rural life – Page 14 – Roadkill Crossing

To the Clouds

Please click on the photo to enlarge it.

The windrows of the fresh-cut alfalfa and the dark green rows of cornstalks seem to reach to the sky, thanks to the rolling field’s topography. In actuality, the fluffy cumulous clouds rolled over the Blue Ridge Mountains 40 miles east of Harrisonburg, Virginia.

Those are the raw details. The scene’s stark beauty speaks for itself.

Expect the Unexpected

A male Indigo Bunting preening along the Appalachian Trail.

Whenever I go exploring, I can always expect the unexpected. It’s what drives me to get out of doors.

I headed to Shenandoah National Park to mainly photograph butterflies. I had seen photos from the park with Turks Cap Lilies blooming. Those lovely flowers are magnets for butterflies.

I knew a place in the park where I had previously seen butterflies flock to the beautiful lilies. It happened to be where the Appalachian Trail crosses Skyline Drive. The location also had a parking lot designed primarily for day hikers.

I pulled in and was immediately disappointed. No Turks Cap Lilies were to be found. Across the road, other wildflowers were blooming, so I started heading there.

When I go to the park, it should be no surprise that I multitask. My camera is strapped across my left shoulder for easy access, and my binoculars dangle around my neck for wildlife spotting, especially birds.

Just as I reached the crosswalk, a bird flushed out of the undergrowth to a dead tree limb at the forest’s edge. It was a male Indigo Bunting, always a beautiful bird to see.

I stopped, swung my camera around, aimed, focused, and clicked away. As I did so, this beautiful bird began to preen in the morning sunshine. The lighting was perfect, and the bird entertained me for several minutes before a passing car caused it to dive for cover.

Butterflies were few and far between as I checked in at different locations in the park. Nevertheless, watching this enchanting bird for those precious minutes made the trip worthwhile.

A 360-degree Sunset

The zoomed view west. Photo by Bruce Stambaugh.

Since our home faces north, I always have to keep a sharp lookout for a lovely sunset. When I noticed the southern sky turned golden last evening, I grabbed my cameras and headed to a nearby farm pasture to get a good view to the west.

I couldn’t believe my eyes when I exited my car. The sky lit up in every direction with varying and rapidly changing intensities. I did my best to capture the unfolding beauty surrounding me.

The glow to the west was filled with a variety of warm colors. A large cloud curved and swirled overhead, reflecting the setting sun in many hues north and east. To the south, the sky was more pink than orange. Added altogether, I felt privileged to inhale the enveloping wonder.

The slideshow provides views from every direction.

The full view to the west.
The view to the south.
The view to the north.
The view to the east.

July’s Exit

On the last day of July, puffy white clouds floated lazily over Silver Lake in the tiny town of Dayton, Virginia. It was a fitting end to a crazy hot month with little rainfall here in Virginia’s Shenandoah Valley.

A gentle breeze ruffled the placid, shallow lake enough to seemingly digitalize the sky’s reflection. Its effect highlighted the heavenly scene above the old barn and farmhouse.

Today begins the dog days of August. It was pleasing to experience July’s cool exit, knowing the eighth month can often bring brutal temperatures and little precipitation in North America.

After the Storm

Soon after a severe thunderstorm blew through last evening, I noticed some pinkish clouds in the east. That usually is a sign of a beautiful sunset. I hustled out to the street and was treated to this beautiful scene.

Crepuscular rays radiated through the clouds as the sun sank behind the Allegheny Mountains to our west. I knew I wouldn’t have time to drive to higher ground, so I settled for this image from our front yard.

How Hot Is It?

How hot is it in Virginia’s Shenandoah Valley? It’s so hot even the rabbits seek some relief in any shade they can find.

I hope you can stay cool wherever you are.

Communing in Nature

A Day in Shenandoah National Park.

Viewing the Shenandoah Valley from an overlook in Shenandoah National Park.

Several recent studies have proved the obvious. Regularly spending time in and with nature dramatically enhances people’s mental health and appreciation for life.

That wasn’t news to me. Fortunately, I grew up in a family that spent time hunting, fishing, and vacationing in the great outdoors. I continued that pattern with my own family, minus the hunting. I prefer to shoot animals and everything else with cameras. It saves on taxidermy costs.

We moved to Virginia’s lovely Shenandoah Valley six years ago to be close to our grandchildren. Besides spoiling them, I also make regular trips to the nearby mountains. I multitask. On my hikes, I bird and photograph what I encounter.

Every outing, I discover new birds, wildflowers, and paths to explore. I often go alone, but I also enjoy sharing the fun with others. A group trip into the wild affords opportunities to explore nature together.

A recent outing to Shenandoah National Park with another senior friend and our teenage mentees from church allowed us to reengage with all the benefits of nature. I don’t know why the boys picked us, but we immediately hit it off. We all enjoy hiking and exploring, so the park was a natural destination for a day trip.

Once in the park, we veered off the famous Skyline Drive to Lewis Mountain Campground. I wanted to show the boys the only location in the park where Blacks were permitted during segregation. Even then, a few Whites complained that they should have access to the entire park.

At Big Meadows, we toured the exhibit of the park’s contentious founding at the Byrd Visitors Center. Not surprisingly, the youngsters showed more interest in the gift shop.

Then we got serious. We walked the southern parameter of the meadow. Its variety of habitats piqued their interest, from stands of trees to prairie grasses to artistic cairns. On the southernmost trail, the view of the Shenandoah Valley was spectacular.

As we walked the cowpath-like trails, we encountered several bird species by sight and song and saw several butterflies that visited the wildflowers growing everywhere. Bright red wild columbines, vibrant woodland sunflowers, and common milkweed showed their colors and aired their fragrances.

Where the meadow met the forest, we spooked twin fawns. They only ran a short distance since they were foraging on shrub leaves. They seemed as intrigued with us as we were with them.

After a picnic lunch, we chose a short but magnificent trail. The Shenandoah Valley glimmered in the afternoon sunshine as we reached the summit and a massive rock outcropping. We basked in the comfortable, crisp 73 degrees of the Blue Ridge Mountains while the valley baked in the humid 80s.

It was good to commune with nature again, especially while sharing it with friends across generations. We breathed in cool, fresh air, were lulled by birdsong, enchanted by colorful flora and fauna, humbled by history, and energized by the needed exercise.

I was also glad we could personally verify the legitimacy of those extensive studies.

A memorial to those displaced when Shenandoah National Park was formed.

The Gifts of Sunsets

Summer days are full of light. From the early hours of predawn until the last glimmer of sunset, the warm days of summer brighten our world. That’s true even when thunderstorms darken the sky. They seldom last long and often offer a rainbow as they pass. Gray cloudy skies that bring all-day rains are few and far between here in Virginia’s Shenandoah Valley.

I enjoy the morning birdsong wake-up calls and their evening serenades. But it’s the glorious sunrises and sunsets that spellbind me. Their ever-changing color scheme spawns a breath prayer of gratitude.

As the lower dark clouds sailed north, the evening’s mist began to rise out of the valley at the foot of Shenandoah Mountain. Each curl of cornstalk captured a glint of the day’s last light. I was filled with wonder, awe, joy, and peace. Those are the everlasting gifts of sunsets.

The Dry River Wasn’t Dry

The Dry River spills over Slab Road, Dayton, Virginia.

I appreciate the simplistically specific way of naming roads in Rockingham County, Virginia. The roadways are numbered, of course, but the colloquial names are what people know. Slab Road is a prime example.

Hardly a half mile long, Slab Road connects two main county roads. Between the two is the Dry River, often devoid of water. A solid cement slab serves as the roadbed that crosses the riverbed from bank to bank. Thus, the unusual but appropriate name for a public road.

