The Binghamton Zombie Apocalypse

In case of a zombie apocalypse in upstate NY, I now know where to go.

Tonight, Binghamton held its third annual Zombie walk.

The zombies helpfully posed for a group photo.

A couple of zombie bellydancers entertained the crowd.  This one danced (slowly, of course) with a sword on top of her head. (Sorry, this picture came out rather blurry.)

A gowned zombie looked on, fake blood glistening on her gown.


Someone calling himself "The Undertaker"and dressed in a steampunk type costume with tophat told the zombies he would be their leader and that they were to refrain from eating the living for tonight only.

The zombies were to visit various venues open for First Friday in downtown Binghamton. Their first stop was to be Phelps Mansion, a mansion built in 1870, now on the edge of downtown.  Some of the everyday people who walk the streets near Phelps Mansion are scarier than any zombie you will ever meet.

My spouse and I hurried to the mansion ahead of the shambling, screaming crowd.  (I will blog more about Phelps Mansion, which has a Civil War connection, another time.) While we waited for the zombies to arrive, we spoke to the staff.

(Interior of Phelps Mansion, courtesy of AM)

Not only did the staff not know the zombies were intending to visit, they didn't know what zombies were.

"They are the undead", I explained helpfully.  "They eat people."

"How disgusting!" a staff member responded

As the zombies arrived, the staff told them they couldn't enter, so they milled around a couple of minutes and then left.  Indeed, if the Zombie Apocalypse comes, Phelps Mansion should be the safest place in the Southern Tier of NY.

"I'm not impressed", a young woman remarked to me.  "You should see the zombie walk in the West Village!"

Well, maybe one day I will.  But at least Binghamton is trying.   And in case of a zombie apocalypse, remember - you don't want to be in a large city.  Trust me on this.

When a Language Dies

Can you imagine English being a dying language one day? 

A small piece of English died yesterday, with the last "Cromarty" native speaker in Scotland dying, at the age of 92.  The dialect was several hundred years old and was the English once spoken in a remote fishing village in Northern Scotland.

Other dialects and languages have have died in my lifetime.  People are attempting to revive one of these languages, Manx, whose last native speaker (in the Isle of Man) died in 1974.

We don't think much about languages dying, but in fact, their death rate has accelerated in the 20th and 21st centuries. Sometimes, an entire culture dies with the last native speaker, which happened in the Indian Ocean with a woman by the name of Boa Sr. in 2010.

In our world, increasingly interconnected, speech is becoming more standardized.  We can think of this as a good thing.  I am utilizing this technology in my blog, written in English, and I post each post knowing that millions of people all over the world are able to read it - and understand it. (I hope)

Nice, isn't it.

But one of the strengths of the English language is its richness.  We have many words in English taken from other languages, and an author with an excellent vocabulary can choose from many words, each with a slightly different meaning, to express something.   Without different languages, which express the world view of their speakers, the richness of our world is diminished.

Note that I talk about both "dialect" and "language". I am not a linguist, and a linguist may disagree with this statement, but a dialect tends to be more a regional subset of a language.  In the United States northerners and southerners can use different vocabulary, but both are still speaking English.

Meanwhile, due to the passing of one Bobby Hogg, our living vocabulary is poorer.

Never again will we hear about "greengaw", the slimy grass left when the tide recedes. (Did anyone know English had a word for this?)  Or "roosky", meaning dirty? 

Cromarty will survive in recordings.  And there are some people in that area of Scotland who have some knowledge of the Cromarty dialect.   But, we need to beware of too much standardization in our world.  Homogenized isn't always better, although it is easier.

Fall Fancies - The First Fall Color

No doubt about it, early fall color is appearing from western North Carolina to the Catskills and Southern Tier of New York. And, even New York City.

I think many "experts" are surprised.  After the "blah" color of the last several years, we may finally have decent color - and much earlier than the past few years, too.  The timing is more like what we had the first 15 or so years I've lived in this area.

(And, it is time for the seasonal renaming of my Wednesday photo feature. This year, Fall Fancies is what this Wednesday feature will be.)

Fall color was appearing even in mid to late September.  It is in full swing now and it appears we may have our first frost here in Binghamton on Monday.  At that point, the coloring will go into high gear. 

