Saxapahaw for lunch! For a nanosecond, back in the fall, I contemplated living here, in one of the converted apartments in the old mill, and I think it would have been totally quiet and idyllic - apart from the drive, in winter - about twelve miles or so beyond Chapel Hill, and on fast narrow roads. So I think I'm glad I didn't - but it's obviously a real community, and not full of over-privileged Duke students whose parents are starting to move them out of their West Village apartments, or whatever kind of yuppies live in downtown Durham. They were about to have a Festival, which may account for the semi-rainbow ropes of cloth reaching down into the river (and, yes, that speck on the far left in the swirling brown spring run-off? An intrepid kayaker).
Under the bridge - Poseidon, or some other river god.
And sitting outside at the General Store's cafe (a real General Store), eating shrimp and grits before I went off exploring down the muddy river-bank paths, was, indeed, pretty much perfect.
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