Smokey Mountains Majesty

I spent the weekend reveling in God’s creation and the company of some fine friends.

Valerie and myself, along with three other couples and the parents of on of the wives stayed in the parents’ cabin on Spanish Oak Mountain in North Carolina. About 30 miles from Boone, this retreat was situated in the middle of glorious hard-wood trees at the peak of their colorful leaf-changing process. The weather was cool, and the air was crisp. We attended two local craft-ish festivals containing equal parts kitsch, serious artisanship, and carnival sillyness. I positively love little celebrations of local culture, and the Valle Crucis Country Fair as well as the Wooly Worm Festival did not disappoint.

Walking through the woods with several fellas I looked up to in college was time well spent, and playing guitar in the freezing night around a struggling would-be bonfire was fun despite the numbing finger tips.

Rarely has it been so difficult to return to the “civilized” Atlantic Coastal Plain.

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