Some pictures from the last week:

A tree turning color in Otsiningo Park, near Binghamton, NY.  (Yes, those low clouds seem to be a constant feature lately around here, too.)

Porcelain berries growing in Red Hook, a neighborhood in Brooklyn (New York City).  This is a very invasive plant, related to the grape.  But you have to admit the berries, which ripen in the fall, are beautiful.  (Thank you to my sometimes guest photographer's sister for IDing these).

Color in the Poconos Mountains of Pennsylvania.

And, color on the Vestal Rail Trail in the Southern Tier of New York.

Is it fall where you live?  Will you have good color this year, or will the drought ruin it?

When The Levee Breaks

So many communities have been impacted by floods these past few years.  The flood recovery of my neighborhood of Westover, near Johnson City, New York (in the Town of Union) continues, along with the recovery of many nearby communities.

Tens of houses in my neighborhood remain vacant and crumbling, but government help may finally be on the way.  HUD has approved the Union disaster recovery plan (only 13 months after the flood) which will include improvements (unspecified) to the "Westover levee", replacement of a maintenance building to the Johnson City water plant (located in our neighborhood).  We still await word on 176 proposed buyouts for houses in my neighborhood and several others.

And, there is the former BAE Industries plant,  the building mere blocks from where I live.  It used to be one of the largest wood framed buildings in the United States.  It was where 1300 people used to work before the flood.  Now its population is 2 - the security guards who look over the vacant building.

Government help?  Well, yes.  I rarely get political in my blogs, but I have to say, based on experiences in the past 13 months, that there is a role for government to play in our lives.

It was sure nice to have potable water after days of boil water orders and voluntary water rationing.  The Town was very prompt in removing stinking flood debris.  The post office continued to deliver mail.  Garbage pickup continued.  The services you don't think about until they are endangered....

We love to think we are in control of our lives, and that we can pull ourselves up by our own bootstraps (to quote a sometimes overused expression).   Believe me when I say we are much less in control of our lives than we think.  All it takes is a summer of record rain, followed by two tropical storms. (Or, for so much of our country, the opposite - record droughts).

Times like that call for more help we can provide for ourselves, or that our neighbors can provide (after all,they are affected, too! ) Yes, the Red Cross was there for us.  The Salvation Army was there, too, along with local charities.  But charity can not carry the entire burden.

Needing help does not mean people are "lazy". It means they are overwhelmed.  There is no shame in reaching out in such a situation.

And then, there is artistic expression.

During the flood, someone posted a video on You Tube of our Southern Tier under water, using Led Zepplin's "When The Levee Breaks" as a soundtrack. I recently tried to find the video and couldn't.  But it is sobering to think that this song was first written in 1927.  The original version details the sufferings of minorities in the Mississippi Delta during and after a great flood in 1927.

Watching that video, those 13 months ago, helped our spirits.


So, what is the good news coming out of what happened 13 months ago?  The good news is that we continue to recover every day, we continue to make progress and we've been given the opportunity to prepare for "next time".

And, I can watch the trees starting to turn fall colors, and be happy I am here to enjoy it.

The Ultimate Gardening Challenge?

First, a welcome to those participating in the Ultimate Blog Challenge.  If you haven't signed up, it isn't too late.  31 posts in 31 days.  Sounds easy but it isn't. But it is well worth the effort.

 I hope you like what you see, and return again.   I have scheduled topics I blog on every Wednesday (flowers), Saturday (sustainable living) and Sunday (the U.S. Civil War).  The rest of the week, I write on a variety of topics.

This past week, I spent a couple of days in Brooklyn, in New York City, and have been sharing some of my finds with you.

Have you ever wondered how people garden in New York City?  They do it in a variety of ways because space is precious. You find gardens in front yards, in back yards, and even on roofs.  New York City's climate is not the harshest, but growing conditions can be - acid rain, thieves (sadly), concrete, pollution - but these devoted gardeners don't let anything stop them.

This pepper plant is one of a number of ornamental pepper in an immigrant's front yard.  I spoke to the gardener briefly - his English wasn't good but his gardening skills more than made up for it.  Note to thieves, he warned me that this pepper is HOT.

