Science and Magic in the PWR

Ahhh... A rare Saturday when I didn't have an agenda...

I slept in until a relatively late 7:30 AM.  Robert had gotten up at his usual weekday wake-up time of 6:00 AM because he was meeting an equestrian club to do some trail maintenance in the Oconee National Forest in south Jasper County.  I got to see him before he headed out for the day.  After I had breakfast, I rode my cyclocross bike to the Monticello square for the Saturday morning farmer's market.

I had two orders of business at the farmer's market.  First, I was glad to see my friend Laverne so that I could place an order for fried pies for Robert's and my BBQ Bass Ride, which will be in two weeks.  Then, I stopped by the Visitor's Center at the Monticello-Jasper County Chamber of Commerce to get some locally made soap.  I love fragrant, handmade soaps and need a fresh bar for my bathroom sink.

There was a nice surprise at the Visitor's Center:

Robert created this map of hiking trails where he's been clearing the last few months.  He's also working on a website, Recon Jasper (www.reconjasper.com), to highlight outdoor recreational opportunities in our county.  By the way, it's a little confusing that part of the Oconee National Forest lies in Jasper County, but the Ocmulgee Rive is our western border.  Jasper County lies in the area between the Ocmulgee and Oconee Rivers.

For kicks, I also signed in while I was at the Visitor's Center:

I dropped my soap off at my office to pick up later.  Then, it was time to ride.  My route would take me through one of my favorite places, the Piedmont Wildlife Refuge (PWR).

I headed down Highway 11 South and turned off the pavement in Adgateville.  The next few miles were fairly tough because of gravel that was placed recently.  It takes a while for a new layer of gravel to get sufficiently compacted for good off-road riding.  I used this as an opportunity to work on my technical skills.

It got a little easier as I approached one of my favorite roads in the PWR.  The prettiest areas of the forest are the ones that are specifically managed for the red-cockaded woodpecker.  They prefer open pine habitat like this:

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May and June are my favorite months, and so I was totally drinking in the beauty of the day.  I looked forward to the natural rock crossing.

Six weeks ago, local creeks and rivers were flooded.  Now, we're in near-drought conditions.  The flow was way down at this crossing, but I still walked my bicycle across so I wouldn't bust my arse.

It also gave me a chance to notice some smaller wonders.  I saw lots of these tiny frogs.  Each one is no more than about a half inch long.

Not the greatest photo, but the two darkest spots are frogs

There were several lovely species of butterflies, too, sunning their wings:

I continued on the familiar PWR dirt roads and made my way to a short paved section on Round Oak-Juliette Road.  I had been riding for about an hour and a half and was ready for some calories.  So, I took advantage of this easy section to eat the Clif Bar from my jersey pocket.

Next, I turned right onto River Road, just before the bridge over the Ocmulgee River.  I knew to look for some tricky rutting on this road, but overall it was easier than some of the early dirt roads because the gravel wasn't bad here.

River Road changes to Juliette Road as you cross from Jones County into Jasper County.  A few miles back into Jasper County, I saw another cyclist approaching from the opposite direction.  It was my friend Monte!  What a treat to run into him along the way.

He was on his way back to Juliette after having ridden to Dauset Trails - an even longer ride than mine.  I told him about the little frogs I had seen.  We talked about biology, and then he brought up all the amazing advances in physics and astrophysics in the past 10 years thanks to people like Elon Musk.  I agreed and told him that I just finished reading Astrophysics for People in a Hurry by Neil deGrasse Tyson.  Physics, and particularly astrophysics, is not my strong suit, but I try to keep learning and understanding.

I felt energized as I continued on my way.  I love deep conversations, and there was more depth in that 10-minute chat with Monte than I get in much longer conversations with most other people.

The last 10 miles of my ride was mostly pavement.  By now, my water bottles were almost empty.  I could have made it home without a problem, but to make life easier, I stopped to refill at Freedonia AME Church.  I had stopped here during the Fried Clay 200K a few months ago and, therefore, knew just where to find the outdoor spigot.  As before, I was grateful for the water.

