A Sweltering Spicy, and not so Spirited Saturday

Jeff and I set out on a seriously steamy Saturday to have a look round Harrisonburg, VA. We were looking for abandonments but it seemed as the journey progressed and after a few stops, it became an unspoken mutual agreement that it was just simply too hot to leave the car. We became progressively lazier and lazier, spending most of our time chatting and just catching up. We trundled down Rte 11, a glaring sun burning through the windscreen and the AC on full blast. Not surprisingly there wasn't much traffic on the roads, it seemed most folk were preferring to stay in their cool homes, protected from the sun's demon rays.

Jeff hadn't ever seen a covered bridge, apart from on the internet, so we stopped at Meem's in Mount Jackson. It appeared to have some restoration work done on it, its wooden sides looking a little 'new' and in immaculate condition. The fields next to it were filled with corn, quietly whispering in the ever so gentle breeze. We were wishing for icy gales as we stepped out of the car and were amazed to see a family picnicking under a shady tree, flies and mosquitoes buzzing about in very apparent bliss at having found victims to persecute. We walked up to the entrance, hot, stuffy air blowing through the dark tunnel and feebly snapped a few photos. I thought Jeff might want to walk through to admire the intricate woodwork but he'd had enough and we shuffled back to the sanctuary of Stanley.
Our next stop was Route 11 Chips. Their factory was very close and neither of us had previously investigated this gourmet delight. A few people were inside the building, listening to the owner explain the process involved in making these popular potato munchies. I'm a huge fan so was eager to press my nose up to the glass and see the magic firsthand. The production area was spotless, slow moving conveyor belts heaped with crunchy crispy delights, and I had to marvel that none of the staff were overweight. I would be as big as a house if I worked there. I was having a hard time snacking in a polite restrained manner as I checked out all of the sample dishes. Every flavor was placed in small cardboard sample dishes and I had to work very hard at not emptying each and every one. (I'm particularly fond of the dill flavor and also the BBQ. Mum also loves the dill and I regularly send packets over the pond.) I made the circuit a few times and then very reluctantly backed off. We weren't allowed to take photos of the production room, which was a shame, I would have loved some shots of the process, and after a look through the t-shirts we left to resume our car ride.

I spotted this Civil War memorial at New Market and jumped out of the car because I'd spotted a cardinal perched on the soldier's hat, looking just like a jaunty feather had been placed there. I managed to snap a shot just before it flew off. This monument is a marker named The Bloody Cedars. It was originally dedicated to the Union soldiers who lost their lives here but more recently a new placard has been erected at the base of the statue saying that it now represents all the lives lost in that battle.

We drove on down and nearer to Harrisonburg we came across an old antique/flea market store with outbuildings that had been closed down and was now up for sale. There was still some interesting stuff inside but we just took a few photos as we walked about, strong mold fumes wafting out from the windows and doors as we got close. Our movements were slow as we ambled along the walls, peering into windows, and making more of an effort to stay in the shade than to take photos. What an apathetic pair we were, it was as if our batteries had nearly run down, our feet dragging as we unindustriously plodded back and forth. My hands spent more time waving mosquitoes off than operating my camera. Once again, we silently agreed to give up and made for the car to continue on to Harrisonburg.

Once we arrived at Harrisonburg I made a beeline for a sculpture that had intrigued me when I read about it online, Guns Into Plowshares. The sculptures name comes from the bible quote, "They shall beat their swords into plowshares and their spears into pruning hooks," - Isaiah 2:4. Situated at the Eastern Mennonite University, it was created to be a symbol that violence needs to stop. Created from over 3000 handguns collected by DC police, (where the sculpture originally came from), it's an impressive sight. I was glad we saw it as very soon it will be returning to DC. Here in the peace of this campus grounds, it made an imposing statement, its 16 ft black sheer walls dominating the open space. Of course it begs to be touched, it's so unusual and I was amazed to find that even though it had been painted black it didn't feel hot under the blazing sun.

