Mark and I went to see the exhibit "Camel City:  Tobacco & Transformation, 1875-1964" at the Reynolda House Museum & Gardens a couple of weeks ago.

First of all, we're not talking about the Salem of witches fame.  That one is in Massachusetts.  

Outside of not-really musing about moving back to San Francisco, Mark and I never envisioned moving to a bigger city/area when we retired.

Mark and I drove through a section of Helene-damaged Western North Carolina this week.

Over time I have come to realize that Mark and I see - and blog about - the places that we visit very differently.

The roads were clear, the weather sunny and crisp feeling . . .

All the houses on our block set out Luminaries’ along the road; very peaceful looking, and inspirational.

Every year the Chapel Hill and Hillsborough, North Carolina artists' guild has an artists' open studio tour.

I don't usually do pure politics here.

In case what's a curiosity to me isn't to you, I've added some beautiful flowers to pull you into this last post about the Raleigh Arboretum!

We parked next to this mural - located about 15 miles from our house - for a reason.

Our area received anywhere from 5-9" of rain, being on the edge of Tropical Storm Debbie.  I have been doing a fair amount of this over the past week:

We received over 3" of rain in 24 hours on Wednesday-Thursday, but we're good.

I wanted an orange cherry tomato plant.

For a while, Mark and I would take bets on whether houses we saw as we drove past were currently occupied.

I felt like I was in Moss Landing, CA today, though you could be forgiven if you thought it was France:

I drove a little ways on Friday, to Kernersville, N.C.

The name of this quilt was also the theme for my time spent at QuiltCon this year:

Shortly after we moved to North Carolina two years ago, Mark and I headed to Greensboro, the next bigger town about 25 miles away, to a bi-annual "vintage" fair.

Cheri had been on hold with the IRS for more than three hours, including four transfers - don’t ask - and I knew her Mini needed fuel.  I grabbed my camera and car keys, and took a short drive.  About four miles from our house is the intersection of two very busy streets.  And there is a lake.

This is the earliest photo of me with a golf club in my hands:

Not traveling this post, just some happenings from the local area. 

Last fall, Mark and I traveled to a local farm and bought a bushel of sweet potatoes.

Photo Credit:  Shutterstock

We had a great time, and Mark talked up the farmer for a long time while I froze, but we unfortunately forgot to take any pictures.

I was going to use this lovely picture of a sweet potato farmer and his crop, but the artist didn't respond when I reached out to him.  You can find a treasure trove of his pictures and others of historical Texas at Traces of Texas on Facebook.

Sweet potatoes are the Official North Carolina Vegetable, and 40-60% of the country's supply comes from here, depending upon whose data you rely upon.

It turns out, a bushel could feed two people for a very long time.  I probably won't buy this way again, as the sweet potatoes might have been seconds and we had to discard at least a third soon thereafter.  Nevertheless, for laughs, here is what we made with our haul: