. I have decided that once a writer is established, publishing houses stop applying editorial standards and just ship out whatever the author sends because I have seen so many the writing of many authors turn into crud after a number of books. Maybe it is simply burnout on the author's part but the publishers could have fixed a lot of the problems with this book, as well as previous ones, with good editing.

The best thing about this series is that my husband, who does not read much, became very interested from the very first audiobook, and we have listened to all of these books together. We took them on trips and listened to them driving around town. I think each book was over 20 hours long, so we have been listening to these for literally years.

I think my husband liked the final book better than I did, but he doesn't care so much about good writing as the plot. As he put it, at least Richard won in the end and for him that is what counted.

1.5 stars

Tree Rings

If one can truly tell the age of a tree by the number of rings, then the specimen above was about 81 years old.

It is one of the many being destroyed in what once was a forest behind me.



Apparently counting tree rings has a name: Dendrochronology. If you count the rings you will see that some are wide, some narrow. Apparently this tells about years of drought, etc. It's rather fascinating, although I'd rather have the tree to look at than the stump to examine.

I keep telling myself that the new sunlight upon the forest floor will result in a wealth of different vegetation. Maybe new blackberry bushes or something.

Eighty-one years is not a long time in the life of a tree, but it is longer than the person who instigated the cutting has been alive. The first tree would have been a young 11 years old when that person was born. It would have been slim and willowy and anxious to raise its branches toward the sky.

I would have guessed the tree to be older than 81, which goes to show you can't tell a tree's age by its girth.

In 1927, (81 years ago), the first transatlantic telephone call was made. The U.S. Federal Radio Commission (later the FCC) began to regulate radio frequencies.

The Mississippi flooded (that sounds like today, doesn't it).

Saudi Arabia became an independent country, telling Britain goodbye.

Television was first demonstrated to a mass audience of 600 people.

The Columbia Phonographic Broadcasting System (later CBS) was formed.

The Ford Company unveiled the Model A.

And a little seedling in a field began to sprout, and grow and grow until the chainsaws came.

Godwin Cottage Auction

On Saturday, June 21, we went to an auction at the Godwin Cottage.

This was for contents of the historic home, although I have since learned that most of the items were not the better ones but some left over stuff. It was pretty obvious that the contents were not all of the original owner's.

The cottage was built after the Civil War and it is well known as an enchanted-looking place that charms visitors to the Town of Fincastle.


This clock was one of the pieces I wanted to see. It had a date of 1819 inside of it.

I do not know how much it sold for as we did not stay for the entire auction and we left before the bidding on this item began.



This desk, I think, was supposedly a Chippendale desk; however, I am not entirely certain of that. There was a Chippendale desk there and this was the only desk I saw. I was told at the auction that someone had placed a phone bid of $10,000 on the Chippendale desk, in any case. Which made it way out of my league. I do not know if there is any truth to that claim, however.


This is the auctioneer, Ken Stanley.



This egg basket was bid out at around $350. Someone certainly must know something I don't. I would never think of paying hundreds of dollars for a basket of any kind.



This picture was by someone named Beyer and painted pre-20th century. It sold for about $500. There were four of them and they depicted local scenes, like the Homestead and Natural Bridge.



This is the Godwin Cottage. The house is for sale; the asking price is over $500,000. The place needs a great deal of work inside. The house has been unlived in, mostly, for the last 10 years and is disrepair.

Endurance

Spirit

Books: Atonement

Atonement
By Ian McEwan
351 pages
Copyright 2001

My book club read this book for May; I am just now getting around to writing about it.

In 1935, Briony Tallis is growing up. She wants to be a writer. She sees a flirtation between her older sister and Robbie, a neighbor boy, and imagines all sorts of things.

Her cousin Lola is visiting along with her two brothers. The brothers run away. Lola, during the night search, is raped.

Briony blames Robbie.

The war comes. Robbie goes to war. Cecilia, the sister, becomes nurse. Robbie makes it home, Briony tries to make amends.