After stopping at the church, there was one last dirt section that was about a mile long.  It had been graveled recently.  Ack!  I had to put my admittedly limited technical bike-riding skills to use one more time.  I got through it and was glad for pavement for the rest of the way.

I had already been enjoying various contemplations before I met up with Monte, but thoughts of the cosmos lingered during those last miles.  My favorite part of Astrophysics for People in a Hurry is the last chapter.  It's worth reading even if you don't read the entire book.  In this last chapter, NdT talks about the importance of having a cosmic perspective.  He prefaces this by admitting that as he studies the universe, he sometimes forgets the multitudes of needy people; that people kill each other in the name of God, wants, needs, or political dogma; or that too many people disregard the delicate balance of the Earth.  He forgets these things because however big the world is to us, the universe is even bigger.  Although some find this depressing, he finds it liberating:

"Now imagine a world in which everyone, but especially people with power and influence, holds and expanded view of our place in the cosmos.  With that perspective, our problems would shrink - or never arise at all - and we could celebrate our earthly differences while shunning the behavior of our predecessors who slaughtered one another because of them."

We humans get in trouble when we believe we are more important than everything else in the universe.  It's hard not to have this perspective because it's what culture tells us.  NdT says he, too, believed what he was told until one day in biology class when he learned that more bacteria live and work in one centimeter of his (or your or my) colon than the number of people who have ever existed in the world.

"That kind of information makes you think twice about who—or what—is actually in charge.

From that day on, I began to think of people not as the masters of space and time but as participants in a great cosmic chain of being, with a direct genetic link across species both living and extinct, extending back nearly four billion years to the earliest single-celled organisms on Earth.”

So what is this cosmic perspective like?  Some excerpts:

“The cosmic perspective comes from the frontiers of science, yet it is not solely the provenance of the scientist. It belongs to everyone.

The cosmic perspective is humble.

The cosmic perspective is spiritual—even redemptive—but not religious.

The cosmic perspective enables us to see beyond our circumstances, allowing us to transcend the primal search for food, shelter, and a mate.

The cosmic perspective reminds us that in space, where there is no air, a flag will not wave—an indication that perhaps flag-waving and space exploration do not mix.

The cosmic perspective not only embraces our genetic kinship with all life on Earth but also values our chemical kinship with any yet-to-be discovered life in the universe, as well as our atomic kinship with the universe itself.”

It gives me great hope and joy to consider these connections between humans, all living things, matter, and the Creator - the I AM - the ultimate reality - the everything.  As the opening lines of Presto by Rush put it, "I am made from the dust of the stars, and the oceans flow in my veins."

When I got home, my greyhound Allie summed up the beauty and wonder of the day with her simple bliss:

If I could wave my magic wand
I'd make everything all right

(also from Presto)

Towel Day

Happy Towel Day!  Towel Day occurs every May 25 as a tribute to the late author Douglas Adams, who wrote The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy.  On Towel Day, fans around the world carry a towel in his honor.

Why a towel?

From The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy:

A towel, it says, is about the most massively useful thing an interstellar hitchhiker can have. Partly it has great practical value -- you can wrap it around you for warmth as you bound across the cold moons of Jaglan Beta; you can lie on it on the brilliant marble sanded beaches of Santraginus V, inhaling the heady sea vapours; you can sleep under it beneath the stars which shine so redly on the desert world of Kakrafoon; use it to sail a mini raft down the slow heavy river Moth; wet it for use in hand-tohand-combat; wrap it round your head to ward off noxious fumes or to avoid the gaze of the Ravenous Bugblatter Beast of Traal (a mindboggingly stupid animal, it assumes that if you can't see it, it can't see you -- daft as a bush, but very ravenous); you can wave your towel in emergencies as a distress signal, and of course dry yourself off with it if it still seems to be clean enough.

More importantly, a towel has immense psychological value. For some reason, if a strag (strag: non-hitchhiker) discovers that a hitchhiker has his towel with him, he will automatically assume that he is also in possession of a toothbrush, face flannel, soap, tin of biscuits, flask, compass, map, ball of string, gnat spray, wet weather gear, space suit etc., etc. Furthermore, the strag will then happily lend the hitchhiker any of these or a dozen other items that the hitchhiker might accidentally have "lost". What the strag will think is that any man who can hitch the length and breadth of the galaxy, rough it, slum it, struggle against terrible odds, win through, and still knows where his towel is is clearly a man to be reckoned with.

Randonneuring sounds a lot like hitchhiking across the galaxy...

Today I did the Fried Green Tomatoes 200K permanent.  Naturally, I had to carry a towel in honor of Towel Day, and I had the perfect towel for the occasion:

I pinned my Fried Green 50 towel to the back of my jersey like a cape so I could be Super Randonneur.  BTW, because I’ve already done my qualifying 200, 300, 400, and 600K qualifiers for PBP, I really am a Super Randonneur.

As a bonus, the route went on Highway 42! I felt particularly enlightened on this section:

The meaning of life, the universe, and everything

My towel came in handy when I got something to eat at the controls.  At one control I got a frozen dairy dessert (mmm...the marketers sure know how to make it sound appetizing).  It was kind of drippy.

These were called Push-Ups when I was a kid.  I didn't get treats like this very often, but over several months I diligently saved four of the plastic push-up parts.  When I had collected four, I taped them end-to-end in pairs to make axles and wheels, which I then taped to a shoebox to make a car for my stuffed animal rabbit.  Good times.

Another control on today's permanent was a Kroger.  It was lunchtime, and so I got a Sierra turkey wrap.  I don't know what made it Sierra.  Maybe the dried cranberries?  Regardless, it was tasty, but I'm glad I had my towel to keep the accompanying dressing under control.

Other ways I could have used my towel: wet it and wipe my face to cool off in the heat; use it as a mini pillow for a quick roadside nap;  wave yoo-hoo to Robert upon my arrival home; wipe the sweat from my salt-flavored meatpoles.  Well, Fleetwood is glad I didn't use it for that last one because he enjoyed licking my salt-flavored meatpoles vigorously when I got home from my ride.

A larger towel is quite useful, too.  I always put one under my bicycle when I carry it somewhere in my car:

Robert and other guys wrap a towel around their waist to change clothes after a ride.  I'm not coordinated enough to do that without exposing myself, and so I duck down in the car to change.

Don't forget your towel!

Definitely!

I usually don't even attempt to ride with the A group at Tuesday Worlds because I get dropped like a hot potato.  This week I knew it was going to be extra tough because some guys from Warner Robins came up.  It promised to be a testosterone-fest as the Macon guys and Warner Robins guys tried to show each other who was boss.  Robert confirmed my prediction as he described the A group ride on our drive home.  He likened it to one of my favorite math jokes.  Here's the math joke:

An engineer, a physicist, and a mathematician are trying to set up a fenced-in area for some sheep, but they have a limited amount of building material.  The engineer gets up first and makes a square fence with the material, reasoning that it's a pretty good working solution.

"No no," says the physicist, "there's a better way."  He takes the fence and makes a circular pen, showing how it encompasses the maximum possible space with the given material.

Then the mathematician speaks up: "No, no, there's an even better way."  To the others' amusement he proceeds to construct a little tiny fence around himself, then declares:

"I define myself to be on the outside."

Robert said, "I define myself as the peloton, and 17 guys just made a break."

A Little Help from My Friends

Every month or so, I get together for dinner with a group of friends.  We met a couple of nights ago, and they completely surprised me.  They helped me celebrate the upcoming Paris-Brest-Paris (PBP) in August.  Kathleen even got her pastry chef sister Margaret to make a Paris-Brest, a special wheel-shaped French pastry created in 1910 to commemorate PBP.  It was incredibly elegant and delicious!

I don't know when anyone has done something so nice for me.  Thank you all!  When PBP gets rough, I'll think of you and let your friendship and love help me keep going.  Ride on!

Kathleen brought some French linens for decoration.

Closeup of the Paris-Brest

Beret - oui!

Wonderful friends!
L-R: Adam, me, Kathleen, Robert, Kim, Lori, Katherine, Susan, and Benny

GTR 2019: A Study of Biscuits

Robert and I went to the Georgia Tandem Rally (GTR) this weekend.  This year it was in Covington, just up the road from us.  We had a blast on the tandem; ironically, GTR is about the only time we ever ride it because we mostly ride our single bicycles.

We have literally the last Burley tandem.  Burley still makes trailers to tow behind bicycles, but they ended their production of tandems in 2006.  Tandems are typically custom built because they are much less common in the cycling world than single bikes, and they have to fit both the captain (front rider) and stoker (rear rider).  Our tandem was on the Burley production line when they laid off all their assemblers.  Management had to come in to finish ours.  A couple of years ago, Robert got a special decal for our tandem to go in front of the Burley logo:

GTR 2019 became a study of biscuits.  I love a good biscuit, and I make pretty good ones myself.  Here's a batch of catheads I made a few weeks ago:

They're called cathead biscuits because they're as big as a cat's head.

I learned how to make biscuits from the mother of an old college boyfriend.  Despite a less than optimal ending to that relationship, the biscuits made it an overall worthwhile endeavor.

By the way, one time I was pulling a beautifully golden brown skillet of cornbread out of the oven.  I said to Robert, "I can't decide whether I like my biscuits or cornbread better."  He said, "That's ridiculous.  That's like saying, 'Which do you like better, breathing or eating?'"


The Blue Willow Inn

Our GTR 2019 foray into biscuits began at lunch on Friday.  Friday's ride had a remote start in Social Circle, home of the locally famous Blue Willow Inn.  The Blue Willow is a buffet of Southern cooking, e.g., fried chicken, several other meats, macaroni and cheese, green beans, sweet potato casserole, fried green tomatoes, etc.  Robert and I hadn't been there in quite a while, and so going there for lunch after Friday's tandem ride seemed like a good option.

Robert and I have had some delicious meals at the Blue Willow in the past.  In fact, we went there for our first anniversary.  Also, although Robert and I aren't really fans of trough eating (buffets), the Blue Willow is trough dining at its finest.

I got a biscuit with my Friday lunch only by chance.  I was about to exit the buffet room when I overheard someone ask another diner, "Would you like a biscuit or cornbread?"  No wonder I had almost missed the breads; they were in rather inconspicuous drawers to the side of the buffet line.

I turned around to get a biscuit.  (I'm very leery of getting cornbread at any restaurant because there's always a good chance it contains sugar - anathema!)  The biscuit was a little smushed on one side, but it was crispier there, which turned out to be the best part.

Overall, I was disappointed in my meal.  It wasn't nearly as good as I remembered the Blue Willow.  However, that didn't stop me from getting a second biscuit.  Strangely, the second biscuit wasn't as good as the first one.  Maybe my palate was too jaded by then.

We shared a table with our GTR friends Alan and Joanne from South Carolina and their friends Eddins and Carrie, who were attending their first GTR all the way from Colorado.  Eddins and Carrie described how, despite their best efforts with numerous recipes, they haven't been able to make decent biscuits.  The high altitude of Colorado might play some role in this, but I suspect their biggest problem is that they don't have the right type of flour available.

A few months ago, Robert shared with me an article entitled Why Most of America Is Terrible at Making Biscuits.  It details how the key to good, Southern-style biscuits is using a soft wheat flour like White Lily.  Outside of the South, it's difficult to find anything but flour made from hard wheat, which results in terrible biscuits.  I shared the article with Eddins and Carrie.  I hope they take some soft wheat flour home with them and are able to cook up some delicious, fluffy, Southern-style biscuits.


Biking for Biscuits

Roger and Eve, our GTR organizers extraordinaire, had a fun extra for us this year.  On Saturday's ride there was a bonus rest stop just for biscuits!  It was at Buckeye's restaurant in Jersey, GA.  Robert missed the turn, but I made him go back.  He was skeptical about stopping for biscuits, but it was worth it.  They were the real deal: big ol' fluffy catheads:

Roger joked that they finally figured out a way to get the fast riders to stop.  I think he and Eve should drive alongside us while we're riding and hand us a musette with biscuits.

Home Sweet Home

I truly love where I live.  This past weekend was an extra good reminder of that.  Although I had some goals, I didn’t have a schedule I had to stick to.  I simply got to enjoy home.

Go Take a Hike

The weekend kicked before I even got home from work on Friday.  On my way back from teaching a class in Macon, I met Robert and our friends David and Russ for a hike in the Oconee National Forest in south Jasper County.  Robert has spent a lot of time the past few months clearing trails.  Horseback riders have found his handiwork pretty quickly.  We hope hikers and even mountain bikers will also use these trails more.

Robert and I had hiked on the Beck Bluff-Love Mountain Loop on Easter weekend.  (Love Mountain was already named, but Robert named Beck Bluff in my honor.  My maiden name is Beck.  Wasn’t that the sweetest thing for him to do?)  That hike was right after several days of extensive rainfall.  When we got to the bottom of Love Mountain, we had to backtrack because the floodplain was flooded.

That's the normal channel of the Ocmulgee River in the background.

Temporary end of the trail

This trail marker is usually about head high.

This stormwater originated in Gwinnett County, which is at the northern end of the Ocmulgee River watershed, more than 50 miles to the north.  It would have been interesting to see a similar storm event 50 years ago; the water probably wouldn’t have risen as high because back then there was a lot less impervious area upstream.

We hiked the Beck Bluff-Love Mountain Loop again last Friday with David and Russ.  This time we got to complete the entire loop because the floodwaters had receded.

It was fascinating to see the sediment left behind.  It’s kind of hard to tell from these photos, but the sediment left on the vegetation is above head height.

Robert put this sediment in great perspective.  A reasonable estimate is that one millimeter of sediment is deposited during flooding each year.  In 1,000 years, one meter of sediment is deposited.  In 10,000 years, which is a blip on the geological timescale, 10 meters of sediment are deposited.  Therefore, it’s easy to see conceive how the landscape and topography change naturally over time.  Human activities, e.g., farming and construction that greatly accelerate the rate of erosion, can have an even more pronounced effect on the environment.

Taco...Friday?

That evening after the hike, Robert and I decided to go to the new Mexican restaurant on the Monticello square, La Eskina.  He had already been there for lunch and liked it.  I was eager to try it, too.  One downside: they don’t have their pouring license yet.  Robert and I found an easy and pleasant workaround to that; we had a beer at home before we went to the restaurant.  It was really fun simply to chill at home with a brew, hanging out with the hounds and listening to some good tunes.

La Eskina was great. It tasted a lot fresher and more authentic than many Americanized Mexican restaurants I’ve been to, probably because everything isn’t drenched in cheese. I got the tacos with carnitas, which also had onions and cilantro - very flavorful.  You get the usual chips and salsa (both good), and there are two additional salsas on the table.  I really liked the salsa verde, and the other (chipotle?) was good on my tacos.  We also got the delicious guacamole.  It’s house-made and chunky.

The most surprisingly outstanding item, however, was the flan.  When Robert ordered it, he asked the waitress if it was good.  We expected her to say yes, but she said it was off the chain.  She was right.  It was probably the best flan I’ve ever had.  I told Robert it was like my Grannie’s egg custard on steroids.  He said it might be better than his grandmother’s custard.  (Her custard was liquid, and they poured it over pound cake.)  He looked heavenward and said, “Sorry, Grandma.”

Atlanta Connections and Funeral Food

Saturday was the funeral of J.R. Cobb, who had died a few days before.  I didn't know him well enough to go to his funeral, but I've been a fan from afar.  Whenever he played guitar at our church, it was such a treat.  Actually, I'm a huge Atlanta Rhythm Section fan, and he played guitar and sang for them.  I never wanted to be a pest about my fandom.

At least I got to fulfill that most Southern of roles, providing a dish for the family and friends who had a meal after the funeral. My original plan was to make some kind of healthy vegetable dish, but I couldn't get to the grocery store in time. So, I made something from the ingredients I had on hand, a French coconut pie.

I probably should have listened to "Spooky," a great ARS song that J.R. wrote, while I made the pie.  Instead, I listened to one of my ARS favorites, "Doraville."  It just makes me feel good.  I also like it because Doraville is close to where I grew up in DeKalb County, my first home.

By the way, on Saturday night I fried some catfish and had cheese grits on the side.  J.R. and his wife Bert were the ones who taught me that cheese grits are so good with catfish.  J.R. was part of Southern Crossroads, a bluegrass/gospel group at our church for several years.  One time, my church friends Hugh and Carol (Hugh was also in Southern Crossroads) had a fish fry at their house on a Friday evening.  Thanks to J.R. and Bert, that's the first time I had cheese grits with catfish.  I've been serving them together ever since.

RIP, J.R.  Thank you for sharing your talents with us.

Monticello Market on the Square

One of the best things Monticello has going is the Market on the Square, a farmer's market that runs every Saturday from May through September.  I'm gone for cycling events on many Saturdays, and so I make a point to go to the farmer's market whenever I'm in town.  My first visit of the season was last Saturday, one of the few free ones I'll have for a while.  I brought along my greyhounds Allie and Fleetwood, the perfect opportunity for an outing with them.  We dropped off the pie at church and headed to the square.

Fresh produce will be more abundant in a few weeks.  In the meantime, there's still lots of good stuff at the market.  A couple from Forsyth were selling several delicious looking condiments.  I was intrigued by the tomato jam.  They let me taste it, and I knew that I had found my farmer's market purchase of the day.  I detected a hint of cloves - very tasty - which the woman confirmed.  She recommended the tomato jam as a topping for cheese such as brie.  I took her suggestion the next night when the 'rents-in-law came to dinner.  It was excellent over both brie and blue cheese, served with crackers.

After purchasing the tomato jam, I walked the hounds to The Vanilla Bean, where I had second breakfast.  I enjoyed a cup of Earl Grey tea and a slice of chocolate pie.  Whenever I have chocolate pie, I think of the John Anderson song "Swingin’."  Her brother brother was on the sofa, eatin' chocolate pie.

Anytime I'm sitting outside at The Vanilla Bean having second breakfast on a Saturday morning, I try to be extra friendly to anyone who appears to be from out of town.  As I sat there last Saturday, a man in a suit walked up.  I didn't think he was a local, but he looked kind of familiar.  We exchanged a few pleasantries, and he went inside.

A short time later, I finished my tea and pie and tied the greyhounds up while I took my dishes back inside.  I saw the man in the suit again.  I asked, "Are you here for J.R.'s funeral?" knowing that a lot of out-of-town guests were expected.  He said no, he was passing through after a graduation that morning.  Then I realized who I was talking to - Ol' Poot Head.

Let's just say that Ol' Poot Head and I disagree on many things, particularly politics.  Even so, we had a very nice conversation.  He knows that I'm an avid cyclist and told me how he often goes out himself on Saturday mornings on his mountain bike.  Then, he described a recent cycling mishap where he got a bad gash in his leg from his pedal.  He even had to get stitches.  Ouch!  Despite our differences, I still don't want Ol' Poot Head to be hurt.  My stomach lurched in sympathy as he told me about his injury.

Back outside, I gathered up the greyhounds to go home and get ready for the day's bicycle ride.  As I was headed back to my car, my friend Glen asked me if I had been to the tent where they were selling BBQ sauces.  He also said I should get some of their BBQ.  Hmmm…that sounded pretty good.

Originally, I had planned to ride south to Allison Lake in the Piedmont Wildlife Refuge.  That’s about a two-hour, out-and-back ride.  The BBQ tent would be gone by then.  Right then I decided to modify my cycling plans.

BBQ: Rocket Fuel!

I took the hounds home, changed into my cycling kit, and rode my bicycle back to the square.  BBQ on the front end of my ride wasn't the optimal order of operations, and I wasn't super hungry after second breakfast, but I really felt the urge to try this BBQ.  Also, I figured a BBQ sandwich wouldn't fill me up too much, and I wouldn't have to take any additional bike food on my ride.

The BBQ chef was Eric, assisted by his wife Toni.  We had a nice chat while Eric prepared my BBQ plate.  They moved to Monticello just a few months ago from Atlanta.  He's spent his entire career in the food industry, working in every capacity from short-order cook to high-end chef.  Now, he and Toni are enjoying small-town life in Monticello.  Welcome, neighbors!

