All the Lees on Lee Street

On November 4th, I moved from Meadow House to my new home in Front Royal. After 7.5 years it was time to say goodbye to my rented home on the hill because throughout the whole period Maggi had failed to do any maintenance despite numerous requests. The window frames and door frames were rotting and I kept smelling mold. Because I had no control over the situation I decided to bite the bullet and purchase a home. I had always enjoyed renting with the freedom to enjoy my little spare time and not worry about the upkeep of a home but that plan evidently wasn't working and so the search began for a new abode.
I started looking at mountain homes, loving the idea of remoteness and privacy, but after climbing up steep hills and getting a flat tire in the process, I decided common sense had to step in. I didn't want to be snowbound or have to worry about the transmission dying in my car, and the idea of having a few neighbors wasn't too bad either. So I focused on the quiet areas of Front Royal, first looking at a home near the Shenandoah but discovering that meant possible flooding and an incessant onslaught of mosquitoes. And then the Saturday I began my search seriously, having got a realtor and mortgage within 3 hours, a little house with a blue roof popped onto the market. With Carmen, my realtor, I went to see it on Sunday, having first looked at 2 other properties which just didn't interest me, even slightly. I didn't want anything new, I didn't want granite countertops, or glass mosaic tiles, or stainless steel. I wanted a 1 level living space within an older home with character, smaller rooms that I could make cozy, a small, private back garden and a covered porch where I could sit out with a beer or wine and listen to the rain. I really wanted a metal roof that I wouldn't have to worry about for the time I lived there, somewhere to park the car and I wanted quiet. And I had to have my own bathroom after years of living in a 1 bathroom house.
All of this and more was in the Blue House. It was on a dead end street, backing on to a cemetery, so it was definitely quiet. I had all the rooms I wanted without it being too large, 1 level living with 2 bedrooms and bathrooms and a bonus 2 rooms upstairs which could become a studio and an additional sleeping area for guests. After walking around and around, I stood outside with Carmen, hardly believing that I'd found my new home so quickly. And then as I stood looking at the blue shutters and relishing the peacefulness of the street, local church bells pealed, followed by organ music. I was sold. And within a month so was the house, and I moved in.

These are all iPhone photos as I haven't yet found my camera battery chargers. But unpacking has been taking place at a furious pace. I've already met my neighbors, all of whom are very friendly, and quiet. Matt across the road helped me carry in 2 large lawyer bookcases from the car, and as he opened the side door, 2 six-packs of beer that I'd bought for the movers, tipped out, all 12 bottles hitting the road and then rolling down the hill. And not one of them broke! A good omen!

The sitting room was my first point of focus. I wanted this to be cozy, filled with books and warmth. It's getting there and the cats are already enjoying the sun shining through the windows while they sit on a sofa.

The rear hallway will hold all my urbexing photos and memorabilia, and I'm ecstatic that I have a place for my bikes without them being in the way. I do have a basement but I wanted them to be quickly accessible for when I go out.

The dining room is a little echoey, but still feels welcoming. I have curtains coming for the large picture window which should make the room cozier. The other rooms are still works in progress but for the most part the house is feeling like a home. It's also built like a fortress. The walls are solid, the door and window frames a rich polished wood, and secure locks on all entry points. I feel safe here, especially knowing I have some burly neighbors with big trucks who are always about. I'm finding it difficult to accept that the house is mine. For so long I've regarded my home as belonging to someone else and have always taken care not to damage anything. Not that I want to do that here, but it's a weird feeling to know I can knock a nail into the wall with expecting repercussions from someone else. It will take some getting used to.
I now also have my trash collected, my drinking water is safe, (Maggi never checked the well on the hill), and I can now walk or cycle to town. Carmen is also a neighbor and a new friend to hang out with. Everyone I've met in town has been friendly, no eyes darting away or heads looking down at the sidewalk. Folks here smile or hail me with a greeting when I pass them.And even the town is quiet. No bustling crowds or lines to get into a restaurant. People have time to chat, and I've done this in all the shops and cafes I've been in.

