I almost missed this. Don't go away. I've always enjoyed your posts, here and there. What I write is not very interesting. It was always the other people who contributed that kept the threads going, and you are one of them. Merry Christmas to you.
Just stumbled upon a real estate website with an old listing of the house where I grew up in Ohio. Apparently it sold in 2016. There are lots of pictures, so I get to see what it looks like inside now without knocking on the door. Now how cool is that ! The people we sold it to kept it for the next 28 years.. It looks like someone did a "made for TV flip." The eat in kitchen was by far the nicest room in that house. It was large for that time period, and well laid out. Below is the working half of the remodeled kitchen. It now has granite countertops, stainless steel appliances and heated floor tiles. They removed a wide counter top with a drop in stove where the refrigerator is now, and squeezed in an island instead. It looks pretty, but seems cramped for space, and rather dark and dreary. There is a new addition on the back of the house with a master bedroom and a jacuzzi tub in the new bath. It had real redwood siding, but now has vinyl. Selling price was $169K with 2 acres of land. That would be a bargain around here. I don't miss the house, but would like to have the lot...here in Georgia...with the Ohio dirt.
What's left of the old part of a little town on the way to the farm. Just a 4-way stop. When I first moved to Georgia there were 2 large, badly deteriorating, southern antebellum style houses on 2 corners. On the 4th was a small 1930's era gas station. It must have been a busy place in its day, but I can find no historical pictures. Nothing special except to the folks who lived there, I guess. There must be tens of thousands of these little towns across the country. The old gas station is now a mini flea market where they sell everything at various times... velvet paintings, concrete yard gnomes, watermelons and sweet potatoes out of the back of pickup trucks, and just junk. The two old houses have been replaced with modern gas stations/convenience stores, but they kept the brick wall that surrounded the house at this one. Every year someone puts up lighted Christmas decorations in the shapes of bells, snowflakes, holly, etc, on all the electric poles, out about a half mile from the corner in all 4 directions, but you have to drive through at night to notice them.
Things have changed in the last two weeks at the 4-way stop in the previous post. The old gas station/turned flea market on the 4th corner looked like the picture below all the years I lived in Georgia. (Google Street View 2013) These were taken Saturday (12/28/19). It looks like someone might be going to put in an eating place. I'd be surprised if it makes a go of it, but the Christmas decorations look nice this year.
The trestle to nowhere... I've seen this thing above the trees many times, but didn't know the entire history until now. The Trail Creek Trestle - Athens, GA (Photo by Nikos Kavoori) The Trail Creek trestle was part of the former Georgia Railroad line that connected Athens to Augusta, GA. When construction of this line was initially completed in 1841, it terminated across the North Oconee River from Athens proper. This required passengers and goods to undertake the last leg of the trip into the city by horse or on foot. A trestle over the river was not constructed until 1883. (note covered bridge in foreground) Courtesy UGA libraries. CSX, the most recent owner of the railroad, abandoned that line and began removing tracks and the trestle. "The trestle gained significance when it was featured on the back cover of a local band R.E.M.'s album 'Murmur' in 1983. Fans have come from around the world to see what is fondly called 'The Murmur Trestle.'" Public outcry over demolition led Athens-Clarke County to buy what remained of the trestle in 2001 and stop further demolition. What remains is only about 400 feet long. Picture from the top (Please excuse. I'm on an R.E.M. roll this week. ) .
Addendum to the previous post... Athens, GA, from the Georgia Railroad Depot at Carr's Hill - painting by George Cooke, 1842 (before the trestle) LARGER IMAGE (courtesy UGA library archives) *George Esten Cooke (1793–1849) was an itinerant American painter who specialized in portrait and landscape paintings and was one of the South's best known painters of the mid nineteenth century.
Losing My Religion - R.E.M. (1991) "The phrase 'losing my religion' is an expression from the southern region of the United States that means losing one's temper or civility, or being at the end of one's rope. "Michael Stipe told The New York Times the song was about romantic expression. He said that 'Losing My Religion' is about 'someone who pines for someone else. It's unrequited love, what have you.' " The song was recorded in a minor key (A minor), as are many R.E.M. songs. The same song digitally reworked in the key of A major. Any opinions?
I have no key preference for this tune and it could even start in Am and finish in A. Also just saw the video of Rusty and I would say a Nubian/French Alpine maybe Toggenberg mix. I always felt sorry for that mix because of those airplane ears.
Ha! Ha! .. I like the original song. . One word:. Intense The A major version sounds like a theme song for a TV Sitcom ... or that he's just happy it's over. Yvonne and I had a discussion about Rusty earlier. Mama was a Nubian and Daddy was mixed breed, with large horns that spiraled out sideways, like a Spanish goat. Rusty develops that cottony undercoat every winter, so maybe a Cashmere somewhere in the mix. They also have big horns. . Btw, I noticed today Rusty needs his back hooves trimmed. He's wearing them down at the heels.. Not enough exercise lately. Still keeps the front hooves down because he's always digging in the dirt. It always took two of us to catch him, so this will be an experience. I'll be happy if I can just get a collar on him. I'll leave it on him permanently this time. If I can't do that I'll need a Plan B. "Oh, no, I've said too much!"
@Nancy Hart Before I pose the question to @Beth Gallagher I need to know ... is Rusty the real deal or a monk? Is he a Billy or a Billie? I must know this before I ask Beth if she loves Rusty year-round or just in certain seasons. When I was about 13, my dad had a fancy Alpine buck from a doe that gave 2 gallons of milk a day. I felt bad for that mama as her udder looked painful. Now her son was allowed to keep his horns because his father had horns and dogs feared him. When he became of age, he started disgusting behavior. It was my job to care for my dad's prize goats. I decided it was my duty to break this young buck of this behavior. He seemed to wait until I was feeding him to do this inappropriate act. He had an electric wire around his pasture. I would grab him by the horns and drag him to the electric fence and shock him until he repented. My dad warned me this was not a good idea. One morning he decided to charge me and lucky I was able to sidestep him and jumped on his neck and made him stumbled just as I rolled under the electric fence. I was in my school clothes and I stunk. I had to shower fast and change. I made the bus just in time. I looked a mess and felt like I stunk the entire day. Well, my dad did excuse me from taking care of his buck after that. Now @Bill Boggs Bill Bill Bill! I had no idea you were in competition to out thread Nancy. First let me say I am jealous of your diary and its title, "From a Wide Spot in the Road." That speaks to me Bill and reminds me of my life in rural America, especially time spent in the Hill Country of Texas. I apologize for not responding to it as I should and failing to give you well deserved likes. By the time I was drawn to the diary section and found common ground with all you wonderful people, you were pages into your adventures. Life is short and I wasn't sure I had time to read you or Nancy's entire threads. I was honored to become a "Bottom Feeder" and hope I clarified I am a Sturgeon and not a Catfish. I hate catfish! I was severely wounded by a Bullhead's top fin as a child. I was fishing with a long willow stick with a fixed-line when I got one hooked. I yanked it out of the water and it came flying back and embedded in my right thigh. It just occurred to me I am on Nancy's thread. I'll save more of my spellbinding stories for your thread. Please don't think I am in a conspiracy with Nancy to help her out thread you. I am Faye Fox and I report fair and balanced!
@Faye Fox, Rusty is a wether. On my bucket list is to one day smell an intact male goat in rot. Everyone keeps talking about it, but the females and wethers have no unusual odor that I can detect, except maybe when they've been out in the rain, and even then, not anything to compare with an old wet hound dog. My uncle used to keep hunting dogs. Rusty and his twin sister were the only ones we could never catch. But one time we had a vet out for a farm call to look at our largest goat (~200 lbs). Normally friendly. The goat could sense trouble when the vet arrived. I had one chance to grab him (the goat not the vet), and knew if I ever let go, he'd be off into the woods and never come back until the vet was gone. So I slipped a rope around his neck and held on while he dragged me across the barnyard. I wonder if the vet thought it always went like that. lol
What a sad bucket list! Ha ha ha! Male goats stink year around! They love peeing in their own faces and some other puke worthy behavior I cannot speak of here! Please reconsider your bucket list!