McDonald's Mill is located on VA State Route 785 about 10 miles from Blacksburg towards Catawba.
The current McDonald's Mill was built in 1861 and was featured in a Roanoke Times article about land trust. It pleases me that the current owners, Ned and Janet Yost, want to preserve the mill and the land around it so that others can get a glimpse of life on the North Fork of the Roanoke River as it was when the region was first occupied by immigrants from the British Isles. The origin of the creek that eventually becomes the Roanoke River is just a mile or two from Dad's home place. The fledgling stream gathered water quickly from springs and hollows and in a short distance, was big enough to make a mill pond inside the current Montgomery County line. The stream was dammed and a race was constructed of lumber sawed for nearby forest to carry the water to the top of the mill wheel several hundred yards downstream. According to Yost, the mill was established in the 1790s and was operated by five generations of McDonalds. Two buildings preceeded the current structure that Yost purchased in 1952.
An idle grinding wheel serves as a reminder of the past and a durable picnic table near the meandering stream.
Dad has vivid memories of the mill and its importance to the neighborhood that took on its name. He had worked with his dad, brothers, and neighbors to wrestle out a living on the steep hills and narrow bottoms of the upper North Fork. While still a boy, he remembers playing in the mill. He remembers when the wooden races became so broken that a steam engine was brought in to replace the water power. But in the beginning, the creek was the reason the mill was where it was and the mill was the reason that a community grew up around it.
The unharnessed North Fork of the
Roanoke River now by-passes the
Historic Mill.
This is all about interesting places in and around Blacksburg. I'll add stories of unique activities and people I know or have known from living there the first 23 years of my life. On frequent visits home I am discovering and rediscovering so much about the area. Many know of Blacksburg from being a student at VA Tech or returning for sporting events. But there is so much in the area to make it a "destination vacation" place.
Monday, April 26, 2010
Monday, April 19, 2010
A Visit to the Bug Shop
A newcomer to Blacksburg or a visitor with car trouble may not think about driving two miles out of Blacksburg on Harding Road to get help. But local folks have been making the trip for years to The Bug Shop or Wright's Garage as it was originally known. While the new name indicates a speciality it implies a narrow customer base which is inaccurate. Jewel Albert and his knowledgeable mechanics work on cars and trucks of all makes.
One of my fondest memories of my boyhood neighbors was Arthur Wright, the original proprietor of Wright's Garage. Mr. Wright had been badly disfigured by a fire when he was a small child to the point that you couldn't see his smile. But only a short conversation would reveal to you a happy man with a smile in his heart. He and his boys provided reliable service at a reasonable price. You generally got more than a repair when you visited the shop. There always seemed to be lots of laughter and in-fun-picking that didn't necessarily stay in the family. The Wrights would greet you with a smile and try to let you leave with a grin or a laugh.
Jewel and his crew seem to carry on the tradition of the building in which they work. They know about customer service and practice it with a smile.
My parents live about 1/2 mile up the road from the Bug Shop. Several years back, Dad fell in the garden and couldn't get up by himself. Mother couldn't help him so what did she do? She called the Bug Shop! They didn't need a wrecker but Jeff was there in a flash to get Dad up and running ( walking) again. Everybody needs that kind of neighbors.
One of my fondest memories of my boyhood neighbors was Arthur Wright, the original proprietor of Wright's Garage. Mr. Wright had been badly disfigured by a fire when he was a small child to the point that you couldn't see his smile. But only a short conversation would reveal to you a happy man with a smile in his heart. He and his boys provided reliable service at a reasonable price. You generally got more than a repair when you visited the shop. There always seemed to be lots of laughter and in-fun-picking that didn't necessarily stay in the family. The Wrights would greet you with a smile and try to let you leave with a grin or a laugh.
Jewel and his crew seem to carry on the tradition of the building in which they work. They know about customer service and practice it with a smile.
My parents live about 1/2 mile up the road from the Bug Shop. Several years back, Dad fell in the garden and couldn't get up by himself. Mother couldn't help him so what did she do? She called the Bug Shop! They didn't need a wrecker but Jeff was there in a flash to get Dad up and running ( walking) again. Everybody needs that kind of neighbors.
