Been there, done that
Asheville/Canton, NC We stay with our friends S and S, who play the devils own tour-guides, show us Asheville, the Blue Ridge Parkway, and the lush countryside and try to talk us into staying with them for almost-ever. We are tempted, let me tell you, by green mountains, white mist, rain-singing streams.
The house is on (about) five acres, straight up (first gear and floored for the van) a twisty road, with a rushing stream, trees and trees and trees, and an amazing front porch. The house is full of music, always, has more guitars than people and everyone (except the guests) knows how to play. More often than not, walking the dogs up the steep road, I hear someone, singing at the top of their lungs to the trees, a melodious echo, a salute to no near neighbors. We drink a lot of wine, have a lot of really, really amazing food. Sammy cooks for us, mostly, although I make veggie chili one night and Sara makes some amazing tacos and burritos another (good enough for me to break down and eat chicken).
We take a car ride on the Blue-Ridge Parkway (oh, the motorcycles, I miss the motorcycles) and ford a waterfall and stream, panning for gold in one of the holey rocks. It rains every single day, and eventually that gets old, but
we dont really want to leave. There are great, healthy food stores and restaurants, a great belly-dancing teacher, holistic healing everywhere, great friends, sustainable communities, and a public Wiccan celebration every year. WHY are we leaving?
We visit a motorcycle-only campground, manicured six acres with cabins, room for about 300 tents, mess hall, common room, streams and pond (with trout who will leap for the puppy-chow pellets you throw them), fire pit, swings, public bathrooms. The owners dont live on-site (I cannot even imagine not living in the middle of all of this) and it is such a Business
appointed times for meals, incorporation and health inspections, stuff for sale. But there are two motorcycles parked on the front porch
S and S have been in their gorgeous house for two years, and though theyve flirted with different paint colors, havent gotten serious about painting. We help them pick colors and even paint a couple of rooms for them. We feel good, love the time weve spent with them, want to help them out as theyve helped us. This has been such a great experience, seeing folks who live in and out of the real world, away from a city, but part of a city, working in it, living far up a mountain. A house filled with song instead of television. A place that welcomes friends and strangers.