Yesterday, Vivian and I went to the Creprie and Cafe in Weaverville. I think we both wished we hadn't waited so long to go there. We both had a veggie crepe and we split a sweet dessert crepe. Adjacent to the cafe is an antique store and what is there not to love about that. We noticed after eating there is a covered patio next to the antique store if one wants to eat outdoors. This will be a repeat place for sure. We drove down to Sanctuary of Stuff but it was closed, so we turned our afternoon to driving about the countryside and Vivian sharing stories of the farms and people who lived or still live on them. I finally saw a sarvis tree
They lined the back roads we traversed yesterday. I remember seeing them last year and wondering what they were. Copied from the Internet, here is an explanation of how the tree got its name.
In the southern highlands, the plant is often called sarvis or sarvisberry. This pronunciation is commonly thought to derive from the season in the mountains when the springtime thaw made it possible for traveling preachers to reach their communities in the hills. In some places, frozen ground prevented the burial of those who had died in the winter – as soon as possible in the spring, the bodies were removed from icehouses and properly buried. But ministers made other celebrations possible – and the women went to the hills to gather the blooms for baptisms, weddings, and the regular Sunday services.
Word historians have concluded that there is another explanation for this name, sarvis. They believe that the American serviceberry was named by settlers because its fruit bore resemblance to the service, a mostly forgotten English fruit somewhat like a pear, which, though, unrelated to the American serviceberry, was often called, sarvis.
So the blooms were collected for Sunday sarvices... I love learning these type of things.
Roy and I have celebrated an anniversary of sorts. This is the first before April 15th in three years that we did not receive a call from Adult Protective Services, the police who deal in elder abuse or the constable and have to respond to the false accusations made by my father concerning us. Roy always thought it came about at this time because of tax season and my father's preoccupation with money. You could hear it in their voices that these people really thought we had done something because my dad is such a good liar that is until the facts bore out our story. Then we heard their voices change to compassion now knowing what we were dealing with. Thankfully, my brother is a hero taking on these phone calls and now getting my father out of his dark, depressing house and into assisted living, where he now is thriving. He is off medicines that were making his mental state fragile and he is now away from influences that were making up stories about us, further throwing him into dramatics and unrealistic fears. I am happy to hear that he is doing well, making friends and has returned to church. Yet, we still have to maintain that distance from him because of his legal actions he took and because we cannot risk getting back into any kind of personal relationship with him. I talked with my brother last week and asked about Dad and learned from him the good progress. Afterwards as I thought about it maybe my father is doing so well because he is living a life that maybe should have been his choice all along, no one depending on him, footloose with no responsibilities and doing what he likes to do. I am just so thankful for my brother's sake that he is easier to deal with than in during previous, all too long of a time years when Roy and I were the ones mostly involved.
Well, a trip to the grocery store seems in order. The birds are out of water and I need to refill the feeders. Such a wonderful spring day!