You may not find this terribly rewarding unless you're included here, so this is a good time for casual and random browsers to turn back before they get too caught up in the sweep and majesty of the proceedings and can't let go.
Cats at a standoff
No progress is being made. They'll have to give this up soon.
Some ardent patriot was so taken with Charlie Kirk, who was assassinated in September 2025, that he invested in a deeply sentimental flag to hang out for the commuters. Some other chap, for reasons of his own, came along and cut the face out of it (viewed 14 October).
Across the road from Charlie Kirk's mini-monument, we're stopping in at the Frontier Culture Museum, partially to settle on benches on a fine day with our books, also to engage in some mild exercise round the properties, and, most of all, to find out what we just noticed from the other side of the road.
That's one less forest tract, formerly adjacent to the Museum's carpark.
Something very strange is going on.
A BIG something very strange
Where has it all gone?
At least the Visitor Centre is still here, and . . .
. . . evidently we're still in business.
This is really serious!
They've even brought in the Big Stuff!
We'll ask at the desk. It transpires that in our summertime absence, work was begun on a long planned expansion of the museum, scheduled to open in 2027. This explanation is from the Museum's website:
'In 2025, the Frontier Culture Museum will begin it's [sic] newest expansion to the museum. The American Journey Gallery will include a new indoor exhibit for visitor's [sic] to experience, classroom education space, a new ticketing area and store, as well as updated spaces for collections and research library.'
This is a yeoman's farmhouse from the 1650s, brought from the English West Midlands. Today we're strolling about at leisure, sitting on benches with books from time to time, and won't be visiting any of the individual demonstrations, but all of them are worth a visit.
That's an 18th century blacksmith's forge brought here from Northern Island.
Most days there'll be a smithie working inside, demonstrating techniques and at the same time forging ironwork pieces for the Museum's maintenance crew (some also for sale in the gift shop).
Kristin loves cats, especially white ones.
We're wandering towards the Irish farmhouse, giving Kristin time to play with the cat.
Here they come at last.
This is a mid-18th century Ulster tenant farm from County Tyrone in Northern Ireland, complete with a working loom for in-home work perhaps to supplement the family's income.
Across the road from our reading bench, the pasture with sheep could not be ignored for long.
Here's a 1750s German peasant's farmhouse and two barns brought here from the Protestant Palatinate of the Rhine.
For the first time, we find docents working in one of the barns, and we're pausing to learn about the carding of flax.
The young lady points out that this crop of flax has been substandard, given the weather here during the past summer, and special care must be taken to produce a workable product.
Behind the barns, goats join us from across the pasture.
Goats are all well and good, but in the large pen behind that one is the home of the enormous pig called Sunshine, which however we can't find amongst the foliage. There are three big pigs on the grounds, Sunshine, Dalley, and Trouble, and they're usually easily seen rolling about in the mud, but this summer there's no mud.
Amongst those farms just passed, there was a recreated small West African village to illustrate the original cultures of those impressed and transported to the US as slaves. That was located where there is presently the parade of bulldozers we've seen clearing the land, and it's promised that it will be recreated near here in due course.
We're headed now over towards the American exhibits -- the massive construction works are presently going on behind that barrier.
First we've passed a Native American village, called 'Ganatastwi', 'small village' to the Onondaga Iroquois (small indeed, only two wigwams), and have arrived at the one-room starter home of the kind built here by the first European settlers in the Shenandoah Valley, from the 1730s to later in the century.
And farther along, this is a typical farmhouse of the 1820s in the Shenandoah Valley, when commercial civilization was beginning to make itself felt. We've just passed the pen in which the huge pig Dalley resides, also unnoticed amid a mass of vegetation instead of the usual healthy mud.
The 1820s farm, moved down here to join the collection, and across the street . . .
. . . an original 1850s American farm, which 'represents life on the old frontier during a time of great economic, social, and political change in the United States'.
Just up the hill, a representative one-room schoolhouse from the 1840s, 'when educational services and facilities were usually arranged by local families or communities, if at all'. Farther up the hill to the left, there is a mid-19th century one-room church that we'll be missing today.
The 1850s farm again, and behind the barn . . .
. . . that's Trouble; not much mud these days to roll round in, but at least we could visit him again, briefly.
The 1850 house again
That was fun -- a little exercise, an hour or so with our improving books, and a reasonable picture of what's in store for us when all of these massive construction works are completed.
Will our family annual membership fee go through the roof?
Another of the nearly ubiquitous football-pitch-size flags, greeting commuters and tourists coming into town from the I-81 and I-64 autoroutes.
Choupette can't wait to inaugurate our new sort-of-3D Halloween Mona Lisa.
Wrapping up our evening
Both cats, even our chubbier Melvin, can dash up the tower levels and pack into the little sleeper.
Neither cat has any fear here, and both are impressively agile. Much to be admired, and envied.
Kristin's sister Liz has arrived for a few days and brought along Joellen, their mom, affectionately called 'Moosie' for reasons unknown.
Liz and Choupette have always got along extremely well. In Wisconsin, Choup often trots over to Liz and Kirk's house for another breakfast.
And Liz was able to fit into their small car this recent thrift-store find of Kristin's . . .
. . . apparently intended to display her burgeoning collection of artisanal crèche figures.
Chouper can't figure it out any more than we can, but come the Christmas season, we'll probably learn more.
18 October 2025 -- a successful 'No Kings' demonstration against the lawless Trump & his administrators of chaos. We'll cover that on the next webpage.
Upstairs watching the telly, Moosie was taken with dangerous breathing problems, and, believe it or not, in less than 5 minutes after the 911 call six rescuers were at the door with all their fancy gear.
Moosie's achieved 95 years already, and the teams were extremely solicitous.
To the question of why so many rescuers were on the team, we were told that once the call mentions 'breathing problems', one team of three comes from the EMT and another of three comes, not only from the fire department, but with a fire engine idling at the front door.
We speculated that the fire team comes along in case the 'breathing problems' are caused by gas leaks, kitchen fires, that sort of thing. In any case, 4½ minutes from fire station to the front door makes one glad to be living in Staunton.
The EMT team got Moosie to the Augusta Health hospital in good time and by the next morning she was fine and feisty. They kept her over for the next night for observation, and then Liz and Moosie were off to visit relatives in North Carolina and eventually to warmer Florida.
Signing off now. A dad's souvenir of a young person's artwork from about 40 years ago, adorning our shelves for all of that time.
Coming soon -- the No Kings demonstration in Staunton, hugely successful.
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All rights reserved, all wrongs avenged. Posted 5 November 2025.