A strawberry blooms and fruits in a container.

A rosemary plant sprawls on a concrete back yard.

A luffa squash takes over a fence.

There were more plants growing within a few feet of these yards.  Several fig trees had ripening fruit.  A squash grew up a fire escape.  Tomatoes, which had seen better days and were dying of late blight, were in many yards.    If I had come a month before, I suspect I could have taken even more photos.

They say "bloom where you are planted". Gardeners in Brooklyn respond "Garden where you live!"

Is gardening a special challenge where you live?

Civil War Sunday - The Liberty Warehouse

The four of us were walking in Brooklyn on Friday when the young man approached us.

He smiled and said to us, "you look like tourists.  Do you want to know something about the history of this area?"

We did.  We were in a neighborhood called Red Hook (from the Dutch Roode Hoeck), one of six Dutch villages that became Breuklelen (Brooklyn).  The "roode" came from the red soil.  The "hoeck" means point, not "hook".  If you look at a map, you'll see what they meant.

The young man continued, "did you notice how a lot of buildings have the name "Liberty" in them? Like the building you are standing next to?"  Sure enough.....

"Many of these buildings pre date the Civil War", the young man informed us.  "They were used as munition warehouses".

So when I got home, I did a little research.  He was right about the age of the warehouse.  This building, the Liberty Warehouse, dates from the 1850's.  It is a wedding venue today.

In the 1850's and 1860's, Brooklyn was not part of New York City. It was a separate city.

During the Civil War, Brooklyn was the third largest city in the country.  Prior to the Civil War, Robert E. Lee was stationed at Ft. Hamilton in Brooklyn. Thomas "Stonewall" Jackson was stationed at Ft. Hamilton also, and baptized in Brooklyn. Ft. Hamilton is still an active military base.

The ironclad U.S.S. Monitor was built in another neighborhood of Brooklyn, Greenpoint.

A fascinating book on Brooklyn and the Civil War was published earlier this year. Highly recommended if you want to read more on this topic.

I'm not sure, though, about the connection between "Liberty" in the name of the warehouse and its Civil War link.  I suspect the "liberty" comes from Red Hook's closeness to the Statue of Liberty.  The weather conditions didn't allow me to photograph it, but on a clear day, the Statue of Liberty is very visible from Red Hook.

No matter where we live, we walk in history.

Sustainable Saturday - How to Build Community

Red Hook, Brooklyn, continues to amaze as I read more about it.  Yesterday, I visited for the third time.  Unlike the previous two times, when I came only to shop at the fantastic Fairway supermarket, I roamed around a small part of the community.

How to Build Community.   I had to photograph this idealistic sign.  Not a sign I would expect to find in a neighborhood of New York City that - let's face it - has seen some very rough times.

I can only hope that the people of Red Hook live up to this sign.

We found a little garden nearby, which does not appear to be one of the community or urban farms in the area.  The gate was open, so we went in and looked around.

 I can not seem to find any discussion of "Red Hook Farm" online.  What I did find is the Red Hook Community Farm, which sounds like my adopted "home town" Binghamton, New York's VINES, but on a much larger scale.  But this looked more like a demonstration garden.

 If anyone can solve the mystery of this garden, I would love to hear from you.

Strangely, some of the plantings seemed to be brand new, such as some young pole beans.  In New York City, the growing season has perhaps another month to go.

Others,such as this eggplant, were still in full swing. 

Nearby was a walk planted with native plants.  And, across the water, the Statue of Liberty, shrouded in humidity (making a picture with my iPhone impossible), completed the captivating feature.

Red Hook still has a long way to go in its recovery, but in a strange way, it has put hooks into me, the person who grew up in New York City and left many years ago because she just wanted to get out of there in the worst way.

I will be back.

The Swingle

One of the best pies in the world is located in an industrial area of Brooklyn, an area where tourists would not normally go, because it is not located in Manhattan. 

If you are planning to visit New York City, please consider visiting one or more of the "outer boroughs". (admittedly, it does help that I grew up in NYC-in an outer borough- and still have friends/family in Brooklyn and Queens.) This will be a way different experience from what people expect from NYC.