Only... not. It turns out this story is the story Briony has written, and it is to be published after every one dies.

I hate an unreliable narrator. I liked the story up until I realized it was all a lie.

2 stars

Winkin' is Dead

I'm sad to report that my baby fawn was hit by a car about 100 yards from my driveway.

I know there may be many other fawns roaming around here, and it may not actually have been Winkin' (as I named her). But it sure felt like Winkin' in my heart when I saw that little body laying in the road. Since I couldn't tell the fawns apart anyway I will never know.

I really have to stop naming these deer. Every time I do they get me on the inside.

Rest well, little Winkin'. I'm sorry your time was so short on this good Earth.

Thursday Thirteen

1. We have a small garden, about 10 x 10. It is a summer garden only; there isn't enough room there to plant enough for canning or freezing.

2. This year we planted radishes, kale, green beans, peas, tomatoes, peppers, yellow squash, zucchini, cucumbers and marigolds.

3. The marigolds help keep away bugs.

4. The plot is very full, with only room for a hoe between rows.

4. The layout is thus: Row 1: radishes and peppers, Row 2: cucumbers, yellow squash, zucchini (in hills, actually), Row 3: tomatoes, Row 4: Peas, Row 5: kale, Row 6: marigolds, and down the side in a vertical, green beans.

6. I wanted to make notes so I can have a better crop next year.

7. The marigolds work well next to the kale, and kale works better in rows than it did last year in hills.

8. Don't plant peas in such a small area. They are too much work for too little return. Plant more green beans instead.

9. The radishes did not come up at all and I believe birds ate the seeds. Next year, consider netting not only 8 feet high around the perimeter to keep out deer but also across the top to keep out birds.

10. Begin using Miracle Grow sooner in the year.

11. Make sure to fertilize extensively this fall with natural fertilizer from the pasture (cow poop!)

12. Consider planting broccoli next year instead of radishes.

13. Next year, try watermelon, too, if there is space! (They are $6 in the store!)


Thursday Thirteen is played by lots of people; you can learn more about it here. My other Thursday Thirteens are here.

Books: The Touch

The Touch
By Colleen McCullough
Copyright 2003
Audiobook
Read by Jenny Sterlin

Alexander Kinross, a nobody from Scotland, hits it big in Australia in the mining industry. He sends home for a wife and receives Elizabeth, a 16-year old distant cousin.

She hates him on site and love never blossom. Kinross is old fashioned and wants an heir. His wife has two difficult pregnancies and is advised to never have a third.

Both children are girls; the first, Nell, is learned and headstrong and exactly like her father, and the second, Anna, is brain damaged from a traumatic birth.

Elizabeth is not a very depth-filled character. She chooses to live out her unhappy lot as best she can. Life is difficult for her in spite of Alexander's unlimited wealth.

Alexander has a mistress, Ruby, whom Elizabeth grows fond of. This unnatural friendship keeps the book interesting.

Ruby has a son, Lee, whom Alexander hopes will take over his enterprise. Lee only has eyes for Elizabeth, however.

I'll leave you to guess what direction that takes.

The book is well-read, although it took a while to get used to the accent.

A Phone Call

Here is something funny. Yesterday morning my brother called from his cell phone. He is in Myrtle Beach on vacation. After talking a few minutes, he tells me he is on the pier fishing.

"Is your husband's sister down here, by any chance?" he asks.

"Yes, she's there on vacation, too, but I don't know where."

"I thought that was her," he said. He went on to describe her and the boys. He hasn't seen my sister-in-law in about eight years.

"That's them," I said. "How far away from you are they?"

"About 20 feet," he said. "They're on the pier fishing, too."

"Take her the telephone and hand it to her and tell she has a call," I said. "See what she says."

In hardly a breath I heard my brother say, "Excuse me, I have a phone call for you."

"What?" I heard my sister-in-law, Jennifer, say. I was relieved it was actually her and not some stranger. "Who?"

"It's your sister-in-law," my brother said.

"What?" Jennifer said again, then, "Loren!" she exclaimed, which is my brother's name.

