Liza Martz (lizamartz) wrote,
Liza Martz

A Pictorial Tour of Somewhere

Getting lost by one's self sucks. Getting lost with a friend is an adventure. That's what my friend Ann and I decided when we took a wrong turn today and ended up who-knows-where. So we decided to keep going.

We stopped to admire this pretty barn and listen to the leaves rattle in the warm breeze.

A peaceful spot except for the crows bickering up in those trees.   

Those little white boxes under the bushes are beehives. Shhh, listen, what's that buzzing?

And so it went. It seemed we had found a perfect place to spend an autumn day. The road curved and dipped then plunged us into a shadowy hollow.  Bright, cheery farms gave way to dark Kudzu covered hovels. The feeling of "ain't we lucky" was quickly replaced with unease.  We slowed down to gawk at a decrepit log cabin. Rusty cars, a dead tractor, and piles of trash decorated the yard and surrounding grounds. A tall, skinny man with a long black beard and a face caved in around a toothless mouth, stepped into the road waving a large stick.  Ann hit the gas and swung around him.  I dropped my camera.

Can you hear the banjoes dueling?

The time had come to find our way out of there. As we sped past ratty trailers and dilapidated shacks plastered with "No Trespassing" signs, we left off exclaiming over the day and took verbal inventory of the weapons we had on hand. If the need arose we wanted to be certain we could defend ourselves from the denizens of the back hills. (It turned out we were quite well armed. But still...)

As quickly as we had entered the scary hollow we left it behind. We rounded a corner and dead ended at this lovely stand of trees.

We backed into a driveway to turn around. When I leaned out of the car to take a picture, a voice that sounded like Johnny Cash imitating a woman with bronchitis shouted, "Waddaya think yer doin'?" Three people stepped off the shadowed porch of a double-wide trailer and hurried toward the car. Uh-oh. We were so outta there!

These cows ignored us. Did you hear my sigh of relief?

Around the bend I pointed my camera and gushed, "What a darling donkey!" 
 " What an ass," he muttered under his breath.

A  moment later we drove up a hill then down again and we were back in town.  And that, my friend,  is it. 

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