Peering through Windows with Big Fish

On a dreary Sunday, Bill and I decided to head south, check out back roads and then wind up at Bass Pro, a huge store near Richmond. Rain threatened constantly, and with heavy grey clouds hanging above us the air felt damp and thick. But we had fully charged batteries and the heater on, so all was good. Even umbrellas were loaded in the trunk, just in case we wanted to shoot in the pouring rain.
We found this quaint little church built in 1908 but frustratingly, there was no way to get past the locked door.

I would have loved to see that hanging light inside first hand but all we could capture in an image was a tempting silhouette.

Great texture with roughened paint and stone highlighted this little door in the wall. Bill also spotted chisel marks in the stone lintels, heavy horizontal blocks that sat over the windows.
Further down the road we trundled across an abandoned yard with an old Dodge parked in front of a shed but we didn't hang about. I snapped a quick shot and we left, taking heed of the numerous 'No Trespassing' signs.
It was getting towards 3 when we finally turned up at the Bass Pro store. It was HUGE! But I didn't want to get sucked into that sticky, grabbing retail web yet. My belly was practically yelling, not grumbling, for lunch, so we walked first to the restaurant.

A very impressive fish tank sat behind the bar, containing about 150 fishes of different varieties. It was definitely momentous but I would have liked it more if there had been some live vegetation and anemones in there; two large pillars of dark rock stood in the tank, with ledges and nooks but the fish had no tunnels or anything to interest them. Yet the water was impeccably clean, a guy in a wet suit dives in once a week to spruce up the fishes' accommodation. My lunch was a burger with beer, the latter being better than the former; I wouldn't rush back to eat there.
So with full bellies it was time to check out the vast store. Bill walked one way to view the boats and I headed in another direction, something pink catching my eye.

I never knew redneck dolls actually existed and I had to study these ones closely. There was a cowgirl theme, and a camping/hunting version with the dolls kitted out in real tree outfits, guns, targets and even a rack of antlers was there to be hung on a wall. The play set is here.

There was another huge fish tank with a waterfall at one end of the store and everywhere I looked were stuffed animals, sitting atop shoe racks, or on a pile of shirts, or tucked into fake vegetation. Possums, bald eagles, ducks, skunks, pretty well much any wild animal that is found in the sight of a hunter's gun had been killed and stuffed to sit in this store. This little girl was checking out the bear's huge claws as I walked by.

I quite liked the glass lanterns that hung down, with painted fish, but overall I wasn't that impressed with the shop. It's an outdoor man's paradise, some people's version of heaven I'm sure, with so much gear for fishing and hunting. But it was very expensive and I left without buying anything. I quite liked an arrow that was a car radio antenna, but for $30 didn't want to risk putting it on Stuart with the likely chance of it being unscrewed by another admirer before a week or so had passed. So we left and carried on driving.
We weren't having much luck in finding anything photogenic in a rustic or abandoned sense, so it was with great excitement that a little area caught my eye and we turned around to investigate further.
A small field was dotted with little sheds and a couple of larger barn style buildings but all were vacant.

The wood and corrugated tin had weathered wonderfully, creating beautiful colors and textures. We walked about taking shots and wondering what these buildings had been part of. Some old furniture was in one, still looking like it could impress at a dinner party, while straw, panes of glass and planks of wood were stacked in others. There was even a small graveyard. A house sat across the road, with a black and white cat monitoring our moves from his AC unit perch, but nobody came out to move us on. I was hoping they would so we could get some history on the place.
We started driving back towards Marshall and the dusk was drawing in as we passed Culpeper. The old Fleetwood church is slowly being restored, and small candle lights beckoned us from windows on the side so we pulled in for our last photos of the day.

It was heartening to see that work had been started on clearing up the church. The old wooden sled that had hung on its side for years had gone but apart from that and the grounds being cleared I couldn't tell what else had been done. Maybe they're waiting for the weather to warm up...
Later when looking at my photos I realized that throughout the day I had subconsciously focused on capturing images of windows and doors. Hmm, wonder if there's any subliminal message behind that....

A Victorian Park of Rest

Sunday was another cold breezy day, and once again ruled out the chance of a bike ride. Not wanting to hike I decided to stay closer to home and while researching on the internet came across a comment from a guy who had visited the cemetery in Warrenton and liked the Victorian fencing. This appealed to me so I jumped in the car with my camera. As I drove in I spotted the fencing immediately, painted in the traditional black. This tradition has many people believing the story that Queen Victoria, after the death of Prince Albert, had demanded  all wrought iron fencing in London should be painted black as a mark of respect. The real reason is here.

There were also a lot of Civil War graves here and I was astounded to find myself peering down at Colonel John S. Mosby's resting place. Nearby is a mass grave for many of the unknown soldiers who perished in Manassas battles, but recently they have been identified and their names are now engraved on the wall surrounding the grave.The full story is here.

