And no it's not in the Cotswolds
It's in Bristol. Bristol, Virginia, a village which, by the time we left it, had mysteriously turned into Bristol, Tennessee. Not sure how that works for the inhabitants. But Emmanuel Episcopal Church was charming.
A bit dark but you can see how it could almost have been transplanted from Gloucestershire.
A craftsman was working on the stained glass windows, which is much better than substituting weird modern ones that don't mean anything. There was also a meditation labyrinth opposite. A real mediaeval touch. They have one at Chartres, I believe.
As a contrast, this was the Hillbilly Grocery, which boasted a "large selection of wine". I'd have thought it would be selling something more exotic, or rustic, shall we say.
That reminded me of some of the places we encountered en route, like Turkey Bone and Slippery Rock University. Funnier if it was Slippery Slope.
t o be continued.
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