Flying, Falling and Finding Myself

This painting is called "When Pigs Fly" by Michael Sowa. It's one of my favorite paintings because it reminds me of jumping off the pier in Deltaville as a kid.  There hasn't been much pier jumping in my adult years.  There's been some floating around on the creek, but adults just don't run and leap off a perfectly good dock.  

Lately, I've been doing a lot of thinking, maybe what you might call soul searching.  It might even been considered something of a mid life crisis or some kind of AARP-membership-on-the-horizon-turning-50 meltdown.  Whatever you want to label it, I've been reflecting on life, choices I've made, choices I want to make, where I want to be and most importantly who I want to be.  Because somewhere along the line I completely misplaced the person that I was and that I was on the way to becoming. 

Fast forward to this Labor Day weekend.  I arrived in Deltaville in the evening on Thursday. 

I immediately walked to the pier.  The water was high, nearly touching the boards, and in that moment I wanted to run and leap off the end like I had all those years ago as a kid. But like I said, adults just don't run and leap off a perfectly good dock.

I stood there thinking about it- my heart wanting to and my mind telling me I'm too old and that it would be ridiculous. 

But something shifted in me.  I kicked off my shoes, removed my socks, emptied my pockets of my car keys and cell phone and ran and leaped off the end.  I savored the moment that I was flying even if only for a handful of seconds before plunging into the cool slightly salty water.  Going under, touching bottom and breaking the surface again I came up laughing (It sounds more graceful than it looked I'm certain).  

I jumped 3 more times half laughing half screaming while I flew over the water for about 3 seconds before gravity pulled me in and under.  

In those brief minutes of throwing myself off of the pier, I began remembering who I was supposed to be.  It was as if the creek water did the opposite of rebirth.  I wasn't emerging as something new, but rather something I always was and forgot about along the way.

I've remembered that I'm supposed to be the girl who laughs like a loon before running and leaping off a dock into a salty creek.

 

Long Time, No Blog

Today, I found myself wandering back to this little corner of the internet—my Deltaville blog—and realized something: it’s been four years since I last posted.

A lot has happened in those four years. Life shifted, priorities changed, and consistency—especially when it came to blogging—went out the window. I'll spare you the personal details (for now at least). Basically, I wasn’t making it to Deltaville as often as I used to. I didn’t mind skipping long holiday weekends on the water. I drifted from old blog friends and the routines that once brought me joy.

Truthfully, I was just… lost.

Anyway, I found my way back over here to the blog and started reading things I wrote a long time ago and somehow, like the Grinch, my heart grew three sizes.  For the first time in a very long time, I wanted to write, I wanted to get back to photo excursions and I wanted my sanctuary back.

So, I’ve dusted off my gear—charged the camera batteries, unpacked the new tripod, and cracked open my old journals. The plan? To slowly ease back into photography and writing. Maybe I won’t say anything profound, but if I can entertain—or just feel a spark again—it’ll be worth it.

And for those of you out there feeling a little (or a lot) lost, don't lose faith.  Eventually you'll find your way back where you need to go.  

Anniversary

Hard to believe it's been nearly two years since I've written a post here.  It hasn't been from lack of Deltaville fodder, just a lack of time for sitting and writing.  But today I wanted to take a moment to celebrate an anniversary.

Ten years ago tonight, an F2 tornado touched down in Deltaville from Porpoise Cove Rd across Rt.33 down Jackson Farm Lane and across our little Jackson Acres community.  And I bet now you're questioning my choice of "celebrate".  Despite all the destruction the storm left in its path, not one person in Deltaville died. Not one person was missing. Not one person received an injury more severe than scrapes and scratches.  The same goes for pets. 

And in the days and weeks following the storm, the community came together. Those who were unaffected showed up and offered aid to those who were affected. Neighbors helped neighbors, people in nearby communities offered help to Deltaville.  

And that, Ladies and Gentlemen, is something to celebrate.

We've all had a doozy of a year.  

Between riots, injustices, politics and pandemics, it seems like people are quicker to point a finger than to offer a hand these days.  Despite that, I'm confident that when the chips are down, your neighbors (whether actual physical neighbors or not) will have your back.  

So instead of mourning the loss of property and the landscape, I'm going to choose to celebrate the miracles that happened 10 years ago.

God Bless Deltaville.

Here are the original posts about the tornado:

This is Not a Test
Miracle Monday
The Bright Side
Our House Not So Very Fine
Good Friday

Wordless on a Thursday

Projects

Now that the house has been saved, it's time for some long overdue projects.

The yard has always been a problem. 

Grass rarely grew there under the shade of all the trees.

Now that we've lost most of the trees, 

we finally have some grass growing.

However, there is a lot of erosion because of the lack of those trees.

It's just a never ending problem.

So, for our first project, my mom and I purchased some ornamental grasses 

to plant along side the relatively new steps down to the pier.

The steps help slow the flow of water,

and the grasses should help with additional erosion in the area once established. 

It wasn't all work, there was some goofing off.

Here I was channeling my inner Karate Kid.

I did this once when I was much younger on the taller pilings on the end of the pier.

I'm older and not as agile now.

I mean, even my dog Lucy was a little concerned.

The planting went a lot quicker and easier than we expected.

We got all 5 plants in the ground, put landscape fabric down, 

purchased mulch, ate lunch

and mulched in just a couple of hours.

For those interested, we have 2 different ornamental grass varieties.

One is a dwarf Maiden Grass that gets 3-4 feet tall and 3 ft wide

and the other is a dwarf Maiden Grass that is called Little Zebra and has the 

striped grass fronds. It gets 2-3 feet tall and wide. 

We were very pleased with the end result.

The grasses softened the steps,

and the mulch really polished it up.

Later we went out and purchased some solar lights to place in between the plants

and it really finished off the project perfectly.

Unfortunately, I couldn't get a decent evening shot of the light.

There are some other outdoorsy projects we need to get to.

We have a plan for fixing some eroded areas

that include grass seed and a firepit. 

The Par-Tay

It's been a little over 2 weeks since we had our big shindig in Deltaville 

to celebrate saving the house.  

It's taken me two weeks to blog about it because 

it's taken me two weeks to recover from the party things have been busy. 

As with any good party on the water,

steamed crabs and beer were the top menu items.

We had family travel from several states to be there.

Some hadn't been to the house in several years.

Some go every year 

and some live there now.

Even the dogs partied. 

The kids all jumped in the creek 

and stayed there until dark

when I warned them that sharks feed at dusk.

Our cousins who live down the road brought over their paddleboard

that the kids got to try out.

Hard to believe this kid on the paddleboard 

was terrified of the water just a couple of years ago.

And there were some boat rides for the older kids.

All in all, it was a great weekend.

There was much discussion about family history and genealogy

and about returning soon to check out some of our ancestral property. 

Looking forward to spending a lot more time in Deltaville.

Do Fireworks Go Bad?

While at the house in Deltaville cleaning up and preparing for our party, I came across some fireworks that have been around for quite some time.  These particular explosives were a birthday present to one of my kids (seriously, why didn't I ever receive explosives as a gift??).  So the question was, do bottle rockets go bad?
I looked this up on the handy dandy internet and in short, no, there is no expiration date on fireworks.  However, there is a chance the humidity could make them a tad unstable.  So, we're going to get my dad the retired firefighter to set them off and see what happens.
Can't be worse than nearly blowing up a sailboat, or having a mortar fly straight for the audience, or have a firework fall and shoot inches from the truck hood.  I'm not admitting that happened before, just that those scenarios could be worse.

Bring on the explosives!

The Return

This weekend marked the first time I've been back to Deltaville in a year.  In my last post, I explained the family drama/crisis that had been going on since October last year.  Because of it, I refused to spend time at the house on the creek for fear it was going to be taken away.  Thankfully, the crisis has been resolved in our favor, the house is safe, I've headed back and there's going to be a big ass party next weekend. It seemed fitting that this return to Deltaville was heralded with a special full moon.  August's full moon is known as the Sturgeon Moon because the sturgeon fish is more easily caught in August and early September than other months according to the Almanac.  It was especially fitting that the full Sturgeon Moon rose this Saturday night over my much loved Sturgeon Creek. I took it as an omen of good things to come.

Stay tuned for an update on the ginormous celebration this coming weekend, and for more posts about Deltaville in general.

 It's good to be back.

Blood and Water

They say blood is thicker than water. It's a simple proverb that says the loyalties and relationships within a family are stronger than anything else.

I'm here to tell you how sometimes water is thicker.

It's been a while since I've blogged here.  September 28, 2017 is in fact my last post where I said I was going to get back into regular blogging about Deltaville.  Shortly after, the unthinkable happened.

Many know the deep seated love I have for our small piece of property in Middlesex County, VA.  If you've been a regular follower of this blog, you may have heard mention of family history stories that go back to the time of the Civil War- or the War of Northern Aggression as my late great-great-grandmother Sissy used to say.  The truth is that the property has been in the family since 1650.  That's 368 years.  368 years of family history on one piece of land.  In the course of those 368 years, the property was passed down and divided up and passed down generation after generation until it became the parcels that it is today.  And one of those small slices of the original property belonged to my grandparents and upon their death went to my father and his 2 sisters.

All my life I have been going to Deltaville.  With the exception of a few trips to Disney World, some camping trips and my honeymoon, all of my vacations have been to Deltaville.  Nearly every Memorial Day weekend, 4th of July, Labor Day weekend, week long vacations and regular weekend getaways were made to the small house on Sturgeon Creek. Growing up, my cousin and I would spend weeks at a time there together.  And with our great-Uncle next door, more cousins usually showed up during the course of our visit.  We played epic games of capture the flag, helped haul fishing nets and crab pots, went on secret midnight prank adventures and spent time boating and swimming.  It was and idyllic place and a perfect childhood of camaraderie and adventure.

And there was Pepop.  (you can read a post about him here).

Really no words can come close to explaining how much Deltaville means to me.  It holds some of my happiest memories as a child, as a parent and as a grandparent.  I have always felt a contentment here that I have not felt anywhere else.  Even in those times where life was rough or uncertain or just plain ugly and vicious, Deltaville was always there to soothe.  Like the sacred Ganges River of India, the waters of the Rappahannock River and Sturgeon Creek healed.

There was an understanding from a young age that Deltaville would always be a part of our family.  I can remember my grandmother explaining that as each person passed away, the house would be inherited by the children so that it would never leave the family. It's easy to think that's how things will go.

You trust your family to keep something so important, so ancient, so sacred- protected.

So not long after my last post at the end of September last year, the unthinkable happened.  One of my father's sisters passed away unexpectedly.  In the aftermath, my father said something I thought I would never hear, "Deltaville might have to be sold."

I can say that in that moment one of my worst fears was realized, and I went tail spinning into a depression unlike any other I have experienced.  Still, there was hope that it wasn't a possibility.  After all, my grandmother always said it was to be passed to each generation never to be sold.  I held onto that belief.

The 1/3 share that was owned by my father's late sister was inherited by her husband and daughter equally.  And to make a long and upsetting story shorter- they wanted a buy out.  That seems simple enough.  The house gets appraised and you offer the person an exact third of the appraisal and everyone is happy.  Except people are greedy and vengeful, and they hold something you love hostage while they extort money from you.  Because that's what family did here.  That's what blood did.  The blood that is supposed to value the family relationship above all else.  Threats were made to petition the court to have the property sold at auction.  It seemed bleak. I refused to go down there. We all just held our breath and waited.

Death is an awful thing for the living.  It seems to bring out the worst in some.  It feeds the darkest parts of a person, creating a monster that can do nothing but bring about pain and anguish to the already grieving.  I'm certain there's a special place in hell for that sort of monster- a spot that lets them fester and rot alone.

On the opposite side of that coin, in situations like this you learn who really is blood.  Sometimes it's actual family and sometimes it's just friends you've made there over the years.  People who do what they can to help and offer assistance.  This town has some really damn good people.

