Battling History at the Mill

On a weekend that was lashed with sleet, rain and fearsome winds there seemed little chance of any outdoor activity so Saturday was spent stocking up on groceries and then snuggling on the sofa while watching DVDs, but Sunday couldn't be spent in the same lazy manner, and so with the gales still roaring around the house, I set out to explore a couple of indoor places that I'd passed on numerous occasions, but never ventured inside.
Battling down I81 was arduous, often needing to wrench the steering wheel back and forth to maintain driving in a straight line. The winds were relentless and, fortunately, folks were sensibly driving slower than usual. My first destination was the Virginia Museum of the Civil War in New Market, which focuses on the Battle of New Market, and sits on the battleground along with the preserved farm buildings which had been in the midst of the fight. A few others had also ventured out here and were quietly walking around. It was warm and cozy, the museum laid out really well so you literally flowed around the exhibit walls in the circular building.

 The Stained Slab Glass Mural Wall by Ami Shamir featuring aspects of the Civil War and names of the ten Virginia Military Institute cadets who died fighting it. The field had been plowed before the day's fight, making it so muddy that many cadets lost their boots, earning it the title, The Field of the Lost Shoes.

 From one of the windows I had a lovely view of the Knob, a mountain that has just been purchased, helped by the local community, and added to the George Washington National Forest. Wonderful news that this mountain will now always look the same and will never be tarnished by man made structures or deforestation.

A battle scene I could get right up close to, the detail on these men's faces was impressive.
The story behind the photos of the wall stayed with me. The Confederates were behind this stone wall at Marye's Heights, Fredericksburg, winning against the Union troops, many of whom were crying in pain, wounded on the field. One of the Confederate soldiers, Richard Kirkland, unable to bear the sounds any longer, grabbed water canteens and leaped over the wall to offer water to his wounded enemies. The firing stopped for an hour and a half while he tended the fallen men, then the fighting resumed. This 'Angel of Marye's Heights' died less than a year later at Chickamauga.
There was an impressive gun exhibit here, and I was particularly taken by the way all revolvers back then were issued in a wooden box, complete with accessories. This is a Colt Model 1849 Pocket Revolver.  I'd also never been aware that Abraham Lincoln had been so enthusiastic about machine guns. He insisted the government purchase 60 of these Wilson Agar hand cranked guns which fired 120 rounds a minute. It was referred to as the Coffee Mill gun, because of its looks and because it heated up so much during firing. This is one of the three that are known to remain today.
 A short distance down the road is the Bushong farm which got caught up in the battle of New Market. A great article about Sarah Bushong and the battle on her farm is here.

True to the period the house has been to restored, using many pieces that were donated, although the gold mirror, square table and clock in the corner did actually belong to the family.
On Sunday May 15 1864, the Confederate soldiers swarmed around the house, forming a line along the orchard fence. Battle commenced and the family took refuge in the cellar below, which had small windows above ground, so they could fearfully watch the fighting. Bullets pierced the doors and windows while soldiers fell outside, and soon these men took refuge inside the house, which then, along with other local homes, became a hospital. The family continued to live downstairs until they were able to return to their home upstairs once it was no longer needed as a hospital. I peered through the cellar windows trying to imagine the horrors of watching a battle right before my eyes, the flashes of bayonets and gunpowder sparking, the smell of blood and the men's cries. It must have been awful to be trapped down there, wondering if a bullet would rip through the walls at any moment, and then the ordeal of living below stairs while wounded men were tended upstairs, their pain piercing the floorboards.
There is a short walk across the battlefields to an overlook of the Shenandoah. Pushing forward against the winds I set off across the field.