Lady Virginia, who stands atop the memorial, nearly lost her footing, local article is here.

There were markers of peoples' visits atop Mosby's headstone, little pebbles, coins and even a small white horse. I wondered if this represented the Colonel's actual steed but could find no reference of him riding a white horse on the internet. More information on The Grey Ghost' is here.

There was evidence of water damage also, some grave stones had been propped up in various ways or had bricks and stones thrust under them to prevent them from falling. but there were quite a few that had fallen and broken or were disappearing under the soil. It looked like heavy rains had washed soil from the slopes and some sunken areas had been flooded. There were a few benches that had been slowly rusting away with shrubbery and ivy climbing over or through them, staking their claim.

Beautiful carvings adorned many of the graves, styles from Victorian times as well as some being art decco or art nouveau.

Some very original stone statues are also here, eye catching with their expressions of sorrow or deep contemplation. I found a grave marked with, I supposed, pets that had been left behind and were missing their master.

And as I was leaving I spotted a clump of daffodils on the verge of blooming, their yellow trumpets tightly curled for now, but which would be in full bloom in a few days.
I was very impressed with this cemetery. I'd driven by so many times yet never taken the time to stop and explore as it had never intrigued me as I looked out from my car window. There was nothing to really see from my view on the road, and if I'd never read that line, victorian park', I would likely have never stopped. Just one more time that the old saying, 'never judge a book by its cover' has rung true.

A Brief Winter Wonderland

On Saturday, I felt like hiking again. It was still a cold day but the little snow from the day before had melted and even though it was still too cold for cycling, I wanted to be outdoors. so I looked at my Shenandoah Hikes book and saw Fort Windham Rocks which appealed to me. The hike was very short though but I did discover that the rocks could be accessed from Rte 522 instead, so I set off in the car. I was amazed as I drove up the hill to see small areas of snow still clutching onto the sheltered nooks under tress and hedges and behind shadowed barns, but as I stopped the car at the start of the trail the whole ground was covered.
I felt a little daunted by this and for a brief moment considered staying in the warm car and going elsewhere but hard, cold sense grabbed me, shaking my lapse of weakness to the muddy ground and I started stomping towards the woods. I could smell wood smoke from a nearby house, beckoning me back to the warmth, but I stuffed my hands deeper into my pockets and looked ahead.

I had the woods to myself, the quiet peacefulness only broken by a single crow cawing his displeasure high above me as I encroached further into his territory.
I spotted a ribbon of snow clinging to a branch, and marveled at its translucent thinness. How much longer would it hang there?

The snow highlighted the shapes of the logs that it fallen on, accenting all the ridges, twists and gnarled bumps that would so easily have been overlooked before.The green of the lichens on rocks popped against the white snow and brown leaves

The park marker on the trail. If I had started from the Skyline Drive, it would only have been about a half mile on flat ground to here so I was glad I'd taken the longer route with some elevation. I turned, continuing towards the rocks and as I climbed a small ridge I saw the first outcrop.

I wanted to climb up to the top so walked in towards them. I thought I saw a kind of trail going round the back so trod carefully between the boulders. I couldn't believe that I was the first one walking here since yesterday; not even squirrel paws had marred the smooth white snow.

Once at the top I looked down on the trail below, marveling that I had this place all to myself. I stood listening to the silence, hearing only a woodpecker tapping and hammering, the hollow knocks reverberating through the trees. I occasionally saw a flash of red from his head and white feathers as he flew between the trunks to find more grubs and beetles. An occasional soft thud could be heard as melting clumps of snow gently fell from branches to the ground.
I stood relishing my moments of tranquility atop my rock castle, surveying the ground below, and then slowly made my way down again, wanting to leave before any other people came crashing and shouting into my peaceful domain.

A brand new crop of chives pushing up on the side of the trail. Spring is coming!
I started walking back, my hands cold from standing still up on the rock so, while holding my hiking poles, I tucked my hands into my pockets, forcing the poles to stick out at the sides making me look like I was skiing. I soon warmed up as I marched briskly and then started to jog along the trail.

I was really surprised as I got further down the hill that the snow had been rapidly melting. I had left my car on a snowy verge and trekked up a snow covered path but as I neared Stuart there was little left, only soft orange mud. I had really timed my morning well to enjoy such a magical hike.
I drove back towards home, noting there was no evidence of snow anywhere on the lower ground. I stopped by the side of a flooded field where some cattle were drinking from the water. It's not too often you see cows taking a paddle and they were quite accommodating as they watched me climb out of the car and slowly approach, trying to keep my feet dry as the grass verge on my side of the fence was flooded too. They stood while I took some photos and then once they felt I'd taken enough, they slowly started picking their way back to dryer turf to rejoin the rest of the herd. It was time for me to rejoin my furry friends waiting at home too.