Pretty in Pink

After a week of tumultuous torrents, deluged with downpours, and rain that simply ceased to stop falling, the countryside was very, very green. And sodden. New shoots, buds, and sprouts had popped up everywhere, the landscape was like a continuous oasis, with mini waterfalls tumbling in places I'd never seen before, grass had grown a month's worth in a few days and I'd had to go out on to my patio every evening to empty the saucers from under the pot plants so they could drain.
Unfortunately this precipitation continued into the weekend. There was a Civil War reenactment that I wanted to see in Front Royal, but when I arrived the clouds burst open again to dump another couple of watery inches. From my warm dry car I watched sympathetically as confederate soldiers huddled together under porch roofs and shop doorways, collars pulled up high and their demonstration exhibits left to turn soggy on lawns and the roads, closed for the occasion. There were no spectators at all. I felt sorry for them and sat, happy to wait out the shower, but realizing after checking the forecast that this was going to continue through the day. There was supposed to be a battle reenactment at 1pm, but I hoped for the soldiers' sakes it would be cancelled. I left Front Royal and took the long route home through country lanes.

There were few cars on the roads so I pottered along slowly until I came to narrow gravel lanes with grass verges filled with a pretty pink, purple or white flower that reminded me of phlox. The rain had eased off a little so I took some photos with my jacket held over my head.

The Shenadoah River had burst its banks, muddy water spinning and tumbling down its course, with logs and other debris caught up in the current, eddying to who knows where. There were no fishermen along the banks today.
I looked up this flower when I got home, discovering that it is actually an invasive species, originally from Europe, but is also sold as an ornamental flower here. It seems to have escaped the confines of gardens and is now regarded as a 'pull-worthy' weed, taking over roadsides and woodland edges. It actually has a lovely fragrance and has been cultivated for its essential seed oil and used in perfumes. The young leaves are also rich in vitamin C and can be eaten in salads. When searching Google, most sites were bemoaning the plant's worth, encouraging people to yank it up and thwart its growth. But one site spoke of it only in favorable tones, but the published date was 1996...I guess Dame's Rocket has made itself a little too comfortable in the countryside, but I for one, was pleased to make its acquaintance today

Biking from Big Pool

Saturday was threatening rain but I decided to go on a bike ride anyway and headed for Big Pool, MD. Heavy dark clouds pressed down above me as I drove but I was determined to test ride the bike I'd bought from Jason, eager to find out if it would be an easier ride on rough trails than the heavy silver Pacifica I've been riding. The air was thick with humidity, the first experience of it this year, and definitely not welcome.

 I stopped briefly at C and O markers on the roadside along the way, just to be nosy and see what gems were at the end of each divertion. The warm weather had drawn out canal volunteers who were busy planting and tidying up the flower beds around a lockhouse, with others inside sweeping away the cobwebs. I just had to drive under this tunnel because the road was so close to the water, but then backed out again quite quickly once I discovered it led to private residences. I bet they hate curious people like me!
At the trail head, the weather decided to test my resolve, dropping huge rain drops on my head and shoulders as I unloaded the bike. if I had been riding the Bianchi, then I would have loaded the bike straight back into the vehicle again, but because this new bike is for rougher conditions, I decided to continue with my ride, hoping the showers would abate. It was hot and steamy as I started pedaling and I was glad I'd smothered myself in bug deterrent.

 The paved trail was the Western Maryland Railroad trail heading west to Hancock. I was finishing the trail that I'd ridden a couple of weeks earlier, that time heading west from Hancock. This side of the town was less interesting and although it was beautiful to see the new lush vegetation sprouting up from the ground and from branches above, it was very much the same all the way along. After a couple of miles, the trail followed I-70 very closely and from that point the ride was hell. All the way to Hancock, the sound of heavy traffic was deafening, stripping away any enjoyment from the bike ride. I was conscious of every pedal push, just wishing the miles away as I rode. The only place where my attention was distracted from the din was Park Head Cemetery, where I dismounted to have a look. Later research showed that there was once a settlement here called Millstone, which was a stage coach stop, and apparently one night it failed to stop, ending up in the canal.
I was very pleased to reach Hancock and without a break I dropped down to begin riding back on the canal path, but was dismayed to find that the sound of traffic would still accompany me.

