Archive for December, 2016


Finding Friends


Another tale from the trip to West Virginia.

G_____, West Virginia is a small town, pretty much like the nearest  ‘town’ to my Missouri home.  It boasts a school, Post Office and there is a little store.

We had been warned that GPS would not get us to our destination, and told to call our hostess. We arrived in town pretty early in the morning, stopping at the store for an early dose of coffee, and I asked the clerk for directions.

“Oh. I’m not sure where she lives, but she goes to church with my friend. I think she lives on Mill Road. You go down and turn just before the Post Office and head up that hill, but I don’t know how far exactly.”

Now, as country folk, ourselves, we had an idea, and that meant stopping at the local Post Office, where we were informed that the name of the road had changed, but if we followed it up the hill about 2 miles, it became the right road and we needed to watch for a ‘cluster of mailboxes’.

We did not go quite far enough, but when I got phone signal, I called my friend and in minutes we were at our destination, being served a wonderful breakfast of bacon, sausage, gravy, biscuits, fried apples and fish. Not to mention, a wonderful day with my friend from W. VA, her family and another from Australia.

Country folk seem to be the same in small towns, willing to help and friendly. At least those we met on our trip were.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


Many years ago, Hubby, two daughters and I lived on Tom’s Creek Road, in rural Reynolds County Missouri.

The road wound and twisted through a small valley, passing a few homes and small farms. Tom’s Creek itself, roamed across fields, along the roadside, looping and singing as it wended along.

Driving the road at night, one would often find a deer or several grazing along the roadside edge or a passing fox or coyote racing across the open space.

The year we lived there, the kids often played in the 6 – 8 inches of water that slipped over rocks near our house. Once or twice rainstorms raised the flow to the top of the 2 foot bank separating our little cabin from the then rushing flow.

Winter brought a couple of ice storms that made leaving impossible without 4 wheel drive; there was no other way to get over the hills at either end of the road.

Fast forward now, Forty-five years or so…

This past weekend, I traveled another Tom’s Creek Road. This one in West Virginia and due to a malfunction with GPS.

In the dark hours of early morning, the unit directed a left turn onto Tom’s Creek Road. Grandson, Randy, my driver and I mentioned how odd/funny/interesting that was. You know, ‘here we drive 800 miles only to find ourselves right back home.’

This one came off a small mountain, filled with several sharp curves and many many deer congregated quite often in the middle of those curves. I did not actually see the creek in the darkness, assuming it was somewhere below the steep edge of the road hugging the mountain side.

There is another local road that fits the West Virginia Tom’s Creek Road, more than its namesake here.

Finally we reached the bottom and a small town near our destination. When we left, we went out the same way, finding that during daylight it was not quite so exciting, merely very picturesque and pleasant.

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