Child's Play

I am not one given to children but from time to time they are thrust upon me and I find myself in the role of doting uncle which does not come naturally to one as me.Conner is two years old and more elastic than you would give him credit for. in horseplay he dropped on his head and I, sure he had broken his neck panicked while he got up and ran to his elder brother, 4 year old Aidan and head butted him. It seemed nothing had happened.It was Sunday evening at Celo, in the North Carolina mountains, a place where dusk descends slowly and summer is a time for grandparents, parents, children and visitors sit out on the lawn or potter in the vegetable garden. Doting grandfather Bob was doing just that in the blueberry patch with his nudist grandson.Dad Jacob and I had just been served some alcohol by the women beavering away in the kitchen. It was all very rural and were all in our roles."Conner just pooped,"his mother called, causing me to choke on my wine. Great.

Mason wondered why these helpless pink things have taken his place in his mother's affection. I too wondered this as i pondered picking up after dogs versus picking up after smelly children.

Jacob decided to test an innovative new way to diaper a small child. First take hold of one ankle.

Slide the diaper over one ankle and take the second ankle to steady the squirming, gurgling child.

The airborne version failed much to Conner's disappointment and Jacob resorted to traditional postures.

Conner resisted the traditional.

Back in the air for the pajamas.

Nope. Didn't work.

Ten Thirty One! (Foot pursuit in police ten codes).

Jacob's glass looked lonely. Nearly done.

Upside down. Much better.

If I had to go through that to clean up after Cheyenne I'd be dead.

Good night all.

And before the sun goes down completely a moment for artistic introspection. Pink and purple everywhere.

Out here even the garden shed looks astonishing. That may be because it also serves as guest quarters.

Dinner was delightful. Kids asleep, grown ups eating. And drinking. Sunday evening in the country.

Blue Ridge Parkway

Let's face it, if you are staying 20 minutes from one of the most famous roads in America (Route 66, that myth of the American West has to be number one, I expect) you don't fail to see it in all it's summer glory.The Parkway is not strictly a park, but the National Park Service has jurisdiction over the road and the land on either side. Statistically it is the most visited "unit" in the National Park Service. If you think the Parkway is a cool place you'll be delighted to know it was born in the administration of Franklin Delano Roosevelt a public project (carried out by private contractors) under government supervision to create something of lasting value and put unemployed Americans to work. This was in 1935 when 25% of Americans were unemployed. These days unofficial shadow statistics put 22% of Americans on the dole. Yet all we manage to build is bigger better (!?) banks... 13 trillion modern dollars handed out by President Obama could have built miles of passenger rail lines instead of saving the big banks. Never mind, the parkway is lovely. The speed limit is even slower than the Florida Keys, a mix of 45mph (70kph) and 35mph (60kph) but it's easy to dawdle up here. I am proud to say I never held up anyone driving faster than me and there are tons of pull outs and overlooks to stop on and let the busy people by. There are some passing areas but the dotted yellow lines are few and far between so patience,as they say, pays. The road is not open to commercial traffic so the surface is as smooth as the proverbial billiard table. The Parkway is amazingly informal, no tolls, no particular rules, just a road 469 miles long that took 52 years to complete, from Virginia almost all the way to the North Carolina/Tennessee state line in far western North Carolina. There are parks and picnic areas and we took a break one afternoon to sit in a most shady delightful spot at a picnic table undisturbed for hours. we had to bus our own space but there was no trash left anywhere that I could see in the park area. The Park Service provides a dumpster and recycling bins at the exit and it was the work of a moment to dump all trace of our afternoon's picnic. Cheyenne wandered on her leash and had a great time. I was a bit fussy about leashing her but there were plenty of dogs playing in the park.The views are spectacular and we enjoyed an approaching thunderstorm. I took a few pictures before we got lashed with rain.

Not exactly the Florida Keys but quite lovely nonetheless.

Ingles is a family owned grocery chain in this neck of the woods.My wife and I read the name in Spanish and call it ingles,("English") just for fun. It's a good yuppie chain similar to Publix in Florida.I was not impressed by the American Owned logo on the Spruce Pine store. As the economy continues to sour us immigrants will get in the cross hairs more and more no doubt. Judenrien will take on a new 21st century flavor and I wonder how legal from illegal, desirable from not will be decided. I'm white, will that work in my favor? Second class perhaps but allowed to stay? And own a store...Ingles- English owned!

