Serendipity is a word Makyia Blair has been using a lot lately. 

Goodbye, Downtown Waynesville Association. Hello, Downtown Waynesville Advisory Committee.

Today, almost nothing remains of Waynesville’s majestic old Victorian-era hotel — except for some faded photographs and sepia-toned memories that linger in the minds of the region’s oldest inhabitants — but recent action by the town’s aldermen could go a long way in preserving what’s left of a natural spring that was responsible for producing much, much more than cold, stinky water.

Work to remediate a leaky, gassy mound just northeast of Waynesville that has been nothing but an expensive headache for generations of Haywood County elected officials has finally reached substantial completion. 

There’s been no more pressing issue in Waynesville during the past two administrations than the replacement of the town’s aging sewer plant, but after skillfully guiding the project through multiple obstacles over the past five years, aldermen must now find a way to clean up another big mess — project bids almost 50 percent higher than expected. 

A piece of legislation passed last year has given rise to a novel idea that could liven up outdoor festivals and events not only in downtown Waynesville, Frog Level and Hazelwood, but also in any other county or municipality interested in giving it a shot — social districts. 

What started out as a simple idea to open a bottle shop has morphed into a hub of culinary delights and handmade goods in downtown Waynesville. 

As one of Waynesville’s three “urban” cores, Frog Level holds an identity as distinct as any other. Of late, that identity has not been all that good. 

Miss Virginia stretches unassumingly in the lamplit window of Wall Street Books. While she used to host bridge once a week at her house in Bethel, she now hosts readers and wanderers in the front window of the used bookstore nestled behind Main Street. 

In an effort to bust out of her Virginia hometown and head for the bright lights of Nashville, rising singer-songwriter Karly Driftwood put down her guitar and reached for the stripper pole — eventually gathering up enough dollar bills to fill the gas tank, the hood of the car soon aimed for Music City.