You owe it to yourself to buy a pie, or a Swingle (more on that later) from Steve's Authentic Key Lime Pies in the Red Hook area of Brooklyn.

The neighborhood of Red Hook is the last place you would expect to find an authentic Key Lime Pie.  Or, at that, a key lime pie-let, covered in high quality dark chocolate and served frozen on a stick.  Very handy for munching on when visiting the other nearby sights.

Hence, the Swingle.

When driving through Red Hook, keep in mind that this is what I would call an "up and coming area" i.e. an area that has been down on its luck for many years and is finding its way back.  Yes, it is gritty, to put it mildly.  But don't turn around.  Just be sure you have very good directions.

Once in Red Hook, you will want to head to "Pier 41".  Once there, you will see a sign like this:

Outside, you will find some lime trees in pots.

On the door you will find this sign...

And this sign...

And as soon as you enter the very plain retail space, and I do mean "very plain", you will find this.  Don't run!  You are almost in culinary heaven!

You can buy either a Key Lime Pie (a REAL Key Lime Pie) or the Swingle.

This is the Swingle.

 I can only wish I could communicate how delicious this was to you.  I've talked about  my wish for "Blog-O-Smell";  I can also wish there was a "Blog-O-Taste" plug-in.

There are some other interesting places near Steve's, which I will blog about in the coming weeks.

Do you have a favorite local "find" that tourists don't know about?  

Moon River and Me

I loved this song so much when I was growing up.

I never knew exactly what it was talking about, or anything about the man who wrote the lyrics, Johnny Mercer.  I never imagined I would ever see Moon River (an inlet of the actual river was named after the song, not vice versa), or visit the grave of Johnny Mercer in Bonaventure Cemetery in Savannah, Georgia. 

I can't say that I dreamed of visiting Savannah because of the song, but I did have the dream of visiting for over 30 years before I finally visited last year.  Things kept getting in the way, but I finally made it.

The phrasing of this song is so beautiful.  It rang so true to the childhood me.  It reminded me of Tom Sawyer and Huckleberry Finn, floating down the Mississippi, smoking their corncob pipes and fishing for their next meal. It was a never ending childhood dream to this girl growing up in the Bronx, to join them on that raft.   I was never made for the Bronx, although it shaped me and made me the woman I am today.

The story of the song isn't quite Huck Finn, but is quite interesting.

That song made me want to travel.  So today I will be in Brooklyn, visiting my huckleberry friend.  This September is the 50th anniversary of our friendship.

Yesterday, packing for the visit, I heard that the man who sung that song on the radio, to my childhood delight, had died.  Another piece of my childhood gone.

In your honor, Andy Williams, I will think of Moon River, even as I return to visit my native New York City. I will think of my childhood memories and my childhood with my huckleberry friend.

Moon River and me.

Did the song Moon River have any meaning to you?

Summer Blooms - Flowers of Mt. Mitchell

Bloom where you are planted....

Wildflowers bloom on top of the highest mountain in the Eastern United States on these pictures taken on the first day of fall.

Mount Mitchell, in western North Carolina, is that mountain, and we were fortunate for the opportunity to see it.

It was a beautiful drive from Asheville, NC on the Blue Ridge Parkway.  At the same time, many bicyclists were riding - one said it was about a 3 hour ride (each way) from Asheville.  What a level of physical fitness those bicycle riders have achieved!

This is one of the many views of the Blue Ridge Mountains from the observation decks on the mountain.  These mountains live up to their name.  Even on the first day of fall, they look blue from a distance.

More wildflowers, from a little further down the summit.  It was interesting seeing how the vegetation changed as the altitude changed.  These asters disappeared as we got closer to the top.

Although I didn't photograph them, several Appalachian balds were visible from Mount Mitchell.  These are mountain tops devoid of trees, in a climate zone where trees should be growing at that attitude - but they aren't.  Scientists aren't 100% sure of why this happens, as some mountains will have balds and other mountains, next door and possibly even taller, won't.

We also saw stands of dead trees.  At the visitors center, we found out that these stands of trees were killed by acid rain.  Although this looks like some strange wildflower, this is actually a branch of one of these dead trees.

And so ends another summer of blooms.