After some recent rains, the river flowed steadily over the slab, forming a mini-waterfall. I wanted to gather some rocks for a water feature I was assembling for our backyard birds. The high water limited my search to the south side of the slab. While collecting a few stones, I couldn’t help but notice the beauty of the evening sun filtering through the trees and reflecting off the smooth surface of the now not-so-dry river.

The need for a few flat rocks drew me to this inspiring scene that warmed my soul during this day’s golden hour.

Quietly Celebrating Another Anniversary

Daffodils at the arboretum. Photo by Bruce Stambaugh.

My wife and I recently celebrated our 52nd anniversary. We did so quietly.

Initially, we considered driving to Washington, D.C., to view the cherry blossoms at their peak. We had never done that, and living only two hours away, we could easily view the iconic flowers and be home before dark. We weighed our options and decided instead to stay close to home, which was my wife’s preference.

That decision paid dividends we didn’t expect. First, we slept in, which is not our routine. We usually awaken at first light. It felt good to start our big day well-rested.

After a quiet, light breakfast, we continued with a habit we started during the pandemic. We played cards and drank our morning decaf coffee. With the temperature hovering slightly above freezing, we were in no hurry to head outside for a few local adventures.

Traffic was light for the 10-minute drive downtown for an early lunch at a favorite restaurant. Since it was a Monday and not yet noon, there was no wait. We enjoyed our meals and the quiet atmosphere. They even had gluten-free bread for my brisket sandwich. It was nice to sit in the serenity of the ordinarily bustling restaurant. Our waitress even took her time bringing the check.

After lunch, we drove to a local arboretum and strolled around the artificial pond. Both buttery yellow and white daffodils colored the forested hillside surrounding the murky pond. Some flowers were already fading, while others were beginning to bud.

The aptly named star magnolias were also losing their luster. We admired some snappy-looking white and orange daffodils and various wildflowers beginning to grace the forest floor.

A young man approached us as we sniffed the blooms. He was the new marketing person for the arboretum, and we enjoyed an extended conversation with him about photography. My constant snapping of the shutter gave me away.

By then, the sun had taken the chill out of the air. That meant one thing: ice cream. We drove to a local ice cream parlor in a neighboring town. A kid’s cup is suitable for us now. My wife was more adventurous and ordered a caramel salted chocolate chunk while I stuck with my tried and true chocolate. We chose a table outside where my wife sat in the shade while I preferred the sun on my back.

On the way home, we stopped at another smaller arboretum at the north end of the small town. The place is more park than a botanical garden. A small, tree-lined stream called Cooks Creek winds lazily through a green space. Cooks Creek Arboretum is sandwiched between a hillside condo complex and a farmer’s still-fallow field stretching up to a big red barn.

Once the flock of pesky common grackles flew off, we heard a barred owl calling softly from inside an owl box fastened to a giant sycamore on the creek’s bank. The harmony of the owl’s twittering and the silvery gurgling of the stream brought a smile to both of us.

Please click on the photos to enlarge them.

With the return of the noisy grackles, we detoured to Silver Lake to check for migrating waterfowl. A quartet of ring-necked ducks floated and dived, floated and dived on the shallow lake’s surface. The lake’s Civil War-era mill attracts people far and wide.

Shortly after we arrived back home, the doorbell rang. A young woman handed my wife a bouquet from her sister and her husband, who live in Ohio. We appreciated their kind and loving gesture.

We snacked for supper, and after sunset, I drove to a high point in the countryside to take photos of three planets. Venus shown bright in the night sky, but I couldn’t find the conjunction of Saturn and Mars near the horizon. An invisible haze hung over the Allegheny Mountains, obscuring any starry beauty.

When I returned home, another kind of darkness fell. We learned of the horrific mass shooting at the Covenant School in Nashville. The sad news snapped us out of our anniversary bliss into the reality of today’s life in the United States. Our peaceful, quiet, and enjoyable anniversary day with my loving wife ended with a tearful thud.