Thanksgiving Day in Celo North Carolina dawned bright and clear; and frosty. Luckily for me the wind had died down and the morning's 33 degrees was quite bearable.
The community where my in-laws live organizes an informal foot race on the morning of Thanksgiving Day and I was deputized to drive Bob and Geeta and their dog Mason to the start. Which, because they are perennially late we managed to join as the start itself was in progress.
By the time I parked the car and sauntered down with Cheyenne the tail end of the race, the walking section, was disappearing down the main road into the community.
I joked about this sign with Bob who looked rather grumpy when I pointed out that it made no sense. "The community took three months to come to consensus on the precise wording," he griped. "It means you'd better have control of your dog or have the integrity to put it on a leash," he glared. I was going to point out that isn't what it says but sometimes silence is the better course of inaction.
I carried a leash for Cheyenne but she was totally absorbed by her surroundings and never needed it. She rarely does.
She stood close by me as the people mover went by, though the silent cyclist caught us a bit by surprise.
There was the odd walker out, perhaps a race drop out or someone simply busy enjoying a lovely day in the woods.
Celo is supposedly named for the Italian word for heaven-cielo.
It is becoming quite the hive of farming activity as the economy continues to slow.
The community voted against agreeing to have the state pave this main public road, with the majority fearing that paving the pot holes would increase vehicle speeds.
A slow meander is the proper way to enjoy this place.
Beware people walking seems an obvious sentiment with all the homes nestled in the woods.
There is such abundance here that apples rot on the trees.
Camp Celo (pronounced see-low) is a place for youngsters to come and enjoy summer in the country.
Captured in Art.
And e cows out having breakfast.
I think this is a fencing project in waiting.
Mail boxes around here are del rated with flowers not lobster pots and depictions of palms.
A typical trail of wet leaves in the morning sun.
And this was a school project I suspect, set up and presumably forgotten by a student at Arthur Morgan School with a depiction of Uranus' orbit round the sun.
700 meters from the school if I read the card right. And the was Uranus and it's recently discovered ring:
A child in the community suggested the whimsical speed limit sign. Not so whimsical, brother in law Bob said. 13 is the exact right speed for this section of road he said.
Which makes it no less whimsical.
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