Monday, April 12, 2010
Va Tech remembers
April 16 Memorial Bench dedication scheduled for April 15
BLACKSBURG, Va., April 12, 2010 -- Virginia Tech will honor the community of survivors of April 16, 2007.
A ceremony will be held April 15, 2010, at 4 p.m. dedicating two sitting benches — one located on each side of the April 16 Memorial in front of Burruss Hall. Charles W. Steger, president of Virginia Tech; Mark McNamee, senior vice president and provost; and representatives of the community of survivors will offer remarks and officially dedicate the benches.
The ceremony is open to the public and will be immediately followed by a reception on the Drillfield with musical selections played by the University Student Brass Quartet.
The benches, which will serve as a location for personal reflection and remembrance, honor the survivors of April 16, 2007, and the resilience of the Virginia Tech community.
In the event of inclement weather, the dedication will take place in the Commonwealth Ballroom, Squires Student Center.
About the memorial benches
The bench seats are 52 inches wide, 18 inches tall, and 8 inches thick. They are made out of a special concrete mixture that simulates Virginia Tech's native limestone, Hokie Stone, and each bench weighs approximately 900 lbs. The benches are inscribed, "In Honor of the Survivors – April 16, 2007."
Due to planned events and a large number of anticipated attendees, on-campus traffic and parking will be affected beginning April 14. Details about traffic, parking, and transit information can be found online or by calling (540) 231-3200.
Contact Meghan Williams at iwill07@vt.edu or (540) 231-4754.
Saturday, March 27, 2010
Welcome
Welcome to Harding Place Cozy Cottage
Learn more by checking out http://www.craigslist.com, Virginia, New River Valley, Vacation Rentals or http://www.cozycottagevirginia.weebly.com
The Cozy Cottage is located just 1/4 mile from the city limits of Blacksburg, Virginia, the home of Virginia Tech.
The Cottage is a renovated farm house planned to provide a comfortable environment for family, friends, and guests. The Cozy Cottage is available for vacation rental with variable rates depending on the season or activities of the dates.
Winter rates are set to make it attractive for parents to visit their VT student, or for Blacksburg natives to come home for a visit. The West Virginia Winterplace ski resort is about a 1-1/2 hour drive which is almost to Tamarack, W. VA.'s marketplace of premier crafts.
There is also a lot to do in the Summer around Blacksburg:mountain photography, hiking mountain trails, visiting museums, eating at one-of-a-kind restaurants, or rocking and reading on the front porch of the Cozy Cottage. Deer can be seen about every morning and the mountain climate make Blacksburg mornings invigorating.
Peak-season weekends are VT graduation and Hokie home football. While rates are higher at these peak times, staying at the Harding Place Cottage is comparatively affordable, and the proximity to Blacksburg and VA Tech is a real bonus.
Learn more by checking out http://www.craigslist.com, Virginia, New River Valley, Vacation Rentals or http://www.cozycottagevirginia.weebly.com
Sunday, March 21, 2010
Coming Home
Coming Home
Reminiscing September 15, 2006
Today, I drove Dad’s 1979 GMC truck to the refuse dump/recycling center. I drove down Ryan’s curve, up through Happy Hollow, out Mt. Tabor road, down Bishop Lane, up Hwy 460 and then into Coal Bank Hollow. The trip was about 3 miles long, and because I didn’t want to distribute my trash over the scenic countryside I never got in high gear. The return trip was even more interesting because I turned wrongly on Bishop road going the other way from where I had traveled it before. I give you these travel details to illustrate that you don’t go straight to anywhere in Montgomery County, Virginia. In my short trip I could see sets of mountain ranges in every direction with a different view at each turn. This is the heart of the Appalachian Mountain Range. Just a few miles from Coal Bank Hollow, one can get on the famous Appalachian Trail that meanders along ridge tops of these Eastern Mountains from Maine to Georgia.