It was mid afternoon and we were starving. Spotting a Jimmy Madison bar downtown, that was boasting bourbon and southern food, we made a beeline for it, blinking in the gloom until our eyes adjusted after the sun's bright glare. It smelled wonderful and I perked up immediately at the prospect of food and beer. I ordered a brisket sandwich which was outstanding. I mopped up their signature sauces, enjoying them all and washed them down with a Sam Adam's summer ale. I could quite happily have stayed there all afternoon, it was divinely cool and the staff were very friendly. We asked one of them if there were an interesting old or abandoned buildings in the town area and she came up with a complete blank. An old ice factory had been close by but was now converted into condos. We walked a few neighboring streets but it was simply too hot to endure. I felt as though I might fizzle into a melting pool on the tarmac sidewalks if I stood still too long. We both sank thankfully into the car and once again turned on the AC full blast. Harrisonburg was a nice university town but more suited to shopping and bar hopping than exploring, so we began the journey back towards home.
Back in FroRo, we lazily drove directly into the cemetery, rather than park on my drive and walk up the hill. I wanted Jeff to see the confederate graves and Mosby's men memorial and then we dawdled slowly around, half-heartedly snapping our shutters.

I took just a few photos, trying to get different perspectives but each time I bent down rivulets of sweat trickled down into my eyes, stinging and blurring my vision. We soon gave up, energy and enthusiasm completely sapped. The sun and suffocating humidity had beat us, all we wanted was to be indoors.
Jeff left soon after and I collapsed onto the sofa, to enjoy a huge glass of water and cool down in the AC. But the memory of discomfort became distant after a couple of hours as I sat fully refreshed and feeling a little bored. Since I've moved to The Blue House, and not having cable or dish connected, I watch very little TV and don't miss it. I read a lot more and find other ways to fill my time, and now I was thinking of the Front Royal carnival that was in town. It was here for a week and it would be less likely that I'd go during the week since I go to bed early, therefore tonight would be the best time. My camera batteries were fully charged after such little use during the day so I grabbed my bag once again, and my tripod, and went to the carnival.
It was packed but being a small town I had no problem in finding a place to park Stanley. It seemed that most of Front Royal were here, faces smiling, lit up with the neon lights that flashed from the rides. Small kids darted back and forth, clutching balloon toys with faces sticky from cotton candy. Motors whirred while 70's pop and soft music played, it was a great atmosphere. It was still hot and oppressive but at least I had something to focus on rather than my back getting damp from the weight of my camera bag. I set up my equipment and started snapping.

I started with the ferris wheel. I'm not keen on these newer rides with their harsh LED lights. The patterns as the wheel turns are not so interesting as the older machines which also had the softer glowing light bulbs. I played around with my lens for a while trying different effects and then moved on. My reading glasses which were perched on top of my head constantly fogged up in the heat, it was like walking in a tropical jungle.

I strolled through the whole carnival taking photos of most of the rides, but after a while I found myself preferring to photograph the people on the rides themselves. Expressions of approaching dread before the ride began, excited 'pretend' terror as they screamed through their two minutes of superspeed elevation, or the relief once their ride slowed down. I enjoyed watching them all. With so much hate and meanness in the news it was wonderful to see so many joyful faces here tonight, so for a while I forgot my discomfort of damp clothing and constant itching from bug bites.
I had heard from the locals that for one week only at this carnival, the firefighters would be selling their famous Fireman's Relish. They had made about 500lbs and had declared that once it was gone, it was gone. Facebook had been alight with comments from people proclaiming their addiction to the stuff and planning to stock up for the year. I found the stall selling it and chatted with the firefighters. The recipe had originally come from the Washington Senators baseball team. The grandfather of the firefighter I chatted to said he had got the recipe and it had never been changed. Of course it was top secret, I didn't even dare ask. I noticed that it was stacked up in plastic containers in the fridge so inquired as to how long it would keep for. One of the other firefighters spoke in a strong Virginian accent, telling me, "Well, you keep it in the fridge, and it keeps working. I keep mine for the whole year in there. but if you put it in the freezer, it stops working and goes soft" I guessed that the 'working' part was the strength of its heat, it was known to be a little spicy. After a taste I bought 3 pots.
Back home I made a mature English cheddar sandwich and slathered on the relish. For those that know what Picalilli is, it tasted just like that, with a different texture. Lots of veggies, vinegar and heat. Delicious!

