Monticello: A Virginia Native
Recognize this house? You see it every time you spend a nickel. Thomas Jefferson knew from the time he was a little boy that he wanted to live on the top of this particular little mountain near Charlottesville, Virginia. He was still a youngster in his twenties when he got started on his goal. Using slave labor, he had the top of the mountain cleared, flattened to create a building space, and started building his dream house. And then he had to leave it. He had to go and do stuff like write the Declaration of Independence, and be President, and so forth, and leave the peace and quiet...
Read MoreJamestown: Faces from the Past
Jamestown, Virginia. It’s not an actual town, it’s a historic site, of course. No one lives there but ghosts. Actually there are two Jamestowns. There’s a National Park at the actual location of the first settlement in North America, and it’s an active archeological site—very educational, but not much action. And then there’s the much more commercially successful Living History Museum—the sort of place where the staff wear doublet and hose and pretend to churn butter and shoot off cannons and such. And I’m a sucker for living history. I’ve always wanted to do that—dress up in a long skirt,...
Read MoreMullein: Yellow Lights
Cruising along Route 81 in Virginia, and I just had to pull over to take a look at these yellow stalks. I have never seen such gorgeous mullein plants. Common mullein is an odd wildflower, like a fencepost sticking straight up out of the ground. Little yellow flowers bloom up and down the stalk, each individual flower opening for only one day. At least at home in upstate New York the flowers are little, but here in the sunny south they’re the size of roses. They’re not a native plant, but not generally invasive. They love dry open ground where nothing else is growing, and can’t...
Read MoreMagic Cicada
Driving south on the Thruway, and I slowly become aware there’s a strange buzzing noise going on. Oh, god, no—must be something with the engine. It’s a penetrating, grating sound, clearly mechanical. I slow down—it gets louder. I roll down the window—it rises to an eerie shriek. I stop at the first rest area, and turn the car off. The noise keeps going. My ears actually hurt with the most annoying sound ever devised by nature: the love song of ten million cicadas. The fence at the edge of the rest area is draped with bittersweet and poison ivy vines, and the metal chain links are practically...
Read MoreYellow Wood Sorrel: Inspecting a Lemon
It’s that time of year again–time to get the old car inspected. While I was nervously awaiting the verdict of the inspectors (lots of mileage on that baby) I prowled around Jiffy-Lube’s surprisingly well-tended garden, looking for something to photograph. The landscape was mowed and manicured within an inch of its life, and at first I couldn’t find a single weed. But there’s always one, if you look closely enough. Yellow wood-sorrel. In my childhood, I would taste anything—it’s a wonder I’m still alive, really—I sampled clover and grass blades and pine needles. Most of the stuff tasted...
Read MoreMagnificent Clouds
Five minutes before this picture: sun and blue skies. Five minutes after this picture: hailstones banging on the roof.
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