I was taken with the beauty of this pre-fall. Technically it is summer but in the Virginia Highlands there needs to be more seasons to describe the climate adequately. It was sweltering hot just a week or so ago and it will probably be that way again before serious leaf fall. But for now it we have the green of spring, the yellow (Golden Rod) of late summer and the coolness of fall, not cold but the kind of cool that makes you enjoy physical activity outside. I had the windows down and at my slow pace the breeze was refreshing. It almost made the trip to the dump something to write home about.
I turned 66 last month. I left Blacksburg when I was 23. Why? I had graduated from Virginia Tech, for one thing and I wanted to further my education at a Western university. But still I ask, why? I thought, “I’ll bet Daniel Boone had some of the same interest that I experienced when I was younger.” “What’s beyond that mountain? What adventures lie ahead? If I leave can I find my way back? Those were real questions for me and I have a career full of stories. But more importantly, I have a large family that still recognizes that they have roots in these Virginia Mountains.
What is it like to return to the mountains? It is not a complete return but the times at home have been more frequent and of a longer duration than in previous years. I still see the beauty of God’s creation, but the journey has given me new eyes. What were mono colored green mountains now look like waves of the ocean with differing hues of blue, green and gray. The clouds can change from soft and fluffy to dark and bold in what seems to be a flash.
Since I’ve been away barren and back woods places have become prime building sites. Properties that once had rows of peach and apple trees now have columns of houses. The mottled pink and white colors of the springs-past have given way to the symmetry of rooftops. And I wonder if the people that have swarmed to the mountains appreciate the place that now holds them. I hope they respect and work to achieve a balance between use and preservation of this colorful region.
My journey has also given me new insight to the people of the region, my kin and my neighbors as well as the “foreigners “ that have moved in. Foreigners don’t necessarily mean from another country. It’s just that they are “from off,” i. e. “not from around here.”
Some of what I saw as normal black/white/gray has taken on soft shades like the mountains. Most folks with whom I grew up were from Scotch-Irish decent. But they had been away from the motherland so long that they were no longer Catholic, in fact they were almost anti-Catholic. As I grew up I probably had little thought about diversity (probably had never heard the word) . But if I did it would have meant something like people from Floyd or Carroll counties that moved in or real foreigners that had relocated from another state. The English of natives often shocked foreigners who failed to recognize the Celtic terms and phrases ( although somewhat modified) that have stayed with mountain people. And around here folks communicate as Jesus communicated. They tell stories, some are true, some mystify, some make a point, others just stimulate a laugh or another story. The best stories understate the main point and some do only what a native story teller can do; cause one to laugh at the antics of the teller or people of the region. If outsiders told the same stories they would be “making fun.”
Coming home as a stranger to strangers is an interesting journey. May I have eyes to see and ears to hear and appreciate the new colors that blended traditions and modern advances produce.
Today, I drove Dad’s 1979 GMC truck to the refuse dump/recycling center. I drove down Ryan’s curve, up through Happy Hollow, out Mt. Tabor road, down Bishop Lane, up Hwy 460 and then into Coal Bank Hollow. The trip was about 3 miles long, and because I didn’t want to distribute my trash over the scenic countryside I never got in high gear. The return trip was even more interesting because I turned wrongly on Bishop road going the other way from where I had traveled it before. I give you these travel details to illustrate that you don’t go straight to anywhere in Montgomery County, Virginia. In my short trip I could see sets of mountain ranges in every direction with a different view at each turn. This is the heart of the Appalachian Mountain Range. Just a few miles from Coal Bank Hollow, one can get on the famous Appalachian Trail that meanders along ridge tops of these Eastern Mountains from Maine to Georgia.
I was taken with the beauty of this pre-fall. Technically it is summer but in the Virginia Highlands there needs to be more seasons to describe the climate adequately. It was sweltering hot just a week or so ago and it will probably be that way again before serious leaf fall. But for now it we have the green of spring, the yellow (Golden Rod) of late summer and the coolness of fall, not cold but the kind of cool that makes you enjoy physical activity outside. I had the windows down and at my slow pace the breeze was refreshing. It almost made the trip to the dump something to write home about.
