updated Sept 1st 2003 C.E.

This past month has been one of lots and lots and lots of heat... and humidity. Almost every morning at the crack of dawn the ponies were standing at the gates, anxious to come into the stable before the morning sun rose to incite a deluge of flies and biting insects. With the air conditioners cranked up full time in the house, and the ponies happily snoozing in their stalls during the day, we emerged only in the evening when we could be sure the temperatures would be somewhat cooler.

We thought we'd escaped the plague of abscesses (due to the extremely wet spring) that seemed to be making the rounds of everyone's stables, but unfortunately my 3 year old filly, Libby, sustained a stone bruise in one of her romps around the pasture, and with her standing in her stall with a soaking boot on her foot, she was pretty much out of action for the next two weeks. I had been riding her out every other day, and had hoped to have her driving in harness with her brother, but that plan was now put on hold until her foot was better.

Not that I minded -- it was far too hot to do much during the day anyway. What I did miss was my regular drives out with the pair. So I decided that my husband and I were going to have a "candle light" drive at dusk. We had two different sets of antique lamps that fit on our pairs carriage, although we'd never used them in all the years we've had them. To my very great annoyance we found that the mechanism for one set was frozen solid and the brass candletops were unmovable, and the other set, which had been "restored" at some point in it's past before we purchased them at auction, had not been correctly refitted with the correct brass candletop so that it wouldn't hold the candle down into the lamp tail.

In short, both sets of lamps were totally useless.

I was totally miffed, but I was also bound and determined NOT to let this shortchange my twilight drive. My husband came up with the brilliant idea to fit two small flashlights into the lamps, knowing that the amount of light they'd throw would be about the same as a candle -- and promised me it would look just as authentic as a candle. He had one tiny flashlight that fitted perfectly into the tail of the 'restored' lamp set, but we needed another flashlight just as small. A quick trip to the store netted us a nice pair of mini-flashlights, but we'd had forgotten to carry the lamps with us to try the new "candles" to see if they fit. When we got home, we learned that the length of the mini-flashlights was just a touch too long to get them into the lamp and down into the tail.

On the road from Unison to Bloomfield.

Once again, we were back in the same boat. I wasn't about to do the drive without the lamps, and yet the lamps were still without a light source.

"Why don't we just tie the flashlights to the front seat railing?" my husband suggested. He whipped out some duct tape, and taped the mini-flashlights to the railing. I stood there debating. It looked at bit silly, and wasn't at all authentic to the carriage, but at that point it was getting near sunset, and it was either go with the duct taped flashlights... or not at all.

I decided to go with it.

My plan was to take our usual 8+ mile circuit along some of the most beautiful gravel roads in the Piedmont Hunt territory, heading up through the old 1800's town of Unison first, then looping our way back along the wooded roads past the manor estates of Kentfield, Pelham, Foxlease, and Old Welbourne before reaching home.

It was still daylight, but the sun was already beginning to drift down to the tops of the mountains as we set off. A mile further we had reached the small town of Unison. As we drove past the old Methodist church -- which had been a hospital for both Union and Confederate soldiers during the Civil War -- we surprised the choir group which was just finishing up for the evening.

The Methodist Church in Unison that was used as a hospital for both the Union and Confederate armies. One of the walls inside the church still bears the penciled signatures of names and dates of some of the soldiers who were treated there.

They were coming out the side door , and we got a kick out of their "oohhs" and "ahhhs" as they watched us trot by!

By the time the road entered the woods just below the town, directly adjacent to the old Quaker cemetery in which sat tiny periwinkle covered headstones from the colonial era, and sad gravestones of young men who died in the Union prisoner of war camps during the Civil War, the sun was setting. The deep woods on either side were already plunged in growing darkness. We switched on our makeshift "lamps". The left flashlight was aimed correctly, throwing a bead of light alongside our near pony, Flag, but the other was aimed directly at the rear of our off pony, Andy. I tried to maneuver the off-target flashlight to aim correctly, but the duct tape wasn't strong enough to keep it from sliding around. I finally gave up, figuring we'd still be visible to anyone coming up the road.

The road below Unison narrows considerably, a long slope downward with the heavy woods encroaching right up to the edge of the road. At the bottom of the hill the road split -- one road heading further downward towards the old Piedmont Hunt kennels, the other turning right across a narrow old bridge spanning a branch of Beaverdam creek before it twisted up a narrow, steep slope towards Kentlands farm.

We crossed the old bridge, still sprinkled with puddles from the recent rains, the foaming creek rushing and tumbling underneath. The unusually heavy rains of the spring had done quite a bit of damage to the gravel roads, especially the sloping sections, washing very deep gullies on the shoulders. The road crews had repaired the drivable part of the road, but had left the gullies until they had time to fill them in. I was being very careful to keep the pair in the center of the road, as we only had a few feet on either side with the deep washouts.

Heading down the narrow winding road below Unison towards the creek. Notice the washout gullies to the left.

I noticed that Flag was bobbing his head up and down trying to get perspective enough to see in the growing darkness. The sky still held a tint of color, but in the dusky hollow everything had taken on the aspect of flat gray and black, so it was difficult to judge the distance of things. Andy didn't seem to care one way or the other. As we drove up out of the hollow and onto the section of road leading past Kentfields, we noticed that the Blue Ridge, which is always in spectacular view on this stretch of road, was now hidden in the darkness.

And we still had 6+ miles left to go.

Suddenly, a bright light bounced over the open pastures to my left, sweeping back and forth. It startled me, and then Andy when the light swept across the stone wall right in his field of vision.

"Would you STOP playing with that flashlight!" I said, turning around to face my husband in the rear seat.

"I'm trying to spotlight some deer" he explained with a grin, flicking the wide beam of light from his camping flashlight over the acres of pasturelands abutting the road. He was obviously having a grand time.

"Forget it." I said. "The deer are all asleep, and the only creatures you'll end up spotlighting are the broodmares. Besides, you're confusing Andy when you throw that light in front of him. He doesn't know what the heck is going on."

"Opps!" my husband abruptly said, looking down the road ahead of us. "We have company."

At that moment I also saw the set of car headlights far away coming slowly toward us. My husband immediately aimed his flashlight towards the car, but the headlights continued to come closer. I realized the driver hadn't noticed us at yet, and had to avert my eyes because the headlights were so strong. The ponies didn't miss a beat, trotting along as if it were broad daylight. All of a sudden the driver realized there were horses on the road. He immediately pulled his car off to the side, almost into the ditch. He must have been astonished to find a carriage out on the road in the dark, but he was also awed, and as we passed the car he leaned out with a delighted grin.

"Nice evening for a drive!" he said, beaming at us. "That looks like wonderful fun."

We laughingly agreed, and thanked him for being so considerate. We left him to continue his way down the dark road, as we did the same, heading into the night, our makeshift "lamps" barely a glimmer in the darkness.

Heading out of Willisville towards Catesby's estate. The old racetrack is to the right on the enbankment just beyond the trees.

At 4 miles from home we turned right towards the little village of Willisville, near old Catesby estate's racetrack. This delightful old village was created prior to the pre-Civil War as a community for retired slaves. The properties are almost all still owned by the descendants of these former slaves, the old houses close enough to the gravel road that we could see the dim lights shining from within. Three halogen streetlamps lined the road, casting a weird orange glow on everything. We passed silently through the tiny town, unnoticed by anyone, the ponies at a relaxed walk while we sat and giggled at the strange orange color our faces and hands had turned in the cast light.

Suddenly, I heard a rumble in the distance. I stopped laughing, and turned my ear to listen. A very faint flash of light flickered somewhere beyond the tops the trees, followed by another faraway rumble, a bit louder than the first.

"Did you hear that?" my husband asked.

"Yeah", I admitted in a slightly worried tone. The persistant rumbles were now impossible to ignore.

"It's not thunder... is it?" he asked.

I didn't want to admit that I was afraid he was right. So I hedged. "Maybe. Probably heat lightening."

I kept an eye pealed on the dark sky, watching closely for any more flickers of light as we left the little enclave of Willisville behind us, and turned onto the road leading to Old Welbourne. It was 9PM, and we were now just a little over 3 miles from home

Away from the lights of the little town, the road dove into the deep back woods, taking us into utter, complete darkness. The night was so black I could no longer see my own hands holding the reins. The mini-flashlights did their best to shed some light, but their attemps were hopelessly feeble, and they could only cast a faint glimmer onto the shape of the ponies trotting in front of us.

Never before had I driven when I couldn't see at blessed thing -- everything was so completely black that it was as if my eyes were shut tight -- and it was interesting to realize how my other senses became attuned to compensate. From so many years of driving I can automatically feel the ponies through the reins, and (without looking) knew when they were working together, and when one or the other was slacking off. Yet, I'd never thought I'd need that talent until this night when I truly couldn't see! It was absolutely too cool!

But Mother Nature had something else in store for us. The flickering of lightening in the sky was becoming more pronounced. Even through the canopy of trees the flashes were enough to illuminate the road for a fraction of a second -- just enough to give me a brief glimpse of our surroundings before we were once again plunged into darkness. The flashlight on Andy's side had twisted a bit more during the ride, but this time it fortunately was shining on the side of the road, helping me keep to the center as well as recognize exactly where we were.

We were all alone out there in the night, the pair of ponies still trotting in that nice, slow cadance of theirs, taking us towards home as the booming of thunder, and the flashes of lightening began creeping closer and closer. A cool breeze began to rustle the leaves overhead, and I began to urge the pair to step up their pace -- but not too fast as I knew they couldn't see the road under their feet. Fortunately, they were very familiar with the route, as was I, so I knew when to slow for the rough or muddy sections, and when to ask for a bit more speed.

Just when we thought we'd never get out of the blackness of te woods, the road took an uphill turn, mounted a small hill, and took us out of the woods into the wide open. Hayfields and cornfields spanned either side of the road, the sky overhead sweeping from horizon to horizon. Directly in front of us to the north the heavens blazed with lightening and the tremendous booming of thunder. We watched in fascination as lightening streaked like white hot forks through the clouds, and shivered as the flashes in the sky lit the whole countryside including the open road that lay ahead.

"That storm isn't going to hit us, is it?" my husband asked in a worried voice.

"No" I said, emphatically. "That storm is to the north of us, so we're fine. It's going a different direction. Now, if you see anything coming from that direction.." I pointed my whip over my shoulder to at hidden mountains to our left "...then we've got a problem. I don't see anything yet, but...best we not dwaddle."

I clucked to the ponies, and bless their dear hearts they put a bit more speed into their trot and we covered the last mile and a half with Mother Nature lighting the way with increasing frequency. As we drove up our driveway, the sounds of galloping hooves came up to greet us. The faint images of the other ponies trotted alongside the fence, followed us as we drove the pair up to the stable.

It took only a few moments to unharness the pair and put all the ponies in their stalls for a late dinner and apple snack. The carriage was hurried back in the carriage house. I think everyone at that moment was quite glad to be home. And it was just in time, too. Only moments after we had gotten into the house the storm hit.

Safely inside we peered out the window into the darkness, listening to the raging wind and pounding rain, then turned and grinned at one another. We'd had a fun time and shared a beautiful evening on our first "candlelight" drive.

It was an entertaining drive... in more ways than one!

To take a virtual driving tour of our countryside (in the daylight, of course) Click here.

Down the road to the old bridge over Goose Creek

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