I was laughing so hard I could hardly answer when she took the phone. "I didn't recognize him," she said. I tried to stop laughing long enough to tell her everything was fine. My brother came back on the line and said goodbye; I suppose they chatted briefly then.

I thought it was hilarious. And it was so good to laugh that hard.

These Trees Were Our Friends

Even though I have known since early May that loggers were coming to cut down the forest behind me, I was unprepared.

The loggers had been on the far side of the farm for about 10 days. I saw their trucks lumbering across the fields as they moved through gates.

Last week they moved their set-up next door. I look out my bedroom window, and this is what I see:




I was not prepared to feel the trees as they crashed. But the first morning, the vibration came up through my sneakers into my feet. My soul felt sick as I realized what it was.

My friends were dying.



With morbid curiosity, I sat on the deck and watched the trees crash to the ground. The noise was thunderous. First a chainsaw, an engine rev, a mighty crack! And the tree toppled. It's leaves swooshed and the final bang shook the earth.

For 25 years I have haunted these woods. The forest was old, with trees stretched to the sky as high as I could see. I walked these woods when I needed time to think or a moment's meditation. I listened to them sigh in the wind and sing when the rain came down and pelted their leaves. I watched them stretch and bend in windstorms and saw a few break during winter ice.



It is perhaps more difficult for my husband. He has played among these trees since childhood. The woodcutter's machines now sit in the spot where he and a friend built a "log cabin." It had walls about four feet high. It's mostly rotted now, but the memories he retains are definitely good.

He also loves to hunt and these woods have brought him many a deer in years past.

Above you can see my husband as he looks at the tall trees that have not yet fallen to the axe. He estimates that 200 trees will be taken from this patch of wood before the logger leaves.

Below is a road they cut in so they could get into the forest.



Apparently they cut the "pulp" wood from the area first. That goes to Covington to West Vaco, where it is made into things like paper and press board. Other logs go to the sawmill, where they will be turned into lumber. Maybe your house will be built from these trees.



I do not dislike logging. I think it has its place in the system and can work well on managed land. When a wood is timbered and a management plan is in place, then I have no problem with it.

But the loggers leave a lot of mess:



If this is cleaned up and the land restored to something - a field, a new wood - this will not be so bad. If this is being logged just for greed - that I object to. It's not my property so I don't know the motive. We only had permission to walk and hunt on it; we had no say in this.

As you can see below, the trees were quite large. I expect many were at least a 100 years old. Some were probably older.



"These trees were my friends," said the Ent in Lord of the Rings. "You would think a wizard would know better."

Alas, age does not always wisdom bring. Farewell to you, my speechless friends. Thank you for shading me and offering me shelter in my time of need.

I am sorry I am not able to do the same for you.

Mountain Fire Update

The fire on Caldwell Mountain, also known as the Stone Coal Gap fire, appears to be out.

The Forest Service is saying about 820 acres burned. Rainstorms yesterday helped put out the flames.

Asheville v. Roanoke

For many years, I have heard Asheville compared to Roanoke, with Roanoke on the lower end in the favorable column.

Indeed, Asheville does look a lot like Roanoke. The elevation is similar.

The mountains are similar.

The trees are similar.

Asheville is older than Roanoke, though. Asheville was established in the late 1700s. Big Lick's history doesn't go back that far.

The one thing Asheville has that Roanoke does not is a tourist attraction. When you have 1.4 million people trudging through Biltmore Estate, you are bound to have more money to do things with.

Roanoke, bless her little heart, hasn't anything to draw in the tourists. After all, no one says "I'm going to Roanoke to see the Mill Mountain Star!" when they live in New York City.

Maybe if Vanderbilt had come to Roanoke first, he'd have built here. Who knows?

In any event, Asheville has a thriving creative population that I practically drooled over. It is obviously a very progressive city and based on the revitalization of Grove Arcade in downtown I would say it does its work very well. That old building is now a major shopping attraction in its own right, I understand, although we did not make it there this trip.

