Part 2 of the historic triangle in the Williamsburg ,Virginia area is Jamestown. What I didn’t know before arriving was that there are 2 distinct ways to experience it…. the National Park site and the more touristy recreation.
We opted for the National site first, by way of the Colonial Parkway.
The Parkway is a beautiful 23 mile road that runs along the James River from Williamsburg to Yorktown.
We jumped off at Jamestown and drove the 5 mile Island Loop, a self guided tour that explores the natural environment and history of the area.
Then it was on to the visitors center.
I won’t bore you more than I already do with the story. You can read about it here. Suffice it to say Jamestown was the first permanent English settlement, the birthplace of Virginia… and basically, America.
There was a wonderful theater…
With multiple screens… where we brushed up on our high school history.
Outside there was a long boardwalk…
That led to a monument…
Which I’m sure the husband was glad he didn’t have to climb.
It was there we waited for our Park Ranger tour guide.
Who led us to the original settlers’ site.
That’s Pocahantas to the right… and yes, there was a Mockingbird on her head. A real one who proceeded to poop on her nose.
The only thing left from the original settlers’ buildings was one crumbling wall of a church.
But archeologists have been actively digging here for years….
Removing thousands of artifacts from the fort….
And various other buildings.
Here, the husband checks out a model recreation of the site.
The soldiers barracks.
Where the Queen visited a decade ago.
And the required selfie by the water.
There was an outline of a church with markers for the identified graves.
And a graveyard for unidentified remains.
It was a lovely spot.
But the history of the hardships the colonists suffered sure made you appreciate the wealth of opportunities and conveniences we have now.
Famine, civil unrest, severe weather, murder, Indian attacks…. even cannabilism. They experienced it all.
Second required selfie by the water to lighten the mood.
It was a fascinating tour…
And we learned a lot.
But it was lunchtime…. and the husband’s stomach was growling.
Not wanting to waste time and drive back to town, we were glad to find a small cafe on site.
You couldn’t beat the view.
Chicken salad spinach wrap with potato salad for me…
Tomato bisque and a Sloppy Joe with potato salad for the husband.
Continuing farther down the coast of the Outer Banks, I wanted to stop and walk out on a pier.
(Have I mentioned that I have a knack for picking the coldest, windiest, most frigid days to do this? Seriously… it’s a gift. If there’s one bitter cold day on an otherwise delightfully warm 2 week vacation? That’s the one I’ll choose to walk out on a pier.)
There’s the husband, bracing himself against the wind and giving me (and my phone) the evil eye.
And there’s the entrance to Jennette’s Pier, the biggest and best in Nags Head.
Gladly.
This type… and the other. It was too damn cold for either of them.
Approaching the entrance…. you don’t follow a yellow brick road.
But a line of memorial blue fish.
I love this idea!
A quick peek at the beach…
The map…
And me mumbling ‘Holy Crap it’s freezing! Can you read the pier history a little faster please?’
A quick peek at the beach on the other side.
Through the gate…
Past the turtle.
And finally, the door…
Where the husband had to hold on to his hat so it didn’t fly off.
It was that windy.
A brief warm respite inside to pay the $2 ticket price and out we went.
As piers go?
It rocked.
Even the birds agreed.
These guys were everywhere.
Fighting the wind just like us.
Hairdo?
Not so much.
So we walked….
Shivering in the arctic blast…. with the husband cursing me under his breath.
Good times.
Every now and then there would be a wind break where we’d huddle to catch our breath.
And then finally, we reached the end.
Where the husband realized we had to walk back, intothe wind…. and started cursing me under his breath all over again.
The Polar Caves in Rumney, NH was one of the few tourist destinations on my list. While we usually prefer natural wild places, I’d read good reviews on this multi generational family run spot and figured we should check it out.
Happily we showed up on the last day of the year that they’re open and didn’t have to fight the crowds.
I knew I was going to like it when we saw a large oak tree in the parking lot with this sign underneath…
You have to appreciate that kind of thoughtfulness, if not their spelling.
I had my doubts after buying tickets in the ticky tacky gift shop and walking outside to find the usual giant Adirondak chair.
And when we saw the creepy anorexic polar bears?
I figured I’d made a mistake.
But the small petting zoo charmed me…
With it’s precious European fallow deer…
That we had to feed…
And pet.
I mean really…. could you resist that face?
They make the funniest noise when they vocalize, almost a squeak.
And after having his say, this guy almost fell asleep.
Look how small they are. I told the husband I could easily fit a couple in the barn, but he wasn’t amused.
There were also some gorgeous Chinese pheasants.
Although they were hard to photograph due to the cages and a moat around the outside that keeps pesky children’s fingers away.
The Liebster Award is an award that exists only on the internet and is given to bloggers by other bloggers. The earliest case of the award goes as far back as 2011. Liebster in German means sweetest, kindest, nicest, dearest, beloved, lovely, kind, pleasant, valued, cute, endearing, and welcome.
The award is a way to be discovered but also to connect and support the blogging community. A great idea in promoting your own blog and others. Originally it was given out to blogs with less than 2000 readers but this has slowly lowed as the reward has gained popularity. It is now only 200 readers or less. It’s really an arbitrary number. If you like helping other blogs out go ahead and do it regardless of its size.
With thanks to Rebecca Wallick at wildsensibility for the nomination….. ( I’m not sure sweetest and endearing are the first words people think of when my blog comes to mind, but hey. I’ll take praise where and when I can. )
If you love dogs, natural splendor and stunning scenic photographs, check out Rebecca’s page. She’s got them all in spades.
Onward!
You know the rules… I have to answer questions. Which I shall do with the utmost amount of seriousness.
1. What typically is the closest object on your right when you’re writing (not including a computer mouse)?
You’ll probably be sorry you asked that… but it’s a poop drone.
And yes, of course it flies.
2. What one-sentence bit of advice would you give to your 13-year-old self?
At 13… I was a shy little thing. Reticent to open my mouth or make my presence known. (Hard to believe, I know) So I would probably tell her…. Dance! Jump off that pier! Sing with the band! Say yes to all the adventures life lays before you and don’t worry so much about what other people think. By the time you’re sitting here blogging about it? It will be too late.
3. Describe your ideal writing space and place (assuming money isn’t an issue).
For me… that would be a treehouse.
A glam treehouse, with a frozen margarita machine and a never ending supply of tequila and limes. Surrounded by nature and the songs of birds, that’s where I’d like to be.
4. What is your most frequent photographic subject?
That changes depending on the season.. and my moods. Lately?
It’s a woodchuck who looks like Jabba the Hut.
5. Favorite quote?
“I’d rather have a bottle in front of me than a frontal lobotomy.”
With…. “I like to have a martini, Two at the very most. After three I’m under the table, after four I’m under my host.” coming in a close second.
Ole Dorothy Parker knew her stuff.
6. What does blogging (writing, and reading) add to your life?
A sense of connection. It’s like reaching my hand out across the globe and touching people I would never have otherwise met. (And by touching, I’m speaking metaphorically. Don’t call the vice squad.)
7. If you could choose to be any animal for a 24-hour period, which would you be and why?
A wombat.
And I have no idea why.
8. Do you have other creative outlets besides writing?
I used to draw. I used to write poetry. I used to make dried flower wreaths. I used to cross stitch. I used to stamp. I used to paint. I used to dry brush ceramics. I used to do a lot of things. Now… I just take crazy pictures and blog.
And drink.
I drink very creatively.
Amen, Tyrion. Amen.
Okay, now I’m supposed to nominate blogs I think you should discover and make them answer questions as well.
Of course, if you know me… you know my questions won’t be normal. Where’s the fun in that?
1. Acknowledge the blog which nominated you.
2. Answer the questions your nominator asked.
3. Nominate two to six other bloggers who might appreciate the boost.
4. Ask them several unique questions.
5. Let them know you have nominated them.
And answer these questions –
1. You’re a pigeon newly arrived in Hollywood. Who do you poop on first?
2. Donald Trump has been impeached. Mike Pence has been trampled to death at a gay pride parade. Nancy Pelosi has resigned her position and run off to Tahiti with a member of BTS. You’ve been chosen to be the next President of the United States. What’s your first executive order?
3. The Brussels Sprout is a much maligned ( and extremely gassy ) cruciferous vegetable. You run a PR firm and have just been hired to tweak it’s image. Go!
4. Your lifelong dream of being a stripper has come true. What’s your stage name?
5. Your cruise ship is sinking and you’ve scrambled onto a life raft only to realize it’s overloaded. What… or who… do you push overboard? A case of craft beer, your significant other, the oars, a beloved pet wombat, or the ship’s navigator ?
*Note – if you say beer or wombat, you are dead to me*
Yes, those really are the questions.
If you were expecting, “Name the most influential person in your life” or “What is your favorite memory of childhood” you’re reading the wrong blog.
We do things differently here.
Yes, I realize you can’t unsee that.
But if you’re struggling for a stripper name… feel free to be inspired.
As we were pulling out of our driveway the other day I spotted something odd in front of our deer ravaged Yew bushes….
Naturally I made the husband stop while I ran back inside for my camera.
It was an odd looking bird I hadn’t seen before…
And when I looked it up online, I understood why.
It was a Chukar.
Introduced from Eurasia, the sandy-brown Chukar is a game bird that lives in high desert plains of western North America, as well as in Hawaii and New Zealand. Its namesake call echoes across dry rocky slopes. It runs and scampers up steep terrain with the agility and speed of a mountain goat, prompting hunters to nickname it the “devil bird” for the brutal chase it gives. Dark bars on the sides and a band across the head and neck adorn this red-billed game bird.
A devil bird?
Well that’s disturbing…
If you look at the map of it’s range in the U.S…..
You’ll see it’s a long way from Maine.
Which got me curious enough to do a little research.
Oh, stop being so dramatic….. you might learn something.
It’s nothing you need or want to know, but still.
Depending on where you live, you may have the fortune of encountering a medium-sized game bird called Chukar. You’ll recognize this bird from their inclusion in many North American field guides, though they are not a native species. Chukars, pronounced “chuh-kahr“, are an introduced species, originating from mountains of middle Eurasia, now common around the western United States’ Great Basin north into western Canada. With this history, and a lack of showing any establishing populations in Maine, Chukars should be treated like other escaped domestic fowl.
Of course. Happy to…
The American Birding Association put forth Criteria for Determining Establishment of Exotics which Maine’s Chukars don’t meet. These birds are raised and released by commercial hunting operations with no success establishing wild populations. Northern Bobwhites are another game species widely released in Maine. While these small quails have successfully bred in the wild multiple times, none of the populations appear to be growing or even stable enough to warrant becoming established.
So basically they’ve taken these poor birds, who have no hope of surviving here, and released them into the wild so they can hunt and kill them. Of course the ones they don’t shoot will probably die of cold or starvation.
Makes me wish I had scooped the sweet little guy up and brought him in the house as a pet.
Humans are cruel.
Where there's only one step from the sublime to the ridiculous.
River's world..... 