It definitely was time for some time off. I took two days off last week, spending part of the time at the Alleghany Fiddler's Convention, one of my annual pleasurable pursuits.

The convention, as usual, offered up much talent, which seems as common as the mighty chestnut trees once were in these hills. Hopefully, our musical mountain treasure won't fall to a modern blight as did the aforementioned chestnuts. Once again, I noticed the very talented and polished young artists who find their way to the stage. There are also many children who perform in the camping areas; some watching and learning their skills and trade from their parents and grandparents.

Even though the time was somewhat spent listening to others display their native talents, I also took time to pick up another prescription for antibiotics, which it seems was a needed measure. Since my doctor is also a fiddle player, I saw him at the convention a few times over the three days I was there. Although I asked him how many people asked him questions like, "Doc, have you ever seen a sore like this?" while lifting their shirt sleeve, he assured me it doesn't happen often. "Most people don't do that," he said. I was glad I hadn't opened my mouth and offered him a glance at my throat as we talked. It's not good to bother a man who's seen half the town naked.

I didn't play my guitar or mandolin this year, but I've never been much of a bluegrass picker. I often enjoy playing a few songs, but I'd have to lean more in the direction of country or old-time music. It's the strumming pattern of the bluegrass that I don't really translate well. But I do enjoy all the various musical sounds of the convention, from the more common instruments like the banjo, bass, mandolin, fiddle and guitar, to the less-often-seen like the dulcimer, autoharp, dobro and even the penny whistle. While all manner of men, women and children were gathered for the annual festival of mountain music, all seem bound by a kindred spirit through their love of traditional music.

Another talent on display was the making of instruments. I saw all manner of handmade instruments, including oddities like a banjo crafted from a bedpan. I suppose there's nothing wrong with having dual-use implements in the house, but I'm imagining a problem or two for any alternative use. Hmm, I'd sooner not even think of that at all.

The convention's also a good time for me to catch up with old friends and acquaintances, seeing how everyone is doing as time goes by. Most of them simply seem to be getting older each year. I'm just glad I'm not aging like everyone else. Like my sister, I've opted to celebrate anniversaries of my 29th birthday.

The weather proved mostly cooperative for the convention, with the exception of a brief period of rain late Saturday night that hit right in the middle of the big band competition. With the forecast calling for 50 percent chance or better of rain daily, I was very pleased to find dry weather to greet me each evening. As my mother said, "If you need rain, just have a carnival or a fiddler's convention." Of course, she had just fled under the tent at the fiddler's convention at the time, half soaked by the burst of rain.

Anyway, during my time off, I didn't just listen to music. I also managed to get my new nest boxes installed on the chicken coop, along with applying a fresh coat of barn red paint to the exterior. The new boxes, despite only being about five feet wide, took about five hours to build.

Without any sort of diagram to go by, I relied on a few rough measurements from a friend on height, depth and width and a few educated guesses on placement and my own ‘design from the mind.' I also relied on my pile of scrap lumber for all the necessary framing and plywood pieces.

The nests offer four laying boxes, all made in one piece, that are mounted on the outside of the coop. While being sealed outside, there are four holes cut through the wall so the birds can access them. The eggs are gathered from outside the coop by lifting the roof of the boxes, which is made in one piece, covered in tin and hinged. With this design, I can go and get the eggs without ever being near a chicken or anything (other than an egg) that might fall out of a chicken. In case it's not clear, the coop itself is outside the little wire enclosure where the chickens spend most of their days wondering around and digging up bugs and such. What with all my new design ideas, perhaps I'll make a fortune building $1,000 chicken enclosures. It would only take about 1,000 dozen eggs for it to pay off.

As the last step to installing the nest boxes, I went over the house with a fresh coat of paint, including touching up a few places inside the fence as well. The chickens, curious creatures that they are, could barely stand it. About half of them have painted themselves and they also tried to peck at the paint spatters that hit the ground here and there, leaving the illusion of red lipstick on their beaks. One in particular seemed to have both rouge and lipstick, along with twin red patches on her wings. I really got a good laugh at the look of it. It reminded me of an older woman I knew as a child who applied lipstick to both her lips and cheeks, leaving little red circles beneath each eye. I can recall being scolded by my grandmother for calling her Raggedy Ann, even though it came as a simple statement of fact from a child's mind. Besides, there's nothing wrong with looking like a doll, is there?

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

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