Mountain Doings

The kids and I went up to mom and dad's mountain house in North Carolina for the weekend. They were about to go back down to Florida for a few weeks, so we wanted to get some more grandparent time up there. I was thinking that I often mention our going there, but I don't blog about it much. So I wanted to show y'all some of what we get up to in the mountains.

Bird watching requires a major time investment. My dad is the Bird Whisperer. He has these bird feeders on two corners of the deck, and he's lashed branches to the deck rails to make a comfortable bird lounge. So lounge they do. And we lounge on the deck nearby, watching the birds, discussing their habits, and speculating about their inner lives. Usually when I arrive at the house and ask, "What's going on around here?" they answer with a species of bird. Like, "Indigo buntings!" or, this weekend, "Goldfinches!" So y'all don't need to worry about whether the birds of western NC are getting enough attention. It's covered.

Then it's time to load up the kids and go riding around the mountain in the jeep. They love this, though usually the combination of the bouncing and the fresh air puts Hank to sleep by the end.

The closest towns are Sylva and Dillsboro. They are great little places, lively and charming, but not all fancy, and not very touristy.

I've blogged about geocaching here before, when we went to the movie location by the river, but this time we found a couple of caches that were right in downtown Sylva.

That is my child, down on the sidewalk looking under a bench for the cache. I don't think we attracted the attention of any Muggles, but I was taking this picture from far away so nobody would think I was with her.





She found the little tiny canister stuck to the underside of the bench. It had a paper sign-in log inside, rolled up into a tiny scroll. I have been amazed at how widespread geocaching apparently is. The caches are everywhere, even in little places like Sylva, NC.

And of course, no summer weekend in the mountains would be complete without the kids getting wet in a creek. We went to an old grist mill just inside the national park.

In the summer, the mill is running, and you can go inside and see millstone turning and grinding the corn. You can buy the flour and cornmeal too.

The picture just above was taken at the exact moment that Hank formed the intent to throw his sister's shoe into the millrace. It's the pink blur he's holding. See the little smile on his face? It came from within, as the mischief bubbled up inside of him. Proof of his natural badness. The next instant I said, "Don't you throw Laura's shoe in there!" And his face fell, like I'd told him there would be no more Christmas. Stinker.

So that's some of what's on the agenda in the mountains. A weekend there is never long enough. But all that mountain air must have wiped me out, because I confess that today I took two naps. That is one more than Hank took. I hope y'all are feeling somewhat more energetic than I, and that you had a weekend full of good things.