Saturday was a very cold blustery day so I stayed at home, unpacking more boxes and going out to dinner with Carmen in the evening. Sunday had calmed down enough that I decided to take a walk about town and watch a movie. There were few people about and the Veterans' Day flags fluttered and flapped loudly as I walked past.

The ginkgo trees which we had admired on moving day a week ago had now released their hold on their yellow leaves and a thick golden carpet lay on the ground. I had wanted to plant one of these for Kota when he passed yet had not manged to obtain a tree anywhere. Every plant nursery I had visited had none in stock and the one place that had promised to order a tree for me had failed to call me back. I wonder if that had been fate as it would have broken my heart if I had planted it with Kota's ashes at Marshall and then had to leave it behind. I'll see if I can find one in the spring for the Blue House.

I watched and thoroughly enjoyed Bohemian Rhapsody in the old fashioned Front Royal cinema. With only 42 seats in the room and a screen that was likely only a little bigger than most sports enthusiasts' home TVs, it felt quaint and friendly to sit in a smaller room, chatting with the people next to me and singing along to the songs.
When I left, the temperature had noticeably dropped but I wanted to continue walking. Thanks to my weekly chiropractor visits and the plenty of exercise lifting and carrying heavy boxes daily during the past 4 weeks, my pelvic pain is slowly receding. I plan to walk and cycle a lot more now I'm in town.

I walked uphill to the cemetery and climbed to the summit, then turned to enjoy the vista, relishing the feeling of ownership as I surveyed the autumnal scene before me, amber and oranges leaves with my little blue roof nestled among them. I stood by the monument to Mosby's men and looked down on the quiet town. This is a really well maintained cemetery with rangers regularly driving around it, and from my kitchen window I see many vehicles passing through the gates to visit lost loved ones.
There's also a Soldiers Circle here, a ring of gravestones of the Confederate soldiers who perished during the Civil War. The dead were collected by the Ladies Warren Memorial Association in 1868 and reburied here. Within a short time, 276 soldiers were brought here, representing every state in the former Confederacy. 186 soldiers were unidentified and they now lay under the obelisk memorial in the middle which was erected in 1882.

As the sun began to set the shadows lengthened across the graves and mountains. I walked down towards my blue roof and within an hour when darkness fell, someone came and locked the gates to the cemetery, leaving its occupants to a peaceful night.

Standing indoors, I love looking out at this view from my kitchen window, sunset hues across the horizon and old houses sitting quietly on a back road. Deers potter past and apparently lay underneath this weeping cherry tree in the spring, and I've already spotted the chubby resident groundhog. I'm pretty sure this house was destined to be mine, the chain of events leading up to it and the ease of my purchase make me feel it was meant to be. Also, it's kind of quirky with the word 'Lee'. My middle name is Karalee, which my friend Kelly calls me all the time. So it's Karalee, Rosie Lee, and Tricksie Treat Grumbaleena now living on Lee Street, and my work place is on a Lee Rd. So it's all the Lees on Lee street. A peaceful place to be.

An Exploration of Buildings and Beer

On Saturday Richard came to Meadow House and we set off on a much looked forward to day of urbexing and beer. We wanted to stay relatively local so a friend had supplied me with a location right out in the boondocks but within an hour's drive from my house. Summer had packed its bags and left for the year and Fall had settled in, cool temperatures throughout the region with a brisk wind thrown in, ensuring a jacket needed to be worn.
We meandered along country lanes, zig-zagged down towards a river and eventually came across the gate we'd been told to look out for. Zipping up my coat, with camera bag across my shoulders and hands thrust deep into my pockets, we marched across a field towards some derelict log buildings. The wind was biting and I wondered if I should have brought hand warmers. The temperatures had dropped so dramatically in the last few days, that it seemed infeasible to assume 90 degree days wouldn't return. The memories of intense heat and AC were still fresh in my mind and I wasn't yet mentally prepared for winter.