 A memorial to Stacey Nadeau, who I read later, had been cherished as a dedicated member of staff for thirteen years here at the New Market Battlefield before succumbing to cancer in 2016. One of her big accomplishments was authoring a cookbook based on the original recipes from the Bushong Farm which continues to sell in the museum stores today. What a beautiful spot to be remembered. I stood looking down at the sparkling water and peaceful farms below me, wishing I had a hat to protect my poor throbbing ears from the blustering, battering gales, but also not wanting to leave just yet. The view, as are all views of this majestic river, was breathtaking. I stood a while longer and then reluctantly headed back to the car, thankfully, with the wind now behind me.
My next destination was another place I've often driven past but not visited. I knew it was a cultural heritage building so had a fair idea of what that meant but I thought a peek inside wouldn't hurt.
The Edinburg Mill is a towering white building that looms over Rte 11 on the outskirts of the small town. Because I knew it would contain historical artifacts I grabbed my camera and entered, assuming I'd be here for about 20 minutes. But within seconds of creaking on the wooden floors and looking around at every crammed corner I knew I'd underestimated my stay. I was then informed of  two more levels upstairs that insisted on a $3 donation to view. Why they don't just say it's a $3 charge, I don't know, because a donation should be voluntary and yet this is most definitely not implied. but in all fairness I can't see anyone trying to dodge this small fee, it's well worth it. I walked about, once again wrongly assuming, that I'd be seeing relics of days gone by that I'd seen many times before. Instead, I was engrossed, delighted, amused and intrigued with this wondrous museum. Aged wooden floors and narrow corridors led to rooms and cubby holes stuffed with memorabilia.

There were interactive maps and so many collections that I had to walk very slowly so nothing was missed. I'd never seen old voting artifacts like these before and was impressed with the amount of local antiquities that had been loving saved and were now in this huge old mill.

I was very interested in the stills and 'wanted' posters on display and further impressed to see a recipe for corn whiskey mash. Very tempted to try that out!

I'd never seen such a large collection of nursing and first aid badges and posters, the antique camera collection was amazing and I loved the story of Frank Hottel. There were many interesting collections and stories here, the description cards were written thoughtfully and often humorously so I really wanted to read them all, but to do that would have taken a whole day. This place is amazing and well worth a visit. It's incredible that such a small town has managed to accumulate such a wealth of history inside these beautifully restored walls, and the website is equally enthralling. There is also a restaurant adjoining the museum which I didn't have time to try out, but the food looked delicious. I see another trip here in the future.

Peculiar Puppets on Parade

On Sunday Emily and Richard came to FroRo so I could show them one of my favorite attractions. A hike had originally been suggested and the weather was perfect for this, but I'd been experiencing bad stomach pains, which were later diagnosed as gastritis or possible stomach ulcer, and so the thought of trudging uphill and feeling winded didn't appeal. But since I'm a huge fan of all things Americana I hoped the quirkiness of where I was taking them would also appeal to my friends. And so I was very excited to introduce them to The American Celebration on Parade.
We arrived to find the parking lot completely empty, we were the only visitors. This was my third visit and each time I've found this extraordinary establishment with no other visitors, incredible to believe.

As I entered the huge warehouse I once again experienced the thrill of seeing these absolutely enormous float masterpieces that towered above us, garish, gaudy and sometimes downright creepy. I don't think it will matter how many times I see these, every time I walk in I'm astounded at their sheer size, vivid colors and amount of glitter. I had hoped to see the same reaction on my friend's faces but not so. I was more excited than the pair of them put together. But then I realized I'd never really seen them display pure unbridled excitement or joy, their emotions are always kept checked. Feeling sad for them I bounced past them into the vast hall, jigging a little to the wondrous parade music that was blasting out. I hummed along to jazzed up versions of Ghostbusters, Hey Ya and Thriller as well as the more traditional band sounds. God, I love this place!

Some of the exhibits had been moved about and a few were missing, notably the rabbits, but the Genie was still reigning supreme, 30ft tall and 47ft from fingertip to fingertip. She's a veteran of the Rose Parade, the Philadelphia Thanksgiving Parade and the Miss America Parade. The polar bears won the Queen's Trophy in the 1998 Rose Parade. Their white fur gets grubby quickly and is often replaced. Some of these displays were broken up to make new parade floats, although most are now in retirement, and some are in a storage warehouse in Maryland. The wheels on Neptune's chariot were once on a gladiator float.