I felt like plopping down somewhere and reading poetry. The only other place that has ever happened to me has been on the Hollins University campus. The whole city has that kind of atmosphere.

I also noticed a lack of church steeples. Unlike Roanoke, which boasts a symbol of the devout nearly on every city block, churches were remarkably absent. Or at least for someone who is used to seeing church steeples rising above the horizon in all directions it so appeared.

That is not to say there weren't churches - there were. Several large ones, in fact. But they weren't splashed all over the place like they are around here.

Another thing I found interesting was that the stores, from clothing outlets to restuarants, played oldies music. We went into two malls and not once did I hear that loud hippity-hop garbage spewing forth from the speakers. There were plenty of teenagers roaming about so I don't think it made a whole lot of difference in terms of attracting shoppers, either.

It was a lot easier on the nerves, anyway.

I think Roanoke is too uptight and too wrapped up in itself to ever have a bustling downtown like I saw in Asheville.

Even so, I like this area and it suits me fine. I am a seventh generation settler here so it's pretty much in my bones. But if I ever want to move, I might just have to take another look at Asheville.

Biltmore Village and Trolley

After the WNC Farmer's Market, we headed to Biltmore Village.

Here we have the most expensively built fast food restaurants in America. We ate at the Hardee's. It is very nice inside, too.




(I made sure I took pictures so I can send them to the local zoning people so they can see what actually can be done with good zoning.)

Biltmore Village was built in the late 1890s as the Biltmore home was being constructed. If you guessed that it sprang up as a result of the construction, you would be correct in part. Apparently it was designed to be a prelude to the Estate.

It is full of shops now. We bought some chili bowls.

At 2:10 p.m., we boarded the white trolley for a historical tour of the entire area.

It lasted two hours.

This is downtown Asheville from the interstate.



Asheville has a thriving creative community. Lots of potters and artists there. I remembered that Colleen over at Loose Leaf has a son living there. I even thought of looking him up but then felt too much like a stalker for even thinking it, so I did not.

We left on Sunday. I'm going to write one more entry about this trip - a comparison of Asheville to Roanoke - and then I'll be done.

WNC Farmer's Market

After we left the NC Arboretum, we headed to the WNC Farmer's Market.

Wow.

Now this is a farmer's market!





Apparently about 2 million people shop in this 36-acre market. Most of it is under cover.

The only thing I didn't like was I couldn't tell if the food was locally grown or if it was imported in. Apparently the first truck shed is supposed to harbor only certified farmers, but I sure did see a lot of McCutcheon's jams and jellies there which I know is not grown on all these local farms.

In any event, I don't believe I have ever seen so much produce in one place in my life. It made me hungry just to walk through it.

Mountain Fire II

The fire on Caldwell Mountain in front of me continues to burn.

Estimates have been 100 acres but I think that laughable. Several hundred acres would be more like it. It's burned most of the mountainside.



Above is where the fire was yesterday afternoon as seen from Blacksburg Road.



This is around 8 p.m. on Breckinridge Mill Road.



Yesterday evening, Breckinridge Mill Road (above).

The above is the view out my front door as of this morning.



The fire has burned down the mountain, moving towards civilization. This shot was taken around 12:15 today from Stevens Road, which is about 1/4 mile from my house. The fire has burned so low down the mountain I can no longer see the fire line from my house because of the trees.

The fire has burned unchecked since Wednesday. Reports are a hot shot crew is scheduled to begin work on it today.

NC Arboretum

Saturday morning it was off to the North Carolina Arboretum, located just off the Blue Ridge Parkway and not far from our hotel.

Inside there was an art show of NC farms.



This is James enjoying the art. On the wall, it says, that the number of WNC farms in 1970 was 76,065. By 2002, that number was 12,212.

Outside, we found all kinds of flowers. This is quilt garden. Isn't it lovely?



This is not a moonshine still! This is a raincatcher on the side of the gazebo/entrance structure. The water comes from the guttering and is used on the flowers.



My favorite was the Bonsai garden.




I thought this was a lovely piece of artwork: