The Blue Ridge Mountains — Day 1

I tell you, our drive to the Blue Ridge Mountains this year was probably the best ever.  We took two vehicles.  Hubby rode by himself, leading the way, while I followed behind with three of our children.  I don’t know how your husband drives, but my husband is on a mission, from the time he cranks the engine until we “land,” we are on a serious mission.  My dad was never like that.  When I was little, we took long drives as a family.  He and my mom would stop and look at places we’d pass by.  My sister and I loved it.  It was relaxing.  It wasn’t until after I married Hubby that I realized there were men who said things like, “prepare to launch,” at the beginning of a road trip.  No, I didn’t know there were men who measured their traveling skills by how quickly they could get somewhere.  

Aren’t they cute sharing an Ipod?  We also all listened to Alison Krauss & Union Station – Live, and we did our usual marking off of the counties as part of our North Carolina study. (We used a map from here.)

We arrived without any arguments (we were in different vehicles), well, almost (we do have cell phones).  There were a few tense miles when he called to ask why I had not printed a map from Mapquest.  I reminded him that he’d said before we left that he didn’t need a map from mapquest.  We found Willow Valley Resort pretty much the same as always, except the swimming facility was very much improved.   Willow Valley is in a great location, close to all of the attractions around Boone:  Grandfather Mountain, Tweetsie Railroad, Banner Elk, Little Switzerland, Linville Caverns, etc.

After we arrived, I walked out onto the balcony and took pictures of the view.  We were there just in time for a storm.  The sky was dark, but it got darker.

And darker.

We got all of our things inside literally just before the downpour began.  I was not going to take my digital camera outside into the rain, so I just opened the back door and took a picture of the rain falling on the steps outside.

This rain did not hamper our plans.  We usually just settle in and relax for the first few hours anyway.  And I had books with me: a novel and some of my favorite Charlotte Mason books, so I figured I would just get a cup of tea and read a bit.  I asked if anyone had seen my stack of books.  My third son reported that he had placed them on the balcony for me.  WHAT????  I went running out and, yes, there they were in the beginning stages of soaked.  I hate to say I was so much not Charlotte Mason in my response to his decision to place my books in a chair out on the balcony.

“Why in the WORLD would you put them outside???  They’re ruined!”

“I saw you out there, so I thought you would want them out there,” my son said, a bit defensively.

“When would I want them out there???  To take them with me when I jumped off the balcony???”

Long, looooooooooooooong sigh.

I brought the books in and laid them out to dry in front of the box fans in the rooms (there’s no need for A/C up there.) 

I immediately felt horrible for being angry.  The more I thought, the  more I knew that he wanted me to have them right there with me, and his being a teenage-boy brain, he just never thought about them again, even when it began to rain.  He probably thought I’d want to read out on the balcony.  It’s just that we’re talking probably 60 dollars worth of books.  But still.  He’s my son — priceless.  I went around and hugged him and apologized.  I told him that the books would dry and I would love them even more because they would always remind me of him.  They would just look like nice old books now.  It was only water after all, and the books really should dry fine in front of a fan.

I think he was okay.  At least he looked okay later on in the pool making faces at me.

I’ll show you around our condo, just so you can see, especially in case you are planning a trip to Boone, North Carolina, in the future.

It’s a nice place.  It’s not fancy, but we don’t want fancy.  We want to enjoy ourselves in a place that feels like home.

More mountain stuff to come.

Lynn