Peevish Pen

Ruminations on reading, writing, rural living, retirement, aging—and sometimes cats. And maybe a border collie or other critters.

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Location: Rural Virginia, United States

I'm an elderly retired teacher who writes. Among my books are Ferradiddledumday (Appalachian version of the Rumpelstiltskin story), Stuck (middle grade paranormal novel), Patches on the Same Quilt (novel set in Franklin County, VA), Them That Go (an Appalachian novel), and several Kindle ebooks.

Sunday, November 16, 2014

The Little Cart That Could

The road that is my life is getting a bit rougher than it was. I used to walk the woods on my farms, but increasing age and diabetic neuropathy now prevent me from doing so. If I can't walk well, though, I can at least ride—thanks to my golf cart. Last week, my husband and I took the cart to Polecat Creek Farm to see what I could see. How would the golf cart do on rougher territory than a golf course?


Actually, pretty good. It crossed the branch without hesitation, so we rode to within sight a corner to where the Smith Mountain Hounds horse trail crosses the creek. We didn't go as far as the crossing because, even in dry weather, the corner of the field is marshy.

But how would the golf cart pull a hill? Here's where the hillside trail bends into the undergrowth and goes to the old cabin site.


Partway up the hill, I looked back.


We had to stop on a steep place because some branches needed to be cleared before we could go to the top.


A few trees had bent over the trail in the recent high winds, but the little cart went under them just fine.


Again, I looked down at the field we'd left. Over a half-century ago, a farm road went through here, but now there's no trace.


And here we are higher up, but still not at the top. To the right (and out of sight in the picture below) is a large deep pit where tobacco was once cured.


The little cart is halfway to the top field—and near the old cabin site.


What's left of the porch is to the left; the fallen chimney is to the right. The chimney fell about 15 years ago. A few of its rocks are now in my flower beds.


Here there be dragons—or at least a fallen tree that looks like a dragon.


The little cart kept climbing. Soon we saw a view of the top field over the cart's windshield. 


As we approached the field, the rear view mirror reflected the trail behind us.


On the other end of the field, we crossed Bar Ridge Road to get to our corner field.


Just past the corner field, we started down the trail under the power lines. I've ridden a horse down this trail many times and the four-wheeler a few times, but this was the first time I'd ridden a golf cart down it. This trail is rocky and rutted, but the little cart made it.


Finally we reached the bottom beside Dinner Creek.


Spanning Dinner Creek is this tree with a hole in the middle.


A few hundred feet from the holey tree, a bridge spans the creek. This bridge, which cost $60,000 for  VDOT to construct, was built two years ago to replace a bridge that kept developing holes.


The little cart rested beside our picnic area . . .


. . . and then carried us up Blacksmith Road toward where we parked. The land on the left is ours.


The trees along the trails and road weren't very colorful. Most of the leaves had blown away during several days of high winds and the leaves that were left had a burnished look.

Despite the lack of fall color, it's nice to have a way to travel the trails again.
~

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1 Comments:

Blogger CountryDew said...

Your golf cart seems to do fine for getting around. We have a UTV that my husband uses on the farm. He keeps it so dirty I seldom use it.

12:55 PM  

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