Welcome to Boondocks, Ohio

There's something to be said for being out in the boondocks. No frantic traffic whizzing by. No smog or sirens. No conflicting social engagements. Nothing to do but gaze at the scenery, paint and write, and spend long hours in pleasant conversation with precious companions.

We were fortunate enough to be guests of our friends Doug and Carol Woodring during the last week of July. They live out in the boondocks on the Ohio/Pennsylvania border. I mean ON the border: their house is in Ohio and their mailbox is just across the narrow country road...in Pennsylvania.

We found their home not with GPS (which I refuse to use) but rather with Carol's turn-by-turn directions, which fortunately were both accurate and entertaining:

"Road narrows after the truck stop, go thru the traffic light, go over RR tracks, by a nursery that is no longer in business..."

"Now that (road) goes up down and all around and in about 6ish miles..."

"Then go by the junque and trailers and at the end of the corn field on the right where the woods begin, turn..."

We arrived one late afternoon in the new old Dodge Caravan with all our stuff piled cattywhompus in back like their long lost gypsy cousins. In no time flat, Doug had set up an airy studio for Craig complete with music and coffee maker, and Carol and I had retired to their handmade pergola, where I spent a great majority of my time while there.

Oh, look! You can see the mailbox, over there in Pennsylvania.

The drive from St. Louis to their house, through southern Illinois and Indiana and diagonally across Ohio, had taken us past old barns and farmhouses and long vistas of lush fields and rolling green hills.

We stayed a night in Cincinnati, too, having heard good things about the city. Our hotel room overlooked a big snazzy plaza where, the bellman informed us, music plays every night of the week. The bands politely stop before 11 pm, though, Ohio being a very long way from Mexico.

Once we got to the farm, there was plenty to keep us occupied. Carol, for instance, had an inexplicable urge to do portraits of me and Craig in the cornfield. She brought a ladder and placed it just so, then had us climb to the top for our photo session.

Carol and I harvested our dinner from the land one night. 

At the end of their driveway-through-the-woods, an old stump provides chicken of the woods mushrooms every year. Our timing was faultless.

We raided Carol's garden for baby vegetables: multi-colored carrots, lettuce, sweet cucumbers, eggplant, green and yellow beans, and nasturtium blossoms. 

Of course, she insisted I model with the bounty like the Carrot Queen at the county fair.

Her garden is a wonder, as are the views on their country lane.

We talked and made our plans while we relaxed in the pergola.

One of our plans was a day trip into Pittsburgh, where we had a leisurely shopping tour of an historic district called The Strip.

Pittsburgh is built upon and divided up by hills. Some of its old neighborhoods are magnificent.

Our other Pergola Plan was quite the opposite of a trip to the city. Turns out the Rogers Community Auction and Flea Market was happening, which we knew we couldn't miss even before Craig decided, what the heck, why not set up a booth with some prints and paintings. Are you ready for this?

This young man, whose name is James, claimed a space and played his squeeze box cheerfully all day long in the sweltering heat. James is a music ambassador.

Are you thirsty yet? How about a freshly shaken lemonade with whole lemons, sugar, water and ice, and half-price refills?

Or maybe you're hungry. Ha!

I do not know what it is with this part of the country and french fries, but if you order a salad in a restaurant and don't want it to come like this, you'd better tell your waitress.

Doug kept Craig company while Carol and I wandered the long alleys of the flea market. Craig ended up giving away as many prints as he sold, which is just the kind of guy he is. Carol and I bought a few doodads we couldn't do without like six-packs of bungee cords and hand crocheted kitchen scrubbers. We packed it up and packed it in when we were all tired and hot, and bid farewell to the Rogers Community Auction.

Then we retreated to the farm, put together a dinner picnic to eat in the shade of the pergola, and gazed dreamily at the sunset above our own little paradise, over there in a far corner of Boondocks, Ohio.

Comments

[Carol the Pip]

Hey Travis, Boondocks works when ya don't want people to know where you are ....
The Pitt is no longer the Pitts - just fabulous.
Hope we see you soon.

[Candice]

Thanks for the great stories, Diedre. Loved hearing about your times at your grandmother's house...and the B.B. King encounter, wow! What an experience to have had! xo C

[Travis]

No place that pretty should be called "Boondocks", unless the local residents prefer it that way, and I can certainly understand it if they do. The only other thing I have to add is about Pittsburgh. What a mighty city. I was once asked to light someone's cigarette there. Inside an elevator. 8-)