This limousine has appeared in movies and weddings as well as the Rose Parade and is covered in black fake fur. The wonder of this place is that you can get close up and personal to the displays, to stroke the fur or gingerly feel a flower petal or simply to tap the glittered surfaces that sparkle and twinkle, impossible not to touch. Some of the floats have buttons that can pressed to make parts move. An elephant will slowly swing or a pelican will gyrate, the old motors below them grinding and creaking loudly.  The carpet is spotless,the wide red expanse making you feel as though you're part of a parade yourself and making a grand appearance.
There seemed to be more open space than on previous visits and upon asking about this I was told that they now hold events in the warehouse and so need space for tables or booths. Event dinners, wine tastings and fright nights are now on the schedule to help bring in funds. When the exhibition was owned by its founder, Earl Hargrove, there was an entrance fee. On my previous visits I'd paid for a ticket that covered this, the Shenandoah Caverns, the vintage window display museum and the Yellow Barn. Today, we were amazed to discover that now only the caverns charge a fee, everything is free entry. Mr Hargrove passed away in 2015, and now this is owned by his daughter, who has decided to give some of the exhibits another go at rolling down the streets. Regarding the 2019 Apple Blossom Festival she said, “This year, we took first place for our float in every category for the Apple Blossom Parade,” she says. It was the same parade that brought Hargrove to the Shenandoah Valley in the 1960s. “I just know my father was beaming from heaven. And now we are making one for the Fourth of July parade in Harrisonburg. I know my father would be so proud.”
We left the parade floats and walked up the hill towards the caverns to explore the Main Street of Yesteryear, a small dimly lit museum of old storefront windows from the 40's and 50's. For the middle of January, it felt weird to be outside in just t-shirts, a warm breeze stroking out bare arms.

These old bears were once circus features, some from the early 20th century. A pressed button started them slowly moving from side to side, with loud groaning noises from the machinery reminding me of complaining arthritic joints. Upstairs in the darkened museum the ceiling was hung with multitudes of dusty silk lilac flowers and leaves. A musty smell clung in the air, the floorboards creaked as I stepped across. Some of the window displays were lit, others came alive as we walked past, small lights beamed and the characters within sprang to life, walking around tracks or swinging on a trapeze, turning on a carnival ride or simply just turning their heads.

The workmanship and detail is outstanding on these displays which is why on this visit I focused on closeups of the stars. Some were grotesque while others were beautiful or simply amusing. But there was definitely a sinister air to the place. Some of these puppets would make Stephen King grimace, I loved them all. The motors whirred and clanked loudly as the window displays jerked and twirled their puppets, a deathly silence hanging in the air when the machines stopped.

For such a small museum, it has a huge impact. I so wish they make store windows like this today. This whole destination really is one of my favorite places to visit, and every time I return it's like a first visit, the wonder and incredulous astonishment gripping me each time. I was reluctant to leave, as always, but I know I'll be back, especially for the Fright Night. The Yellow Barn wasn't open and we weren't dressed to go down into chilly caves, so we headed for a local flea market that I never noticed before.

There were some unique yard ornaments, I really wanted the medallion sporting blue alien, but not enough to part with $75. Inside were numerous small rooms filled with various vendors. Only one thing caught my eye, a can of garden insecticide, claiming to be so safe that the mother had sprayed right next to her small child! I might have to go back for that...
Richard got me to pose with the leg of a mannequin, not a photo I was enamored with until I spotted Yoda's expression on the front of my t-shirt! It was halfway through the afternoon by the time we left and so with no further ado, we finished the day as any intrepid explorer worth his/her salt would, and made haste to a local brewery and then a winery.

Partying with Panettones

Saturday rained and showered and poured, and the winds howled and blowed and roared. Apart from working out in the morning I spent the day, much to Rosie Lee's delight, sitting on the sofa, covered with a fluffy throw, watching movies and reading. Rosie Lee sat on top of me the whole time, under the throw. And in the evening I went to Bill and Jen's Epiphany Party. Not wanting to hoist the big Sony camera around in the damp outdoors and having destroyed my small Canon, the iPhone had to be responsible for images, and poor they are...
I had made a huge apple pie, the filling was thick slices soaked in brandy and  the pastry was loaded with plenty of Irish butter. I'd also taken 2 cans of Ambrosia Devon Custard, but was rather hopeful that one of them would accompany me back home, since I've discovered most Americans haven't latched on to this delicious dessert, and also because it's $5 a can.

