The beautiful Blue Ridge.

No one saves us but ourselves.  No one can and no one may.  We ourselves must walk the path. ~ Buddha

I grew up walking the paths of the Blue Ridge Mountains.  Little did I know how special that opportunity was.  Imagine growing up in this setting and not really recognizing that it’s gloriously beautiful.  I remember the hordes of tourists who invaded the mountains in the summer and fall.  I understood that it was cooler in the mountains so the summertime visitors made sense to me.  What I didn’t get for the longest time was that they came in October to look at the LEAVES.  Seriously?  Didn’t they have leaves where they lived?

In the NC mountains we have four very distinct seasons and each one is stunning in its own way.  I never really appreciated that fact until I left their comfortable rounded shoulders and moved away.  Do we ever?

When D and I met, we had the mountains in common.  I grew up in Boone, named for Daniel Boone.  D had spent most of his growing-up summers not far from Asheville.  His family camped there and then he started to work his summer vacations in the campground.  He loved the mountains almost as much as I did.  Early in our marriage, or maybe even before we married, I used to ask him if we could one day move to the mountains.  He promised we would and we did.  We spent a number of years riding up to those ancient hills on weekends looking at acreage sometimes and other times at houses.  We both knew immediately when we found what we thought was the right place, the perfect house.  And for a time we flourished there.  Well, I thought we did.  Now I’m not so sure.

It was a dream house for company and parties and grandchildren.  If life is like a box of chocolates, this house was the big fat truffle in the center of the top layer.  The county we were in had about nineteen peaks above 6,000 feet and we could see most of them from our deck.  Remember Cold Mountain, the book and movie?  We could see Cold Mountain from our house.  (Hope I’m not starting to sound like Sarah Palin. LOL)  Alas, things change, people change, grandchildren don’t get to visit as often as we had hoped they would.  D is spending more and more time away.  The house is large.  It seems we’re driving constantly to soccer and basketball and dance recitals and gymnastics meets and birthday parties and you get the picture.  So even before I was aware of the impending divorce, we had decided to sell the house and leave my beloved mountains.  Notice I said we.

You know the rest of the story.  Here I am and there he is and life goes on and mostly it’s good.


8 thoughts on “The beautiful Blue Ridge.

  1. Wow, lovely picture ! I’m a newbie mountain dweller, but am growing to love them too.
    Your blog prompted me to think about how it’s funny we take where we grow up for granted and don’t appreciate it until we’re no longer living there. I grew up near Paris and thought it was ugly until I moved away, came back and opened my eyes! x


    • Thanks. And you’re right the places where we grow up. Little did I know how much I would miss the mountains when I first moved away.

      Paris, ugly? I’m chuckling. I spent about a week there 9 or 10 years ago. I loved it.


  2. Wouldn’t it be wonderful if we could just bundle up the children and grandchildren and move them to where we want to be. You’ve captured the majesty of those mountains beautifully… and you’ll feel better when autumn comes to the city.


  3. I am with you on the mountains. I would have loved it. As to the rest.As they say life happens, and it is’nt always fun but believe me. The way you have coped and the character you show have earned my respect affection and admiration. You are one hell of a mountain girl. God bless you


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