I turned 66 last month. I left Blacksburg when I was 23. Why? I had graduated from Virginia Tech, for one thing and I wanted to further my education at a Western university. But still I ask, why? I thought, “I’ll bet Daniel Boone had some of the same interest that I experienced when I was younger.” “What’s beyond that mountain? What adventures lie ahead? If I leave can I find my way back? Those were real questions for me and I have a career full of stories. But more importantly, I have a large family that still recognizes that they have roots in these Virginia Mountains.
What is it like to return to the mountains? It is not a complete return but the times at home have been more frequent and of a longer duration than in previous years. I still see the beauty of God’s creation, but the journey has given me new eyes. What were mono colored green mountains now look like waves of the ocean with differing hues of blue, green and gray. The clouds can change from soft and fluffy to dark and bold in what seems to be a flash.
Since I’ve been away barren and back woods places have become prime building sites. Properties that once had rows of peach and apple trees now have columns of houses. The mottled pink and white colors of the springs-past have given way to the symmetry of rooftops. And I wonder if the people that have swarmed to the mountains appreciate the place that now holds them. I hope they respect and work to achieve a balance between use and preservation of this colorful region.
My journey has also given me new insight to the people of the region, my kin and my neighbors as well as the “foreigners “ that have moved in. Foreigners don’t necessarily mean from another country. It’s just that they are “from off,” i. e. “not from around here.”
Some of what I saw as normal black/white/gray has taken on soft shades like the mountains. Most folks with whom I grew up were from Scotch-Irish decent. But they had been away from the motherland so long that they were no longer Catholic, in fact they were almost anti-Catholic. As I grew up I probably had little thought about diversity (probably had never heard the word) . But if I did it would have meant something like people from Floyd or Carroll counties that moved in or real foreigners that had relocated from another state. The English of natives often shocked foreigners who failed to recognize the Celtic terms and phrases ( although somewhat modified) that have stayed with mountain people. And around here folks communicate as Jesus communicated. They tell stories, some are true, some mystify, some make a point, others just stimulate a laugh or another story. The best stories understate the main point and some do only what a native story teller can do; cause one to laugh at the antics of the teller or people of the region. If outsiders told the same stories they would be “making fun.”
Coming home as a stranger to strangers is an interesting journey. May I have eyes to see and ears to hear and appreciate the new colors that blended traditions and modern advances produce.
Friday, March 12, 2010
The red eye of rhubarb
I walked by my rhubarb patch and it looked like aliens were peeping through the ground. They were either watching me or checking the weather to see if it was safe to come out for St Patrick's Day. Rhubarb is one of my favorite fruits and its emergence in Virginia in March is a sure sign of spring. (Is rhubarb a fruit or a vegetable? It looks a lot like celery or Swiss chard. But you don't eat it like either, the leaves look like greens but are poisonous and the stems need to be cooked with a lot of sugar to be palatable.)
Whatever rhubarb is it makes good fruit desserts. I like it as a sauce, prepared like apple sauce. But my favorite is rhubarb pie. I've tried it with blue berries and strawberries and the pies were good- but for my taste it is hard to improve upon straight rhubarb.
Spring is almost here!
Whatever rhubarb is it makes good fruit desserts. I like it as a sauce, prepared like apple sauce. But my favorite is rhubarb pie. I've tried it with blue berries and strawberries and the pies were good- but for my taste it is hard to improve upon straight rhubarb.
Spring is almost here!
Tuesday, March 9, 2010
Winter Sketches
It is only the second week of March, less than 2 weeks until the day the calendar says is the first day of spring. But winter is slow to put off her mantle, especially in West Virginia. We drove through the Mountain State on our way to Blacksburg. It almost appeared the amount of snow was a state option: West Virginia still looked like a winter wonderland with the slopes at Winter Place brilliant white ribbons. From our interstate vantage we could see some of the roads less traveled with white surfaces.
