Adventure 285: Floyd, VA/Post A

Floyd, VA

We giggled like honeymooners when we crested the last hill into Floyd, VA. During GASBBT (Note: This was the trip my buddy Ed Drouin and I took last fall. It was supposed to be an East coast bicycle tour, but it turned into a 7,500 mile car trip instead), Ed and I discovered Floyd, I think at the suggestion of Hal and Sheri, neighbors of Ed and former residents of Virginia. We had a fabulous time listening to bluegrass music, watching flat dancing, and generally enjoying the Appalachian Mountains. I wanted to share the place with Judy, so we planned to visit here after Miss Kate's wedding. We have not been disappointed. We've got so many plans our feet will be slapping like mountain flat dancers. We'll take in a free barn dance tonight, a visit to some small mountain churches in North Carolina tomorrow, a drive along the Blue Ridge Parkway on Wednesday to visit the mountain music museum, a paid concert on Thursday to see Jesse McReynolds and the Virginia Boys, the Friday night jamboree at the Floyd Country Store, a bicycle ride along the Creeper Trail (No, not the stalker type),a session of square singing on Sunday, and of course, some food. Who knows what else we'll run across this week. I hope that Scott and Kate come to enjoy being with one another as much as Judy and me. And while we live as constant honeymooners, I must tell you, it's not all roses. The anchor clanking, deck swabbing, back slipping, oyster eyed Wily Cager stooped to a new low during our morning cribbage game. First, she moved MY pegs (Who knows why? We've used the same colors for over a decade). I was glad to enjoy her largess, but I made the mistake of gazing into her pretty blue eyes just a smidgeon too long. Then it happened. She realized her error, and to recover, she moved my pegs AGAIN, but BACKWARD this time, and she randomly chose some spot well behind where I should have been. Some of you may think I'm making this stuff up, but Kel Babe can be a witness that I'm not exaggerating in my descriptions of the tricks this Cager pulls. It would have hurt way worse if I hadn't pulled out a win so soothing, it felt like salve on an open wound. Thus appeased, we began our day. Our drive was uneventful, but quite amazing, since neither of us had been across West Virginia before. Our amazement centers mostly on the significant topography change. Just two days ago we gazed upon young corn stalks standing up to the brisk breeze in perfectly flat Ohio. Today, Fric roared and grumbled as we strained up, down and around the steep, twisting terrain of West Virginia coal country, and now that we're in the hilly confines of moonshine country, we've once again been convinced that America is a truly great place.  It was a good day, although I'm not really enjoying this volume driving (311 miles) as much another might. I am enjoying the gift of being able to enjoy this hilltop paradise with my best girl. Like I've said before, "I'm the luckiest guy on the planet, which truly means that life is good, especially today." I think if you listen carefully enough tonight, you'll be able to hear me sing a rendition of "Give me Fever."

The Blue Ridge Parkway in the distance.

Our first snack at the Floyd Country Store: Savory Tarts filled with spinach, cheese, olives, and pecans.

This week the Crooked Road is in full swing with music emitting from every holler'.

Yes, sir. One of the many GREAT places in America: Floyd, VA

The view out of Frac's side window.

More 'thin gruel'. We'll have to muddle through. 

Adventure 284: Salt Fork State Park, OH

Wash well to avoid beaver fever.

I declined Karen Franz's offer of frozen strawberries this morning for fear that I'm much too old to contract the beaver fever. I did enjoy a semel with jam and cheese, a fair sized piece of egg bake, and a nice hot cup of coffee. We hugged our good byes, Judy and sister Karen shared a good cry, and we were off just before eight. We were on a mission to find someone to fix a small propane leak we discovered in one of Frac's hose fittings. First, we tried Circle K RV in Pettitsville as Luther suggested. We were informed they don't do propane work, not even the selling of parts. The nice lady did send us to TriFlo Inc. which handles and sells propane to the residents in the area. The man behind the desk said I should try Circle K RV, and after I told him they had sent us here he grinned as he made a call for a young man named Tim to come look. I should have taken Tim's picture because he is definitely the best human I've met today, but my paranoia issued by the hissing of propane caused a myopic brain freeze. He wouldn't take money, but he was a perfect example of what's best about the midwest where salt of the earth people are more than eager to help their fellow man. He undid the fitting, inspected the threads, wrapped them with some silicon tape I had, tightened the hose, and smeared some goop over the end. It seems to have done the trick. By half past eight, we were off toward Salt Fork State Park (At Kel's suggestion), and as is our want, we kept to the back roads for most of the way. As soon as we left the confines of Mennonite dominated Archbold, the Catholic church spires began poking up out of the corn fields like bishop mitres. Within a stretch of twenty miles, we saw four magnificent churches, two of which had schools attached. We then wound our way up and over Ohio until the hills became steep, the forests became dense, and the cicadas began their incessant chirping. Judging from the sound around the trailer here at our site, there must be about a billion per acre. On the way, we stopped in Ottawa to buy strawberries (See photo above), which Judy scrubbed like a midwife prepping surgical tools. Again, the fear of Scott's beaver fever caused our precaution. We ate them for lunch in a little town called Perrysville, where I soundly skunked the Wily Cager in a game of cribbage. We stopped again in Loudonville, to stretch our legs and enjoy some of the architecture, especially the Mohican Manor, a magnificent old home now posing as a posh restaurant and event center. Our only disappointment of the day was our jaunt through the heart of Northeastern Ohio's Amish country. It's become so commercial, we're wondering who is in charge of gouging the tourists. No worries, neither of us was interested in stopping to "buy" a little culture. We declined every offer: buggy rides, cheese plates, magic shows featuring Elvis, the oldest building in Ohio, nuts, berries, chocolate, and even fine German Cooking. We also bypassed the a chance to see the world's largest Cuckoo Clock. Our last leg down I-77 was as easy as it was short. The traffic was light, the weather was warm, and our spirits were buoyant after a great week of Swamp Living, wedding love, and family fellowship. We consider ourselves lucky in so many ways, and most certainly, life is good, especially today.