 Just out of town are the remains of the Tonoloway Creek Aqueduct, built between 1835 and 1839. This is a beautiful piece of artwork, with curved wrought iron railings still intact, although many of them have been destroyed by debris from flood waters. But it is still easy to picture how it must have looked 100 years ago, a stunning piece af architecture that carried boats over the creek.

The path was pretty to ride along but that horrendous traffic noise was ever present, making it impossible to regard this as a tranquil place of beauty. Which was a shame because the path, with the canal on one side and the river on the other, bright green vegetation and spring flowers popping up everywhere, was a joy to behold. I tried very hard to ignore the engine noises, stopping occasionally to enjoy the wonder of Spring erupting all around me, the cool canal water with turtles, big and small, plopping off their logs as I came past, the ferns finishing their unfurling and proudly spreading their fronds. A picnic area had a water pump, treated with iodine, and a dish for dogs below it, firewood stacked by the tables, covered with plastic sheets against the spring showers. Butterflies flitted alongside me and sycamore seeds spun past like mini helicopters

Ahead of me I spotted a frantic flutter of butterflies on the trail, their attention gripped by something I couldn't see. They were Eastern Tiger Swallowtails with one Spicebush Swallowtail with them. Because they eat nectar I could only assume it was a fallen flower from the previous night's rain. I walked my bike around them, keeping as far away from them as possible so I didn't disturb them. I had to take my photos from a distance too, not wanting to interrupt their obvious rapt attention to whatever it was they were crowding around.

Jack in the Pulpits were growing rampantly under trees and I even spotted some paw paw flowers, nearly missing their dark blooms. I was succeeding in engrossing myself in nature but then realized my bike was harder to pedal and there were some odd noises coming from the back end. I looked down and saw a flat tire. And I had another 6 miles to cover before I got to the car. Determined not to get dejected, I wiped myself with a fresh bug spray wipe and started walking, pushing the bike along beside me. I did ride it some of the way but for the most part I marched. I eventually got back onto the paved Railroad Trail and then received a lot of offers of help, to patch my inner tube or even replace it. Since by then I only had less then 2 miles at this point I declined with many thanks, not wanting to spoil their ride when I only had a short distance to cover. I got back to the car, where 2 guys who had offered me help earlier smiled and waved, shouting, "You still look good!", cheering me up immensely as I felt very hot and bothered. But I'd made it in 70 minutes so was very pleased. The bike, despite the flat, had passed with flying colors. And even with the stress of the return journey I realized that throughout my ride I hadn't once suffered from aching shoulders, which had been a regular occurrence on the old bike.
Once the car was loaded up, I decided to explore a little of the canal. I drove down a road with a sign saying McCoy's Ferry. There's a campsite at the end of the road and a ramp where the ferry likely operated from but I was more in awe of the tunnel and the trestle bridge.

 There was once fierce competition between the railroad and the canal for business and this huge bridge is a monument to the railroad's might. It was impressive looking across at it from higher up and even more so standing beneath it and marveling at its structure, as sturdy and strong now as it was back in its heyday. The tunnel was equally thrilling, especially since I was driving through with a much taller vehicle now. It was dark and drippy inside and a tight fit, width as well as height, but I still had a couple of drive throughs, glad that there was no one to witness my childishness.

The roads I was driving along were the back roads, steering clear of any highways, and the journey was a little like riding a rollercoaster. Even keeping within the speed limit of 35mph, the hillocks, humpback bridges and corners were real tummy jugglers, I almost left my seat at times while hanging tight onto the steering wheel and sporting a manic grin. I passed some interesting sights, an amazing gateway that appeared to have once belonged to a rather stately home, which wasn't standing today, the mailbox of a religious zealot. It said, 'REBEL NOT AGAINST THE LORD', on the other side.

The last photos I stopped for before the drive home was the site of a demolished leather factory, which I wished I'd discovered before it was razed to the ground, and driving through Martinsburg I spotted a store sign that made me chuckle. The word, 'boutique', and an image of an elderly spinster just didn't seem to gel, but I sure hoped her business was sprightly!

