There's Adventure in Them Thar Hills

Today began with an an adventure up into the hills to search out a man using Mr. Tom's most wonderful directions: Drive up Boardtown a-ways and turn on Bushy Head right by a car shop and go on up a-ways till you see a firewood for sale sign. So I'm driving and looking for Bushy Head and come up upon Mr. Turtle moseying down the highway. "No, no, Mr. Turtle! You're gonna go and get yourself runned over!"

Silly turtle.

I drove and drove till finally, there was Bushy Head Rd. I stopped and took this picture just as the farmer on a tractor had his back to me. Folks in shiny Japanese cars taking pictures are eyed with suspicion around these parts.

 (Note to self: drive the dodge truck next time)

I'd stuck a Red Rock ginger-ale in my purse in case I needed a prop to convince any local folk I could be trusted. You just can't be too careful in the mountains.

There isn't a picture to show what happened next. It's not that I didn't want to take a picture... I did.

 Truly I did.

 When I pulled into the gravel drive and saw the folks on the trailer's front porch, smoking cigarettes and wearing John Deer caps, as the chickens rooted around in the bushes and the little goat kicked up his heels, I reaaally wanted to take a picture.

 But all conversation had stopped when me and my import car pulled in so the timing was a bit off.

I helloed the house, again no conversations..just stares, and asked if someone named Claude lived there. The distinguished older gentleman with the one tooth right smack in the front leaned forward and said that would be he.

 Again, the other four folks on the porch just stared at me and I'm quite certain the chickens were also staring too. "I, uh, um, well....I, um..TOM BALLEW sent me!!" Whew, thank the good Lord for folks like Tom who have lived in these hills all his life and knows everybody's uncle.

 The whole porch seemed to settle a bit after that and I explained I was looking for some tree work.

We talked trees, chickens, firewood, goats, horses.... copperheads, rattlesnakes ... I was disappointed he had seen more rattlers than copperheads, didn't like that news.

 He went on to tell about all the deer in this here parts and got up, opened the squeaky screen door and said "Come on in and look at all the deer I got me mounted on the wall!" Now, let me just say that as I followed him into his house, every cell of my body was fully aware I had no business casually walking into a stranger's house to see his dead deer.

 I mean, didn't my daddy raise me better than that? But, no...I just walked right in after him like nobody's business. Honestly, though, I was impressed by the virtual herd of deer on the wall. He was right proud and I could see why. They probably hadn't eaten beef in five years for all the venison.

I went back out onto the porch talking about all the guns my husband had and figured it was safe to make a polite exit. I'd not even had to pull out the Red Rock. They had welcomed me, showed off the house-o-deer, and treated me like a regular local. I said my goodbyes, and walked to my car, aware of the five folks staring at my back.

 All I had to do was put in the key and drive away. And I'd have liked to have done that...but when I went to pull out my car key, it wouldn't come out of my pocket. The ring was somehow tightly wrapped around the threads deep in my pocket!

 I stayed calm, smiling and waving...closed the door behind me, still tugging with all my might at the key. But it wasn't budging. "Bye now! Bye!" Come ON key! "Bye-bye!"

 They were all just sitting still and staring by now. I finally had to meticulously move the threads through the rings of the key chain and rip it off. I drove out of the drive feeling sooo embarrassed!

Next, on to the hardware store. Hardware stores in the mountains carry different things. You can buy all your clothes, shoes, furniture...just about anything you'd need.

I asked the gal working what folks put in these barrels and she kinda smiled with a twinkle in her eye.

Look at these beautiful bowls!

And walking sticks! I always wish I had a stick when I walk up here in case there's a dog, or snake or bear.

I think I've seen this exact china pattern. It was the size of a dinner plate!

Late in the day, I stopped to meet a neighbor who lives on the corner. A sweet dear lady named Billie Jean. She's caring for her husband, Clint, who has Alzheimers. She said it was the hardest thing she's ever done.

 When I knocked on the door, she hollered out, "Let me git my clothes on!" Oh dear. They have a fresh and fast-growing vegetable garden being farmed by another man. Billie Jean said Clint thinks she planted it and he keeps wanting to cut it all down. I got to pray for her back which had been broken years ago and left her in pain. I'll be back to sit on the porch with Billie Jean soon.

One thing Anna and I noticed about this town is there are no pretentions. No one puts on airs. Just look at this menu. They're actually advertising Campbell's soup. No airs at all...

And although it's not on the menu, I asked if I could have some corn hoecakes. After my dinner, I sat on the porch while an evening thunderstorm rolled through and felt the temps fall so much that I needed a sweater. In fact, it got so cold, I had to go inside and watch the Bachelorette. I love the mountains!