Smoky Mountain Rain

Our spring break was spent in the Great Smoky Mountains of East Tennessee. Each time I go back to the Smokies, I find that I love it even more than the last. This time was no exception.

We camped right on the banks of the Little River and were lulled to sleep every night by its rushing flow. And by rushing, I really mean rushing. The water in the Smokies is very high right now. All of you living in the Tennessee area are saying, "Yes, we know. It won't stop raining." But all that rain you've been having worked for me. In all the years I lived in Tennessee and all the years I have been visiting Tennessee, I have not seen the rivers this high. And they are beautiful. These pictures don't do justice to the beauty but I tried.

This is just one amazing view of the Middle Prong of the Little River situated near the former logging town of Tremont. We hiked far and away into the hills, following the Middle Prong and saw nothing but this...

And this...

There were waterfalls everywhere not so sneakily sliding down the moutainside to join up with Middle Prong.



We were alone on the trail for most of our hike but did come upon one nice couple who took our picture.

Notice our custom whittled hiking sticks. They are works of art, each one proportionally sized to match our height. We receive many comments from passing hikers about our sticks. Hubby and sons whittled them on one of our camping trips last summer. Whittling is not something I bet you do very often. If you camped, you would.

Another thing you would do if you camped or hiked would be to relax more. As with all vacations, it takes a few days in the woods to get fully relaxed and let go of all the things going on at home. Here's an example. On one of the early days in the week, we visited the Great Smoky Mountain Heritage Center in Townsend, a museum focused on preserving and presenting the history of the East Tennessee mountain communities.

While passing through the Pioneer and Mountain Culture exhibit, my youngest said, "Mom, there are too many irons in the fire." Or at least that's what I heard him say as visions of the ongoing home remodeling project, pending doctor visits and school commitments swirled in my not-yet-relaxed brain.

What he really said was, "Mom, there are two mini irons in the fire," as he pointed to this exhibit.

It may have been my unrelaxed state of mind that made me misinterpret what my son said. Or it could have been that my ears had re-acclimated to the East Tennessee twang where "many" sounds like "mini" as in "How mini mini muffins will you eat for breakfast, hon?"

I just love East Tennessee. How mini days til we can go back agin?