All roads are back roads here,

but I am still in search for the

more hermetic spaces with cairn

road signs and head stones in

the vegetable garden.

Now living in the Acoustic Shadow,

where dusk to dawn is perennial,

I hear the mobs though their

lips are tied together.

The lint of American antiquity,

with its aftertaste of

hardtack corn chowder,

is unchartered land.

Maps trace routes, courthouses,

slain fields. Fields of mortality

that nurse on the thoughts of

nation and sovereignty. Thoughts of

brotherhood and paradise.

Fields so generous each of our ancestors

could assemble under the

family flag and still have room

left to crawl.

EXTRA! EXTRA! READ ALL ABOUT IT!

Well imagine our surprise when we opened the local paper and this was the headline story. For those of you who don't know, we live on Abilene Rd., and, oh yeah, I'm pregnant.

Richmond

I went on quick day trip to Richmond with no real agenda. Last year the New York Times did a write up on Richmond where they highlighted a neighborhood called "Carrytown". The author wrote about its up and coming restaurants, vintage boutiques, and all around hipness. I had no directions to this area, I just trusted that my inner vintage votary radar was operating at top capacity. I went straight toward the river, took a right on Main Street and then a left soon there after and before my eyes, like the yellow brick road, was Carry street, lined with shops of vintage clothing, coffee, used books, and homemade ice cream. Next time I will pursue my other passion: history. I just didn't have enough time to do the Confederacy White House Tour.

Sunday Espresso Outing

Our town is a quiet sleepy little place most of the time, but especially on Sundays. And Sundays have always been the day of coffee and leisure for me, one of which can not be had in our dear Farmville. So the past two Sundays Dave and I have drove to near by towns to seek out their coffee situation. Last Sunday we went to Lynchburg and found this great place in the heart of the historic district called the Starlight Cafe.

After breakfast we walked to the James river and followed the path to Percival Island. I am still getting used to the riches of green that occlude any sense of direction or feeling of knowing what lies beyond. We found this sweet doe along the trail. I didn't use my zoom to take this picture, she just trusted my goodwill.

Just as we were heading back across the long wooden bridge to Lynchburg we were fascinated by a large group making its way down towards the James. We asked what they were doing and they told us there was going to be a baptism in the river for two young men. We asked if we could watch, we'd never seen such a thing.