Little Worlds

                                                                                

Our neighbor and fellow longtime 'new person' has a new book out--the third in a trilogy about Madison County. Rob is known and celebrated as a photographer, but in this ambitious work, photography intertwines with fiction and memoir. 

Like many of us newcomers, Rob's attachment to the land is deep--and sometimes complicated. His photographs show his fascination with the residents, old and new. The excerpts from his journal detail his coming to terms with his place in this rural county. The fictional section of this trifecta is the imagined story of what comes next.

This story of an imagined future is one in which his descendants return to the long-abandoned farm, in search of safety in a world grown increasingly lawless. The refugees slowly find others like them and begin to learn how to survive in the mountains, and to build community (much as we 'new people' did back in the Seventies and Eighties.)

The future story is interlarded with photographs and excerpts from the journal that suggest similarities between the two times. And there is a generous section of Rob's award-winning photographs to close out the book

It was a fascinating and nostalgic read for me. While we certainly weren't hardcore survivalists, part of our rationale for moving here was to provide a safe haven for family should things get bad. Rob's story imagines just such a future.

You can learn more about Rob and his other books on his website.

His new book is available at Penland's in Marshall, Malaprop's in Asheville, and at the Asheville Art Museum

On Riddle Farm Road

Colonel Laurence Allen's House - repost

January, 1863.

Fifty armed and desperate men from the community of Shelton Laurel enter the town of Marshall in search of the essential salt which they, as suspected Unionists, had not been allowed to buy. They ransack stores and plunder homes -- even pounding up the stairs of Col. Allen's house to rip blankets from the beds of his sick children.

Retaliation is swift; a few days later a troop of Confederate soldiers makes its way to Shelton Laurel in search of the raiders. The result is the Shelton Laurel Massacre, in which 13 men and boys (some as young as 13 and 14; most, if not all, non-participants in the raid) are rounded up and executed. Women, some elderly, are tied to trees and whipped when they will not say where their men are; an infant is laid in the snow in an attempt to force the wretched mother to name the raiders and their hiding places.

Civil war -- brother against brother, neighbor against neighbor. The families of the victims of the massacre knew the killers. And for years, bitter resentment simmered, breaking out now and then in private vengeance. Over a hundred years after the Civil War and the Shelton Laurel Massacre, our county still was known to many as "Bloody Madison."

Do the old feuds and hatreds remain? Probably not -- though I wouldn't presume to say for sure. But the old house endures, new furbished and landscaped, a private home adorning our little town and inflaming the imagination of at least one novelist.

Out and About

 Tuesday was gray and drizzly but I took my camera along on my trip to town.  I'm happy to report that the white goose down by the river still has lots of Canada geese to keep him company.

Just across the bridge is the annual Christmas display arranged by a fellow who lives nearby. It's a little different every year and it always makes me smile.

I thought of Merisi  and her lovely shots of Vienna as I took this last picture. The Madison County Courthouse dome lacks the elegance of Viennese architecture -- it also lacks its statue of Lady Justice -- removed (indefinitely) for repairs. Still, there is an angel to bless the scene.

it 

Little Joys

Living in a county where this is a headline in our weekly paper . . .

Living on a road where I can stop the car slap in the middle to take a picture . . .

Meeting a stray vole on the pathway to our porch . . .

and seeing the flames of volunteer Burning Bushes springing up in unexpected places . . .

Threshing

What a great way to spend a Saturday morning . . . at a threshing demonstration!

It'a probably been a good half century since folks here grew wheat  for home use but a few dedicated souls like to keep the tradition alive -- and the old machines in working order.

It was a wonderful glimpse at the past-- and a nice way to meet more of the county.

Here's a slide show with captions that will explain what's going on . . . click on picture to biggify.


 And here's a brief video . . .