If
you’re ever in downtown Blue Ridge, a visit to Brown’s Feed Store is a must. There
are stacks of cages with chickens, roosters, turkeys and other farm fowl for
sale along the front. Every few minutes one of the roosters shrieks out a
cockle-doodle-do, and the sound can be heard throughout downtown. Inside, the
shelves are crammed with animal feed, pasture and garden seed, farm animal
products, and hundreds of other items that tell you you’re in a country feed
store. Further back are cages with birds, more chickens, dogs, kittens, crickets,
lizards, and assorted other animals for sale. There’s usually a loose hound
running around sniffing your legs and a cat perched on a stand watching you
with studied indifference. The place has the warm earthy odor that only a pet
store can have.
And
then there is Tom. Tom is a large white turkey with a bright orange wattle. He
usually has a sign hanging from his neck that says, “My name is Tom.” Most of
the time he has free range of the place. He slowly struts through the store
with slow deliberate steps acting like there is nothing unusual about a turkey
with a name tag loose in public. Sometimes he walks around out in front of the
store.
Not
too long ago I stopped at Brown’s feed and noticed that Tom was not around. I
asked the lady behind the counter where he was. She told me with a straight
face that Tom had been arrested by the police and was in the Blue Ridge jail.
It seems that Tom had wandered into downtown. I forgot to ask her what the
charge was against Tom. I don’t know whether she was pulling my leg, but I’d
like to think the story is true.
*
* * * *
I
was driving out Old Highway 2 last week to drive up into the Cohutta Mountains
on the west side of Fannin County. The fall foliage was in full swing, and I
had been told that the drive to the top of the mountains was spectacular. The
two-lane road winds and twists through the countryside past old churches, farms
and houses. For a while it parallels Fightingtown Creek.
I
passed a warning road sign with a horse and buggy pictured on it. In the short
time I have been in Fannin County I have encountered deer, cows, cats, dogs and
various other animals and livestock on the back roads and never once have I
seen a road sign warning me about them. I found it odd, therefore, that all of
the sudden I should see a sign warning me about horse drawn buggies on the
road. The only other place I have ever seen such a sign was in the Amish
country of York and Lancaster Counties in Pennsylvania. As far as I know, there
are no Amish in Fannin County. My curiosity has been aroused. Is there a family
that routinely uses a horse and buggy to get around?
Alas,
I did not see the horse and buggy on my drive.
*
* * * *
Speaking
of road hazards, not too long ago I was returning to the cabin on Ada Street
which stretches from downtown Blue Ridge several miles out to Curtis Switch
Road. I turned a corner and there was a pickup truck stopped in the opposite
lane. The driver was leaning out his window in conversation with a man on
horseback who was stopped in my lane. Welcome to rural life.
*
* * * *
Back
to the Cohuttas. Eventually the paved two lane of Old Highway 2 turns into a
gravel road that begins to ascend the mountains. The road followed a crooked
path upwards with steep drop-offs on one side and the bulk of the mountain on
the other. After several miles I got to the top. The view was, indeed,
spectacular. The road continued downward on the other side, but I decided to
turn around.
About
a quarter of a mile down I encountered an expensive late-model SUV coming the
other way. We stopped opposite each other. There were two women in their early
40’s in the SUV. They were dressed like they had just attended a high society
social function. I was dressed like an extra in the movie Deliverance. The
driver asked me where the road went. I told her that I had no clue, but I
understood that it wound through the Cohutta Wilderness and eventually came out
on a paved road in another county. When last seen, the two women were heading
up the mountain to parts unknown.
*
* * * *
A
couple of days ago I was walking from the workshop when I heard several dogs
barking and snarling near the house across the small valley from our place. The
noise stopped after a time. About 20 minutes later I heard a car come down the
gravel drive leading to the house and then a woman screaming hysterically in a
high-pitched voice, “They’ve killed my dog. They’ve killed my dog.”
This,
too, is a glimpse of life in the country.
*
* * * *
Meredith
told me this one. Several months ago she was in town having lunch with a couple
of people from the Feed Fannin group. They were sitting outside. An older
fellow dressed in bib overalls was backing his pickup truck out of a parking
space when he hit another car. The old fellow got out of his truck, surveyed
the damage, and loudly said “dadgummit” several times. Until then, I thought
that no one in real life ever used that expression. I thought it was the
exclusive province of fictional movie and TV characters like Chester on
Gunsmoke or Pat Brady on the old Roy Rogers Show.
*
* * * *
This
is Bible belt country populated mostly by Southern Baptists. One of the jokes
going around starts, “How many Baptists does it take to screw in a light bulb…”
I don’t believe there was any real rancor or prejudice behind the joke. The
speaker just need a group to serve as the basis for the joke.
*
* * * *
I
finally accumulated enough volunteer hours to become an full-fledged Master
Gardener rather than a Master Gardener trainee. I received my official Master
Gardener name badge only to find that my name was misspelled as Vacavone. Folks
up here are not used to dealing with names like mine. Most everyone around here
has a name of English, Scotch or Irish derivation. I need to get a new name
badge. Vacavone sounds like the name of a Scandinavian cell phone manufacturer
or a large truck that sucks crap out of sewers.
* * * * *
Next week’s post will likely be delayed. I have
to go to Florida on unexpected personal business.
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