Mardi Gras Masquerade

Just before the snow hit, my wife and I were up in the hills celebrating the coming of Lent. Okay, so we're not Catholic and were just looking for an excuse to dress up in masks and get together with friends.

I've always marveled at how quickly you can go from urban to the middle of nowhere in the Valley. Head north at the K-Mart in Salem and you'll be hip deep in the woods before you can smoke a cigarette. Explore the other side of Brambelton Ave across 419 and you'll see horses and feel a temperature drop before a song plays out on the radio.

In a similar fashion, my wife and I were humming Dueling Banjos aloud as we climbed to our friends home overlooking Roanoke. Drop-offs of a good hundred feet with only a few trees to act as barriers threatened on the side of the road too narrow for another vehicle.

While the view was dynamite, and there was certainly no threat of a loud noise complaint up there. Alas, when it began to snow and ice, party-goers had to make the snap decision to stay or go: stay for what was likely overnight and into the next morning, or go before the precipitation began to accumulate, turning the winding way down the hills into a treacherous path.

It turned out that - by the wee hours of the morning - the sleet had slowed and it was still warm enough to create a slush instead of a sheet of ice.

Of course, the "middle of nowhere" trick works in reverse, as well, since we were back to the safety of well-traveled roads in mere minutes, able to enjoy a secluded party and the succor of our suburban home and comfy bed in the same night.