a document of days

It is far too easy to become accustomed to your surroundings, only to slip through life without appreciating the view. After three years of living in Washington, DC, the grandeur of the monuments, the White House, and even the US Capitol doesn't affect me like it once did. But somehow I just can't imagine a moment when my breath doesn't catch as my gaze sweeps across the magnificent view of the Appalachian mountains.

Our trip to North Carolina was filled gasps of awe and roadside frolicking. I asked Ryan to repeatedly pull-over so I could run around desperately clicking my camera in an ill-fated attempt to capture the giddiness that the mountains inspired. My most memorable day in NC was the day that we traveled between Asheville and Boone.

On Friday, August 8th, we woke up early to savor our last morning in Asheville. Since arriving two days earlier, we had faithfully followed the plan to sample as much local beer and local fare as possible (more on that later.) We were full. Oh, so full. We had a light breakfast in bed, spent a couple of hours exploring the city one last time, and then hit the road for Boone.

Typically, this trip would be a quick one. Not much more than an hour on the road. However, we took the opportunity to search for the resting place of Ryan's mother's family. The cemetery was located in a small town just outside of Asheville. The only problem was we didn't know exactly where. We knew the cemetery was beside a white church and on a hill, but we didn't realize just how many white churches and hills there were. Though Ryan is sure this isn't the one (the church wasn't white) the only cemetery that came close was this one:


It was the most brilliant day and the perfect place to be was up on the hill reading old headstones. I realize that may sound strange, but that's exactly how I felt. That and completely baffled by the number of young children that were buried there. Why was it so difficult for a child to survive in the the mid to late 1800s?

To be continued...