The theory of genetic memory describes a variety of processes by which genetic material confers an individual’s past history. This theory would suggest that we are born with memories imprinted on us by our ancestors. Maybe this theory explains the tranquility that settles within me when I watch the sunset over the New River. And why I felt like after a lifetime of yearning for a distant place, I was finally returning home when I moved here to these mountains.

I grew up in the North Carolina Piedmont on the edge of the area known as the Sandhills. My boyhood home is as different from my current home as night is from day. However, I feel more at home here than I ever did in the place where I grew up. Genetic memory is the only thing that makes any sense.

My European ancestors where mostly from Scotland. They were a fiercely independent bunch who lived along the River Dee in the Scottish Highlands. They lived in isolation much like the people of Appalachia did for centuries, many of whom are also of Scottish descent. There are numerous parallels between the two. Both areas possess great scenic beauty. Highlanders were rebels and outlaws who refused to bend to the will of the English government until forced. Even then, the remoteness of the region made foreign governance difficult. To this day, they remain critical of government and powerful institutions. The same stubborn blood that cources thru their veins, courses thru the veins of the people of Appalachia. There is a feeling of pride and independence in these hills unlike any I’ve experienced anyplace else.

I’ve never been to my ancestoral home, though I hope to one day. If I don’t make it though, this place will do just fine.

                                                             OBAMA!

Our (cough) high speed internet service is provided by a company called Wild Blue. At least it does when the moon is in the right congress, and the weather co-operates, and the wind doesn’t blow the pine trees too far to the left. Needless to say, the “service” has been pretty iffy lately. For 95 bucks, a technician came out to look at things after we had been without a connection for 5 days. He made a few adjustments and gave me two options: cut down my favorite white pine, or spend $150 for a pole on which to move the dish. Nevermind that it has only been a year since it was installed, and the rocket scientist who did the initial installation (at a cost of $300) put it behind the tree in the first place. See where this is going?

To say that we’re not happy with our options is to put it mildly. If we can actually speak to someone who can gives us a definitive answer, we hope to switch to Citizen’s Cable. According to several friends, that may be like jumping out of the frying pan and into the fire. I’m told Citizen’s has their own problems, but at least they have an office in Floyd where I can go postal with any complaints if necessary.

That said, things have been interesting here on the Creek lately. Anne is in DC for her week in the office this month, leaving me here with our 14 year old dog, Tasha, and 4 year old cat, Sassy.

Tasha is part Keeshon and part psychotic. She requires a great deal of human contact which is standard for her breed. That’s not too difficult when there are two of us around to provide it, but when it’s just me, having a senile, arthritic canine follow (literally) your every move can be a challenge. And the cat? Well, Sassy has been in a snit and refuses to have anything to do with either me or the dog.

Domestic animals like routine. In fact, they demand routine. Any interruption in their routine leads to unhappiness. When you leave a dog alone, even for an afternoon, they think you’re gone for good. It can lead to anxiety which can lead to the destruction of some of your most favored possessions. That’s why they’re so happy when you return. Jumping all over you and peeing on the rug is just their way of saying, “I’m glad you’re not dead, now feed me.” And cats? Who knows what the hell the cat is thinking. Sassy just seems to tolerate me. Thankfully, Anne will be back Saturday.

The strictist definition of family is a group of people affiliated by consanguinity. That is, they are related by blood.

Last month I went back to my hometown in North Carolina for a family reunion.  This was an extended family reunion, the 55th year in a row that it has been held and the first time I’ve attended in more than forty-five years. My great-grandfather was named Gentry Dees. Folks called him Gent, or “The” Gent. He had two brothers named Franklin and Malachi, and the hundred or so attendees at this year’s event were the descendents of those three brothers. Except for my particular branch, I have not seen most of these people since I was a child. There were a great many that I have never met. It was sort of strange walking into a room full of 2nd and 3rd cousins. When I initially arrived, I only knew 4 or 5 people in the room, yet the strong family genes made a lot of folks look familiar.

