Cloudland Canyon Encore

 

Remembering some of our fabulous times in Cloudland Canyon as we look forward to a return later this month:

Cloudland Canyon State Park

Waxing Moon

Late Afternoon

Notes:

Super Tuesday, 2020. Pleasant cottage in Cloudland Canyon. Darryl cooks turkey and mashed potatoes, and we have wine. Darryl also makes a pecan pie. 

 Here for several nights. Walked  the West Rim trail to a bridge and enjoyed the warm afternoon, the river, the myriad birds, the trails I had to myself except for a father and young son from Minnesota I met.  The boy ran along the cliffs like a mountain goat.

Darryl and I also stopped in the little grocery cafe earlier for a hamburger and fries. Great, friendly place.

Starr plans to join us tomorrow. 

Our Cottage

No way to photograph the roar of Cherokee Falls deep in the Canyon or even the birdsong, both of which were the only sounds I heard this morning from my rocking chair on the screen porch. No way to share the quiet here while walking the trails. An owl hoots; a crow caws. Birds are abundant. Were Jocelin here, she would point out the Sayornis Phoebe and the wood thrush.

Thursday. Moved from our luxurious cottage to one of the old cabins on the West Rim. The rain stopped for the time it took for us to move, and I even made the hike to our trail before the rain set in again. Darryl made chocolate chip cookies. 

Yesterday, Starr joined me for a hike to the overlook. The three of us dined at the Canyon Grill. We had a mellow, pleasant visit. 

Rocking in one of the rockers on the screen porch, listening to the rhythm of rain in the woods and upon the leaves is so relaxing. So spiritual. The election competition goes on, the caronavirus spreads, but here all is magical; here is the rich life of nature. Here, Life is beautiful.

The cold is returning. Tonight we shall build a fire in the stone fireplace after dinner.

Supper: filet mignon. Pinot Noir. Darryl read to me the history of nuts, almonds, pecans, cashews. Extraordinary evolution to the human table. We shared the amaretto brownie with vanilla bean ice cream, and I had French press coffee. Extraordinary dinner. Darryl had honey almond chicken. 

Venus and the Moon dominated the sky as we left the Canyon Grill. Fire is licking the logs in our cabin.  Adore the peace and tranquility here.

Cherokee Falls

Today Darryl and I hiked down to Cherokee Falls. We had eaten catfish at the gay café. For energy, we added Darryl's chocolate chip cookies. The wind was more than whistling. After all the rain, the fall was incredible. We both took several photos. On the long way back up, Darryl told me of phosphorescent amphibians and salamanders. 

Tonight, with the Fire burning, Darryl made dinner. We listened to a podcast of the effects of language and the events of 1066, with details and curiosities from the lives of William and of Harold.

Photographs above made with the Nikon P610. 

Here are a few more reminisces:

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Brooke enjoys the Cherokee Falls.

 

 Starr's new Home.

Darryl's 
Apple Pie

Jameson

Savannah Thanksgiving

 Renovated Riverfront

Savannah Photographs we made

 Darryl and I  enjoyed a week at the Connor House in Savannah. We celebrated brother John's 69th  Birthday on Monday, he and I having delicious fried shrimp overlooking the Savannah River at a new café near the West End's new hotel transformation of the old electric company. Darryl took fabulous photos of the area on Thanksgiving Day. Darryl also baked two Pecan Pies we  all loved.

 

 

Will drove down on Tuesday and treated John and me to brunch Wednesday morning. We three drove to Tybee and walked on the windy, sunny beach and took photographs from the pier.  A couple of people were actually swimming. The waves were beautiful to watch, mystical. John's friend Kevin joined us for two of the days. We dined at Fire, the Asian Fusion place on Perry St. He and I talked about the political situation, about climate change, and Black Lives Matter, decrying the Rittenhouse acquittal, but glad for the conviction of the three murderers of  young jogger Ahmaud Arbery near Brunswick, Ga.

Walking repeatedly to the Forsyth Fountain, strolling the streets and cemeteries of Savannah, gave me a certain joy; but as Keats put it, veiled melancholy always had a shrine nearby. I find an increasing psychological distance to accompany the physical distance of many friends. Instead of sincerity, intimacy, and shared feeling, I find mostly pretense and posturing. 

We drove home yesterday, like the drive down, past fields of cotton. Those lovely fields, as if covered in snow, also conjure the evils of slavery and intense suffering in the past. However much better things seem at times, there is no escape from continuing evils and prejudice. The changing climate, the gathering storms, may bring the end of prosperity for humanity. All the more reason for me to go into nature, hike the trails in the mountains, and live out my life with ataraxia. 

Orange Tree, 

Historic District

Another two weeks in the Blue Ridge Mountains

Rain in the Valley.

Darryl and I had two weeks in June to enjoy Cloudland Canyon,  a party with Starr, a drive to Pisgah from Chattanooga, a suite at the Pisgah Inn, and two days at the Dillard House, where we ate Southern cooking. I swam in the pool which I often had to myself, except for a lovely morning talking to a fellow teacher. She too was 73, and shared her thoughts and feelings with me. 

Dillard House Horse

Jameson

 Crescent Moon

A Week in the Blue Ridge Mountains

 

Hikes by day and gourmet food each evening made our trip to the mountains restful and a delight. The weather was also a delight: 70s each day and bright sunshine bringing birdsong everywhere. Spring was still in its early stages with wildflowers and budding trees. The Redbuds and a few cherry trees were in bloom. I loved the hikes and met several interesting people, most of whom were vaccinated and happy. Here are a few comments I made: 

3 elderly women cheered me on the trail. Go Pete! They said, because I was wearing my Pete 2024 t-shirt. Another pair of young women asked me if I knew where Graveyard Falls is. Indeed I do.

As Heraclitus put it, you cannot walk the same trail twice. It remains warm and sunny, but today there is noise: a persistent woodpecker in the forest. And bees. And butterflies. And even wildflowers I swear were not there yesterday. No people at all... yet. Then that profound quiet when you hear your heart beating . I'm on the trail now, short sleeve shirt today. Onward.

A few Photographs:

2021: New Horizons.

 Jack By Darryl

Apres Diem

Valentine's Day

2021

President Biden now lives in the White House. We live in a different world from the past 4 years. Georgia has two Democratic Senators, a black and a Jew, Warnock and Ossoff, each an historical first for the state. Kamala Harris is the first Vice President who is a woman, an African American, and a South Asian American. Pete Buttigieg is the first married, confirmed gay Cabinet Member. 

Covid 19 is still rampant, infecting millions. On the other hand, millions have been vaccinated, including Darryl and myself, though we both await our second dose in a few weeks. The effects of this virus on health and the economy are dramatic and, in some respects, devastating. 

Climate disaster continues even as a polar vortex brings cold to Druid Hills. Sadly, no snow yet, a complete waste of cold temperatures. We sit indoors, listening to World Music on Radio Paradise. We watch films and series, including great classics  like Rashomon and Casablanca. We read. We occasionally venture outside to Apres Diem where we have our meals outdoors with heaters overhead keeping us warm. 

For a year now, I have been teaching online, now via zoom. Philosophy and Astronomy occupy my work days, 3 classes a day, 5 days a week. In March, when both doses of the vaccine are activated, I shall return to BFA, keeping my old schedule of school hours 10-2, 3 days a week. Will we ever get back to an approximation of normal? 

We shall spend the first week of March with Starr in Cloudland Canyon. We somehow manage to keep in touch with friends, with the hope that we can be together and hug again. 

Darryl with new glasses,

by Jack