We spent a long weekend in and around the Shenandoah national forest.  I’d encourage you to go, but you can’t, because my dog apparently laid claim to the entire region.  He was on a serious quest.  He’s never been so dedicated to the cycle of canine hydration and evacuation is his living life.

We picked the right cabin, as evidenced by the hot-tub, the ridiculous view of the Shenandoah, displayed through the two-story windows, and the decor.  Cracked paint:

Plus bleached bones:

Plus falling leaves

Equals a happy Lanea.  The knitting fit right in.  I had to fold back a mediocre mini-quilt so the swatch could lay happily on the deteriorating wood. 

The swatch is now a hat, which I alternately love and hate.  More about that later.

We spent early Saturday morning in Luray caverns.  Neither of us had been there since we were kids, and it was too close to miss.  When you go early on a winter morning, you get the caverns to yourself.  We saw Pluto:

A.k.a God of the Underworld, as opposed to that Disney character.  The discoverers of the caverns were exploring the place with just candles and mining lanterns, and they kept seeing this formation in the distance–it seemed to be floating and following them, so they decided to name it after the God of the Underworld, who had every right to tail them.

We saw Mirror Lake

Which is a much better mirror in real life.  The surface is virtually indistinguishable from the cavern roof unless you disturb the water.  It’s amazing.  It’s spring fed to the right, and has a disappearing edge to the left, which provides just enough circulation to keep the water crystal clear.

We saw a great inspiration for a Strange Hat (for a strange head, of course)

And we saw the piece de resistance: the fried eggs. 

Which are broken stalagmites with an iron-rich core and a calciferous outer edge.  I remember them being much bigger, but they are, in fact, egg-sized.

After the caverns, we picked up Kayo and took him to survey his territory.

Skyline Drive was the best route.  Both East

and West. 

If you ever want to entertain a dog, drive along Skyline Drive and get out at every observation point so the dog can be a dog.  Kayo particularly appreciated Hawksbill Peak.  We’re hawk people, you know.

Extra points if you accidentally happen upon a grazing herd of whitetail while looking for a restroom. These are just a couple of them at Big Meadows lodge.

Kayo so wanted to fetch them.

And while you’re at it, if you ever want to entertain a Lanea, entertain her dog while allowing her to obsess over lichen, moss, stones, and dead trees, particularly after she’s been reading a lot of regional poetry and studying lichen dying.

Bonus points for traveling to an area known for cultivating lichen on trees.

This time, there were no Scarlet Tanagers, but there was enough lichen to distract me from my love/hate relationship with Skyline Drive and the systematic land-clearing required to create it.   Love the park . . . hate the property aquisition  and destruction of local mountain communities.  But love. the. park. 

And now, a little James Still for the folks who’ve made it to the bitter end. 

White Highways (1937)

I have gone out to the roads that go up and down
In smooth white lines, stoneless and hard;
I have seen distances shortened between two points,
The hills pushed back and bridges thrust across
The shallow river’s span.

To the broad highways, and back again I have come
To the creekbed roads and narrow winding trails
Worn into ruts by hoofs and steady feet;
I have come back to the long way around,
The far between, the slow arrival.
Here is my pleasure most where I have lived
And called my home.

O do not wander far
From the rooftree and the hill-gathered earth;
Go not upon these wayfares measured with a line
Drawn hard and white from birth to death.
O quiet and slow is peace, and curved with space
Brought back again to this warm homing place.

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