Now that fall has taken over from summer here in the Northern Hemisphere, what would you like to see instead of Summer Blooms, as we approach the end of our blooming season?

Mystery Blondes

 Blonde apples.  A joke?  No.

The apple crop in our part of upstate New York is not good this year.  Many local orchards are not offering U Pick. This is a blow to our local agricultural industry, but at least we have enough apples for regular sales, and for cider.

This was the result of our early spring, which came to a abrupt stop with a night of temperatures in the teens.   The apples were in bloom, and the freeze killed many of the blooms.  The only thing that saved our crop was the fact that apple trees tend to produce a lot more blooms than they need.

We weren't the only ones to experience Apple Fail.

Hendersonville, NC, which my spouse and I visited last Friday, also has apples in short supply. 
Hendersonville is in a major apple growing area of North Carolina, and some of these apples make it into the larger city of Asheville.

Some of the apples we saw at the tailgate markets in Asheville, NC, were seriously pockmarked with hail damage.  But, I understand from talking to farmers that the cause of their Apple Fail was similar to ours.

Finally, on the way home, we visited Maryland.  Seems like they had a good crop. At Catoctin Mountain Orchards near the Maryland/Pennsylvania border, we finally found some good apples- apples I haven't seen here in the Binghamton, NY area.

We bought some of these Blondie apples. 

But when I got home and looked these up online, I did not see anything on "blondie" apples.  It wasn't handwriting; these are listed on the orchard website as "Blondie", too.

I thought maybe I saw a heirloom apple. But it wasn't.

What I found online were references to "Blondee" apples, a yellow Gala-type.  The orchard did have Gala apples - they were even offering whole Gala apples for sampling. 

I wonder if this mystery "blonde" is a Blondee apple.  When I taste it, I'll see how Gala-like it is.

I love apple time. Do you?

Fun with Faces

 I've had this post in my drafts for a couple of years.  It is time for it to see the light of day, so to speak.

Thank you to the blog  Bike with Jackie for letting me know about this other blog that links to a  fun site.  That is one of the really neat things about the WordCount Blogathon held each May, the first blogging competition (but far from the last) I participated in. It's over but some of the blogging "friends" I've made continue to give me inspiration.

It's good to have a break from trying to learn the craft of blogging, take a vacation and just....wasting a little bit of time.  Kicking back. 

I had a ball the other day, during some down time.  This is how it works:

All you need to do is enter a name.  Any name will do.  And then, look at the face that is generated.

This is my face.  Amazingly, it looks like a man with a beard.  Now, postmenopausal women tend to have mustaches-but I don't know about beards.

This is the face of Billie Noakes, who guest-blogged for me on the Guest Blog Theme day.  Hi, Billie!  I never knew you were a secret Transformer.  (Is this why you've stopped blogging? Oh please, Billie, come back.)

 This is my son.  You know.....nah.  this isn't him at all.

And last but not least, this is my spouse.

Now, I have a serious question.  Would anyone, 15 years ago, have dreamed that the two major uses of the Internet (besides music downloading and hunting recipes) would be -social networking and-wasting time with silly little programs?

Oh yes-and blogging.

Tomorrow I'll be back to the serious stuff.  I promise.

Overdue Library Art

Who says librarians don't have a sense of humor?  Or a sense of the artistic?

Today, I wanted to show you several examples of art, upstate New York library style. We have several local libraries here in our Triple Cities of upstate New York.

In the George F. Johnson Library in Endicott, NY, I found this mosaic near a water fountain.

Nearby, is their cafe - called, what else, The Overdue Cafe.

This library, like many others, has periodic displays of area art.  Last month, the subject was quilts.  I had to take these pictures on the "sly" because we aren't supposed to be using cell phones in the library.  I don't know the names of the artists - I was too busy sneaking around and seeing if any librarian was looking - I hope they are OK with me posting these pictures of their lovely art.

Chickens are a favorite art theme of mine.  At one point in time, I decorated part of my house in "early chicken".  I would have snapped this quilt up if it had been for sale back in my "chicken period".

Maybe I would even buy it now.

And finally, a quilt featuring a stag.  Not welcome in your average garden, but a beauty nonetheless.