The brilliant sun which had been on vacation most of the winter warmed most of our trip with temperatures in the 50's except when we crossed the more than 3000 feet summit of Flat Top Mountain. Even with the warm temperatures it did not appear to make thaw flow excessive. The last of the winter snows had preceded our trip by several weeks but the thick white blanket gave a wonderful contrast to the brown and gray trees that protrude from the slopes. The snow seemed to melt first around the tree trunks giving each tree a clerical collar. The trip presented many pen and ink drawings with features of the landscape revealed that are obscure in other seasons. As we crossed into Virginia it appeared the Old Dominion had opted for less snow than had fallen on WVA. On the North side of US 460 the brown and gray hues of bare fields and woodlands welcomed us while patchy snowscapes could be seen on the North facing slopes and higher elevations. The power line right-of ways still looked like the ski slopes we had passed earlier.
The sparkling New River looked playful. The lively waters rested in calm pools before taking an exhilarating slide over the banks of rocks. Soon the trees will begin to take on a slight blush before leaping into spring. The trip will soon offer a new set of technicolor paintings.
The brilliant sun which had been on vacation most of the winter warmed most of our trip with temperatures in the 50's except when we crossed the more than 3000 feet summit of Flat Top Mountain. Even with the warm temperatures it did not appear to make thaw flow excessive. The last of the winter snows had preceded our trip by several weeks but the thick white blanket gave a wonderful contrast to the brown and gray trees that protrude from the slopes. The snow seemed to melt first around the tree trunks giving each tree a clerical collar. The trip presented many pen and ink drawings with features of the landscape revealed that are obscure in other seasons. As we crossed into Virginia it appeared the Old Dominion had opted for less snow than had fallen on WVA. On the North side of US 460 the brown and gray hues of bare fields and woodlands welcomed us while patchy snowscapes could be seen on the North facing slopes and higher elevations. The power line right-of ways still looked like the ski slopes we had passed earlier.
The sparkling New River looked playful. The lively waters rested in calm pools before taking an exhilarating slide over the banks of rocks. Soon the trees will begin to take on a slight blush before leaping into spring. The trip will soon offer a new set of technicolor paintings.
Friday, March 5, 2010
History of Blacksburg
Blacksburg was a significant regrouping place as the early settlers moved west. http://www.blacksburg.va.us/ has an interesting history lesson.
Friday, February 26, 2010
Blacksburg, Winter of "09-'10
Monday, February 22, 2010
Saturday, February 20, 2010
Meandering Near Blacksburg
Meandering :September 17, 2006
Yesterday we may have gone places that National Geographic doesn’t know about. But Virginia Department of Highways knows about them because be drove on smooth ribbons of asphalt along the borders of Montgomery and Floyd Counties, Virginia.
While Christianburg, the county seat of Montgomery County, has sprawled to include multiple shopping centers and tangled thoroughfares, the County Seat of Floyd County, the town of Floyd, has resisted commercialization. Instead of the golden arches there is the Blue Ridge CafĂ©, one of a kind, just a cross the square from the historic courthouse. A “real” hardware is on the opposite corner, one where you can still buy pitchforks and barbed wire as well as little red wagons. The “tourist attractions” of town include the Floyd Country Store and the Schoolhouse Fabric Store. This three-story pile of fabric and sewing notions draws alumni of the school and other seamstresses to get items they can’t find in crowed malls. And on Friday nights you can go up the street to the Country Store and hear homegrown bluegrass music.
While county seats towns are on most maps, it takes a detailed one to pickup Pilot and Riner even though they both have U. S. Post Offices. Probably only State Maps would have Auburn and Rogers and you may have to get a county map to find Huffviille and Basham.
Picturesque churches salt the countryside. More bland are the closed country stores that one can recognize occasionally. But the striking beauty of the drive was the well-kept farms. They aren’t the extravently adorned like Central Bluegrass horse farms but they are more rolling and bordered with well-maintained fences (mostly wire) and framed with distant mountains. Every turn of the road provides another subject for an artist’s brush by the Artist of the Universe. Nearby commercialization appears to benefit this pastoral area as indicated by new houses, fixed up old houses, and new houses fixed up to look old.
