Brock's Gap 6 Miler

I have been house sitting for the last couple weeks. Though the Plantation, as this apartment dweller has come to call it, is only about two acres; it still requires lawn mowing, garden maintenance, and animal husbandry. If I go there in the evening and sleep, I can do chores the following morning and make just one trip there and back. Sometimes, however, my own daily duties don't allow that. This morning I had a long distance run on my agenda, so I ran out to the Plantation, a three mile run most of which was along Brock's Gap Road, did the chores and ran back home.
I'd considered doing this earlier in the week, but the thought of my 115 pound body competing with the daily WV to VA commuter traffic and semis loaded with white turkeys was too terrifying. This was a Saturday though, and I thought the traffic might be lighter. The shoulder is narrow, but there really is room for two cars to meet and a runner alongside the road. The trick was watching the passenger-side headlight to see that if the oncoming car really was on the road, and not the shoulder side, of the white line; and also checking to see what the motorists were looking at. When they weren't where they belonged or weren't paying attention, I'd run in the grass alongside the shoulder.
Nearly all were talking on cell phones without the benefit of hands-free devices. One had a map spread out along the steering wheel and was studying it. Most cut the curves short requiring them to cross the center line or the white line depending on the angle of the curve. Only a few appeared to be watching the road; or slowed down or acknowledged my existence in any way. Once I stepped off the shoulder to make room for a selfish motorist only to trip on the uneven blacktop and nearly fall. Nonetheless the approximate two miles on Brocks' Gap didn't seem too terrifying, but I definitely would not try it during the work week.



Freshly mowed lawn, and weeded flower beds. The shade trees keep the house (a 100-year-old cabin expanded into a four-bedroom, two story home) quite cool most of the time. And that front porch is a shady respite.
The lassies awaiting their twice daily meal. Athena (in the rear) bit me earlier this week. She had left her half-eaten bowl of food to steal Azul's, and I was dumb enough to try to grab the stolen food and return it to Azul. Normally, however, Athena just bounces and jumps on me demanding attention. She'll gulp her food in about two minutes.
Azul on the other hand pretends I don't exist unless I call her name. Then she lumbers from her cool shaded hiding place, lies down in front of her bowl, and looks at it like the contents are beneath her royal dignity. If I point at the bowel and bark, "Eat, Azul. Eat," then she'll nibble at the contents and eventually clean her bowl.
This is Peanut Butter on one of her sit-down strikes. This sheep must weigh about 300 pounds and if he doesn't want to move, he doesn't. Pushing him when he's standing is about as successful as trying to push a 100-year-old oak. Last week he got his tie-out chain wrapped around his leg and a tree. When I tried to budge him, he just stared at me as if saying, "Who are you to interrupt my morning meditation and remuniations?" I begged. I pleaded. I pushed. He just lay there! Finally I unhooked him from his tether and opted just to get him loose from the tree. Just as I did, he decided it was time for a good back scratching. That I stood between him and the tree didn't concern him in the least! I jumped out of the way just in time. And with lots of pulling and tugging I managed to untangle the chain from around his leg without getting stepped on. I finally got chain and sheep separated, re-attached and the sheep moved to a new pasture spot with only a few minor scratches and with strands of my hair remaining in the branches of the tree.