After poking around the antique store for a while, my wife and I found an outdoor table at Gracious Plates, an eatery on Main Street. It was a warmer than expected first day in Franklin, North Carolina.
I watch this Mercedes SUV slowlying and deliberately park on top of the line, occupying both spaces right in front of the restaurant. A couple who looked much older than us very slowly made their way into the restaurant. I didn’t have to say a word. My wife knew exactly what I was thinking. But I wondered out loud anyway, “Think that will be us in twenty years?”
As we ate, I watched a cement truck slowly backing in inches away from the expensive vehicle as a road crew waited to finish up some street repairs. My wife made me laugh as she said, “I’ll bet they’re sweating now!”
Maybe that’s the way you do things around here. Ten minutes later this second SUV parks in front of us making no attempt to stay in the lines.
We had just finished hiking a little piece of the Appalachian Trail and a nice glass of red on a cool, sunny, fall afternoon seemed appropriate. I pulled into a scenic overlook and found a better cell signal. There were many wineries to choose from nearby, but most were closed on Wednesdays.
Ah, here’s one: Twelve Spies Vineyards in Rabun Gap, GA. I didn’t think much about the name. Twenty minutes away. “We’ll-behaved dogs welcome.” Let’s go check it out.
It was a small place surrounded by lots and lots of unoccupied picnic tables and beautiful mountain views. We and the person behind the counter were the only ones there.
She welcomed us and offered us a tasting. We decided to just get a couple of glasses. I had a merlot and Lisa chose a dry red blend. A pack of salami, cheese, and crackers, plus a couple of chocolate truffles and we were all set.
As we sat and enjoyed the afternoon, I took a close look at my glass. It was etched with a line drawing of two men carrying a huge bunch of grapes on a pole between them, captioned “Numbers 13:33.”
I get it! When Moses sent twelve spies into Canaan, they brought back a giant cluster of grapes to show everyone what a bountiful land was just across the Jordan River.
What a great name for a vineyard. How many folks would understand the story behind the name? Well, here in the Bible Belt, where you pass a church every half-mile, probably quite a few get it.
We finally hiked our first section of the Appalachian Trail. Only 2,188.25 miles to go.
Our November cabin in Franklin, North Carolina was a few mile from the Winding Stair – Siler Bald section of the trail. We didn’t do the whole 4.7 mile trail. With a Westie leading most of the way, we only went a mile and three quarters. A 3-1/2 mile hike made for a great fall afternoon.
The trailhead is on a highway that connects Asheville and Murphy. One you cross the highway, the trail leads through dense rhododendrons, across a trickle of water, to the start of a long uphill hike.
It’s not an especially steep grade, just steady. Most of the leaves had fallen, so I could see hundreds of yards in every direction through the trees. The only color left was the deep reds of oak trees. The leaf-covered trail is well-marked by white rectangles on successive trees.
We took our first break at Moore campground, and then went another 3/4 mile where we decided to head back downhill. From there we could see Siler Bald, another 500 feet up, where the view would be amazing. Of course we shared our water, oranges, and bars with the dog.
We only passed one other hiker the whole day. A solo hike was coming down the hill as we worked our way up. With two hiking poles, he looked like he knew what he was doing.
It’s actually harder going down. It’s tougher on the knees, and I had to pay closer attention to my steps. You can’t see all the stones and roots on the trail when it’s covered by leaves. I’m happy to report that we didn’t have anyone stumbles that day.
Without a dog in tow, we might have done the whole section. I don’t know if we’ll do the whole thing, but I’m looking forward to hiking more parts of the AT.
I stumbled across this cabin by filtering my Franklin, NC Airbnb search to less than $100. We’ve stayed in other “cabins” in western North Carolina, but this one is an actual cabin out in the middle of nowhere (actually in the Nantahala forest). The cabin is so remote you can’t use GPS to find it.
