To the Fair

 

          Our day started with breakfast out.

          It was a little foggy on the mountain tops, but the sun was trying to burn it off.

          Mark’s Valley View sits on top of a mountain.

         After pancakes and bacon for me and an omelet for Mike, we went back to the house for a couple of hours.

          Around ten o’clock, we left for the hour’s ride to the fair.

          “Can we take Bondi with us?” I asked Mike.

          “I don’t think they allow dogs.”

          “I think I saw a bunch of people walking dogs the last time we were there,” I said. “If they don’t allow dogs, we’ll leave her in the car and do the express tour. Just get our sandwiches and leave.”

          If Bondi’s gonna ride in the car with us, I thought, I’ll put the doggie car seat back in. When we lost our little Yorkies, I didn’t throw anything away.

          “She won’t ride in it,” Mike said. “She’s such a brat.”

          Bondi proved Mike wrong. She curled up and slept the whole way to Hughesville.

          We pass this old house every time we go into New Albany.

          “I’d like to go inside and take pictures.”

          “Peg, you can’t just go in. It’s not yours.”

          “I’d never do it without permission first.” I might peek in the windows, though.        

           Three deer ran across the road in front of us. There, they were faced with a rock wall. We escorted them down the side of the road until they came to a place where they could scale the bank.

          Even though the fair was ‘open’, none of the vendors were required to open until four. The rides weren’t open, which we don’t care about them, and no events were scheduled.

          “Why did you go?” you wanna know.

          Just for the food! On the plus side, there were no parking or gate fees. And there was a sign that said No Dogs On The Midway. I carried Bondi in her sling.

          I know what you think. You think this is just a bee. That’s because my picture doesn’t have anything to show perspective. These giant bees are about an inch and a half long and are Cicada Killer Wasps, aka, Cicada Hawks. My handsome brother Paul was the first to tell me about these interesting insects and there’s a hive that lives at the Hughesville Fair Grounds.

How about some Cicada Killer Wasp facts?

Yes, they actually do kill cicadas. They paralyze the cicada and carry it back to a burrow where it entombs it with an egg. The female will lay an egg under the left or right second leg of the cicada. Once the egg hatches, the larva begins to eat the cicada, while taking care to keep it alive. Once the larva has had its fill, it spins a cocoon, where it overwinters, and emerges in the spring as an adult wasp.

Female cicada-killers must decide the sex of each egg before they lay it. If it’s going to be a girl, she will put at least two cicadas in the burrow. A male requires only one.

These guys seldom bother people. The males can’t sting but could deliver a nasty pinch with his huge jaws if you harassed or pinched him.

          All the adults die at the end of the summer.

          It looks like they put the leftovers out at the end of the night last night, free for the taking.

          We did find a couple of vendors open. Mike got a sausage sandwich, I had a hot dog, we both had a milkshake, then we headed for home.

          The Sonestown covered bridge is open to traffic. We drove through. 

         On the other side, we turned around in the driveway of this old house.

         I don’t know if anyone’s living there or not, but the flag was up on the mailbox.

         The garage. 

               We stopped to take pictures once we crossed back over. 

          Just as I was heading to get back in the car, this Cabbage White asked to have his picture taken.

          And I noticed these long green pods. I don’t know what they are. Maybe if I’d’ve seen the flower I could’ve identified it.

We drove through Sonestown. “Look at the size of that Trumpet Vine!” I said.

Mike doesn’t like things growing on the sides of our buildings, even though I think the ivies are so pretty. “It holds moisture and rots out the building,” he says.

Mike stopped so I could jump out and take pictures of this old building. If only it could talk. 

We passed the Sonestown Inn. “That’s my sister’s favorite place to eat when she comes back here.” I was telling Mike something he already knew. “Maybe we can come here for my birthday.”

          “Call and make reservations.”

          I called the only number I could find listed for them and it’s not a working number. We’re wondering if COVID did them in.

          (Picture from their Facebook page.)

          Check out Bondi. She’s taking to riding in a car pretty well.

          “I wish Itsy would’ve ridden like that,” Mike said.

          Itsy never traveled well. She was always nervous, would never settle, and was exhausted by the time we got to wherever we were going.

          The old Kiess Pine Tavern and Motel used to sit here. I’ve stayed there when I came to visit Momma. 

          It kills me that the clothes are still on hangers in the closet even though the wall is gone.

          “Peg, didn’t you show us this picture on the way down?” you ask.

          I did! But things often look different when you’re coming from the other direction.

         Boy Girl You don’t know But I Do, is what it says.

          My aunt’s old house. I don’t think anyone’s living in it right now. 

          Let’s call this one done!