Tag: #strangers

Saruman’s Orcs and the Woods Next Door

Saruman’s Orcs and the Woods Next Door

It would appear Saruman’s Orcs have moved into the woods across the street from us. The only apparent difference is they are using chainsaws and bulldozers to take down trees, instead of the axes the Orcs used in the book and movie “The Lord of the Rings”.*

Cath and I have lived on our small farm in rural Fauquier County for the past 22 years. While only 20 acres, it’s our slice of heaven. Around us, most homes sit on 5-50 acre lots. It’s been that way for the entire time we’ve lived here. Across the street from our driveway, there’s a piece of land that is somewhere between 100-150 acres. It’s virtually all woods. It’s used by hunters in the fall and early winter. The rest of the time, it just sits there looking pretty.

When we first moved in, Cathy predicted we would have 20 years before development affected us. We are lucky we live in Fauquier County where the zoning laws are quite strict. Several decades ago, the decision was made to preserve Fauquier as a rural county, rather than going the way of development seen in Prince William, or eastern Loudoun County. Real “development” can only come near one of the existing towns and can’t just spring up in the woods. All of the rest of the property in the county has already been zoned for how many houses it can have on it, and so, as an example, we are not able to subdivide our 20 acre property. One of our friends has 50 acres, but can’t subdivide. Many properties, even as large as 100 acres, are only allowed to build two additional homes on the property (these “cut outs” were put in place decades ago, so the owner could have a couple of places his kids could build on).

The woods across the street from us were owned by a couple who lived about 20 miles away in Upperville. When the husband died, the wife still kept the property. A few years ago, she too passed away. There was a for sale sign on the property for a year or so, and we thought perhaps someone would buy the place to create an “estate”, or if lucky, maybe they would leave it as it was. The sign eventually disappeared.

Now we know. The property was originally zoned to allow ten houses and the folks who bought the property are building those ten houses. A few on 2 acres, a few on 5-10 acres, and a couple on 20+ acre lots. The foundation is laid for the first of those houses, on one of the smaller lots.

The First of Ten New Homes Coming to the Woods

It looks like they aren’t clear cutting the woods, which is something we were afraid would happen. Still, they are chopping down the trees to build the houses and to put in a couple of roads. You can hear the saws and bulldozers all day long. They are busy little orcs. At least they are leaving a screen of trees along our road to mask the eventual houses.

Here’s a Road and Potential House Site. At Least no Clear Cutting is Taking Place.

Based on what is happening in other parts of the county, the assumption is many of the families moving in will be “City People”. They are in for a few surprises. Internet service is not great out here, and no where near what most people expect in towns and cities. Fiber optic cabling doesn’t exist in rural areas. Winters are … interesting. Will the newbies come with four wheel drive vehicles, or will it take them a year or two to learn that lesson? The property itself is hilly, and they may have trouble getting out of their little subdivision on a snowy day, not to mention traversing local roads to town before the plow comes through (and sometimes, even after the plow has gone through).

With the power outages we sometimes experience due to winter storms or high winds, I wonder how long it will take them to consider installing a generator. Since we are in the country and on a well, no power means no water.

Hopefully, they quickly learn composting isn’t a particularly good idea. Our local bear population loves nothing better than feasting on partially composted food, in between tearing down bird feeders. Also, there are the occasional guns going off from hunters, or neighbors just trying to squeeze in a bit of target practice.

They are destined to freak out when carpenter bees start munching on their houses or snakes appear, or the lady bugs invade their homes. And of course, they are in for the treat of stink bugs. They are everywhere and crawl in between the lining of curtains and anywhere else they can find to hide in and stay warm in the winter. When spring arrives, they are quite active in looking for ways to leave the house. If you step on them, or in any way disturb them, they emit the most horrible smell.

Cathy and I have never been NIMBY people (Not in my back yard), and knew this day was inevitable. Still, it’s a bit sad to watch it happen. I’m sure when all is said and done, we will welcome the new folk to the neighborhood. Secretly, we may chuckle a bit and can’t wait for them to experience the entirety of country living. Let’s hope they figure out how to exist in the country, respect this beautiful place, and not try and change everything to some version of city living.

We expect after they move in, the new folk will visit one of our local nurseries to buy some Mountain Laurel, Holly, Dogwoods or Redbuds to plant and beautify their new properties. It will be nice. They will replace the Mountain Laurel, Holly, Dogwoods and Redbuds recently cut down by the Orcs.

Addendum:

* If by chance you are not familiar with “The Lord of the Rings”, Orcs are evil creatures. In the second book of the trilogy, “The Two Towers”, we learn that at the behest of the wizard Saruman, Orcs are chopping down trees in an old forest to feed the fires of a furnace.

– Thanks to my wife Cathy for her help on this blog, particularly on the back half.