Walking Celo

Another morning and everyone is wide awake in the McGahey household and making noise. Time to go.'Bye Daddy Jacob, 'bye Aidan, I've got dogs to walk in peace and quiet in the woods.

Mason used to belong to Jacob but when he and Bevin had children the faithful family pet got sidelined so the grandparents decided to keep him. My idea of taking him home with us was frowned upon. Too far they said. So I do my best to entertain him and make him feel valued while I'm here. He loves walks in the woods just as much as Cheyenne and I do. Check it out.Celo Community is outside Burnsville and was founded decades ago by a group of idealists, and my sister and brother-in-law joined 35 years ago. It was a time when this was rural Appalachia and my sister-in-law had her medical school bills paid by the government for working in a "medically under served" community. They liked the back woods of Yancey county so much they have based themselves here ever since as part of what is called an Intentional Community along Quaker lines though not everyone here is a Quaker, not by any means.

Some 75 people live on the land in Celo, they occupy or build homes with low interest loans from the community which owns the land in trust. When someone leaves they get their investment back, exactly as much as they paid and the land remains in trust. And what land it is, a fairy tale forest of streams and rhododendrons groves, twisting paths and trails in which it is all too easy to lose oneself.

I have spent hours each day of this vacation walking the dogs and these pictures are a tiny sample of what I have seen, the streams we have forded and the rickety old bridges we have crossed. Indeed earlier this week we got so deeply lost in the woods it took two hours and a passing neighbor's directions to find our way out. We walked all the way to the boundary of the community stopped only by a small marker announcing we were entering National Forest lands that border the community. It is a wild and fantastic place.

Just this year the voters of Burnsville voted to make the city wet, a hard fought vote that has brought wines and beers within easy reach (20 minutes by car) from the community. Previously this was rural Appalachia, a place where people have lived an farmed since before the Revolution. And praised God in their various ways. Bob, a Methodist/Quaker/Buddhist/Whatever says wryly that ecumenism in Yancey County means the various Baptist Churches have actually started to talk to each other. Imagine how a bunch of idealist young peaceniks were viewed 35 years ago, clearing the forest and building huts...

I was in a convenience store and saw a little display by the check out till. "Gifts for Every Occasion" went the blurb...small homemade crosses with a prayer attached. They hardly raised my atheist eyebrows. This is God's Own Country, as they say and you can see why. I see bumper stickers of the cross Christians who say "We Still Pray" as though one can't pray privately in these woods, no bumper stickers needed. In a world gone mad with consumerism and return on investment the idea of essentially paying to build a house on land you can only rent seemed a bit daft at the end of the 20th century and Celo Community started to fade and shrink, much to Bob's concern. He remembers a local man Ben Geouch joining the Community and helping the young hippies by hauling away their logs with his horse team. Now, with the economy in tatters the community is thriving and in another essay I hope to show pictures of how a group of dedicated people can turn this land into a productive thriving farm able to support it's people with their own food.It is inspiring.Along the trail one frequently finds oneself walking past private homes and it is a bit disconcerting to one such as myself who is used to seeing "Private" "No Trespassing" signs that litter the yards of the fearful in the Florida Keys. Here it is not unexpected to walk past someone's home and indeed a chance encounter on the gravel roads of the Community is simply a chance to say hello and catch up. Megan and Todd work at the Arthur Morgan School, the Community's education center for the youngsters being raised here, though I had no clue who they were when I met them.

"I'm visiting Bob and Geeta" is how I explain myself to people I meet, and being related to two of the elder members is a pass to respectability around here. It is a pleasant place to walk as anyone you meet is like minded and not threatening. It's hard to explain to someone used to the gritty city streets in the world outside, but it works.

In North Carolina these dead end valleys in between the mountains are called "coves"a weird maritime term. This home appeared empty but who knows. Rules require Community members to spend six months of each year in their homes. There are lots of rules and monthly meetings and everything is done by consensus. That the community works, never mind thrives, seems like a miracle to me, the determined loner. Understandably people have to work but it amazes me these paths aren't packed with walkers. Almost the entire time I never met a soul.And so finally home with two pooped pups.And the demands of the laptop. Luckily they have wireless now so i can download pictures as I go. So many pictures.

I can't wait to get back out there, in the woods.