A Church, some Coal, some Cars and Chums

On Saturday Elliott and I made the 3.5 hour journey up to PA to meet a few other explorers and photograph an old church which the new owner kindly allowed us access to. We knew beforehand that the stained glass windows, lights and many other fittings had been stolen, so we weren't sure what we would find, and we did wonder if it would be worth photographing. But I was especially excited to meet friends who'd I'd not seen for a long time and for me, that was the draw, rather than the church. And of course, the beer. We'd almost definitely be trying a local brewery afterwards, I was determined that this would pass.

Unfortunately, the church's exterior didn't inspire me, and on entering the premises, Cindy immediately started exclaiming how wonderful it was. I followed her gaze with my eyes but obviously wasn't seeing what she saw, the trash and torn clothing dumped on the floor, the broken furniture and moldy walls. She saw beautiful scenery, I saw rubbish. I was pretty bombed about feeling this way, but determined to make the best of it, and after spotting some nice untouched cobwebs against textured glass my spirits lifted a little. I decided I'd take photos that would later be more of a play with color, using Photoshop later. Having a theme in my head I pulled out the Sony and got to work.

I walked about for a while and then made for a dark stairwell that went downstairs. I had not considered that there would be various floors, and therefore lots of stairs, in the church, and my knee certainly got a workout this morning. The Sony, with its new longer lens, felt like I was carrying a house brick around with me. But it felt great to be photographing again and I was soon immersed in my surroundings, studying architectural details and light in the rooms.

The guy who had bought the church appeared to be only in his 20's, with no clear vision of what he wanted to do with the church. He had moved to this town for a slower pace of life and a new direction, purchasing this property for, in his words, "likely less than all your camera gear." We looked it up later, and he was right, he'd bought it for $9100! It was built in 1859, remodeled in 1866, then rebuilt in 1883. A solid structure of huge granite blocks, it was sturdy, yet had plenty of damp inside. There was some mold, a few rotting floors, with holes that we had to negotiate in the dim light and puddles with an oily sheen that reflected broken chairs and peeling paint. We suggested turning the place into a brewery, which he liked the idea of. He was thinking of inviting vendors in to create an antique/flea market/coffee shop area, yet he will need to embark on a huge restoration project before he can turn it into a viable business venture. We wondered if he'd bitten off more than he could chew. But he was a really friendly guy and almost bashful at accepting the donations we gave him. We suggested future trips from our group which appealed to him. I hope he realizes his dream.

 

We met outside for a group shot and then the best part of the day happened, visiting a brewery called Lost Mind. They were brand new and hadn't begun serving their own brews yet, but the local beers they had on tap were pretty tasty. The food went down well too and we were soon fortified for the afternoon. It felt amazing to be with friends, swapping stories, and laughing. So much laughing, and feelings of happiness shared with people I'd missed being with. It was a perfect lunch.

We all later stopped at an old coal breaker that Andrew had spotted on the way up. We trekked through brambles and loose gravel to reach a building that was almost a skeleton, a bare metal frame with no roof, just huge girders with a few plastic sheets and teal paint on metal providing color. The others climbed up into the shell of the building where some machinery remained. I desperately wanted to follow, but the uphill slope was loose with earth and leaves, plus there were also broken rusty stairs to clamber up. I, very regretfully, decided to be sensible and stay down below, knowing I would be foolish to push my knee through that kind of exertion and risk a setback. I sat down, listening to their voices and shutters clicking, and wondered how much longer my leg would take to be fully healed. But, thankfully, they didn't stay up there too long, and soon descended to rejoin me. I smiled inwardly as I suddenly realized how a dog must feel when he's been left outside a store for a while, and then his owner finally reappears, initiating heavy panting accompanied by furious tail wagging. I didn't do either of those, but I may have wiggled my butt a bit.  As we hiked back towards the cars I picked up some chunks of coal to take home for the garden as a consoling gift to myself and patted myself on the back for being so sensible. I must be getting old...

 Elliott and I began our way back home, leaving the others to return on a different route. They were going to Hamburg to see some old trains, a trip I'd made many years ago, and we were going to drop in to an auto salvage yard. When we arrived the sign indicated that they were closed, but we drove in regardless, hoping we'd be allowed to take some photos. The owner was a little grumpy at first but soon relented, and let us in for 30 minutes. He pointed out where the vintage wrecks were and we headed over there, after thanking him prolifically, and promising him we'd leave on time.