After a day-long drive, we got to the road to the cabin before dark. It’s a good thing we did. The mile-long driveway was steep and twisty, cut into the hillside, covered with leaves and bordered by a steep drop off. It would have been ten times harder to navigate in the dark. The first time up the hill we kept wondering, “Is this the road?” “Is this a road?” Thankfully the cabin came into view.
Previous fall destination cabins were houses in communities surrounded by woods and farms. This cabin is made from logs chinked with cement. The front porch roof is supported and fenced with tree trunks. The sleeping loft appears to be a homemade addition accessed by very steep stairs.
Of course, like most short term rental cabins, the rustic structure is furnished with many conveniences. There is a gas furnace for cooler weather, an electric range, a refrigerator, a microwave, an outdoor gas grill, a dishwasher, and a satellite dish for TV and internet. A portable AC unit and fans keep things cooler in the summertime. So you’re not really roughing it, but you feel like you are.
The front porch is lined with rocking chairs. Facing west, it’s a great place to watch the sunset over the mountains. Or you go up the hill out back to a fire pit area and look out over the valley.
The inside is furnished with a mix of antiques, mementoes, pottery, pictures, and contemporary furniture. I’ve founds games, books, toys, and puzzles in every nook and cranny. As I mentioned yesterday, there is an upright piano, painted white, in the main room. And a fold out sofa bed. I loved finding a cast iron pan to cook with along with two old-fashioned hand turn egg beaters in the kitchen drawers. The upstairs bed is smaller and squeakier than home, but so far we’ve slept great.
I’ve run across two memorial rocks engraved with birth and death dates. I’m thinking husband and father. Before they started renting it out, I’ll bet they burned wood in the fireplace. They still have lots of split logs piled up under the porch, long since retired by the current gas logs. I’ll have to message my host to find out more about the history.
I’m surprised to see so little wildlife. All I’ve seen is a few squirrels and birds. No bears. Maybe they’re already hibernating. No deer, either. They’re good at hiding.
I’ll bet not too many guests come in snowy weather, since you’d need a 4×4 to get up here.
It’s quiet, peaceful, comfortable, simple, and relaxing. We’re only minutes from friends, great hiking, quaint downtowns, coffee shops, breweries, and antique shops. Perfect for us.
As I looked through the pictures of the cabin, I saw a guitar on a stand. When BBC we arrived, sure enough, there it was in the loft sleeping area.
I was surprised to find it had all six strings. I was not surprised to find it way out of tune. The fretboard was covered with dust and the strings felt grimy.
But those strings held a pick. After seeing the picture I packed a few picks and a capo. Just in case it was playable.
I brought the guitar down out of the oft and sat in front of the piano. Yes, there was an old upright piano, painted white, in the main room of this remote rustic cabin in the Nantahala Forest. The piano sounded like it had never been tuned, but I C should be able to tube the guitar from a low E.
Once I tuned it, the guitar didn’t sound great, but it was playable. I flat-picked through some bluegrass fiddle tunes I’ve been working on. The action felt pretty good.
What brand of instrument was this? “Delta” was printed above the tuning pegs. I peered into the sound hole and and found the model number as well as the expected “Made in China” notification.
I looked up the Delta D42 online, and it’s a $200 beginner’s guitar with decent reviews. What a treat to find something I can play out on the porch, watching leaves fall like rain all around me.
Wait a minute. That’s not a shadow. It’s moving on it’s own. That’s a slither. It’s a snake. A black snake silently glided through the garden mulch into the woods next door.
“Hey, if you’re here to eat mice or rats, come back any time.”
Yeah, I talk to animals sometimes. I whistle at the birds. My dog patiently listens to my random thoughts as we walk. Why not talk to the snake? My neighbor caught a bunch of mice in his attic. Rats have gnawed at spots on my wooden fence. Maybe he can help me out.
A few days later, he was back. Wait a minute. Do two of them? Two three-foot black snakes. I guess he thought it was OK to bring a friend.