A Neighbor not being Neighborly

A Neighbor not being Neighborly

Is it no longer possible for neighbors of different political persuasions to get along? Our friend Sam* recently relayed an exchange with her neighbor that isn’t just unneighborly, it’s downright scary. Is this what we have come to?

Sam lives several miles away from us, but still here in Fauquier County. She has about 1 1/2 acres and has lived in her home for 23 years. Her neighbor, John*, has lived next to her for about 15 years.

While they were never best friends, they got along. Every neighborhood seems to have a “strange guy” and John fit the bill. Having said that, other than the occasional conspiracy theory, strange complaints about other neighbors, and complaints about people lying about him, they more or less got along. And they never talked about politics. It just didn’t come up.

In the last three or four years, John seemed to get worse. There were more and growing conspiracy theories. He had a restraining order put in place against him. He was arrested for violating the restraining order, and was later arrested for brandishing a firearm. He also told a “whopping lie” about Sam to another neighbor (Sam’s words).

Last fall, Sam put a Biden sign in her yard, near their shared driveway. John moved the sign away from the drive and further into Sam’s yard. There were still no political conversations.

A few years ago, John started raising chickens (and a few roosters). Initially, there was no problem and the chickens happily clucked around his yard. Things changed this year. He wanted “free range chickens” and didn’t confine them. Of course chickens don’t recognize property lines and in the spring, more and more of them came to Sam’s yard to eat and dig up her plants and garden. Many of these plants were perennials, some of which she planted over a decade ago. As the new growth came up, the chickens ate or scratched the plants (Hostas were a favorite) into oblivion.

Initially, Sam tried to be a good neighbor and just shoo the chickens away. The chickens evidently liked the plants and kept returning. On one occasion, she chased the chickens away six times in just a few hours.

In March, Sam finally complained to John about the chickens. It did no good. In April she did the same, and this time John replied “Please Don’t tell me how to manage my chickens, or suggest I “enclose” them, when I already do. They are free range Earthlings and have their own rights to travel. They don’t believe in fences or politics, they don’t yell at and berate their neighbors, or treat them like second class citizens…”

The Bird Might be Innocent, but Neighbor John? Not So Much…

Sam eventually called Animal Control. Before she even mentioned his name, the officer said “Trust me, I’ve had my handcuffs on him before.“

John’s response this time? “Calling the cops on those evil chickens and that evil white Republican man next door for trespassing… seems like such a great plan. They can Shoot all neighboring creatures great and small, and with implied immunity. Let them be your heel and heavy gun to do the dirty work, let them threaten to extinguish life over a nibbled plant…”

John offered that Sam could trap, kill and eat a chicken if she wanted. Sam, understandably, doesn’t care about trapping, killing and eating one of his chickens. She just wants her garden left alone.

And so it continued. Sam has put countless hours and dollars into her garden. The chickens continued to eat and destroy plants. She complained to John again in June. This time? You can see his reply in this photo:

Not Your Ordinary Exchange Between Neighbors…

That “You pandered uncountable votes for Creepy Corn Pop the blundering commie, and the irony of a liberal democrat or Marxist calling someone out over “property rights”, rather, the concept of “no regard for other people’s property”… is priceless…” is the most rational statement in the entire text says something about his state of mind.

If you were Sam, what would you do? Animal Control says they can do no more than fine him (and have already done so), but he just doesn’t pay the fines. She has discussed John with the sheriff’s office, but hasn’t yet involved them in resolving the issue. She has grown tired of engaging him in conversations and texts, which do no good, and in fact seem to exacerbate the situation.

I realize not all Trump supporters are as extreme as John has become, but I can’t help but believe our former president’s actions and comments have encouraged John’s behavior. His text from June shows just how irate and irrational he has become …BlowbamaJiden … beeLM … children being trafficked and regendered by perverts … human debt enslavement … plandemics … genocidal geoengineering … an orangemanbadassed styled eco-friendly border wall …

Sam has spent 23 years in her house. Her bit of paradise is now closer to a living hell. This is evidently what we have come to – forget being friendly or neighborly, you can’t even engage in conversation to resolve issues. I realize in the big scheme of things, Sam’s problem is rather small. Having said that, it also seems to tie to our national problems and issues. For many of us, comity no longer appears to be an American quality.

If you were Sam, what would you do?

….. Feel free to share this blog …..

Addendum:

• *Sam is not our friend’s real name. For privacy and security reasons, I’m using a pseudonym. The same is true for her neighbor’s name.

The Friendliest Strangers

The Friendliest Strangers

The friendliest strangers Cathy and I ever met were at a pub in the town of Blarney. It was during a long night on a short trip to Ireland in January of 1981. We had spent the day driving around County Cork, finishing up in Blarney, where we dutifully toured the castle and kissed the Blarney Stone.

Cathy kissing the Blarney Stone. Yes, that’s how you do it. Upside down, and backwards.

Afterwards, we found a B&B to stay in and then adjourned to a local pub for a drink or two before dinner. It was probably about 4PM when we entered and we were the only ones there. We sat at a small table and I went to the bar to order myself a Murphy’s Stout and Cathy an Irish coffee. It was a raw day, and after the chill of the castle, it was good to be inside and warming up.

Often times, I think the nondescript pubs and bars are the best ones.

A bit of time passed and as we were finishing up our drinks, a man came in, nodded in our direction and went to the bar where he ordered a stout. As he was sipping his pint, he turned towards us and said,

“Would you be American?”

I answered “yes”.

“Ah then, could I buy you a drink?”

Not wanting to turn down his hospitality we said yes, and joined him at the bar where he introduced himself as Conor. When Cathy ordered an Irish Coffee, he informed her he’d buy her a real drink, but not a made up one. We all laughed and she ordered a pint as well. We toasted and then talked about this and that.

A bit later, another man came in and joined us at the bar. Cath and I introduced ourselves to him. He then said,“Would you be American? Could I buy you a drink?” Of course we accepted. A bit later, a couple more guys came in, joined our group and the same thing happened. Our money was literally no good. As we drank another round, the pub started filling up.

By now it was about 7:30 at night and we still hadn’t eaten. We asked the bartender about dinner, but it turned out they didn’t serve food. At that point Conor recommended the pub across the street for dinner. We thanked him and told the group we’d be back in a bit. They laughed, said it was good to meet us, and it was plain they thought we probably wouldn’t return.

We crossed the street and entered the other pub. There was a wedding reception going on in the main room, so we slipped into the smaller adjacent bar and sat at a table. The bartender took our order for food and we both ordered some water. As we were waiting, an older man came in from the main room to talk with the bartender and then saw us and came over to say hello. We started talking and it turned out he was the father of the bride. He suddenly said “Ahhh, you’d be American. Would you like to join us at the reception? There’ll be dancing later”. We thanked him, and although he was insistent, we declined several times and said we needed to rejoin our friends back at the other bar. He bought a round of drinks for the three of us, and we proceeded to toast the bride and groom. As our food arrived, he said goodbye, and went back to the reception.

After finishing dinner, we paid and said good night to the bartender. Now, the smart thing to do at this point, would have been to return to our B&B, maybe have a whiskey with our hosts, and turn in. Instead, we proceeded back across the street, for just “one final beer” with our new old friends.

It had grown crowded in our absence. As we looked around, Conor called out and waved to us. We worked our way through the crowd and rejoined “our group” on the far side of the bar. Someone we hadn’t met before immediately bought us another beer. And so it continued for a couple more hours … “Ahhh, you’d be American. Can I buy you a drink?” Finally, around 10PM, I bought a round for about half the pub I think. There were cheers all around. I looked at the clock a bit later and it was 10:40. I thought to myself “OK, just make it to 11PM. The pub will close, and we can make our way home to the B&B.” (at the time, pubs closed at 11PM in Ireland. Nowadays, it’s 1130PM on weekdays, although Covid has currently shortened the hours.)

11PM came… and … they closed the shutters on the windows, locked the door… and … everyone kept on partying! Oh lord …

A little after midnight, the pub started emptying and we knew it was time to go. We said goodbye to Conor and our other new friends, with many handshakes, backslaps and hugs all around. Finally, we departed and made our way to the B&B.

At the B&B, we found the owner had put two rubber hot water bottles under our blankets at the foot of the bed. It was a toasty night’s sleep in more ways than one.

The next day, I felt way better than I had a right to. I suppose the hearty Irish breakfast helped. As we ate breakfast and drank our coffee, Cathy and I talked and laughed about the night before and what a great time we had. It’s amazing how quickly you can sometimes make friends when traveling. You start the night as strangers, and by the end, you are friends of sorts. Not life long buddies, but friends nonetheless. Over time, it’s certainly happened for us in other locales, and with other people, but that night in Blarney? I dunno. Maybe we gained the gift of gab from kissing the Stone, and maybe not. I do know it’s a night I’ve never forgotten.

Addendum:

That 1981 vacation was about ten days long. We spent the first five or six days in England, including New Year’s Eve at Trafalgar Square (London’s equivalent of Time Square for NY Eve at the time). We then spent five days in Ireland, including Dublin, and driving along the south coast past Waterford, eventually arriving in County Cork. Here’s a picture of Cathy along the Coast – I’m not sure why, but I really like this candid photo of her. She was 25 years old at the time.

⁃ In researching a couple of items for this blog, I found out pub lock-ins evidently happen more than you might think. Here’s an article about them: https://www.afar.com/magazine/the-late-night-secret-irelands-pubs-dont-want-you-to-know-about

– Happy Saint Paddy’s Day next week. Everyone is Irish on the 17th…