West Virginia, mountain mama

Back in March we drove to Detroit (can I get a Go Heels?) and wound around the West Virginia mountains, through two tunnels and Charleston, along the rivers for awhile. It was cold, and snowed off and on, which frankly made the whole scene that much more alluring. Like most states with a reputation, I imagine there are a great many tax dollars at work to make that stretch, anyway, attractive and non-hillbilly, to play against the type with which the whole state is saddled. I'm a sucker for a good bridge, and cities and towns along rivers. I like to imagine earlier times when coal was king, when the towns bloomed on the water in the shadow of industry.

Montgomery

Richwood

South Charleston

On a whim, I went there this weekend to revisit that curiosity. I stayed in the Marriott in downtown Charleston, which was strangely cheaper than Holiday Inn Express, even. I'm a real dork when it comes to how much I love hotels. I still remember the first hotel I ever stayed in: the Handlery in Union Square in San Francisco. I was 13 and I had an acid-washed purse and pink jeans that I wore proudly, heaven help me. It's an old hotel, and was being remodeled. The whole family was there, which means a lot of little kids, but the only reason we stayed there was that our friends the Leisters were there for business and we were together. I'm sure it was nothing short of a nightmare to haul 5 kids and their junk through a lobby under construction, to pay for parking in the deck, and endure the eccentricities (Donnie's worst nightmares) of a small, old, downtown hotel in 1989. But I didn't care, because I felt so urban and cool, sitting in the wide windowsill listening to the jazz coming from the club across the street until late at night, and the ever-present honking. I loved it. Had it been just our family, we would have stayed in some 2-star Best Western in Alameda for sure, as we always did. We have stayed in some seriously terrible motels on family trips, which is understandable; we required two rooms minimum and we were definitely on a budget. I'm clearly trying to make up for feeling deprived of hotels.

Cynical in tone and apostrophe abuse

There's an element of this hobby that is quite self-indulgent, I think. I really like the freedom of being alone and choosing the schedule based on light and where the road takes me. My goal is to approach these places with an appropriate balance of voyeurism and appreciation for the "other," but even that is potentially problematic, because I never want to be judgmental or superior (unless there's bad grammar; then all bets are off). And there's a risk that by looking at people and businesses and towns from this perspective -- the search for aesthetic -- I can oversimplify their lives and experience. Ideally, the search for beautiful and interesting things -- and translating them into the correct aperture, shutter speed, and composition -- is inspired by a purely artistic instinct and an attempt to present something in a new way, not that I feel entirely up to the pressure of creating pure art. I haven't yet worked out to what extent I feel okay about my invasion of their space with the proper balance of all these goals. I sense that if I did this in California, for example, I would feel more or less evened out, but beyond that I start to question my permission to be there.

I do think there is a safe zone, though, and that is nature. Really talented photographers with serious equipment and an intense obsession with light can make nature photography, and by extension the subject, new and appealing to even serious bums. I had a lovely drive to the southwestern edge of the Monongahela National Forest, which is just levels of the green transcendent beauty that is the entire state. I started a hike to the Cranberry River but since there wasn't a soul around and my survival skills are nil, I decided the 10 miles to the river might not be the smartest choice. Nonetheless, the 45 minutes I spent in the forest were very good in the way that 69 degrees, fresh air, and copious ferns always are.

More photos (+coal) on Flickr.

Twinkle lights & sunset on the Haw

Gathering Storm, Old Greensboro Highway

I like old buildings

Cedar Grove, NC

You might have heard that California is on fire

Just outside Yreka at around 5 pm.

Part 12: Sunset at the Snow Camp P.O.

East Greensboro-Chapel Hill Highway

Part 11: Wigs and Hair by Charlie

Highway 54

Part 10: Sound aphorism from Pine Hill United Methodist Church

Highway 109, Montgomery County

Part 9: Field in rain, Snow Camp Road

Part 8: Little white building, what's your job?

Highway 64, between Ramseur and Siler City

Part 7: Barn & blue hills

Highway 64, outside Asheboro

Part 6: Go ahead and just mow around that truck

Snow Camp Road, Alamance County

Part 5: St. Julia's Catholic Church

Highway 64, Chatham County

Part 4: Go ahead and call Doris

Snow Camp Road

Part 3: This is for Dogey

Highway 64, Chatham County

Part 2: Three barns, Silk Hope

Let Freedom Ring (and Part 1)

Highway 64, Chatham County

Martina was singing in my head while the following things happened on this, the 232nd birthday of our uneasy country:

1. Discovered that the farm was visited by JWs while I was at brunch with my friends. I saw a bright neon orange sticker on the mailbox when I pulled up; I first freaked out that someone more unsavory had marked the place, but then I had a flashback to the pen marks that Salt Lake City JWs left on the door moldings of apartment buildings - vertical line if you visited and no one answered, cross (as in . . . you know) it if you found someone home. They left two tracts I've found so far - one talks about why farming is going so bad for America (something to do with disobedience) and one is just the regular Watchtower. That one I found on the front porch of a non-residence, which was . . . weird and unsettling.

2. Decided, kind of impetuously, to borrow Donnie's good camera (um, thanks!) and do a little honoring of my particular corner of America, and found some pretty delightful things to appreciate/be amused by, which I have decided to post for the next 11 days (above is Part 1) so you can do a little honoring of your own. It's the 12 days of being happy if you live in NC.

3. Landed, at dinnertime, at Ruby Tuesday, because it was late and anything local was closed. I really wanted some salad and they do have a decent salad bar (pardon, Garden Bar), even with edamame and julienned beets. I also ordered the teensy turkey burgers, which were on, like, miniature Merita buns. Not the best. Ruby Tuesday has a weird personality, with the square plates and the attempt at flavor combinations with the illusion of being gourmet but not so much with the actual delivery. But the salad ingredients were fresh, so I will give them that. Also, it was like $11 with Diet Coke. While at dinner, read a charming 6-page New Yorker "Personal History" piece on one dude's nicknames, along with those of his family and friends, and thought fondly of my family and our nicknames.

4. Watched a little GAC, decided that despite his popularity with the ladies and men alike, Brad Paisley (or at least his persona, because he doesn't seem to write all these songs) is kind of a misogynist. This video I just watched, "Waiting on a Woman" is "with" Andy Griffith, which is a serious misnomer, because Andy doesn't sing, just says, over and over, how he's spent his life waiting on the chronically late woman. The final scene, heaven help us, is Andy sitting in a white tuxedo on a bench on the great beach in heaven, waiting on his wife. To DIE. Brad Paisley thinks women are annoying enough to dismiss when they show up late and don't approve of drinking or fishing, among other things. (Remember, he's still a guy.) Over. It. I do love this new Keith Urban song called "Stupid Boy." It came on right after Paisley's nonsense; deliberate programming choice?

5. Pondered on how I spent most of the day by myself (excepting the lovely brunch on the patio at the Weathervane) and thought how much I enjoyed it, but decided that not being able to spend holidays with my family leaves a serious hole in my life.

Two silos, dusk, Mebane-Oaks Road

Em says she hates dusk, but I am crazy about it. I love this moment in particular, when the sun is almost completely gone but there are still a few pinks on the other side of the horizon. And in the summer, it's close to 9 pm so you have had many hours of (hot) sun and now you can see lightning bugs.

Round bales, Crawford Dairy Road, sunset