The old structures in front of us were impressive. Made of large logs and plaster with chimneys and outdoor fireplaces of river stone, this had likely been a ROTC site. Inside we would find signatures of old attendees with dates from the 70's and 80's daubed in pen or paint on the walls and inside lockers. The interiors were also surprisingly dry with very little mold present.

It was nice to be exploring again, it's been a long time since my last excursion. Today the air was crisp, the wind nipping at my nose. The leaves around the buildings were slowly changing, finally giving up their hold on a green mantle, the edges of each leaf tinged with golds and oranges. A Virginia creeper caught my eye, glints of burgundy and ruby fluttering on the walls. Curled up brown and dusty leaves from last year were still carpeting the concrete floor under porches, and from outside one of the upstairs windows I was amazed to see a pale golden honeysuckle flower, like a jewel illuminating the shadowy woods, and obviously refusing to accept that summer has ended. I stood watching it blow bravely in the wind for a few minutes, glad I'd witnessed this persistent survivor.

We left the main buildings, walking down a hill to another half fallen down building that seemed to be part of the complex. It held a kitchen and dining area, but the roof had collapsed, exposing it to the elements. The stove had rusted but daubs of color were still visible, peeling paint and bright green weeds, clutching a hold on their newly found domain. We poked around an old barn and abandoned house, which had a door painted with 'PLEASE LEAVE', and so we did. Back in the warm car, Richard mentioned food and I suddenly realized how famished I was. It was past lunch time yet I'd been too absorbed in taking photos to think of my stomach.

We drove to Woodstock Brewhouse, looking forward to some stellar beers and food, since they had high ratings. But we were disappointed. We tried the whole range of beers, leaving out a pumpkin ale and a lager style beer, but of the 10 we tried none were memorable. The nachos were also disappointing, covered largely with iceberg lettuce and canned cheese. We didn't linger and we didn't choose another plate of food which had been our original intention.
Further down the road we came across an old farm and stopped to investigate.

The house was closed tight but the old barn was a draw, the rust and wood textures looking wonderfully warm and rich under the afternoon sun. We found the skeleton of a horse inside which saddened us. Had it been ill and found a dry place to die or had it simply been mistreated? I wondered if it was the latter as I came across a wooden cattle trough inside another barn, its sides chewed down and wondered if the animals here had been starved. I was happy to leave this place.

Our last stop was a favorite brewery of mine, Swover Creek Farm Brewery, a wonderful little uncommercialized place tucked down a narrow country road, where low hedges of fruit grew in a field next to the road and chickens scurried back and forth in front of the farm. I had discovered this gem in 2015 when they were just converting their barn into a tap room. Beer was drunk instead in their kitchen. It was great sitting in that comfortable environment, enjoying conversation with a couple of cyclists who were also perched at a tall table by the kitchen counter. I miss that experience but the new taproom is warm and inviting, unlike many of the large industrial breweries that are now so popular. We dove straight in with a flight of the beers on the board and were not disappointed. All were solid ales but we both agreed the best was the Vanilla Habanero Porter, a beer I seldom choose. But this brew was perfection, a smooth blend with a sweet kick. I couldn't stop sipping it. A local advised us to try the baked jalapeno poppers, which were also delicious. No canned cheese here, instead a thick herby crust of cheddar cheese over green spicy peppers which had enough of a kick to satisfy but not so much that you were reaching for a glass to quench the fire.
Richard and I had also purchased some goodies from the farm shop. He got fresh eggs, a steak and kielbasa while I went home with a packet of bratwurst, made with the farm's beer and their duck eggs. I wished I'd got more, they were the best sausages I'd eaten in a while. I will definitely be returning as the pizzas were also highly recommended.

Content to drop back into the car with full bellies, we slowly wound our way back to Rte 11 again and headed homewards. A beautiful old barn caught our attention, the late sun's rays blinking through holes in the roof and highlighting the beautiful woodwork. A few quick photos and then we jumped back into the cozy car. The temperature had dropped dramatically, while the winds had also upped their gusto. I'd better start digging for the hand warmers to keep in my camera bag.