Again, if any of the makers of these quilts come forward, I would love to give proper credit to them.

Do you have any favorite library art?

Civil War Sunday - "Pictures of the Dead"

A week ago, I was inside this church building near Sharpsburg, MD, along with a crowd of people visiting for a certain anniversary.

As we heard cannons booming nearby, a speaker spoke to us:


Imagine yourself inside this church, 150 years ago this week.  You are a member of the Old German Brethren, called "Dunkers" by the locals.  Things have not gone easy since the War Between the States broke out almost 1 1/2 years ago.  Your home state, Maryland, is under military occupation by the Federals.  And the Confederates have invaded.  Rumor has it that they are nearby.  Everyone is nervous, at the Sunday service.  If you say the wrong things, you can be arrested.

But you, and your brethren, are pacifists.  What can you do?

A few days later, the church is empty.  It is early morning. 

Suddenly there is gunfire and a battle is raging around your church.

 (Photos taken 9/16/12 at the Dunker Church, Antietam Battlefield near Sharpsburg, MD, courtesy of AM).

By the time darkness falls, there will be some 23,000. casualties on both sides (dead, injured, missing).  The name will live on in history....Antietam. 

We are so fortunate that this battlefield has been preserved (unlike so many others) and we can walk its fields.

Photographers were on the scene quickly and took pictures of the dead.  Mathew Brady exhibited the photos at his New York City studio in October of 1862.

For one of the first times, civilians could see the true horror of war.  One famous photo shows a dead Confederate gun crew  with the Dunker Church in the background.

To quote from the New York Times review of the exhibition:

But there is a poetry in the scene that no green holds or smiling landscapes can possese. Here lie men who have not hesitated to seal and lamp their convictions with their blood, -- men who have lung themselves into the great gulf of the until own to teach world that there are truths [???] than life, wrongs and shames more to be dreaded than death. And if there be on earth one spot where the grass will grow greener than on another when the hunt, Summer comes, where the leaves of Antumn will shop more lightly which they fall like a benediction upon a work completed and promise fulfilled, it is these soldiers' graves.

The exhibition was called, simply, "Pictures of the Dead".

But it would not prevent the war from continuing.  Or, the issuing of the Preliminary Emancipation Proclamation 150 years ago yesterday, September 22, 1863, in the wake of that bloodiest of days.


That bloodiest of battles, that began at a church of people believing in peace.

Sustainable Saturday - North Carolina Moonshine

Legal moonshine, distilled in Asheville, North Carolina from a heirloom corn variety believed to be lost, in a distillery owned by a woman.  What a natural post for Sustainable Saturday, in a city that is one of the most green in this nation.  (If you aren't a "drinking person", please join me again next Saturday for another exciting episode of Sustainable Saturday).

"Moonshine", a.k.a. corn whiskey, has a very long and distinguished history in our country.  Made right, with high quality corn, and high quality water (and nothing else) it distills into a very smooth clear whiskey.  It can also be aged in barrels once used for bourbon - a type of recycling as bourbon barrels can only be used once.

Let's take a little tour of the Troy and Sons moonshine operation in Asheville.

Our tour guide, the sister of the woman who owns the distillery, walked us through the process of making "moonshine". (Incidentally, although I believe the term "moonshine" is a common description for the product of unlicensed liquor making, this product is marketed under the name "moonshine".)

First, a mash of a heirloom corn called "Crooked Creek Corn" and water, is allowed to ferment.  Up to this point, the beginning process is something like beer making.

Crooked Creek Corn is an open pollinated white corn with a high fat content.  It only produces one ear per plant, and the finicky plants are susceptible to wind damage. The tour guide assured us that they have no plans to genetically engineer this corn, which their operation will hopefully save from extinction.

This initial fermentation is done in the blue barrels you can see in back of the still below.

Unlike beer, however, no hops are added, and a distilling process is begun in this still.  The resulting 190 proof liquid is cut with water down to 80 proof.

The result is a very smooth clear whiskey that warms your stomach quite nicely - what locals would call a good "sipping whiskey".

I'm not that much into whiskey but I could definitely see this being added to certain mixed drinks.

The other variety Troy and Sons makes is amber colored, aged in these former bourbon barrels.

