I don’t know about the rest of you, but I’ve been about as entertained by winter as I care to be. These last few days of warmer weather have provided a nice respite, but I fear it’s like half-time in a lopsided ballgame….. some serious ass-kicking still awaits us in the second half.

I’ve had a particularly difficult time with Seasonal Affected Disorder (SAD) this year as evidenced by the fact that I haven’t posted anything in almost two months. SAD is sometimes referred to as the “winter blues”. I suppose if I had been able to write about it, I might have felt a little better, but metaphorically speaking, it’s difficult to type from the fetal position with one’s thumb in one’s mouth. The news doesn’t help either. Five minutes of listening to CNN is enough to make you want to drive south until your hat floats.

As our economy continues to deteriorate, we need to give serious consideration as to how we spend our money. LOCALLY OWNED BUSINESSES NEED OUR SUPPORT. Even during the best of times, these businesses have a difficult time competing with the national chains. Nowhere is this more evident than the restaurant business. Restaurants operate on very thin margins, and often four or five customers a day determine whether a place stays open or not. Instead of having lunch at Subway, go to Fran’s Deli. The sandwiches at Fran’s are not only twice as good, they’re cheaper.

You want a burger and shake? Screw McDonald’s, go to Burger Express. A chilidog from New River General or Skeeter’s beats the dickens out of Hardee’s. The next time you take the family out to dinner, take them to Virginia Heights instead of KFC. These folks are our neighbors, and as times continue to worsen, we’re going to need our neighbors to make it through.

Speaking of neighbors, there is one other thing that has been on my mind lately. I’d like to thank all the booger-eating inbreds around here for continuing to trash our roadsides with their litter. I’m just thrilled that more of our tax dollars have to be spent to pick up your crap. I hope the next time you go home, your momma runs out from beneath the front porch and bites you on the leg. A couple of weeks ago, Kevin Engler, a state senator from Missouri, introduced a bill to make littering a capital offense. Said Engler, “I think that if we kill just a couple of people that we catch, the rest will catch on.” Engler later withdrew the bill saying he was just joking to make a point. I’m not so sure he shouldn’t have left it for a vote.

I’m pretty sure Anne didn’t set out to string the lights on the fir tree in the front yard to resemble a maniacal horror movie killer-clown, I figure she just got lucky. It seems that no one has any chili pepper lights this year, and we need more than the five strands we have. So after a trip to a very picked over WallyWorld, we bought the only red lights we could find, and the rest is just serendipity. Here’s wishing you the tackiest of holidays.

Forgive me for the picture. Part of the wreath was in shadow, and part of it was in sun. However, my lousy picture should not take away from Anne’s excellent wreath. She collected the cones from this tree in the front yard, (said tree soon to be swathed in red chili pepper lights)

attached them to some grapevines twisted into a circle, and tied the ribbon in a nice bow. The first decoration of the Christmas season is up. Since I plan to prune the pinetrees this week, I predict a house full of pine boughs soon. We’re thinking of getting a balled tree this year to be planted after the holidays.

We had a great time Thanksgiving, though the Little Prince and Heir Apparent decided he didn’t want his picture taken, so every time the camera was pointed at him, he did this:

No, seriously……everytime.

In Lewis Carroll’s Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland, the Mock Turtle sings the praises of “soup of the evening, beautiful soup!” The very word soup conjures up a feeling of soothing comfort. And whereas chilled summer soups are just fine, it is the hearty winter soups that we most identify with.

Soup has been a part of American diets since Colonial days, when it was often served for breakfast. Served with a salad and bread, it can be a complete lunch or dinner. The best thing about soup is that practically anything can be used to make it.

Cookbooks will tell you that the basis for any good soup is the stock or broth. Then they proceed to try to guilt trip you into making your own, which can be very time consuming and require more time and effort than most of us have.There are a number of very good canned stocks and soup bases available. I recommend Swanson’s for the canned variety and Minor’s (available locally at King’s Produce) for a base. These stocks can be improved by the additon of onions, carrots, celery, bay leaf, herbs, and meat scraps. Just saute any additions in a little oil to bring out the flavor before adding the liquid. Simmer for 15 minutes to a half hour and strain if you want a plain broth or leave them in if they work in your recipe.

I made the smoked sausage and potato soup pictured above in about a half hour. It’s very simple to make and tastes fantastic.