 It was dark and dreary when I arrived at the party house, hundreds of white Christmas lights brightly gleaming around the porch, and thankfully the rain had stopped. I deposited my offerings of pie, custard and beer in the kitchen, hugged hello's to guests and then trudged, or rather squelched, my way over to the abandoned Log House, where Bill and a few friends were gathered around the hearth upon which three large cauldrons of beef stew were bubbling and emitting a mouth watering aroma. We chatted and chugged on bottles of beer while we pondered on how we'd get the three pots of stew to the main house. I held a flashlight and shone the way while Chris walked behind me with one large black bubbling pot held aloft on a plank of wood. I don't know how the other two pots made it to the kitchen as I got waylaid by tempting dishes that had appeared in the dining room along with more guests.

 The beef stew was amazing, I had a huge bowl. The meat fell apart as I scooped up mouthfuls of gravy and carrots. I really wanted to eat straight from the cauldron and wave away any other interested parties, I wanted it all for myself, it was that good. Luckily for the other guests my good manners won the day and I reluctantly backed away once my bowl was filled, and found some crusty French bread to dunk in that tasty herby gravy. And then I discovered another delicious delight. The scent of pears had been wafting across to me and I'd tracked it down to a bottle on the table with undecipherable writing. But there was an empty glass before it and feeling a bit like Alice in Wonderland I poured myself a tot and sipped. And then gulped. This stuff was incredible! Thank God it wasn't that magic diminishing potion or I would never have been able to reach for a second pour. This was a pear brandy that Jen had made from the pears in their back garden. I had amazing stew in one hand and delectable brandy in the other, I was in heaven! Thankfully these wonderful hosts readily gave up both recipes during the evening to any who wanted them. And I actually ended up giving out my apple pie recipe to a few folks also, since I'd had so many compliments. I had rather hoped that since it was so big I'd be able to sneak a piece to take back home but no such luck. It all went, with Jen snatching the last piece because Bill hadn't had any yet, so of course I wasn't going to argue with that. But I did take home the second can of custard. As suspected the first can had barely been touched, so the remaining can was all mine.

  Outside Bill and a friend were preparing for the annual Panettone Toss. I had no idea what this would entail but was curious to see torches were being lit with a strange metal grid in between them. A huge fire was blazing, which gave off welcome heat, it was so cold, with winds picking up. The ground was sodden from the heavy rains we'd been getting and I could feel my feet were getting wet.

Lighting the torch with a flame equivalent to a lighter wasn't working but Bill's flame thrower soon had them flickering brightly. The scene reminded me of something from Game of Thrones and I fully expected to hear the clang of swords clashing at any time.

The panettones were small bread like round cakes in which we stuck a glowstick, simply so it could be seen in the dark. There were a few of these and we reused them as often as we could. The idea was to hurl the panettone at the metal grid using a lacrosse styled stick. If you managed to hit the grid, the impact would set a curtain of sparks to fall from the torches and you would be a winner. Most of us failed abysmally at this. The glowsticks were particularly useful as these little cakes bounced like rubber when they hit the ground, so we were constantly running after them. Admittedly I only had one go, but I was too cold to push for another shot and the kids seemed to be enjoying themselves too much for me to butt in. Jen, who was by now, thoroughly warmed up with her pear liquor, managed to hit the grid first time, but I wasn't sure if this was due to her practicing all afternoon or the 'loosening of limbs' effect from her wonderful beverage. It was very cold out there and I had stiffened up considerably, while my poor feet seemed glued in place. I tugged my boots from the sodden grass with loud sucking noises and warmed my hands at the fire, which the winds had fanned causing huge flames to lick upwards and sparks to sprinkle about us.

Most of the others had by now also congregated by the fire which was putting out an extremely welcome heat. Bill handed out sparklers that we all busily waved about. I stood and sniffed, not from the cold but from that lovely sulphuric scent that comes from sparklers or matches. It wasn't long before people slowly sidled out of view and scuttled back to the warm house, to begin another devouring of the food. The panettones were abandoned on the grass and would become breakfast for the crows, who Jen said, would wake her up in the morning with their excited, 'Caw, caw caw!!' cries. I did spot Bill munching on one but never tried one myself. I snacked on a few more dishes myself before I realized how late it was, and then drove home, an empty pie plate beside me and one full can of Ambrosia Devon Custard.