Tag Archives: Virginia

Poetry-bombing Locust Grove, Virginia.

I left these beside a symphony of singing insects’ sibilances.

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Rockfish Gap, Virginia, June 2018.

Seen from the edge of Greenwood-Afton Rural Historic District.  (The gap’s 110 miles are the lowest passage through the Blue Ridge Mountains.)  Thomas Jefferson met with other officials at the nearby Rockfish Tavern in 1818 to plan the University of Virginia.

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Interstate 81 North in Southern Virginia

June 2018.

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The Persimmons Poem.

I’m linking here to “Persimmons,” by Li-Young Lee, over at the Poetry Foundation.  It’s been a favorite of mine since college.

I believe I’ve linked to it here at the blog before, the subject of the poem came up again, as a friend of mine actually grows persimmons in his backyard and posted pictures on Facebook.  (Will the wonders of rural Virginia never cease?)

https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/43011/persimmons

 

 

 

Into the Woods.

Roanoke, Virginia, May 2018.

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This spring is in full swing.

Roanoke, Virginia, May 2018.

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“LOVE” artwork outside Salem Public Library.

Salem, Virginia, May 2018.

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“Just look at the flowers, Lizzie.”

“Just look at the flowers.”

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A night scene.

It’s another blurry photograph; did you expect anything more at this blog?  But I still think it’s kind of neat and atmospheric — like maybe the rear of a book cover for a horror novel.

What you see at left are the moon and Venus, respectively.

 

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A brush with uncertainty.

Sooooo, I suppose this is one of the reasons they tell you to never hike alone — the disorienting, downright Lovecraftian plantlife that limits your visibility, confuses your sense of direction and challenges your sanity.  (I arrived at this insight hiking alone.)  I have recently come to understand that this is what the people from the South and the West sometimes refer to as “the brush.”

I am frequently surprised when walking through the hills at how uneven the terrain is.  (Probably why they call it “the hills.”)  But I’m gaining a new appreciation for how daunting mountain flora can be.

I also saw a white-tailed deer — it looked as big as a frikkin’ Clydesdale.

 

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