Autumn wandering and pondering

Last Friday Mother Nature in her infinite wisdom saw fit to gift us with an utterly glorious Fall day. You know the kind I'm talking about, right--when the sparkling sunshine and refreshingly cool(ish) air emit a siren's call, urging you to get the heck outside and enjoy the season while it lasts. My trusty camera and I try not to ignore this summons, if at all possible. Plus, I'd gotten some good news on the job front earlier in the week, which if it came through would mean a temporary suspension of my beloved Friday Field Trips...all the more reason to hop in the Subaru and head out for a jaunt.

Choosing a destination caused me a bit of a dilemma, however. What I really wanted was to peep some colorful foliage...but we're still just a tad early for that in this neck of the woods, so to speak. For reasons not entirely clear to me, my...I don't know...internal compass, maybe?...was leaning toward North for this journey, and I knew I wanted to keep it within about an hour's travel time. (Hey, I'm doing my best to explain my process...or whatever. But you certainly never heard me promise it was going to make all that much sense! I mean, have you MET me?) So without any other firm parameters, I turned to ye olde map--yes, the paper variety--in conjunction with ye newfangled Google to come up with a plan.

Which is how I came to be navigating toward the borough known as (drumroll, please) Yanceyville. Getting there was fairly simple, consisting of 30 miles or so on rural highways. The only real issue I experienced--and it's super-sad, so prepare yourselves to sympathize--was that I witnessed evidence of a tragic local epidemic afflicting a great number of the area's population. I'm talking of course about the dreaded "Pants on Fire Syndrome"...since my fellow drivers repeatedly crossed dotted yellow lines as soon as they spotted the smallest possible break in oncoming traffic to whiz past me, even when I was already clocking in at about 5-10 mph over the limit. I sincerely hope they get the help they need...or a HUGE ticket...whichever.

Besides that, I had ample opportunity to appreciate the scenery...because trust me when I tell you there were few places designated as "towns" along the way...and even with these, you had to infer from a battered sign and perhaps a couple of dilapidated structures that might once have been businesses or homes. Meanwhile, the landscape on either side of the pavement alternated between dense forest and wide-open, rolling farmland--dotted with charming yellow caution signs calling your attention to the distinct possibility of tractors in the roadway!

So I found myself wondering, as I always do when I happen upon these remote locations: where do people work? Do all of the kids go to that ONE school I passed? Related question: how do young people amuse themselves around here? And perhaps most importantly, how freakin' far do folks have to trek to get groceries? (In case you think I might be exaggerating about how removed from civilization I was, I fell victim to one of the unthinkable inconveniences of modern-day explorers...that is, my playlist shut down when I lost any semblance of a WiFi signal. See? Told you!)

And then I arrived in Yanceyville, which at least holds the distinction of being the county seat...since 1792, evidently....and therefore boasts a lovely white stone courthouse, dating from 1861...in the center of its one-and-only block. Seriously, you can stand in front of this spot, turn your head left and right, and capture absolutely everything there is see in the 'burb. Oh, except the arboretum tucked behind the municipal building, which is where I began my leisurely stroll. Not unexpectedly, it didn't take much time to cover the small garden, but it did offer a pleasant interlude amongst the hearty flowers and trees still holding onto their bloom and leaves in late October.

The site also contains a historic jailhouse (built late 18- or early-1900s, in use until the 1970s!) and school (circa 1913), both of which are nicely preserved...but only open by appointment, so I settled for photographing the outside and peeking in the windows. Finally, in the tiny park situated between the courthouse and main street there's a statue. Honestly, I heaved a mental sigh before I approached it, because I was afraid of what to expect. I prepared myself for the emotions that overwhelm me whenever I encounter a Confederate memorial--TOO MANY of which still exist in the South, always stirring up a combination of anger/nausea/disappointment when I encounter one.

According to the plaque, this particular sculpture was, in fact, erected by the Daughters of the Confederacy. The inscription was written by a minister and stresses following God's mandate to do the right thing...but still. Enough with the monuments celebrating those who fought to divide the country and continue a way of life dependent on slavery, for the love of all things holy.

Okay, deep breath, and moving on...otherwise, well...Yanceyville kind of resembles a ghost town. In terms of retail, a cursory glance and a few steps in either direction reveal a bank, a hair salon, a seed store, a bike shop, and a lawyer. Aaaannnd also a bunch of boarded up windows, or abandoned storefronts, like the super-cute coffee joint with the sheet of notebook paper taped to its door, advising that it will be "closed until further notice" in handwritten letters. Overall, a palpable aura of neglect...and decay...permeated what once might have been a quaint little one-horse-hamlet in Caswell County, North Carolina.

Whew! Sorry, drifted slightly off-course, there. Anyway, although this wasn't the most...exciting excursion...it did fulfill my desire to cruise America's byways, spend some time communing with the Great Outdoors, pick up a few educational tidbits, and pleasantly while away a free afternoon. So thank you, Yanceyville, FTW!