Love is in the Air at LOTUS

Saturday was a dreary day but I had planned a road trip for myself and wasn't going to be thwarted. I headed south, avoiding interstates, and drove with clouds clinging to the mountains and faint rumbles of thunder threatening storms above me.

 After nearly 3 hours I arrived at Yogaville, where my destination lay, tucked behind thick woods and down at the bottom of a hill. There had been no signs to alert people of its location so I was rather surprised when I finally turned into a lane with a huge pink arch, a massive declaration of what was located here, large LOTUS letters attached to it and underneath smaller letters, The Light Of Truth Universal Shrine. This was the LOTUS Temple, which I'd discovered online, and after seeing photos, had wanted to observe firsthand. Yogaville is a spiritual community, other shrines are within it, and all of them embracing world faiths.
I was amazed when I arrived to find Stanley would be only the third car in the parking lot. In fact the owners of one of them were just leaving and I discovered the lady working in the gift store owned the other car, meaning that I had this place all to myself. I decided to leave the shrine to later and walk around the lake first. Thunder was booming across the valley and the sky darkening, I hoped to arrive back at the building before the rain fell. But it wasn't to be. As I reached the shore of the lake large droplets pummeled my head and shoulders. I rain to the gift shop for shelter, but not before I'd got a soaking. Chatting with the lady in the store I learned that major renovations were in progress. There was scaffolding and tarpaulins over one half of the domed shrine and none of the fountains were working. Work may not be completed for another year. I was disappointed but visiting without a flood of tourists was a major compensation, and I would just have to strive to take photos without the repair work in them.

The rain eased off a little, enough for me to trot through the gateway and down the long walkway to the temple without getting much wetter. Two huge black elephants stood at the entrance, ebony rivulets of rain running down their granite flanks. These represent the earth element and also knowledge and strength; they definitely looked powerful. If the reflecting pool had contained water this would help us to reflect our own lives as we walked its length. But with the renovations, the pools were empty and the waterfalls silent.

Inside the All Faiths Hall, it was quiet and dimly lit by lotus flower lights. The walls had glass cases showing different religions of the world, uniting them here in one room thus representing harmony. There was a calm ambience in this space as I walked around reading parts of scriptures and quotes from religious leaders. In the center of the room is a vault with a beautiful glass sculpture lit from within. There were 2 spiral staircases, marked up and down, so I climbed upstairs.

It was very dark inside. The photos on the website had shown an illuminated interior but I wasn't sure if I was allowed to turn on lights so I decided against it. Maybe they wanted it dark during restoration work. But once my eyes had adjusted additional lighting wasn't necessary. There were dim lights on the ceiling that cascaded down to the walls and a dramatic column of light was the central feature. I know it definitely wasn't intended but my first impression was that I was in a Star Trek episode looking at the Enterprise's warp core, and I had to smile. I wondered if this cult TV series had any influence on this impressive feature. When I later read about the temple's design on their website I saw that it represents moving energy, so very much like the Enterprise. The website explained every design aspect of this spectacular building, yet even without having read it in full before I came, I felt and understood the building as I walked around. It's an extremely well thought out structure exuding an aura of peace, calm and well being, and of unity.

I walked around the balcony and the outside of the dome, careful of where I placed my feet. Water damage was evident and I'm very glad they're restoring this unique building, so much thought has gone into its creation and it's obviously well loved. Yet even with its damaged exterior the temple is beautiful, a huge closed lotus flower on the edge of a lake with its petals folded up against the oncoming storm. The rain had stopped so I decided to chance strolling around the lake trail again.

The thunder was still grumbling and rolling around the hills, the rain undecided, occasionally throwing down a few token droplets and then changing its mind to let the blue skies dominate the afternoon. The grass was sodden and my feet were soon drenched but the air smelled fresh and fragrant. There were so many butterflies, that flittered fearlessly directly in my face or around my head. Some were swallowtails but the brown and orange ones could have been fritillaries or checkerspots, I wasn't sure. And of course the mosquitoes were biting. I'd forgotten to apply bug spray and knew I would pay dearly for being remiss. But the view from the other side of the lake was worth the bites and imminent downpour. The temple was like a beacon sitting on its hillock, the pink and blue paint of its dome a huge flower nestled in the fields.

