Scenery revisited

Just finished watching the light fade from the hills in front of me. I found another truck stop that gave me a view of sorts if I pulled into the right spot. Not as good as the one in Ohio, but I'll take what I can get.

I'm in the Shenandoah Valley of Virginia. I stopped a little early and looked for a good spot--I can't deliver my load until Monday morning anyway, so I do have some time to squander at the moment. The Valley is pretty in general, and this truck stop is well situated for looking at the hills instead of the interstates and industrial districts, so I am content. But there was a little more this time.

After I shut down I took a little walk--no more than a mile--up the road past the truck stop. Virginia Tech has an agricultural research station at this exit.* Turn left before the Sheep Appraisal Center (I kid you not) and you'll end up at the centerpiece (from a tourist's standpoint, anyway) of the station: the farm, mill, and workshop that belonged to Cyrus McCormick.

THAT Cyrus McCormick. The one who invented the reaper. The father of mechanized agriculture.

It was late Saturday afternoon, so everything was closed. I gritted my teeth and walked the "interpretive trail" where signs told me in great detail how much more environmentally aware we are now than they were when Mr. McCormick was running this place. I would rather have looked inside the grist mill. But what the heck. It was still neat to see the place. Maybe someday my downtime will be more fortunately placed.

Meanwhile I saw some old buildings, a very pretty piece of wetland, and a young couple being photographed to death (most professionally) in the picturesque surroundings. (I presume they were doing "we're engaged" photos. I didn't interrupt to ask.)

Then I walked back. Halfway "home," I passed three young deer grazing in a research-station field. I presume they were young--they all three had white spots all over their backs, and I don't know many types of deer in the US that keep those into maturity. They kept popping their heads up and thinking about running, so I didn't stop and watch them. Just kept right on going, so they would know I didn't plan to leap the five-foot fence, bull my way through the electrified wire, and run them down with a knife and fork. They went back to their grazing, and I continued on, a bow wave of spooked grasshoppers spreading before me.

Came back here and watched the light fade. Now I'm going to bed. Sometimes this gig isn't all that bad...

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*Exit 205 on Interstate 81, Virginia--in case any of this sounds amusing