Monday, August 4, 2008

Quicksburg

The "747" as viewed from Quickburg.
Looking on the back side of Quicksburg. The tower is atop the Quicksburg United Methodist Church; it and the post office are still in use.
We took a detour along a road that used to cross the river east of Quicksburg ; a new road (Route 767) now parallels and replaces this one. We were glad to know that state maintenance ended at the end of the road -- perhaps a "road ends" sign might have made more sense? Actually there used to be a bridge where the sign is posted.

Historic Quicksburg

This Quicksburg store used to sell soda, candy and gas. The stone oval in the center of the photo below shows where the gas pump island used to be.

See the darker grass just in front of the trees? That was Quicksburg's baseball diamond, in use up till the 50s or 60s.
The former Quicksburg grocery, a long narrow single-story building with an apartment at one end, also still stands, though there is no evidence of any current usage.

Heron Takes Flight


Click on the above photo, and you'll get a good view of the heron in flight.

Heat Escape

A beach party. . .
and fishing party.

Shenandoah River

Scenes alongside Plains Mills Road near New Market Sunday afternoon.


5 a.m. Refuge

The girls and I went camping Friday evening. Eliza swam in the camp pool. Maggie latched on to a noodle and paddled furiously; she actually navigated the entire length of the pool several times -- unlike a few weeks ago where the only distance gained was when Gramma Nete played tow barge. After swimming, we ate hot dogs encased in corn tortillas with shredded cheese -- except Maggie, who wanted hers sans cheese. And dessert, of course, was S'mores.

And then Eliza, reminding me of her Mama and Auntie Ana's eagerness to explore, announced, "Let's go for a walk." She found a trail, which joined a National Forest Park Trail. Maggie walked the entire distance, a good half hour I think. Afterward we headed back for camp, and then on a trek to the bathhouse during which Maggie got her first piggy back ride of the day. Historically she's piggy backed for all of our excursions. But this time, as I hoisted her up on my back after seeing her lagging, she asked, "My legs are so tired from swimming and hiking. It's okay if I ride a while now, right?"

Back at the tent, I pulled tee shirts from my bag -- one for each of us. Another night-with-Grammie tradition. I earn the tees at races; they wear them for slumber parties. We fell asleep almost as soon as we crawled into our sleeping bags. But then about 5 a.m., the wind shifted and I bolted, wide awake. Lightening flashed in the distance. Heat lightening? I gathered up all the food and stuffed it in the tent, just in case. I waited a bit longer, and heard thunder. So I unlocked the car door and then unzipped the tent. "Maggie, I need you to come with me." She reached up, wrapped her arms around me and hung on tight as I carried her to the safety of the car. Back for Liza. "Eliza, I need you to come with me." She crawled out on her own, and I hoisted her to save time and shoved her in the car. The storm didn't last long, nor did it get real intense.

I had grand delusions of sleeping once we were back in the tent. Instead they enjoyed pecan rolls and chocolate soy milk in the "water beds" we now had. The girls showered, as we decided what to do next. We went ahead and loaded up the soggy wet mess into my car since we couldn't do much else anyway. And then the weather cleared just long enough for some more playground and swim time before check out.

As I drove toward their house, the girls took turns chatting to their daddy on my cell phone. I learned a lot about their personalities by listening to each one tell their version of the highlights of the trip.

After hanging up, Eliza asked, "Now when are we doing this again?"

That's Eliza-speak for "Great job, Grammie."

Bubblers & Garbage Bag Fairies

Liza (above) and Maggie take turns blowing dish soap bubbles with the boat bubbler. . .


Take Magdalena and Eliza. Add two garbage bags, markers, paper and their never-ending imaginations. Let the whole concoction stir for an hour or two. Outcome: garbage bag fairies. Alas! I think their wings are slipping.