I had nearly completed my walk and was focusing on taking some photos of the temple through the trees, the view from this angle meant the scaffolding couldn't be seen. There was a delicious aroma of conifer berries in the air and colonies of frogs were clicking down by the water's edge.  I jumped skyward when suddenly a loud crashing of branches a few feet away followed by a loud splash heralded the presence of a large animal. I stood stock still, thinking at first that it was a bear, but then realizing it was more likely to be a startled deer. I could see large ripples spreading out from the bank but couldn't see the creature, who was as motionless as me. Not wanting to prolong its fright, I slowly backed away and returned to the temple.

After chatting again to the gift store lady and buying a few keepsakes I climbed some steps to a higher temple that I'd seen up on the hill. It was small with windows all around. The sun was shining on the glass so I had to get up close to peer inside and then got my second fright of the day. Expecting the room to be empty I saw a figure up on the alter. It was so lifelike that I was rattled about having my face pressed to the glass for too long and appearing to be rudely staring at him while he was praying, but after a few seconds I realized it was an exceptionally lifelike figure of Sri Swami Satchidananda, the founder, whose motto was, "Truth is One, Paths are Many." Incidentally, as well as being a much loved and highly respected guru, who founded Yogaville and built this incredible ashram, he also opened the Woodstock Festival in 1969, by calling music, "the celestial sound that controls the whole universe." I wish I'd been able to meet him.
I then drove up even higher to a temple in the community that seemed to be reaching to heaven, it was sitting on the highest point surrounded by more than 180 degree views. I couldn't believe that once again I was the only person there.

What a beautiful place to worship and meditate. Anyone is free to use this space as long as shoes are removed before entering the prayer room. There was also a statue of the swami, a title given to Hindu monks, and someone had placed a fresh sweet william flower in his hands. My photo of this was blurry so I haven't posted it but I will be returning once the temple has been fully restored or maybe even in the winter if it snows.
As I drove away I felt a reluctance at leaving. Even though I hadn't paused in my exploring to spend a period in prayer a sense of peace had still encompassed me. I could feel the love and respect for this guru and the influence he had established in his 600 acre community. This is a place of love, trust and deep belief that all religions ultimately lead to God. I share that belief with him.
I began my drive homewards, it would take about 3 hours but I was taking the 'country route', having no interest after my few hours of peace to sit and be surrounded by fast angry cars on the interstate.

I drove along little occupied roads, loving the names on street signs, Walking Stick Lane, Silver Bullet Lane, Hash Lane, and Wagon Wheel Drive, when I found myself in a small town called Elkton. The roads were blocked for their 4th of July Parade and not finding an easy way around I pulled over and decided to watch.

There were only a couple of decorated floats but plenty of emergency vehicles flashed and blared past, along with classic cars, horses and wagons. Candy was being flung all over the place, the kids rushing with bags to collect it, and I have to admit I stuffed a few pieces in my pocket for the drive home. Everyone was really friendly and I felt quite at home as I stood chatting and waving.
Red, white and blue flags dominated the street, fluttering noisily in the pre storm breeze as distant rumbles from dark ominous clouds closed in but the rain held off for the parade, the sky finally relinquishing its load as I drove away 20 minutes later.

I couldn't believe it when a short time later I found myself trapped once again in another small town, Stanley, because they were also having their parade. Smiling I pulled over and once again took my place on the side of the road to watch it pass. This was more of a redneck occasion but just as enjoyable, with a huge monster truck bearing one of the most awesome names I've ever seen as the next local sheriff candidate, Chad Cubbage. I also witnessed for the first time ever a toilet being pulled on a wagon, but had no idea why it was taking part. As well as candy being hurled at the spectators popsicles were also being handed out; I enthusiastically snaffled one of those before walking back to the car. The storm seemed to have taken a different direction or had decided that battering one town was enough, the skies were clear here but the air was hot and heavy with humidity.
It seemed fitting that my blog entry should finish with these two LOVE signs. One had been in the little town of Elkton and the second was my last photo of the day, taken at Andy Guest State Park, just a few miles from home and a recently erected sign. Kind of serendipitous that I should discover it today.