Breath of Fresh Air

It’s been a mixed bag this week, folks.

I had $600 worth of car trouble, but at least when my car started lurching and sputtering, I was a few blocks from King’s Auto Repair.

It was both dark and stormy out, but my friend Audrey was willing to come rescue me and my groceries.

The next day, I left my sunny office on foot without an umbrella, and I was caught in a downpour six blocks away.   Crazy.  Luckily I was under a giant tree,

and wow, I stayed dry.

There were various other waterproofing, technological, and demolition issues going on at work.  But then, just this week, my friend group has produced two brand new babies and an engagement.  So that’s all been great fun.

Meanwhile, the July weather is getting to me.  Seriously, I’m wilting.  Thankfully, it was a mountain weekend.  I went to visit my friend June at her log cabin near Bryson City. You’d love it.  She has an 80 acre tree farm, complete with pastures and horses and wildflowers.

We poked around in little mountain towns,

and bought food for supper at roadside stands.

Y’all know I am a sucker for train tracks running through fields,

and also red barns at twilight.

My favorite spot up there, though, is June’s deck.

June is ninety, and she’s one of the smartest, wisest, funniest people I know.  June knows some things, including the value of porch time.  She says that people always tell her if they could just stay on her mountain porch long enough, they could solve all the problems of the world out there, from the porch swing.  I think that’s probably true. The birds start chirping while you have your morning coffee, and the lizards scuttle across the deck in the afternoon sun while you’re reading your summer novels, and the cicadas drone on while you prop your feet up on the rail at dusk and talk about your day.  The sun sets, and the moonlight washes over the valley, and a breeze blows up from the lowlands and rustles the trees.  It’s hard to be too concerned about things that aren’t that important in the long run.

And so last night, after a summer feast of corn and peaches and blueberry pie, we took our drinks out to the back porch and watched the sun set over the pasture.

The mountains lit up with roses and oranges and misty blues.  The fireflies started up, with their lights blinking thickest up close to the porch, trailing down into the gully near an old stream bed.  As it got dark on the porch, the fireflies drifted in a swarm down to the pasture, where the last of the sunset light was still clinging, and the horses were putting themselves to bed.

And we all breathed in the cool mountain air.

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One Response to Breath of Fresh Air

  1. Tracy says:

    Sorry about the car, love the post. Heads up that before Yarn, there’s a photography exhibit at Design Box of the first 10 years of Kirby Derby. Oughta be a hoot, and right down the street CAM is having Third Friday festivities. No idea what they are but they do sound festive.

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