La Rue Bijou

CULPEPER, Va.--Returning to my hometown . . . All too briefly

 

 

 

 

Culpeper is a small town filled with memories of holidays with grandparents, great aunts and uncles and family history. Today, for its residents, it’s a much-loved small town with shops, restaurants, cafés and vintage homes. It’s steps away from Yowell Park, a favorite for dog walkers, joggers and families. 

 

                                                        Grass Rootes (top) and Piedmont Steak House are in 

                                                        former hardware stores.

My family and I moved from Virginia to Florida in 1967, but I dreamed of returning to Culpeper one day. When I mentioned my plans, my grown children pointed out cold weather and grandkids in Florida. And I was uncertain—to leave family and friends at my age. But three years ago, I bought a vintage home. 

                                                My house on West Asher Street.

 

Neighbors, who hail from Los Angeles, Nashville, Northern Virginia as well as abroad, have come  here for the lifestyle--welcoming but not intrusive, educated but not pretentious. 

Culpeper, established in 1759, had a role in the Revolutionary and Civil wars, described in a local history museum. In addition to its history, the town has connections to bustling cities. The Amtrak station provides direct lines to DC, NYC, the Northeast Corridor and southern cities. It’s an easy drive to Sperryville, Little Washington and the Shenandoah National Park and a short drive to Charlottesville and Richmond. 

 

Mount Vernon farm at Sperryville. Old Rag in the background.

 

    

Seasons go like this. Spring is celebrated with cherry blossoms, tulips and daffodils and outdoor dining. 

 

 In summer with picnics and hikes. Fall with Halloween and autumn leaves.  The shorter days and chill in the air have us heading for vineyards, apple orchards or fireplaces. 

 

Then come holiday parties. In early winter, a chill sets in that goes through my bones. Neighbors greet me, exclaiming, “The cold makes me feel alive,” or “Spring will be here soon enough.” Doesn’t anyone else notice the cold? My daughter says, “It’s your Florida blood.” Then she sends me a knee-length down coat.

 

                                               West Asher Street, looking toward Yowell Park

For anyone tempted by small towns, I’d recommend you visit Culpeper. The longer you are here, the more you find the town has to offer to everyone. But for me after three winters combined with a need for time with my two Florida grandkids, I have put my house on the market.

 

Throwback, a popular retro arcade

It will be bittersweet to leave West Asher Street behind. But my small-town experience and new friendships are priceless.

 

Author & sister with Tabby, a Culpeper Christmas.

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In and out of Culpeper

-        Vintage homes, from the late 19^th and early 20^th centuries

-        A walkable community

-        Main and Davis area specialty shops, restaurants, cafés

-        Amtrak rail with direct lines to major cities & nearby major airports

-        Spring – summer – fall - farmers markets, wineries, breweries and distilleries, outdoor concerts

-        A hospital and physicians affiliated with University of Virginia Medical Center

-        Revolutionary and Civil War sites

-        Rappahannock County with its restaurants, wineries, distilleries and breweries as hiking trails and the Shenandoah National Park. The10k Fodderstack race and point-to-point horse races 

-        A branch of the Library of Congress with free movie screenings

-        Dog-friendly parks & walking/jogging trails

-        Nearby homes of former presidents. Montpelier holds a derby and hat day.

Happy Haunting!

This year I will not answer the door for trick or treaters. I have an escape cat, just waiting to get out. And the foster dog barks and barks if someone rings the bell. Instead, I'll leave a bowl of candy--eyeballs and chocolate bars--on the bench out front.

Do you remember your costumes? One year I was a Dutch girl with wooden shoes and my sister had a Japanese outfit and little wooden sandals. We hobbled around the neighborhood with a large bag for candies.

Some of my favorites years were in Melbourne Beach, where neighbors really went all out for Halloween. Most of the houses had been decorated for weeks. Tombstones. Cobwebs. Ghosts. Then on the night of the 31st, when all the trick or treaters were out, the mise-en-scene were completed. The most impressive was the dinner table, complete with a covered dish. . . . You can probably guess what it contained.

My daughter just sent this photo of Halloween in the South of France. Many years earlier, I tried to buy small pumpkins for the Halloween party at one of the Opio public schools. Wedges of pumpkins (used for soups) were sold back then. No one bought a whole pumpkin. Looks like times have changed.

Wherever you may be, have a Happy Halloween! And watch out for those covered dishes.

French Parking Lots - A bit of a Squeeze!

ANTIBES, France--Given that many parking lots in apartment buildings or cities were built in an era of smaller cars, squeezing in a new car is often problematic. Certainly not advisable after a few glasses of wine. . . .