Ingredients

For each person:

1/2 Idaho baking potato, peeled and cut into chunks
1 6 inch piece of your favorite smoked sausage cut into bite-sized pieces
1 1/2 cups of chicken stock
2 TBS each of  chopped onion, celery, and carrot
1/4 tsp dried thyme
1 small bay leaf
2 TBS of heavy cream or half and half
salt and cracked pepper to taste
chopped parsley for garnish (optional)

Film the bottom of a pre-heated pot with just enough olive oil (or vegetable oil) to prevent sticking and saute the smoked sausage until it begins to brown. Remove the sausage and add the onions, celery, and carrot and cook until the onions are clear. Add the stock, bay leaf and thyme, cover and simmer for 10 minutes. At this point, I use a stick blender to puree the vegetables, but this step is not necessary. It’s just my personal preference. If you do, remove the bay leaf first, then put it back in. Add the sausage and potatoes, cover and simmer until the potatoes are soft, about 15 minutes. Mash a few of the potatoes against the side of the pot to thicken the soup and add the cream. Simmer an additional 5 minutes. Season with salt and cracked pepper to taste. Remove the bay leaf, ladle into a bowl, sprinkle with chopped parsley and dig in!

The tough put on wool socks and long johns underneath their jammies. Man oh man has the weather been rough here on the Creek lately. The days have alternated between sunny and cold, overcast and cold, and windy and cold. The nights have just been freezing cold… colder than a witch’s breaststisties. But hey, it’s the price you pay for living in our Blue Ridge paradise. I took the camera out a couple of times and wandered around the ol’ homestead. Here are some of the results:

At one point, I thought about titling this post “Dead Flowers” after the Townes VanZandt song.

I also found some interesting looking berries, which I have not had time to identify. So if any of you know what they are, please let me know.

And finally, here is

A WOMAN WHO IS OUTSTANDING IN HER FIELD

Ok, that’s it for now. Anne and I along with the cat and dog are headed up to Maryland where I’m fixing dinner for our little family group. The Heir Apparent has annouced he is only eating sweet potatoes with the marshmellows on top and jellied cranberry sauce. Sigh…….

Happy Thanksgiving to one and all!

There is something bittersweet about derelict old houses. They evoke a nostalgic curiosity of bygone eras. Who were the people who built these places? What kind of life did they lead? What caused these houses to be abandoned? Was it some kind of tragedy, or worse, the end of a family’s lineage? Maybe it was just apathy. Succeeding generations didn’t care enough to appreciate what they had. They failed to maintain and upgrade. The attraction of the shiny and new was just too much to resist. The solidly built family home required too much effort and expense to remodel, so it was abandoned for mobile homes and flimsy new houses with all the modern conveniences.

The people who lived in these places contributed to the evolution of our culture. These abandoned structures provide a historical continuity. Their existence prevents a kind of cultural Alzheimer’s. They stand as a reminder that people lived and died here. Children’s laughter once echoed from their walls. But what was built with hope and optimism is ending with sadness and faded glory. Without someone seeing what once was and caring enough to see what could be, without taking on the monumental task of restoration, they will continue to deteriorate.

In some ways, these houses can be viewed as a metaphor for our country. We have abandoned many of the solid principles on which the United States was built in favor of flimsy new ideas that have led us to a faded glory. We were once the most admired nation in history, but we are well on our way to becoming one of the most reviled. The past eight years has shown an America that is vulnerable to attack. It has exposed an underbelly of cruelty and greed in our government and institutions that has brought us to the brink. What has worked for generations has been replaced with whatever works for the moment. Me first has replaced country first. We are a nation divided by fear and mistrust.

But…… there is hope.

We have elected a man who seems to recognize the value of this old house we call America, and he is bent on restoration. But he desperately needs our help. We must recognize that our focus has to be on restoration rather than abandonment. We must put aside our fear and mistrust and roll up our sleeves. Our foundation is strong, but the remodeling effort is going to be long and costly. I have faith in this country. Together we can do it. Yes we can.