The Spring had Sprung on Sunday

After having spent Saturday morning helping to collect trash from the disgustingly filthy Anacostia River in DC, in the rain, I wasn't keen to overexert myself on Sunday. On Saturday afternoon, I'd picked up a bicycle from Jason, which he had assured me would ride better than my heavy silver Pacifica bike that I've been using for trails and rougher ground that I would prefer to not take my Bianchi on.
Sunday morning was rain free, thankfully, sunny, but chilly with a brisk wind. I decided against the bike ride I had originally planned, instead plumping for the lazier option of checking out the Leesburg Flower and Garden Show. I've been in the mood for planting now I've cleared my patio, repurposed my broken down shutters to make new screens, and thrown away my old rusty BBQ. I'm itching to start planting and adding some glorious color to my outside space, as well as putting veggies in my newly acquired plot behind the barn. But with common sense, and my wallet, telling me to hold off for a little longer until the chance of frost has surely passed, I thought, maybe looking at a show and at least getting some ideas would keep me temporarily satisfied.

My little shed was illuminated with the morning sun, teasing me with the knowledge that all my pots and garden furniture are in there, just waiting to be pulled out and filled with pretty flowers and herbs. I also have my boston ferns and geraniums in the spare room that need to go outside.
I drove towards Leesburg, taking the country route, wanting to first pass through Rectortown, or Maidstone (after my English home town) as it was once called.

I stopped at the side of the road in Maidstone, and got out to enjoy the beautiful banks of English bluebells that were in full bloom, pretty pastels of pink and blue and the odd white bell carpeted the side of the road, and the fragrance was divine. I'm assuming there must be an English resident here who planted all these, and I am grateful that they are so close to home. They have even spread across to the other side of the road and have taken root in the woodland there. And to add to the experience, which I was already enjoying immensely, the sound of classical music from a nearby house drifted across to me. For a heavenly few minutes I stood there, savoring the moment and feeling extremely fortunate that I could enjoy this little place of my home here in America. I didn't linger too long though as I likely looked a little odd, standing there with my nose in the air, sniffing audibly, with a big grin on my face, but it was a most superb way to start the day and I happily continued along on my way through country roads to Leesburg.

Emblemax has been printing the shirts for this show for many years, so it was amusing to see last year's leftover tees being used to keep kids clean as they participated in art projects. But I soon moved along, wanting, and hoping, to get some ideas for my patio, but not really wanting to buy plants as those would come from DeBaggio's. The streets were crowded and the event bigger than I'd anticipated, which I was pleased about, there was so much to look at!

I saw some great ideas for growing succulents and resolved to look over the grounds at home to see if I could find a rotting log, I'm sure there's a few about. The one shown here was $75, out of my price range, but gorgeous nonetheless. I also loved the vibrant colors of the bird houses with their copper adornments. There was another stall of flower pots wearing kids denim dungarees. Tacky and not something I'd have on my patio as they'd surely be rotted after a humid summer, but I was about to take a photo when the lady shooed me off, suggesting I was wanting to steal her idea. I looked at her incredulously, but respected her wishes and moved on.

I admired the water features, something I'd love to have at home, especially the fire and water piece. I also adored the shabby chic display, tempted to purchase a  #2 pot but wondering if it actually pertained to what I was assuming, ha ha. I ended up not buying anything from there but instead was won over with a hummingbird metal sculpture which sticks in the ground, a photo will be in my patio post at a later date. I had enjoyed looking around but was surprised that I didn't come away with many ideas or that I wanted to buy more. But I'd come back again, it was cheap to get into and parking had been easy on a nearby or was free in garages close by.
I drove to a nearby park and tested the new bike.The gears took some getting used to but overall it was comfortable and definitely lighter. But although I'm really pleased to have this new ride, I'm more excited about getting my garden started. With all the bright new leaves and flowers busting out, the landscape rapidly changing into a kaleidoscope of spring colors banishing the dull tones of winter, The temperatures are rising and I'm pretty sure that the freezes are over for the season. As I watch the birds, small woodland animals and insects begin their busy activities, I'm caught up in their enthusiasm and want to dash about too, to get everything planted and arranged just so on the patio.
As Leo Tolstoy said, "Spring is the time of plans and projects."