If you look at the dimensions of popular models from the 1970s, you’ll understand. The 2 CV (12.6 feet long x 4.8 feet wide) and the Renault 5 (11.5 feet long x 5 feet wide) look like toys when compared to a medium-sized car today such as the VW Eos (14.4 feet long x 5.8 feet wide). In terms of luxury cars, today’s Mercedes class S runs 17 feet long x 6 feet wide.

It’s no surprise that parking lots with the “penny drop” entrances cause problems for these larger cars.

We experienced the problem recently with a mid-size car. We had been parking on the street, where cars were routinely scratched or bumped. With the purchase of a newer car, we needed to rent a garage.

Small cars and spaces in Antibes, on the ramparts.

One neighbor, with two available garages, insisted you could park a Range Rover. We did get parked but could barely exit, and we could not close the garage. Another location has been tight—but the car is in an underground lot, not an individual garage. It takes careful maneuvering. But we squeeze in, happy to have a place off the street for now.

In retrospect, maybe we should have gone with the Smart for Two (8.2 feet long x 5 feet wide).

Musings - Dogs or Cats? The Ideal Setting. . . . .

Years ago, when I lived in the South of France, I adopted a dog. Everyone had a dog, and dogs rode buses, they waited patiently outside groceries or slept in boutiques. We later moved in with my parents in the States. Someone was always home to help with doggie walks and outings.

In the last 15 years, the kids have grown up and moved away from home. I now have two cats. When I am away, a good friend visits once a day to socialize with them and let them on the screened porch.

Currently, I am fostering a rescue dog. But I’m finding numerous challenges that I didn’t remember from earlier years with kids and pets. Not problems with the dog or compatibility of pets but the lack of personnel or places to take the dog! Dogs require attention—they need to be let out several times a day. Plus, there are few cafes that accept pets on the outside terrace.

If you can't live in France, the ideal solution seems to be to live in dog-friendly neighborhoods. Pet people know one another from walks or play in the dog parks. Usually, someone is available to keep your dog or step in several times a day to help out.

Volunteering with Animals--Musings on dog walking and pet bowls. . . . .

Most days as a volunteer at the animal shelter, I wash pet bowls or do laundry. But recently, I've gotten more involved in pet walking. The joys of interacting with these pets and letting them enjoy the great outdoors. Days in kennel can be quite long and dreary and very noisy as all dogs try to catch the attention of the walkers as if to say, "Me first!"

Two terriers named Murphy and Sam are in constant motion.

I took the dog-walking class and learned how to get the leash on an excited dog in a kennel, how to turn the dog around if he pulled too much. What I didn't realize is the woven plastic leashes give you a horrible case of rope burn, and I didn't learn how to capture those escapees.

Spot, Mr. Personality, is ready for a new home.


I also assumed the sweet-looking dogs would be gentle walkers. I'd start with them!

Sasha, a barrel-shaped bulldog, walked me around the perimeter at a fast pace.

Cleo, a tan, lanky dog with a kind face, also pulled then braked, giving me a bungee-like experience. The easiest dog was a Shiba Inu, who looked like a wolf. After several more energetic dogs, I had to stop--my hands were bleeding.

The following week I took a pair of thick gloves to protect my hands. I chose Spot, who has been a favorite due to his courage in battling a skin condition (he is better). But he thought the gloves were a play thing, so we spent our walk with my trying to keep them on and his struggle to take them off and give them a good shake.

O.k.,only small dogs from now on. How difficult could it be to take Murphy and Sam? Two pint-sized dogs on two leashes. But then one squirmed out and headed straight for the pit bull on his walk. This pair of terriers were known to staff--they squeezed through fences and gates and often got off their leads.

After these dogs, I welcomed the return to washing pet bowls. Next week, I'll return with new strategies that will enable me to spend more outside time with dogs and less with the pet bowls.

Malaise at 30,000 feet

The in-flight heart attack of a United Airlines pilot in late September brought up two issues that surprised me—a plane has no space to handle a medical emergency, and staff still asks for help from doctors on board.

My own experience seems insignificant in comparison. With three hours remaining in our transatlantic flight, I doubled over with severe cramps, back pain, sweating and nausea. Food poisoning? Getting to the bathroom was foremost in my mind. The stewardess, absorbed with her food cart, did not understand. Or maybe too many passengers faked an illness in hopes of snaring a better seat for the remainder of the flight and a wheelchair for immigration and customs. Passengers helped me down the stairs to the bathrooms.

No, it wasn’t food poisoning but kidney stones, I later learned. I got through the flight with ice packs and a cold, wet scarf around my neck, while scrunched in my economy seat. My condition was just painful, not fatal, and relatively insignificant when compared with other medical emergencies that occur at 30,000 feet.