It's with a massive amount of relief and happiness that I can report as of this past Friday,

the house is safe.  

Because when there's 368 years of history and untold happy memories, you do what you must to protect it.

As for blood being thicker than water,

 the waters of the Rappahannock River and Sturgeon Creek proved to be far thicker than blood. 

Give this a listen.  I particularly relate to the line: 

"I've been searching for something, taken out of my soul, something I'd never lose, something somebody stole" 

Thank God they didn't get away with it.

Return

It's been a long time since I've posted on this particular blog.

These photos are from our return trip home.

Big E and I opted to go through the less congested areas

when we headed home after the 4th of July weekend.

We enjoy checking out state parks and looking for new places to camp.

This stop was at Westmoreland State Park on the Potomac.

We've stopped here before.

The dogs enjoyed the short hike,

though it was pretty hot out.

Bailey (on the right) is definitely trying to figure out

how she can get down the steep ravine and get to the water.

I'm hoping this is the start of more regular blogging here.

Life gets busy sometimes,

and we develop other interests.

I've been backpacking and blogging about that here

as well as working on a historical home and blogging about that here.

Stay tuned!

Sad News

It's been a while since I posted on this blog (nearly a year), 

and, unfortunately, my return brings some sad news.  

There was a little theater in Mathews County called Donk's.

It was built in the 40's and operated as a movie theater.  

After closing it's doors, it sat vacant until it was reopened in 1975 as a country music venue.  

People like Mickey Gilley, Ernest Tubb and Dolly Parton 

played at the theater that became known as Virginia's own Lil Ole Opry.

Sadly, Friday night, January 22, the roof to the auditorium collapsed

under the weight of snow and ice.

The lucky part was that no one was inside at the time,

and the iconic marquee sign was undamaged.

The building will need to be demolished, 

but the property owners will save the marquee.

I haven't heard yet if the building will be rebuilt,

but I'm hoping it will.

The area won't be the same at all without Donk's.

*Photos courtesy of Kelly Fike*

Winter Wednesday

 

My dad took this photo a week or so ago after one of the first snowfalls down in Deltaville

and right before the second large snowfall.

Currently, they've had a bit more snow than we have here up in northern Maryland/southern Pennsylvania.

Unfortunately, that's about to change tonight into tomorrow.

When is Spring??

Ship Quits Seas After 69 Years

That's the headline from a 1958 edition of the Tonawanda News that I came across while researching information about the ship Eva S. Cullison.  The Eva S. Cullison was a schooner owned by my great great grandfather John Aaron Jackson.  He used her to harvest oysters from the Chesapeake Bay.

 The article I found reads:

Rockland, ME, The two masted schooner Eva S. Cullison has been dry docked after 69 years of sailing along the East Coast.  The all white craft recently was towed into Lermond's Cove here where she will be used a a training ship for the local unit of the U.S. Coast Guard Reserve.  The vessel was built in Baltimore in 1888 and formerly plied the Bahama fruit trade.  Since 1951,  Capt. Frank Swift of Camden, ME had operated the Eva S. Cullison as one of his summer windjammer cruise ships.  She has been called the last of the Baltimore-built Chesapeake Bay coastal schooners.

My great great grandfather owned the Eva S. Cullison after she was used in the Bahama fruit trade and before she was sold  to be used in Capt. Swift's windjammer fleet.

Deltaville According to the Brat Child

So, I was having a brain fart about what I should blog about, so I did what every smart person would do-

 I asked the 8 year old. 

What should I write about Deltaville tonight?

His response:

Well, there used to be pirates around Deltaville.

There used to be a lot of beaches and islands.  

This one island went under water and never came back up.  

 It has couple of bridges too. 

You can ride boats there

and you can buy a lot of oysters and crabs 

but there aren't a lot of McDonald's.  

There really isn't.  

I think that's kinda weird.

So there you have it. 

Stingray Point

I'm not a fan of change,

and change in Deltaville is worse than change anywhere else.

I'd really prefer it still be the way it was back in the 80's

when the Stop N Shop was still there

and The Little Sue was still The Little Sue

and there wasn't any traffic.