We had to work fast, not having the time to plan our shots or explore fully, but it felt great to just be out here with Elliott, both of us enjoying our hobby. I often marvel at how fortunate I am to have found a partner in life who loves doing most of the activities I enjoy. Well, almost, he doesn't like line dancing... We stayed in a small area of the salvage yard, ever conscious of the time we had, which of course whizzed by and it felt like only 5 minutes later that we left, just before our 30 minutes limit had lapsed, and drove home to Front Royal.

Native Gardening and Backroad Ruins

With the sun shining on Saturday, and the temperature soaring to 70 degrees, Elliott and I drove to a garden nursery to buy some native trees for the front garden. Along the road edge, I have a vision of creating a wildlife hedgerow, with native trees, piles of rocks and logs, and a wildlife fence to offer sanctuary for the local critters. We got a fringe tree, a dogwood and a redbud along with another forsythia and a few perennials. 

I have to confess I was a little more excited at seeing a parrot I've befriended there on previous visits, than actually looking for trees, which of course, was our main objective. This rescued sulphur crested cockatoo is called Lola, and she climbed onto my arm immediately, crab walked up to my shoulder and snuggled in, cawing soft 'hellos' and making kissing noises with her beak. I've never known such an affectionate bird. I cuddled her like a cat, with my arms around her, her head bent down under my chin, lifting her wing to be stroked underneath. I adore this little parrot and it seemed the feeling was mutual. We had plenty of cuddles and softly spoken endearments before I had to tear myself away, upon which she looked at me and said, "Bye!" She'd apparently learned another word since my last visit. I'll see her again in a few weeks when we return for more plants.

Back home we planted the three trees and the forsythia and an old canoe I'd found cheap online, which we'd then painted blue, was filled with earth. I'm looking for a native Carolina rose shrub to grow in it and there will be bedding plants added also, when the weather warms up. I had also found a guy locally who had a lot of free rocks on his land, so we paid him a visit, filling up Stanley until his suspension dropped low. These would be the base for the 'nature wall' so small critters, mouses and insects, reptiles and maybe small birds, would have a little protective area that some might even hibernate in next winter. The rocks were stacked, with spaces left as critter 'hideyholes', then logs placed on top of that and then we need to gather more smaller branches and brush to pile on top and complete it. The logs and brush will also provide shelter as well as insects for birds to eat as the wood begins to break down. We can replenish the wood every couple of years. I'd like a second one of these built a little further down the road with a couple of cedar trees that will grow and provide shade over it. I have wildflower seeds to plant  along the curb and around the trees, and some native perennials will be added too. This was really Elliott's first experience of gardening and it felt wonderful to have a partner working alongside me, especially someone who shows a genuine interest in the garden and my goals. I'm hoping this stretch along the road in front of the Blue House will mature into a native plant haven for wildlife, the trees growing to offer shade and additional habitat, along with the perennials and wild flowers creating a colorful verge that passersby will also enjoy as they drive through the cemetery gates. A far prettier and more interesting view than just a grass lawn.

On Sunday, the forecast was rain, so we decided to take it easy and go for a drive with our cameras down some back roads near home. It didn't take long to get onto the rural lanes, barely any other vehicles in sight, and a calming silence in our surroundings, apart from the spring chatter of nesting birds. Black vultures soared above us, enjoying the winds, their wings outstretched wide as they slowly tuned in large circles, sometimes coming down low and casting dark shadows across the road in front of us.

 We trundled along unpaved roads, enjoying the tranquility and scents of spring, the breezes getting stronger and the clouds becoming more ominous, competing with the bright sunshine which seemed determined to battle for its right to shine. That strange aura, which always appears before a storm, was cast upon the countryside, light competing with the dark, creating pools of bright sun contrasting with deep shadows, creating an eerie sense of almost dusk in the early afternoon.

We saw the rain coming and when it fell it was torrential. The sky went dark, sheets of water cascading down the car windows and across the mountains. A wall of water drifted across the countryside in front of us and we watched in awe as the watery veil obscured our view. I packed my camera away. After having been without it for weeks, due to repairs, I wasn't going to let raindrops render it unusable. The iPhone took over. Heavy drops splattered onto the windscreen and the roadside gullies filled with cascades of water.

As the sounds of the falling rain filled the car, our bellies joined in with their hungry chorus, and so we headed back towards civilization and a Mexican restaurant, stopping briefly to photograph another abandoned building, where Elliott soon became engrossed with his camera. But the most I could do was snap a couple of shots on my iPhone, my energy had waned. But on the way home I did pull out my phone again to snap these shiny, silver, chemical carrying cylinders parked on the side of the road alongside a beautiful vintage truck.