The ceiling of the tasting room is lined with wood from these barrels and the walls are nicely decorated, too.

Yes, we had to buy one - in a North Carolina state owned liquor store.  I was pleased to see that these stores promote North Carolina products.


A toast, to liquid sustainable agriculture.

Cheerwine Ribs and Green Man Beer

There are three things you talk about in North Carolina at your peril if you are a tourist:
1. Politics
2. Religion
3. Barbeque

#1 and #2 are obvious.  #3 - well, barbeque is a religion in North Carolina (I was told that by several people) and everyone has their own theory on which style is the best.  After talking to several people, we had several recommendations.  No two were the same.  As tourists in North Carolina visiting from upstate NY, we now had a problem.  Where should we go?

We ended up in a "casual barbeque" restaurant in Asheville, NC called 12 Bones, where #1 and #3 merged.

We never made it there two years ago when we visited Asheville for the first time.  First, we were never able to find it and second, we never realized it was only open for lunch.  (Not being able to find things in Asheville is the norm, as the highways in Asheville form a Moibus Strip.)

12 Bones has become nationally famous because a certain person who happens to be the current President of the United States has visited.  Not once, but twice.

(Photo on the wall of 12 Bones - hopefully OK for me to take picture of.)
Of course, being tourists, we had to ask where Obama had sat, and our waitress pointed to the table next to where we were sitting.

And that is where Ms. "I don't care about politics or celebrities" swung into action. Of course, the waitress could have been putting us on.  But let's assume she wasn't.  I had to sit at that table!  The table where the President had sat!

We looked at the nice couple sitting at that table, who (to their amusement) had overheard the conversation.

"We were getting ready to leave anyway" the woman said.  "Would you like me to take your picture? You can sit here and we'll take it."  So we quickly scooted over to The Table.

And so she took our picture.  I'm not going to post it but I immediately sent it to a long list of friends.

Instead, I will post a picture of my meal, on The Table. Ribs, corn pudding, vinegar cole slaw, and corn bread.

The beverage is Green Man beer, one of Asheville's many local beers.  Yes (as the locals would say) I am a Drinking Woman.

These are baby back ribs, and they were cooked with a Cheerwine glaze.  I know purists all over North Carolina probably would not vote for these flavors, but this Northerner would vote the straight Cheerwine ticket if it was on the ballot.

The walls are covered in stickers.

Of course, there was an Obama sticker.

Some other stickers.

And last but not least...I don't know if this was political commentary but I got a big kick out of it.

I don't know if this was 12 Bones' recipe for Cheerwine Ribs, but it sure sounded good.

Whatever we had yesterday, it sure tasted good.

Tailgate Market? Farmers Market?

Farmers Market?  Tailgate market?

In all my previous writings about "farmers markets" I never dreamed that the word would mean different things in different parts of the United States.

Not until I arrived in western North Carolina, that is.

In my adopted home of the Triple Cities in upstate New York, a farmers market is anywhere local farmers gather to sell their goods. We don't have any permanent market structures here in my part of upstate New York, so one day out of the week farmers may gather in a county park, another day in a town park, still another day in a private parking lot. Or on a city street.  In my neighborhood of Westover, they gather at the YMCA.  They set up a booth near their truck, and out come the goods.

Even "downstate", 150 miles from where I live, they call these events Farmers Markets.

Not so in Western North Carolina.

In Western North Carolina, what we in the Triple Cities call a "farmers market" is called a Tailgate Market.  Here is a sign announcing a farme....I mean, a tailgate market, held yesterday in the parking lot of the Asheville, North Carolina visitors center.

A few blocks away, another tailgate market set up in the parking lot of the French Broad Co-Op. (The French Broad, for all of you with less than clean minds, is not what you think.  It is a river that runs through Asheville.)

Meanwhile, what is a Farmers Market?  It is a market in a permanent building, such as the one I visited in Raleigh (the state capital) in March of this year.  Or the Western North Carolina Farmers Market in Asheville, which I will blog about another time.

Does it matter?

Yes, because we communicate with words, and I never realized I may have been confusing some of my readers.

Whatever you call them...I love visiting them whenever I travel in the summer.

What do they call these markets where you live?