The journey was colored by intersecting gravel roads, many with the name of creeks that dissect the countryside and others that have taken on the name of the predominate family name that live off the main road. Adding color to the area is the memory of stories about moonshiners who populated the region in days gone by. Rocks and trees didn’t provide a viable income for many so they turned to the fermented products. Many of these maverick entrepreneurs also supported the community churches. This apparent contrast can partially be explained by the anthropology of the earlier settlers of the region. Way back in time, their ancestors had left Europe looking for religious and economic freedom. Many had a strong mistrust of man-made institutions. While some were God-fearing men they felt their first call was to take care of their own. Others fell captive to the products they produced and led troubled lives. This was a great area for illegal activity. A native could easily hide in the complicated countryside from those that had not grown up hunting and fishing those woods and streams.
A sport of national popularity had its birth in these hills, NASCAR racing. The moonshiners had to deliver their products. To evade the law the drivers needed powerful cars and superior driving skills to navigate these winding gravel roads. ‘40 Ford coupes were the vehicles of choice. Many had better engines than they had brakes leading to disastrous consequences. A movie, THUNDER ROAD, amplified this lifestyle to the nation.
Blending visual images with stories is an exciting activity. The apparent serenity of the countryside of today masks times past. But the journey gave life to stories I had heard all my life. I guess that is why people make pilgrimages to the Holy Land.
Yesterday we may have gone places that National Geographic doesn’t know about. But Virginia Department of Highways knows about them because be drove on smooth ribbons of asphalt along the borders of Montgomery and Floyd Counties, Virginia.
While Christianburg, the county seat of Montgomery County, has sprawled to include multiple shopping centers and tangled thoroughfares, the County Seat of Floyd County, the town of Floyd, has resisted commercialization. Instead of the golden arches there is the Blue Ridge CafĂ©, one of a kind, just a cross the square from the historic courthouse. A “real” hardware is on the opposite corner, one where you can still buy pitchforks and barbed wire as well as little red wagons. The “tourist attractions” of town include the Floyd Country Store and the Schoolhouse Fabric Store. This three-story pile of fabric and sewing notions draws alumni of the school and other seamstresses to get items they can’t find in crowed malls. And on Friday nights you can go up the street to the Country Store and hear homegrown bluegrass music.
While county seats towns are on most maps, it takes a detailed one to pickup Pilot and Riner even though they both have U. S. Post Offices. Probably only State Maps would have Auburn and Rogers and you may have to get a county map to find Huffviille and Basham.
Picturesque churches salt the countryside. More bland are the closed country stores that one can recognize occasionally. But the striking beauty of the drive was the well-kept farms. They aren’t the extravently adorned like Central Bluegrass horse farms but they are more rolling and bordered with well-maintained fences (mostly wire) and framed with distant mountains. Every turn of the road provides another subject for an artist’s brush by the Artist of the Universe. Nearby commercialization appears to benefit this pastoral area as indicated by new houses, fixed up old houses, and new houses fixed up to look old.
The journey was colored by intersecting gravel roads, many with the name of creeks that dissect the countryside and others that have taken on the name of the predominate family name that live off the main road. Adding color to the area is the memory of stories about moonshiners who populated the region in days gone by. Rocks and trees didn’t provide a viable income for many so they turned to the fermented products. Many of these maverick entrepreneurs also supported the community churches. This apparent contrast can partially be explained by the anthropology of the earlier settlers of the region. Way back in time, their ancestors had left Europe looking for religious and economic freedom. Many had a strong mistrust of man-made institutions. While some were God-fearing men they felt their first call was to take care of their own. Others fell captive to the products they produced and led troubled lives. This was a great area for illegal activity. A native could easily hide in the complicated countryside from those that had not grown up hunting and fishing those woods and streams.
A sport of national popularity had its birth in these hills, NASCAR racing. The moonshiners had to deliver their products. To evade the law the drivers needed powerful cars and superior driving skills to navigate these winding gravel roads. ‘40 Ford coupes were the vehicles of choice. Many had better engines than they had brakes leading to disastrous consequences. A movie, THUNDER ROAD, amplified this lifestyle to the nation.
Blending visual images with stories is an exciting activity. The apparent serenity of the countryside of today masks times past. But the journey gave life to stories I had heard all my life. I guess that is why people make pilgrimages to the Holy Land.
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