After 11 hours of driving, my dear friend and travel-mentor Rhonda and I pulled into the driveway of her friend's farm in rural Virginia. I must admit: I was already impressed with the never-ending panorama of beauty served up by the state of Virginia since we wheeled into her boundary. And this farm was just over-the-top.
Rhonda (Diane Ryan) is the author of High Kill, a suspense/mystery novel currently climbing its way up the literary charts. She was giving me the "High Kill Tour" of Virginia on this, the first day of Our Big Adventure. We started in Tazewell County (Randall County in the book) and ended the day in a little red caboose somewhere within marching distance of Monticello.
The cover picture is my first view of this lovely farm that her character Mary Beth Donovan and her husband John call home. The place is dripping in history and beauty. A big part of that loveliness is the plants they chose to surround their home. Mary Beth's husband's green thumb just loves bonsai; part of their Zen garden is devoted to that passion. The picture shows just one part of his little-tree nursery. You can see various species at different phases of their arbor-life:
After our arrival at sundown, we made a beeline to check out our digs: a reclaimed/recycled/re-purposed caboose. The Donovans had salvaged it from the Chesapeake Railroad for the unbelievable price of $500! They kept most of the original fittings: the cupola, the bunk beds, the original bathroom, the stoops at the front and rear--and refurbished the rest. But they chose to paint the caboose in traditional red rather than restore the original Federal Yellow the C and O Railroad painted their cabooses in during the height of their glory.
In case anyone is curious, this is the color I'm referring to:
Here is the view as you enter the caboose:
And here is what the center of the caboose looks like. When it was in operation, this is where the crew would sleep. In the ceiling is a latch which gave them access to the roof, should they ever need to walk on top of the train. I don't know that railroad workers ever did this while the train was in motion----but boy, the outlaws robbing the train in classic Westerns sure did! It made for some pretty suspenseful moments of cinema. The kind of moments when you stop eating popcorn because you're afraid you might choke!
And in the rear of the caboose was my quarters. So very charming! Mary Beth had created a book that documented the story of the caboose, from its purchase to its purpose achieved. I wish now I had at least snapped a picture of its cover...
While we were lugging luggage and draining dogs, our hostess was busy in the main house whipping up an absolutely delish Italian-style supper. We watched her finish preparing our meal in this lovely room:
...and then we enjoyed our supper on the side porch. Even though it was too dark to see the backyard, the ambiance of the candles and wind chimes---to say nothing of the gentle evening breeze which brought welcome coolness--provided the perfect foil for the excellent meal Mary Beth had prepared for us.
There were dinner guests who joined us: another (famous) author, Terry Anderson. You might remember him as the AP journalist who was one of the hostages Iran kept for YEARS during the 1980s. He was accompanied by his equally interesting sister. The conversation was spirited (in more ways than one!) and fascinating. I thoroughly enjoyed the evening and hated to see it end, but we had traveled over 11 hours that day and we were bushed. So my first real look at their farm had to wait.
The next morning, there was little time for anything but coffee, but we had it on that same side porch--accompanied by the fury and the flurry of hummingbird wings. Did you know these delightful-looking little birds are actually rather snippy to each other? They are! I watched in amused amaze as they dive-bombed each other and literally pushed rival hummers away from the feeders!
After what seemed like an instant, it was time for Rhonda and me to load up the two dogs we had left (we had to leave the third one with Mary Beth for safe-keeping for a few weeks--and he was not happy about it AT ALL!), and move on toward our next destination; we were gonna take a bite out of the Big Apple, baby! This is the view from the side of the house, looking toward the Zen Garden from the opposite direction that I first saw it the night before:
The last thing I took note of at Mary Beth's was this old bonsai. I wished I had asked John to tell me its story. But here is my takeaway, in my best Zen-spirational prose:
You're never too old or too small to be a thing of beauty.