After Eric finished assembling my sandwich, I took my lunch to a shady bench on the square.

The BBQ was delicious.  In fact, I texted Robert to tell him that I had found our BBQ for this year's BBQ Bass Bicycle Ride, which will be next month.  While Eric was preparing my sandwich, he told me that his BBQ is a little different.  He was right.  The best way I can describe it is that it has a depth that I don't taste in most BBQ sauces - kind of an undertone that kicks in a few seconds after the initial flavor.

Ride On

At last it was time to ride.  The Allison Lake route still would have been nice, but with lunch out of the way, I decided on a slightly longer route into Putnam County.  The predicted rain looked like it would hold off until after I had finished my ride.  (It did.)

I particularly enjoyed the southeastern portion of my route.  In Hillsboro I turned off of Highway 11 onto Fullerton-Phillips Road.  I ride this road frequently, but it was particularly beautiful on Saturday afternoon.  It's a quiet road with lots of wooded areas.

Fullerton-Phillips crosses Highway 212 and becomes Old Hillsboro Road.  Then, about half a mile later, it becomes Hillsboro Road at the Putnam County line.  From here to the end at Highway 16 is the best part: smooth pavement, very little traffic, and the beauty of farms and the Oconee National Forest.

I love riding these roads anytime, but there's just something about this time of year, my favorite.

Bittersweet

As I think back on what made last weekend so enjoyable, two things stand out: 1) the land itself that I love so much and 2) good food.  Those are some of the best parts of the South.  There are some not-so-great parts of the South, too.  Let’s face it; there are some downright ugly parts: racism, bigotry, misogyny, and provincialism.  But you know what?  These are human problems, and they are everywhere.  They just stand out more in the South because of its complex, still-living history.

Living in Jasper County, I always feel like a salmon swimming upstream – a blue dot in a red sea.  It can be so tiring to stay true to myself and what I believe is right when most of the people around me have such a different worldview.  In January 2017 I received wonderful affirmation that I'm not alone after all; I took part in the Women’s March in Atlanta.  I was surrounded by literally thousands of other people who value the same things I do: equality, inclusivity, empowerment, and beauty and strength in diversity.  I hadn’t realized how much energy it takes for me to be such an outlier in my home community; the march was an unexpected, wonderfully restorative respite from the constant exertion of life in rural Georgia.

I met up at the march with my sister Donna, my two nieces, and a friend of Donna’s.  Her friend was a young man who was a college student.  I told him about loving where I live yet it often being such a struggle.  His response has really stayed with me.  He told me that it’s important for me to be where I am.  It’s so easy for us to retreat to enclaves where everyone else thinks just like we do.  If we’re truly going to come together as people and find common ground, we have to live and interact with each other.  Just my being in Jasper County and expressing different ideas is important.  Of course, I always want to listen to others as well.  This is the South that I’m working toward.

Recently, I discovered an online community that espouses just these ideals: The Bitter Southerner.  I had no idea such a group exists.  Already it has been a great blessing and food for my mind and soul.  The Bitter Southerner has a podcast, online newsletter, and Facebook page.  Here are a few excerpts from the BS website to describe what it's about:

And recent election results suggest that the Southern mind hasn't evolved much, that we're not much different from what we were in 1936, when Faulkner was struggling yet again with the moral weirdness of the South.  Almost 80 years later, it's still too damned easy for folks to draw the conclusion that we Southerners are hopelessly bound to tradition, too resistant to change.

But there is another South, the one that we know: a South that is full of people who do things that honor genuinely honorable traditions.  Drinking.  Cooking.  Reading.  Writing.  Singing.  Playing.  Making things.  It's also full of people who face our region's contradictions and are determined to throw our dishonorable traditions out the window.  The Bitter Southerner is here for Southern people who do cool things, smart things, things that change the whole world, or just a few minds at a time.

The world knows too little about these people, which is, alas, another reason to be bitter.  But it prompted us to create The Bitter Southerner.

Every place has its pros and cons.  Ideally, each person should find a place that has more pros than cons for him or her.  (For me, that place is Jasper County, Georgia.)  Then, we each have the responsibility to make those cons better, wherever we call home sweet home.

Grateful