A drizzly visit to This museum of natural history.
The museum itself was a bit on the small side and probably more suited for older children. There was however, an interesting, small exhibit of swamp animals in some depressing little habitats.
For reasons I still don't understand, I was particularly drawn to the raccoon and the baby skunk. Especially the skunk, which was so stinkin' cute. It was little, no larger than a kitten and having a grand time, rolling around wrestling with a stuffed animal. I was completely amused by him. Look at that little face, who would not be drawn to that little face?
The raccoon was equally wonderful. Look at those deep, brown, soulful eyes. Seriously, I would have tossed both of them in my purse if I could have figured a way. Of course, in reality we would have ended up in the car with a smelly assault by the skunk and probably a slight mauling by the raccoon. I'm sure it's for the best that we left them where they were.
We decided we'd had enough of the museum and went outside for a snack on the steps when low and behold what should appear but a wayward chicken, come to join us for some cashews. Of course the boys thought this was absolutely hysterical. I did too for that matter. And then we were itching to see where on earth the lost hen could have wandered from.
Well, turns out on the other side of the parking lot just a little ways through the trees there was a teeny little slice of amazing.
A recreation of a Carolina homestead offering a glimpse of the way people lived after moving to the south to make a life for themselves.
Oh, be still my beating heart. The lovely, simple log buildings. The house, the barn, the animal sheds all perfectly complimented by the dreamy garden in the center of the yard and chickens, lots of chickens running everywhere.
It was amazing. Of course I wondered around talking to my men in whispers, telling them that if they just wanted to abandon me here forever, I would be just fine with that. That I would be completely content to spend the rest of my days tending the garden and the chickens, baking bread and knitting socks.
Of course they just giggled at me, like they always do when I start to ramble on like that and we continued on our way.
And then, down the forest path we found the gristmill. Simply beautiful.
It was a excellent adventure. An uncharacteristically cool and damp afternoon in the middle of July. Perfect for a wistful journey back in time to glimpse a simpler way of life. Nice.
