Day 31 - 247 Miles

Destination: Aunt Margie's farm in Richmond, KY

Once again, hellacious storms passed through early in the morning. A quick look at the radar tells me I'm in the clear for the rest of the day. I'm lucky to be avoiding the storms. Today is the day I veer off course from Hwy 50 and truly head towards home. I haven't seen my Aunt in more than a year, and it had been way too many years since that time before.

Not too long after I turned onto Hwy 150 outside of Washington, IN, the scenery changes dramatically from vast farmland with painted barns to a tight tree canopied twisty turning road. It snakes along a creek bed, and the temperature feels much cooler, despite the heat and humidity I haven't had the pleasure of experiencing lately. The sweet smell of honeysuckle permeated the air.

Once in Kentucky, the farmland takes a picturesque turn towards opulence, I have yet to have seen on this trip. Miles and miles of well groomed pastures, bordered by creosote covered fencing perfectly aligned with the lay of the land, hold horses that likely are worth more than my total assets.

Leaving Lexington on Tates Creek Road leads me to the Valley View, KY ferry. Since 1785, it's the oldest continuously running business of record in Kentucky. Capn' Eric welcomed me aboard the paddle boat ferry and gave me a great map of all the local roads and some good recommendations for some winery tours/tasting.

Aunt Margie's farm is up a steep gravel road that I recall from my last visit was not in too good of shape. I made several visits here back in the 80's and spent a good deal of time here back then, when one of it's many personas was a sawmill among other dreams of my late Uncle Tryon. Now it's a booming Christmas tree business and pumpkin patch, along with hay, corn, and other vegetables.

I managed to get up the hill without dumping the scooter. Like I remembered from years ago, I hadn't really gotten all my stuff off the scooter, and before I know it, I'm on the back of a tractor Pedro is driving, planting rows of corn. The cicadas are here in their 17 year cycle of destruction. Their screeching sound is almost hurtful to my ears.

Much has changed since the last time I was here. But it still feels like a time capsule from when I was here back in the 80's. There's a new chicken coop, lots of critters, and the makings of a beautiful sunset looking over the memorial gazebo for my Uncle Tryon.

I didn't think I would have a big slide show today: