|Scenic view from the highway - Smoky Mountains|
The usual pace around here is sedate. The OC is retired. The most urgent things on his agenda are taming the encroaching jungle, mowing the lawn, and regularly beating the covers off little white balls on the golf course.
All this tends to make a guy sweaty and hungry so stinky laundry must needs be done and nutritious meals prepared. And what's a guy to do then but repair to the couch, crossword in hand, feet up, to watch football/golf/soccer/hockey/olympics, you name it. If there's a ball involved he'll watch it and, most likely, fall asleep, at which time the sport of the hour turns into a lullaby. But, woe betide anyone foolish enough to change the channel or, perish the thought, turn the blasted thing off. You may hear gentle snoring, but one ear is always alert for such dangers.
Fortunately I am not without options. My favorite hideout is the sewing room wherein also lies my computer and a satisfying array of books should I opt to hole up in there for an extended period. Meanwhile, phone calls to and from the far flung children, a vast selection of half-finished sewing projects, writing the occasional blog post and attempting to organize decades of photographs all conspire to fill whatever waking moments remain. And there is always yoga to stretch the bones and quiet the mind.
A fairly typical description of life in retirement? As mentioned above, you might call the pace of such a life sedate. Dull even, though, having marginally survived the raising of five children, whom, I hasten to add, I dearly love, dull is a very good thing.
That's how it usually goes down around here.
|Old Mill Reflection|
August we turned into gadabouts.....
Friends visited from far away and we crisscrossed the state showing them our favorite places and exploring some new ones, and when they left we made our annual road trip to visit oldest daughter, son-in-law, and alarmingly tall grandsons. All of which makes for good blog fodder. But first it has to sit in the pot and age a while.
The Little Blister and I made a commitment recently to blog at least once a week. She is excused temporarily due to an exciting, life changing event which I will leave to her to divulge. A little pencil chewing was called for. What to write this week?. Hmmm. Before I choked on the chewed up pencil, the cavalry arrived in the form of my cousin, who, having seen one photo from the Smoky Mountains, wanted to see more. So, Aislinn, these are for you. And for anyone else who cares to spend a few more minutes here.
Our annual trek north takes us through the Smoky Mountains. Since that's about the halfway mark, we usually stop for a day or two. This year it was rainy so most of these pictures are from last year. But it is equally beautiful any year! You could spend a month or more, hiking around, taking a billion photos, but I got what photos I could in the time available, many snapped on the fly, through the car window. Asking the pilot to land on the side of the road every five minutes is not conducive to peace within the vehicle.
Cade's Cove is a beautiful part of the park. We had started out early in a blanket of mist....
|Breakfast in the morning mist|
and gradually, as the mist burned off, every curve in the road brought a picture perfect scene into view.
We spent a week visiting with daughter, son-in-law, grandsons and the fearsome hound who protects them from marauding bunnies and cheeky squirrels.
We are back now to the usual routine, though the past week has been anything but dull due to the ugly weather. Lots of debris around the garden had to be picked up before the lawnmower-meister could do his thing, but we had no flooding, and no damage, though not all FL residents were so lucky. And now the sun is finally out, the sky is once again blue and the pace has returned to "sedate."