"Where Is Everybody?"

When I drove the Blue Ridge Parkway in 2019, I told Thom only a convertible could have made it better.  He proved me right on a perfect spring day.

Mabry Mill is the parkway's most photographed location.  Despite being in Virginia, the 19th-century structure even appeared on "Greetings from Iowa" postcards! 

Let Thom tell you all about it.

My favorite kind of selfie. It's ageless.

We picnicked on two-day old peanut butter and jelly sandwiches.  A friendly guy offered to take this photograph.  I would have declined, but Thom said yes and then chided ME for giving him my phone.  "Bad pandemic hygiene," he sniffed.  I nearly pushed him off the mountain.

Heavy rains earlier in the week had closed the parkway near Roanoke.  It took more than two hours and asking directions from three different people to find an accessible entrance. Driving separate vehicles didn't help.  Reminder to self:  maps and GPS are useless on the BPR.  By the way:  the directions on the sign below took us to ANOTHER closed entrance. Under its current leadership, the federal government fucks up EVERYTHING.

Finding our way back on proved almost as scenic, if not as fragrant:  lots of hay bales, white fences and rolling hills.  And more than a few "Farmers for Trump."  Yeeeesh.

Here's the view of Arnold Valley from 3700 feet.

Daylight lasts so long that we had our final meal of the day (Thom tossed fusilli with pesto and chicken) at Irish Creek.  "Where is everybody?" he asked.  "Either dying or protesting," I quipped.  It really did feel like we were still in our bubble, more than 900 miles northwest of Lake Worth.