39-40: crazy blessed farm, a better microwave, relaxing, haint blue, uneven floors, moth, home-cooked meal, borrowed rocking chair

April 25, 2025 to April 26, 2025

Society Hill rest days

I decided to take a rest day, and the Crazy Blessed Farm seemed like just the place. It's an enslaved family's cabin that's more than 200 years old, and is now being used for a guest house.

When I called to reserve it a couple of days ahead I let the woman know that I'm on my bike and wanted it for a couple of rest days. She said she'd be at the beach when I arrived, but gave me specific instructions about how to find the driveway ("if you see the Crazy Blessed Sign you've gone too far"), how to get to the cabin ("open the gate - it's not actually padlocked - and go down the gravel path"), and where the key was hidden (not well in this town of 438). The gate appeared not to have been opened in a while and the "gravel path" was so overgrown that there was almost no gravel.

I later found out the reason it's so overgrown is that she no longer rents it. In December she completely closed down the AirBnb business, and asked me how I found it.

"On google maps? Ahh... I guess I'll have to do something about that," and I saw her add it to one of those mental lists that will get done in about sixty years.

I finally made my way up the path and turned the corner and as soon as I saw the cabin, surrounded by trees and isolated from the main house, I knew I had found another gem. There was no noise other than the birds singing, and the air was filled with the smell from the surrounding honeysuckle.

Joanne, the owner, and her husband, Duke, lived in the house for two years while renovating it. There was no plumbing or electrical, and no one had lived there in decades.

According to Joanne, Lou Ida (whose granddaughter, Miss Gail, is on the city council with Duke) was the last person to live there. She had a life estate and was therefore able to live there until she died a while ago.

When I asked her how she came up with the name, she said:"No real story. I prayed about it and all the names associated with our farm (Cedar Lawn, Hanford House) were popular and I wanted something different."

I never did find out if there's a story connected to these.

I suspect the microwave I had was much nicer than the ones the slaves used.

I sat on that green couch, the door open, for hours. On occasion, I would just stare out at the trees and the honeysuckle, my mind the sticky gel of a flytrap from which no thoughts could emerge.

This color of blue is called "haint blue." "Haint" is a Gullah Geechee word for a restless spirit or ghost. The Gullah people, descendants of the West and Central Africans who lived in the coastal South, believed that painting their doors, windows, and porch ceilings this specific light blue would confuse the haints because spirits supposedly can’t cross water or sky. The color is meant to trick them.

This family, instead of just painting the window trim, painted all of the inside walls in the house just to make sure.

This illustrates how uneven the floor is, especially in the back.

This guy was hanging out in the bathroom. The edges of its wings almost look shredded.

It was so peaceful and relaxing, and I got so much done on the journal, that I asked if I could stay an extra night. The cost was very reasonable, especially considering it has a fully furnished kitchen and a working washer/dryer.

Because she had closed the rental business the only form of payment she could take was cash, so when I let her know I'd need to go to the ATM she offered to take me. Oddly, I never even met her until the last day. She was never concerned that I wouldn't pay her.

When I finally walked over to her house next door I was met with an extremely energetic woman who was doing seven things at once while listening to some upbeat music on Pandora. In fact, she didn't even hear me knock or ring the doorbell at the appointed time, and finally came out on the third try.

At first, I was concerned that she was going to be a bit kooky. She mentioned how she likes to forage and was scolded by the paramedic after ingesting a poison mushroom ("Don't worry! I'm okay now!") and until recently hadn't been to a doctor in twenty years. As I got to know her better, I found that she's definitely kooky, but no more so than me so that makes her okay.

By the end of our time together she invited me over for dinner (nothing foraged - all grown in her back yard, and delicious). I got to meet her husband, Duke, a Louisiana Cajun with a strong accent. He's the mayor in this town of 438 people (it was mentioned about five times) and won the election by two votes on the third round after a dead tie, twice.

Early on in the evening Duke asked, "You wear dem bicyclin' shorts?"
I admitted that, yes, I sure do.
"Why don't you wear a diaper instead? Den you can ride longer."
I looked puzzled, then said,
"Well... what for? That's what the bike shorts are for."
And, we're off.... Duke loves that playful bantering, and it was back and forth like that all evening, tossing insults at each other with almost a straight face. They made me feel right at home and the evening passed too quickly.

On my first evening there a thunderstorm. If you've never experienced rain hitting a tin roof then you've missed out on one of life's simple pleasures. I sat in this rocking chair for most of the evening, but I'll loan it to you for a moment. Have a seat and enjoy it.

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Mark BinghamBy the way, I think that's a funny story about how she came up with the name. Don't you, Anvil Greg?
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4 days ago

Larry FrahmTo Mark BinghamWhat a wonderful find. A terrific house and great people.
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4 days ago

Mark BinghamTo Larry FrahmI have been really fortunate in my accommodations on this trip.
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4 days ago

Susan JamesThis is an amazing find!
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3 days ago