 How quickly the religious aspirations changed!

 The Wily Cager smelled a little rank today, much like the two stiff, dead raccoons we saw.

 The truly grand Mohican Manor.

 Art shot of the day: Entwining Into Strong Community.

 Long gone are the flat, lowlands of the Swamp.

Blue skies here at Salt Fork State Park (Site F-44).

Adventure 283: Swamp Living/Post H

And the word was HONEYMOON. Basking in the glow Scott and Kate's wedding-a union well formed, our conversation wandered like a gentle stream washing over the smooth stones of our memories. Each couple added a small ripple to the revery. We talked about honeymoon experiences: where we went, where we stayed, what we ate, what we did, etc. It was a nice moment, an unintended consequence that grew organically from the event. It reminds me of discussions people have around a table after a fine meal, which invariably turns to descriptions of previous excellent meals, which for our family then leads to planning the next meal. Life's journey is like that, one ripple after the next flowing over moments in time. As couples, we simply climb aboard our floating devices and enjoy the ride, and when the ripples turn to rapids, we simply surf the waves, and should the waves become a falls, we find a portage way. This is what we call the good life, especially today.

Who worries about a little wave?

Good luck, newlyweds! 

Adventure 282: Swamp Living/Post G

    

There they stood on a hand woven wedding rug in a sacred space devoid of external decoration. It seemed as if they wanted to present themselves naked (figuratively, of course) before God as they begin their new life together into the  vast unknown. Especially present was their balance between love and devotion, which began with the opening procession in which the participants proceeded from the side aisle to meet as one in front of the altar. There they stood basking in the warmth of their community receiving blessings from their parents, assurances from their pastor, and palpable good wiil from their friends and family. Even in the final song, a little ditty about being "my sweet honey bee", the dominant feeling was that of spreading love. As Henry David Thoreau wrote as an opening line in his poem: 'Great God',

Great God I ask thee for no meaner pelf

Than that I should not disappoint myself.

I don't think God is disappointed with these two. In fact, I'm sure they're part of the reason that life is good, especially today.

I'm so glad you're my sweet honey bee.

I love you, brother.

I love you, friend.

I love you, Grammy.

I love your singing.

I love you Aunties.

I promise to love you.

I promise to love you, too.

I love this moment.

With this ring, I thee wed.

With this ring I thee wed you, too.

With love, we share communion.

Everybody loves a party.

The knot is tied.

Miss Kim's sweet cake. (Miss Jane, dressed in yellow roses, is taking a few licks of the frosting--who in heaven cares about the 42,450 calories?).

In the love of God's blessing.

Go faithfully forward to eternity and beyond.

Adventure 281: Swamp Living/Post F

Sole Brothers.

Of all the wedding notions, BUILDING COMMUNITY engenders the sweetest joy.  On this, the eve of THE wedding in question, final preparatory touches are being layered on like cake frosting, evidence of the love and excitement felt by members on both sides of this soon to be "larger" family. On the Friesen side, aunties, uncles, cousins and friends scurried like pastry chefs to make sure the reception "venue" is just right. Equally ecstatic, the Kempf side scampered like confectioners in an effort to ready the Ruhiley Pavilion for the perfect rehearsal dinner. Both are adding their layers in gestures of pure, sweet love. Guests are adding layers too, each a tasty addition to the celebration. Many have traveled long distances to be here. Some have driven all night. Others have flown the "red-eye". One auntie rode the AmTrak for nearly a day just to join the party. Their presence is a testament to the success of one of Scott and Kate's goals: to build community. The joy they must feel from those who love them gathering together in joyful celebration must lift them on a sugar high as thrilling as a triple scoop at the Homestead Ice Cream Parlor. This gathering thrills us all, and helps us remember that life is good, especially as shared in the sweet arms of family and friends.

Two aunties add a layer in the still of the night.

Part of the crowd adding a layer sweet love.

Second cousins add a layer from far distances.

Young Blythe (neice) adds a layer too!

Just two more of the "tumbleweeds" (Uncle Eric and Aunt Wanda) add a layer from the prairie.

Sisters adding a layer of shared love to their community.

And finally, the layered cake awaiting it's final touches, a fitting symbol as each of us adds another touch to a well built community.

Adventure 280: Swamp Life/Post E

Potato Egg Frittata

It was really more of an exhale, a moment of relief after a long drive caravaning coolers full of enough tamales to feed an army of rehearsal dinner guests, enough fresh flowers to transform the church into a fragrant garden space, and enough assorted supplies to require the caravan to be three vehicles strong, but Kay Kempf, Scott's mom, exclaimed, "I'm glad I had just two children; I don't think I could handle the stress of any more." I don't know her too well yet, but on first impression, I suspect she can handle whatever comes her way. And besides, it's just the next step in the wedding celebration. My guess is Kay will be elbow deep in preparation, which brings me to the wedding word of the day: FEAST. Here at wedding central, two days before the honey cures, the worker bees are buzzing. They're flying around Fulton County, each in his or her own way adding a little dusting of pollination to the proceedings. Kim and Judy are building cakes; Rod, Karen, and Jan are traveling to Toledo on a shopping run.  Karen Rodriquez is putting reception snacks together; Dale and Kay are readying the rehearsal dinner; Kate is deep in thought wrestling with just the right words to express her vows to Scott, while he, poor nervous groom that he is, battles the immodium blues. I helped out by cleaning the kitchen and kitchen floor just to ready it for more crumbs as they tumble from plates like satisfied memories onto the tile floor. And finally, Kel (The only one more nervous than Scott) shakes his legs, taps his fingers, rearranges furniture, cleans cupboards, writes to do lists,  and prays that his nerves will allow him to enjoy what's truly important about this event. He's lucky he doesn't live in Jesus' time. Wedding feasts then often lasted two weeks or more. This morning when I was reading in John 2: 1-11 about Jesus' first miracle at the wedding feast where he turned grey soapy water into wine, I realized how miraculous all this communal activity is. It's just as another thing Kay mentioned last night. She found it a blessing that everyone contributes in his or her own way. She reminds me of Jesus' mother Mary who knew who Jesus was before anyone else, and who also set the standard for all proud mothers. When Mary mentioned to Jesus that the wedding couple was out of wine, he replied something to the effect, "Woman, why do you bother me with this? You know my time has not yet come." However, out of love and respect for her, Jesus quietly granted her wish. And what's more, all the disciples quickly realized what Mary already knew--that Jesus was the Messiah, and they instantly put their faith in Him. So, for us busy bees who easily get caught up in the "weak and foolish things of this world", we can and should take solace in the idea that our Lord is there for us out in full glory from his once hidden majesty and secure in his everlasting kingly perfection. In this we should be thankful, realizing like disciples of old that life is good, especially today.

                Another mini-feast.

              And yet another blessing.

                 And yet another.

And yet another. Maybe we're not too far from Jesus' time, after all.

Art shot of the day: a view of God's blessings taken at the home of Luther and Mary Ann Gautsche's, two of the plant's best humans--on any given day.

Adventure 279: Swamp Living/Post D

A Golden Promise.

I'm pretty sure part of every bride's apparel includes something borrowed, something new, something old, something blue, which brings me to the word of the day: TRADITION. The ceremony itself carries certain traditions, but about to be weds stamp their impending union with traditions of their own. The blend makes for a strong bond of old and new. Today, Aunt Karen Franz broke out a golden pin that was shaped from her great grandmother Goossen's wedding band. Barely visible on its backside is the inscription: July 6, 1887. It has been tradition for every Wiebe/Friesen bride to wear this pin as something old. My wife Judy wore it as did her three sisters: Karen, Arlene, and Jane. Their mother, Dorothy wore it, as did her grand daughter, Kim (Kate's older sister). Kate will wear it, and Kara would have worn it (Kirk's wife Shannon, too), if grandma Dorothy hadn't still been living. As it was, she carried the tradition for those two. Tradition, a good thing, serves to validate not just the past, but also helps lay the foundation for the future. Equally important, couples build their own traditions. Scott and Kate, who have Mexican food every Wednesday (Tacos or Tamales) have chosen to serve Tamales for their rehearsal dinner. They also share Saturday morning breakfast. And they will enjoy a traditional wedding cake (Made all the more special since Kim will create it) and they likely will share the first dance. They've also chosen to emphasize their marriage ceremony within a worship service, which, for them, honors their love of God above the love they share for each other. They feel that their wedding should be something that happens as praise. In that light, they've chosen traditional hymns: 'Great God We Sing; 'Help Us To Help Each Other; 'Now Thank We All Our God'. They've also chosen to include a parental blessing, and to share communion with all in attendance. It's fitting that they're beginning their life together in a shared direction. It's also nice that they're so strongly committed because the wind is beginning to blow relatives in like tumbleweeds against a rancher's fence.  There are aunties on every stool and uncles on every couch. Scott's parents arrive today and Kim just rolled in from Wisconsin. The air is literally gathering like a Kansas tornado, except there is little fear of destruction. Instead, there is just a whirlwind of well intended activity and shared excitement. Without doubt standing on  time honored traditions helps build the new, and this makes life good, especially today.

The latest in the line of Wiebe/Friesen brides.

                  July 6, 1887

Aunties, aunties everywhere, and even more on the way, every one eager to share Kate's day.