But most of all, 

I'd still like to be able to swim here 

at Stingray Point.

I wish I could build giant sand sculptures of sharks and crabs 

with my son the way I used to build them when I was his age.

Or try to catch minnows in buckets,

float around on a raft

or dig in the sand looking for Captain Smith's body

(he didn't die there but as a kid I thought he had and thought he was buried on the beach).

Yeah,

change sucks.

Horne's

One of the most iconic places along the road to Deltaville
is Horne's Restaurant.
You can see its bright yellow roof
snugged between routes 301 and 17 in Port Rotal, VA.
It was our bathroom stop.
Back in the day,
it was one of the only places to stop between Waldorf, MD and Tappahannock, VA.

Horne's was the brain child of a candy salesman named Mr. Horne.

He modeled his store after Stucky's stores.

After the building of I95,

old roads heading North and South weren't as well traveled 

and many of the Horne's stores closed.

The location in VA is one of only a few Horne's left

operated by independent owners.

They have food and ice cream,

gas, souvenirs

and bathrooms.

And they're open 24 hours a day, 7 days a week including holidays

Stop at Horne's

and make your bladder happy!

Doing Things Differently

Normally this is the time of year that I make an exhaustive list of resolutions 

of things I want to completely change about myself.  

And then, 

around December 30th or so, 

I get all depressed when I review the list and realize 

I never managed to complete any of them. 

So this year, I don't have resolutions.  

This year, I have just one goal: 

Hike the Maryland section of the Appalachian Trail. 

By preparing to complete this goal,

I need to be healthier and get into backpacking shape,

 something that's typically on my resolution list. 

 But now they aren't the main goal, just part of the process. 

 The goal is a fun adventure that I'm really excited to do and I think 

that's the key.

So, now that the new year is here, I've begun seriously planning.  

I went on a small hike on January 1st 

(the very day after puking my guts out from a stomach virus- what can I say, I'm dedicated). 

 There are many other hikes planned and the whole family is involved.

This is going to be MY year

Frantic Life

So, I failed my photo challenge. 

 Miserably.  

There was just no way I could keep up with the frantic rush of the Christmas season, 

the multiple illnesses the Brat Child had, 

my own health issues, 

the dog's ongoing mystery illness, 

the cat's UTI, 

normal life and all its demands,

 taking specific photos 

and blogging. 

So, here are the photos I did take:

 Ok, so I didn't take this, my sister did 

(that's her front and center with me to the left, 

my mom to the right and my daughter in the back), 

and it was taken on Thanksgiving, 

 but it was going to be my photo for "Family".

 This is Bailey getting one of her regular baths with medicated shampoo.

Since August, Bailey has had a mysterious skin issue where she looses her hair

and scratches until she has open sores which then develop into skin infections.

We are on possible diagnosis #3: food allergy. 

I now get her meds at the Pharmacy-

the name reads "Bailey J. dog of Jamie"

 This is Gibbs the cat.

Here he is shown playing dead 

waiting for an unsuspecting Vet Tech to enter the room

so he can attack them.

Seriously.

He went from love bug to rabid jaguar in 6 seconds.

After attacking the tech and me, 

he prowled the room continuously

hissing and growling and swiping at whatever got in his way.

He had a UTI, easy enough to fix with pills.

Ever try to give a rabid jaguar pills?

 This is Gibbs hiding from getting his pills.

He learned to keep the pills in the side of his mouth

so I thought they had been swallowed,

then he's spit them out in the hallway.

Now I crush them up and mix them with canned food.

So far he doesn't suspect.

 A photo from Valley View Farms in Baltimore.

It has every ornament imaginable

even some you can't imagine.

 Christmas Day and the Brat Child with one of his favorite gifts.

 A shot of one of my favorite gifts- the game Quelf.

If you want a night full of hysterical laughing,

play this game.

So those are the photos I managed to snap this month.

Will I manage to do the January Challenge?

Who knows.

I'll make an effort, but I'm not going to make it seem like a chore

or worry about getting it done.