Within a week, the news spread. I counted five of them. They didn’t even crawl away when I opened the garage door. “Hey, I didn’t say you could bring all your family and friends. Get out of here! My wife is going to freak out.”
This is creepy. Ok, so there aren’t any mice in the area. But my yard is not a snake sanctuary. They have to go.
Is that a hawk perched in the pine tree. I chuckled, “Hey, can I interest you in some snakes?”
The sky is just beginning to lighten in the eastern sky. As we (my dog and I) turn the corner and head into the final stretch of our morning walk, the smell of cigarette smoke hits our noses.
Really? At 6 am? Sure enough, someone is out on their back patio, under their pool screen enclosure, enjoying their first smoke of the day. I’ve never smoked, so I don’t understand the habit. I’ve been told it’s a difficult addiction to overcome. Growing up, I smelled it all the time since my mom smoked a lot at home. Now, smoking isn’t allowed in many public places, so I immediately notice it.
On other walks, we notice the slightly sweet smell of marijuana as we walk past a house in the neighborhood. I became familiar with that smell at college a few years ago, even though I didn’t ever try it. Weed isn’t technically allowed either, but that doesn’t deter those who enjoy it first thing in the morning.
Then there’s my neighbor just a few houses up who prefers his tobacco in a pipe. How often do you see someone with a pipe in their mouth? The smell of burning tobacco wafts up the street as he zips along shirtless in his electric wheelchair, beneath a wide-brimmed hat.
Just when I think smoking has disappeared from our culture, I notice smoke shops in strip malls and impressive cigar selections in liquor stores, which are right alongside the medical marijuana dispensaries. I suppose there are enough smokers out there (and on my block) to keep places like these in business.
I think it’s interesting that I’m always aware of the smell of a cigarette. It’s neither pleasant nor revolting, but distinctive and noticeable.
One young lady perked up and exclaimed, “The Dollar Tree?”
It was a priceless moment.
From time to time I teach a middle school Sunday School class. This year, the curriculum takes them through the Old Testament books of 1 and 2 Kings. This morning, we covered 1 Kings 12-14, when Israel divided into the northern and southern kingdoms under Jeroboam and Rehoboam, respectively. When Jeroboam sets up two golden calfs in the north, it’s a repeat of the golden calf episode in Exodus. God’s people tend to make the same mistakes over and over.
It’s a challenge to engage any class of young or old with this particular narrative. Metal and wooden idols seem kind of silly to modern ears. So we have to talk about those thing we fear, love, and trust more than God, which are our idols.
While we have much to learn about idolatry, we’re familiar with Dollar Tree. True, most of the stuff there is junk. But almost everything costs $1.25. Inflation, you know. Between them, Family Dollar and Dollar General, I never feel like I’m more than five minutes away from a discount store. This reality says much about what we value. It’s stuff. It’s the creation rather than the Creator. Once I take a step in that direction, my life drifts further and further away from God, something Paul writes about in Romans 1.
Anyway, because of our discussion this morning, when someone mentions idolatry, I’ll always think of Dollar Tree!
On my walks and drives around the neighborhood, it’s not unusual to see mattresses on the curb for trash pickup. However, I share this one as one of the dirtiest and nastiest I think I’ve ever seen.
It could have been in someone’s garage for a while. Maybe they just never got around to getting rid of it. Mildew grows fast in the humid Florida air. If the house was unoccupied and the power was off, imagine the black mold growing throughout the rest of the house.
I guess it could have been someone’s mattress, but I cringe at the thought. I know mattresses get dirty and accumulate a lot of dust mites and dead skin cells. But this much?
Some friends of mine had a bedbug problem a few months ago. Needless to say, they had to get rid of their mattress and boxspring. They left theirs on the curb, but someone actually took it before the trash guys showed up!
They say you should replace your mattresses every seven to ten years. How old do you think this one was?
Waite for it... 