The next couple of hours were a lot of fun. There were relatives from 5 states at the gathering. I could sit down at a table full of strangers and within a matter of seconds establish my bonifides and relationship to them. I sat down with strangers but ended up conversing with family. We had a pot luck lunch and it was cool seeing how “old family” recipes were interpreted by other branches of the family. There was a bulletin board of old family photos, some dating back nearly a hundred years. I could see part of myself, the consanguinious affiliation, in those old photographs.

There was an unexpected kind of warmth that emanated from the room that day. It’s not often that one receives instant love and acceptance from a room full of strangers. I came away feeling somehow more grounded with a greater sense of who I am and where I came from. There is an old expression that goes something like “family are the people who will take you in when no one else will” or words to that effect. It certainly seems to be the case with my family anyway.

My 2nd cousin Eddie Dees, the mayor of Hope Mills, NC

I guess if you’ve been paying attention, you know I’ve been on a blogging break for the last few weeks. It wasn’t planned; it just sorta happened. I have something called Seasonal Affected Disorder (SAD). Thanks to SAD, when the days start getting shorter, it takes me awhile to adjust. I usually get a little depressed, and tend to withdraw for awhile. But, I’m over it for the time being, though February might be a little iffy.

In the next few posts, I’ll catch you up on what I’ve been doing. In the mean time, I hope you missed me because it’s nice to be back.

Last month when I was down by the creek, I thought I saw some bear scat. I wasn’t sure, because I’ve only seen it once, and that was two years ago. But the folks at the New River General told me that there have been black bear sightings in the area for the last year or so. Well, I can now confirm those sightings.

Anne nearly dropped her coffee when she looked out the living room window this morning and saw the bear in our front yard. By the time I could grab the camera, our furry visitor, Ursus americanus, was making his way back up Chestnut Ridge. The most recent census estimates there are between 3,500 and 4,500 black bears in Virginia, most of them west of the Blue Ridge. Judging from what I estimate to be a weight of 300 plus pounds, this is probably a male, since females only weigh between 100 and 200 pounds. Females range a 15-20 square mile area while males range 20-30 square miles and as far as 120.

Black bears are omnivores, that is, they feed on a variety of plants and animals. During the fall they prefer acorns and hickory nuts, both of which we have in abundance right now. They also feed on small animals. We have a couple of those as well. Research tells me that black bears are shy and don’t like confrontation. Let’s hope so; otherwise, it’s the game warden and heavy artillary time.

The fall lettuce crop is coming in and we’re having some excellent salads. We’re harvesting the mesclun mix as well as thinning four other types of lettuce. The arugula, spinach, and turnip seeds went in the ground this weekend.

Anne added some nasturtium blossoms to the baby lettuce for last nights salad. Nasturtiums are easy to grow self-seeding annuals. The edible flowers have a slightly peppery taste and make even the most ordinary salad look and taste special. We dressed ours with Anne’s vinaigrette and a little cracked pepper. It was yummalicious. I sure hope our first frost decides to hold off for a few more months.

If you’ve ever considered buying a house and remodeling it, you should probably reconsider, unless you’re into self-flagellation, or insane, or you’re a building contractor or have the necessary skills to build a house from the ground up.Those skills include plumbing, electrical, carpentry, dry wall, painting, heating and air conditioning, tile, and a multitude of other skills as well as an encyclopedic knowledge of local building codes. None of which I possess. Well, I can paint, but only if the drywall has been taped, mudded, and sanded. It’s not that you can’t hire someone to do the work, you can–as long as you’re willing to wait a couple of years or so. In a county with a population of less than 30,000, how many skilled craftsmen do you think are available? I don’t have any idea, but I do know that most of the ones I’ve talked to prefer to work on new construction, rather than remodel work. There are far fewer headaches in new construction.

