Crazy Odds, Part 2

The shadows were getting a bit long when we pulled into Brevard, NC around 5:30 PM. Situated at 2,225 feet above sea level, the town of 7,775 is the seat of Transylvania County in the Carolina Blue Ridge Mountains. We were there for the white squirrels and their accompanying swag, but it was Sunday Night, and most of the merchants of Brevard had already rolled up their sidewalks. 

There were a few establishments open for business, though, and when we entered one of them a little after 6, I replied to the friendly greeting the clerk gave me with a terse, "When do you close?"

He laughed it off. "I'll be open for at least another 30 minutes," he said, and then waving to the sidewalk displays outside, he added," I won't even start bringing that stuff in for another half hour, so take your time."

I thanked him, but before I could follow Heidi deeper into the shop, he asked, "What brings you all to Brevard?"

"We're just passing through," I started, and then, in a quite uncharacteristic way, I filled him in on the fact that we were from the Washington area and we saw a white squirrel, so I researched them and found out about the colony in Brevard, then we were visiting my sister in Atlanta and decided to stop in Asheville on the trip back, so how could I not stop in Brevard?

He nodded politely, and when I was done he said, "My sister lives in D.C. and she has a white squirrel that she feeds. Are they common up there?"

"I don't think so," I replied. "I've never seen one before. Has your sister seen many?"

"I don't know." He shrugged. "It's kind of a long story," he told me. "I've never met her before. We just connected over a DNA test."

I nodded. "And white squirrels, I guess."

"Yeah, those, too," he said, and then he started in on the flying squirrels he and his wife have at their home outside of town.

Crazy Odds, Part 1

In addition to that statue of Grant we saw on our walk around the National Mall last week, we also saw this:

A white squirrel!

The sight was so unexpected that of course, I had to do some research on the phenomena. It turns out that there are two types of white squirrels in North America, albino and leucistic. Albinism is a congenital lack of pigment in eyes, fur, and skin, and leucism is a condition of partial loss of pigmentation, and never in the eyes.

Ours was clearly albino, its eyes were pink. Albino squirrels are exceptionally rare, occurring 1 or fewer times in 100,000 births, but my research revealed that there are several places across the U.S. known for their robust colonies of white squirrels, most of which are leucistic.

Coincidentally, one of these towns famous for its white squirrel population is Brevard, N.C.-- a community right on the way from Atlanta to Asheville, a route we planned to take on the way home from our visit with my sister. No question, we had to stop!

Change of Clothes

Never mind the Halloween displays in all the stores here in Atlanta, Even though school starts Tuesday, it is still July, and it was 94 degrees today. But the blazing heat and humidity didn’t stop a group of young people standing on the corner across from the mall from wearing their North Face down jackets. 

“Kids are so weird,” Heidi shook her head as we drove past. 

No question. 

Not Just Any Will Do

"Maybe you could call him Dithers," I suggested to my sister about the new 10-week-old kitten they had adopted, who was nameless after several days in the house. The family has a bit of a history of taking their time when it comes to naming their pets.

"I would want it to be Mr. Dithers," she laughed. “Plus, we’re the ditherers, not him.”

This fortunate little guy came with the name of Lucky Charms, (all of his litter was named after cereal by the rescue organization), but despite its accuracy, we all agreed that Lucky was not his *real* name. Over the week that he's been here, he has shown himself to be compliant, never missing the litter box once, brave, exploring the house fearlessly on his own, smart and resourceful, avoiding the three dogs that just want to put his head in their mouths, and agile, leaping straight up toward the ceiling to catch the flashing stars. 

It is also clear that he is curious, calm, and affectionate-- practically a perfect kitten. No wonder it's so hard to find the name that matches!

Vacation Alliteration

On our first day in Atlanta, my sister took a break from work and she, Heidi, and I headed over to Ponce City Market for lunch. Since many of the restaurants have pretty, little shaded outdoor dining areas, we loaded Lucy into the car, too. There we enjoyed some yummy seafood sammies from Fishcamp. 

How lovely being ladies of leisure who lunch on Lobster with Lucy!

Detour

Midway through South Carolina, and about two-thirds of the way to Atlanta, the traffic slowed to stop-and-go. A sign flashed informing us that all lanes were closed about 10 miles ahead, so we bailed. Using our phones and car GPS, we navigated west through Greenville, into the picturesque little town of Easley, and on to Liberty. Then it was south on SC 178, a two-lane road shimmering with the last heat of the day. We rolled past the Slabtown Masonic Lodge, some pretty horse farms, and a sundry other rural sights, including signs for moonshine and goat milk.

It was a pretty drive, sullied only by the several stars and bars archaically waving along the way. "Who even thinks that's a good idea?" asked Heidi, shaking her head. "And why?"

Skills!

"Is that Grant?" I asked as the five of us walked around the reflecting pool at the Capitol. I was talking about the huge statue of a man on his horse. A moment later I laughed and pointed at the inscription etched in the marble base: GRANT. "So it says."

"I'm really more interested in the horse," I explained. "Grant's favorite horse, Cincinnati, was a son of Lexington, the fastest racehorse in the 1800s and then the best stud for 16 years in a row, a record that still stands today." 

From there I told the group, consisting of Heidi and our teacher-buddies, Matt and Mary, about the novel Horse, by Geraldine Brooks, a book my brother recommended to me and with which I was nearly finished. 

"The skeleton of Lexington was on display right there," I pointed to the Natural History Museum, "until he was forgotten, and it was literally moved to the attic." We regarded the domed building, and I examined the roofline with renewed interest wondering exactly where the attic might be.

"Don't worry," I reassured them, "it's on permanent loan now to the International Museum of the Horse in, wait for it... Lexington!" I finished with a flourish.

"Look at you making connections," Mary said. "What a good reader!"