I doubt there has ever been a more beautiful day than last Saturday. Since I was scheduled to attend various functions and such, I was certainly displeased. But I was not in the least bit surprised. After all, this time I told you so.

Having had success predicting the weather two Saturdays in a row more than a week in advance, I will soon be submitting my application to local television stations in hopes of securing a post as a weatherman. With a 100 percent perfect rating, I feel sure I could beat whomever they are using now.

Then again, I’d be better suited for a weekend position, since I haven’t had any luck at predicting the weather any other time. Friday night, I took my family to the event at the school, followed by a grand opening, a volunteer event and more work in the evening. I did manage to spend about an hour in the early afternoon looking at a piece of property, thus soaking up a few precious rays of sunlight.

However, my hook remained dry and I was beginning to feel fishing delerium tremens by early this week. I need a fix.

Sunday I finally finished up the finishing up at the place I have posted for sale in Virginia. It was one of those jobs that seemed like it might never end, but even those end eventually.

Now all I need is a big check to pay me for my efforts and I can go on to lead a happy and productive life without ever visiting that particular hollow again.

Then again, that’s a rather sad thought in one way, since this is the last piece of the boyhood home still in the possession of the family. But that’s something us locals have come to grips with over the years. Farms turn into subdivisions, dairy farms become Christmas tree farms, families sell off their heritage a few acres at a time until little or nothing is left but the memories.

I don’t have an answer, nor even do I understand all the questions. I do know that a man from New Jersey paid an exhorbitant price for the right to own the property I called home as a boy. I don’t make enough salary in 10 years to pay that price.

Such as it is, I always took satisfaction in holding on to my small piece, figuring that he would want it eventually. Now is the time to wait and see what happens.

Perhaps another Yankee will buy it and move in next to him, like one big happy family. I can only hope. In the meantime, it’s a waiting game, but I really don’t care who pays me — so long as someone does it soon.

Get more tongue in cheek commentary this week's issue of the Alleghany News!

Email: allnews@ls.net