Owl's well that ends well.

For your reading pleasure (I hope), here is yet another tale of my weekend.

I had been invited to a showing of art made out of rusted metal (think "yard art") on Saturday afternoon. Despite the clouds and gloom, despite the 47 degree temperature, and despite the wind chill, I went. Some of it was quite good (the happy frogs, for example), and some pieces (such as the table bases) were made of new, painted metal. Plus, the artist said she was in the middle of creating a life-size horse, but she was dissatisfied with it, so she cut off its head. (I suppose Ichabod Crane won't want to buy it.) I ended up chatting with her about her garden. (Well excuse me, but even you would find it interesting that she's growing hardy bananas in her back yard.) I also walked away with a large (15" tall) owl sculpture that I hope to put in my perennial bed (and doubly hope the neighbors won't steal or vandalize) and a 6" tall one for my desk. Not to worry, I managed to withstand temptation and left the other two large owls there for other buyers. After that, I tried out the meatball sandwich at a pizza place on that side of town and the banana split at a soft-serve ice cream shop. (Neither is worth driving all that distance for.)

On Sunday, I headed for the Middle-of-Nowhere, Georgia (actually the town of Ellijay, which the natives pronounce as it's written, interestingly enough, unlike Ooltewah, TN), for the annual Georgia Apple Festival. It was an hour-and-a-half drive, the directions weren't entirely accurate, it was cold (35 degrees), and it ended up being nothing more than yet another "It's October, so let's have a craft fair full of Christmas schlock and other handmade stuff no one in their right minds would buy, but what gimmick should we use to lure the suckers?". On the bright side (literally), the sun finally came out (so it felt warmer than it was, and my attitude was brighter, too), I arrived ten minutes before the scheduled start time, so there weren't even any Boy Scouts there to collect the "suggested donation" of $2.00 for parking, the temperature warmed by the time I left two hours later, and there were, indeed, two vendors selling apples (Winesap, Fuji, Red Delicious, Golden Delicious, Mutsu, Granny Smith, and Rome Beauty) -- for a lot cheaper than you can get at a farmer's market or a grocery store. I carried home a peck (in a bag) of Winesap, per the head of school security's request, a peck of Rome and two caramel apples, per my quiet neighbor's request, a half peck of Mutsu for myself (no sense buying a full peck and discovering I don't like them), half a dozen miniature owl figurines (from a Thai woman who also had lived in Austria), and a large (11"x17"), matted photo of an owl looking straight up. If I ever have houseguests, they're all going to end up staring at this photo, trying to get a perspective (since owls are known for swiveling their heads, not tilting them back) and, maybe, wondering what the owl is looking at. The festival staff kindly had school buses shuttling fairgoers back to their cars in the remote parking lots, so I got all those heavy apples back to my car with no torn ligaments or dislocated shoulders.

After the apple fest, I drove ten miles north to Cherry Log, GA and ate lunch at The Pink Pig, a barbecue restaurant. As advertised, it was full of pig figurines, pictures, and other memorabilia. I did not run into Jimmy and Rosalynn, though. (It's reputedly the Carters' favorite barbecue place.)

On the way home, I took a wrong turn, thanks to those not-quite-accurate directions, and ended up on Georgia's curviest road through the forest. (When you see one of those road signs with squiggles, with a smaller sign below it which reads, "Next 22 Miles", you know you're in trouble.) At one point, I glanced out the side window and said, "Wow, look how blue the water is!" Then the rational side of my brain said, "Hey, buddy, you're nowhere near the ocean, and the only lakes in this country that large are the Great Lakes and Great Salt Lake." I looked again and realized it was the sky. "What the heck kind of road am I on?" I wondered (but with more vulgarity).

But, since you're reading this, you'll know that I arrived home safely. Plus, my innate sense of logic got me back to the interstate without having to ask for directions!