The beginning of the trip

A few pictures to tease you while I am waiting for the dryer to finish.
The last few days and nights are all ajumble inside my memory.
The trip over had a great rain storm in the middle of Indiana.  Chris was driving through hail.
By the time we got to my sister’s house, the storms were moving along further North, and her driveway was still dry.
There was fog most of the way to my mom’s place, but we got there by 10:30pm.

A friend and I met for lunch at an Applebee’s.  Afterwards, Chris went one way, and we girls went another.
He says this butterfly was in the parking lot of the shopping center, like it was waiting for him to take a picture.

My mom lives in the country, on a winding road which follows a creek (pronounced crick by folks who live in the Valley).

This is the run after a storm Friday evening.

Sunday evening, the son and I were at loose ends.  There was no way we needed anymore sitting in a church service, my sister and brother-in-law served some fine corn-on-the-cob but had done just about all the talking-visiting we could handle, and the sun sets late at this time of year.

I decided it might be time to see one of the local historical landmarks.

We walked across Wheeling’s Suspension Bridge, which seems to be a tradition in my family when we go back to the Valley.
Goodness gracious, we did it often enough as children.
My mom says she can remember a boy who was afraid he would fall through the little cracks in the walkway, and so he crawled on all fours clear across.
It is an odd feeling, being above the water, with boats down there.

There are many pictures of this bridge in our folder.  There will be more to come, but please look over some historical notes at this website.

Monday was Memorial Day, so I showed my youngest son where his PapPap is buried.  Dad is down at the bottom of the hill, near the pond.  He said when he bought the plots that he wanted his ghost to be able to go fishing, and for the grandkids to feed the ducks when we come visit.

There were not any ducks at the time of day.  It was getting hot outside.
That’s okay.
We had forgotten both bread and flowers, and Chris would not let me take half of any from one of the other graves.

That evening, I met another friend at Oglebay Park.
Closest place to God’s country, a field trip mecca.

This is enough to wet your whistle.  Between us, there are a couple hundred pictures in the folder.
I did warn folks there could be a possibility of being on my weblog, so I’ll get people pics together.

Meanwhile, the seventh load of laundry of the day just buzzed that the dryer is done.
~~love and Huggs, Diane

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4 Responses to The beginning of the trip

  1. momma says:

    The bridge photos are fascinating. (thank you for the link). Your photos are a pleasure to view also. The area seems lovely and serene. Hope you got all the clothes folded because I’m waiting for the next batch of pictures. Also your speech was excellent.

  2. Laura says:

    Enjoyed these pictures, as I have never seen this part of the states. I liked the little tidbit about your father’s burial spot.. near the bottom so the grandchildren could feed the ducks. How cool is that?
    Have a safe trip!

  3. Evelyn says:

    Enjoyed your Trip pictures!

  4. caroline says:

    Great pictures! Looks like a very pretty place to visit.