So far, it’s showered about 3 inches worth, and the shower is supposed to last all day. I could take a couple of shots at the folks at the National Weather Service, but that would be like picking on a cripple. Despite all the science, and Viper Radars, and the voodoo hoodoo, weather forecasting is still basically a crapshoot. The most accurate forecast I can recall was from George Carlin as Al Sleet, the hippy-dippy weatherman. It went something like, “light… followed by increasing darkness…”

In case you’ve forgotten, we’re only two-thirds of the way thru fall. Technically, winter is still 5 and 1/2 weeks away. By the time spring rolls around, we may be about as entertained by cold and snow as we care to be, but for today at least, I plan to bundle up at some point and go outside and enjoy the scenery. I’m just sorry I wasn’t able to get a photo of the 6-point buck that strolled across the ridge 20 feet from the back door at 5:30 am.

Yesterday, I set out to do a little toodling around the backroads and take a few pictures. I slapped Bernie Coveney’s Whispering Pines CD into the player and drove down Red Hollow Road to see what I could see. The weather was turning out to be much better than had been predicted and I was in good spirits. I found some great photo ops and began mentally composing another puff piece about the beauty of Wythe County one can find off the beaten path. I took pictures of an old mill stream, some wonderful derelict buildings, and some beautiful farmscapes. Nice, huh? But, by the time I got home, I was sad and angry.

What was it that ruined what had otherwise been a terrific day?

LITTER.

Waste that is UNLAWFULLY disposed of on our roadsides. And folks, for the most part, it’s not the tourists who are doing this; it is the residents of this county.

Here is a photo I took of a swinging bridge across a creek that runs alongside Crockett’s Crossing, a backroad off a backroad off a backroad. Crockett’s Crossing is a narrow, gravel road barely wide enough for a single car to travel. For the last mile or so, there are no houses.

Directly across from this charming scene I found this:

It’s a little hard to tell from this picture, but the items you see include a glass jar, a plastic water bottle, an aluminum can, and a fast food carton. There were other items around that I could not include in the frame: a cardboard beer carton, beer bottles, a plastic bag, and more fastfood containers. Here are a few statistics for you to ponder on types of litter and how long they stay in our environment:

Cigarette Butts 1-5 years
Aluminum Cans 80-100 years
Orange Peels Up to 2 years
Plastic Bags 10-20 years
Tin Cans 50 years
Wool Socks 1-5 years
Glass Bottles 1,000,000 years
Styrofoam Undetermined
Plastic Bottles FOREVER

Francis McAndrews in his widely used textbook, Environmental Psychology, states that the most prolific litter offenders include women, youth, men under 25, rural dwellers, hunters, fishermen, truck drivers, and construction workers. I include myself in this list. I am a smoker. Until about six months ago, I thought nothing of tossing a cigarette butt out the window, but no more. My cigarette butts now stay where they belong–in the ashtray. Outside the car, I knock the fire off when I’m finished and put the butt either in a trash receptacle or my pocket. I have never thrown other trash out the window and never will.

Litter is not just unsightly, it causes real problems. A lot of litter in this area, particularly styrofoam, eventually ends up in our waterways, killing fish and wildlife who injest it thinking it is food. Paper cups and plastic bottles retain water that serves as a breeding ground for disease-causing mosquitoes. Piles of trash attract rodents. Litter begets litter. If we throw our trash along the roadside, it tells tourists and others passing thru our county that we don’t give a damn, so why should they? It is a fact that some businesses take into consideration the amount of litter in an area before deciding wheter to locate there. People who don’t care enough to keep up the place where they live, will not care enough to make good employees.

We live in a time when most of us feel that the majority of the problems we face as a society are beyond our control. Gas prices, global warming, a crashing economy, growing unemployment – these are all things that we as individuals feel powerless to control. But litter is a growing problem we can do something about.

It’s very simple. To begin with, make this pledge:

I WILL NOT LITTER, NOR WILL I ALLOW THOSE UNDER MY INFLUENCE TO LITTER.

In the weeks and months to come as I become more knowledgeable on the subject, I will have more to say. In the meantime, please let me hear from you. I welcome your opinions and suggestions.

The Jackson’s Ferry area is about 2 miles south of our humble little cottage, less than that as the crow flies. It is one of the more historic areas in SW Virginia dating to pre-Colonial days. It is also one of the most scenic. The view from the bridge than spans the New River where the ferry once ran is breathtakingly beautiful. I posted a picture I took from the bridge a few months ago. The area around the bridge is rife with postcard photo opportunities. Here are a few for your perusal.

(Note to Earlene L. and Georgia H. – I received your comments, but they were garbled. Please resend them, and thanks for visiting my blog.)