I’ve been working on our humble little cottage for almost three years now with the assistance of an interesting variety of people. First was Lester, a self described hillbilly, who has never traveled outside the state of Virginia. He and I constructed what I consider to be the best roof in the state. One day this house might fall down around our ears, but I guarantee the roof will remain intact. The electrical upgrade came courtesy of Jim and his crew, who did a good job at a reasonable price. After Jim was a concrete guy named Donnie, who did some really mediocre work at an exorbitant price (read rip-off). Next came Chris who turned out to be a cocaine abuser and thief who disappeared with some of my equipment. Chris was followed by Leo and his crew of non-English speaking vaqueros who came down from N. Virginia and who disappeared when Prince William County cracked down on illegal immigrants, even though Leo and his guys were all legal. My second cousin Jason from North Carolina next lent a hand until his job and other obligations prevailed. His father Mel has been my one constant in all this, but Mel’s skills are not much better than mine. Which brings me to my friend Bernie Coveney.

Here’s Bernie backing out of my closet.

Some of you might recognize Bernie as a world class musician who has toured with Emmy Lou Harris and Juice Newton, hung out with Robert Duvall, scored a movie, recorded several albums and lives a pretty cool life in Floyd County. Bernie also built his own house. All those skills I mentioned above? Bernie has most of them. He’s also a hoot to work with. For the first time, we’re beginning to see the light at the end of the tunnel.

Last month when my five year old grandson and heir apparent, Connor, was visiting, Bernie had him wrapped around his little finger, or maybe it was vice-versa. In any event, we took Connor to the Friday Night Jamboree in Floyd where Bernie and the Floyd County Irregulars (a group of guys who just came together for the evening) played a set. Connor was beside himself watching his idol play. He and a little girl he met on the dance floor did their version of the chicken dance. I have some great pictures of the evening on a 2 gig memory stick. Unfortunately, my antiquated laptop has only 1 gig, so it’ll be awhile before I can download them. In the meantime, here’s a picture of Connor (in the Red Sox shirt) and his posse that I took when I returned him to his home in Maryland.

If you think I wrote this post to do a little name dropping and show a picture of the little prince and heir apparent, you might be right. It’s my blog, and I’ll brag if I want to.

When you mention The Trail in this part of Virginia, most folks assume you’re talking about The New River Trail State Park, and not the Appalachian Trail which also passes thru here. The New River Trail is a 57 mile linear park (the only one in Virginia) than runs from Galax to Pulaski with a spur to the town of Fries. The Trail follows an old railroad right-of-way donated to the state by the Norfolk Southern Railroad, 39 miles of which parallels the New River. The photo is of one of two tunnels along the way. This one is approximately a mile north of the Austinville entrance.

I don’t know if the seemingly inordinate number of morning spider webs I’ve been seeing lately means anything, like a hard winter, early frost, or anything like that, but they make some cool photos. Here are a couple for your perusal.

The Grits Mess

Anne tends to eat healthier than I do, particularly when it comes to breakfast. She favors whole grain cereal and fruit or juice, while I prefer a more cholesteral laden country breakfast. On those rare occasions when she does have something sturdier in the morning, it’s usually the grits mess, a creation she credits to her Uncle Mac. You start with a bowl of grits and add whatever you wish to it. Eggs, cheese, sausage, bacon, ham, onions, peppers, mushrooms, whatever blows your hair back.

When I went back to college after the army, I joined the Vets Club, a fraternity like social/service organization of military veterans who, like me, had returned to school to complete their education. We did good work, volunteering in a number of areas to benefit the school and local community. We also partied……hard. Some of our parties were legendary, like the time Anne and several other wives mooned the governor, senator, and state attorney general of North Carolina. Parties aside though, we were a fairly responsible group. We used designated drivers long before it was the fashion. And we generally ended our parties with a grits mess, one that included all of the ingredients listed above and then some. If you’ve never tried a grits mess, I highly recommend one.