Hello,
friend.
I
write to you from the mountains. The hill-song of the South. The Smoky
Mountains bare (or should I say ‘bear’) its tranquility and peace unto my soul.
Inspiration is striking deep. It soothes
my spirit and breathes new life into my work. The words seem to cascade like
water droplets off bending leaves. Everything about the mountains is as it should be. Purity and silence fill the space. Rustling branches and the flowing streams teach us to walk a bit slower and
learn to pause and listen. Take grandeur
of the woods and their shadows. The bending of light and the crossing of the day. Everything living kept in time to the
rhythm of the land. The mountains seem to move to an almost unnoticeable beat.
The mountains have given me an escape.
I’ve
been on a small hiatus. After my most recent post where I collaborated with the
Homer Soda Company, I closed my laptop, packed my bags, and set out for the
mountains. My family and I took a week vacation to the Smokey Mountains. The
past week was full of scenic drives, cast
iron cooking, and moments in the woods. We lodged in a quaint log cabin outside
Pigeon Forge for our stay. The area is rather touristy and diluted with
overpriced dinner shows, corporate chains restaurants,
and T-shirt stores with the words “Great Smokey Mountains” written in bold neon
colors, all up and down the strip. I wanted desperately to get off the beaten path
and experience the sounds of the forest,
and luckily our cabin fit that criteria.
