BACK IN AMERICAN: GOING NORTH
Upon my return home in South Florida, I had rush down to Trinidad for my Grandson’s Birthday (we have a rule, no pictures of the little kid until he is old enough to decide himself to be on social media) .
|An airplane birthday cake|
|Presents: and airplane and airplane books|
|Dancing Stilt men at the University of West Indies|
Then it was the beautiful wedding of my dear neighbor Layton to her to her true love Jimmy.
|The bride and groom(Jimmy) and the maid of honor.|
Kelly, with part of the wedding party.
Next, it was time to make my semi-annual to visit to my dear friend Joan who lives just north of Asheville, North Carolina. The drive is about 1200 miles, however prior to my leaving, there had been a big storm which caused major flooding along south eastern I95, the major north/south highway on the east coast of the US. So I decided to travel the more inland route, I75, to northern Georgia, and east across Western North Carolina to Hendersonville, then north to Joan’s just north of the small village of Barnardsville.
This also gave me an opportunity to visit with my friends Joe and Claudia who reside with their menagerie of dogs and cats in the very north Georgia town of Hiawassee.
|Mittens, Red is hiding.|
After a brief visit with my friends, I headed north and east. Entering North Carolina State Road 64 East, which headed toward Hendersonville. As I drove, I realized I was traveling on an Appalachian Mountains road. It was a higher, more curvaceous road than I had driven on in a long time. Although I entered the road during the mid morning, the dim, thick forest shrouded my way. Soon the road became cavernous, a crescendo of tree colored leaves hung over the highway; cranberry red, pumpkin orange, amber, corn cob yellow, pine tree green, and some elusive coral leaves undecided on whether to be red or orange. Rays of light filtered through the thick forest creating dappled beams on the road ahead. Was this the kind of forbidding forest, which enveloped storybook characters who ventured into the deep dank woods in tales of old? I wasn’t sure.
|the trees closing in|
|Bridal Veil Falls|
I was delighted to reach the lovely Highlands and make the turn to Cashers, two mountain villages I had not visited in over forty years. The development around these communities forced much of the foliage a bit back from the road and the route to become more welcoming. As soon as I neared Hendersonville, with a sigh of relief, I called my friend Hester with whom I was spending the evening.
|Highlands store decked out for the holiday|
|Another main street Inn|
Hester, my daughter’s Godmother, met me in front of the Hendersonville Fresh Market. An octogenarian going on fifteen, there she stood by the side of her car, wearing dangling pumpkin earrings and a white shirt with a the picture of a black ghost on which was imprinted ‘BOO.’ Over a great dinner, we shared our news of the last six months. The next morning off I went to Joan’s to spend a week with my dear friend. Joan is a comfortable and wise person with whom I share over 50 years of history.
On a day when Joan had some personal appointments, I visited with another mountain friend, Yame.
During my return home, I again stopped at Joe and Claudia’s with whom I enjoyed a great day in Helen, Georgia, a replica of an Alpine village.
|Claudia, Joe, and me|
|Art on a building|
|A town view|
|Joe and Claudia being silly|
My final two stops were Mount Dora for a short visit with my old friends of many years, Paul and Jo Anne White, and in Orlando to visit with another dear friend Sue Moss. Soon I was home again; glad to relax in my own personal space.