It started as a ripple softly lapping against my back as I pulled into the driveway of our quiet mountain cove. The roar of the interstates and swarms of fellow travelers behind me after the 1,300-mile sojourn to Lake Erie and back. I made it. Breathe.
That sense of peaceful relief swelled as I parked in my usual spot and wrenched my stiff self out of the seat, reentering a world of the familiar, comfortable and loved. My magical tide rose as I stretched and walked toward the messy summer gardens with a light misty view of the Balsams and their patience greeting me with their ever-open arms.
With the days of life behind the windshield rapidly fading, I stepped through the vegetables and flowers into a forest of poplars, maples and walnuts, embraced by walls of greens and grays under a ceiling of dappled dancing light. I gazed soft-eyed around seeing all things comforting and right, the only sounds the fall of the creek and birds calling out the day’s news. On a raft of grateful and perfect satisfaction, sensations that all is well can roll over us, bobbing us on waters in ease and joy, back to a place where the world makes gentle sense. Ahhhhhh …
The barn I’d built 18 years ago stood silently and proud behind me, now home to a family of wrens while the carpenter bees and pileated woodpeckers worked diligently to return the wood to the dust from which it arose. I shook its welcoming hand as I approached and stood in the doorway looking back across the valley below, a late afternoon sun shining its spotlight on our local Broadway stars. Perhaps my moment’s exceptional wonder at the serene surroundings was due to the constant hum and chatter of my previous week and its hundreds of interactions packed with buckets of noise. True quietude can sometimes be the greatest gift of all, when we long for nothing, wrapped in incredible, understated beauty asking only to be swept up in its perfection, and the freedom to breathe, effortlessly.
It should come as little surprise that hundreds of thousands of people from everywhere flock to Western North Carolina. They arrive perhaps to visit the exceptional attractions our area offers, an exciting outdoor adventure or maybe they, too, are looking for some float time in our reservoir of Blue Ridge bliss, beyond their world of constant distractions. (For those readers more technology tethered 24/7, try turning off the phone for four hours, or six … (OMG !!) … you’ll see what I mean. No dude, it really works.)
I’d encourage visitors, and everyone else to make time to immerse yourself in a quiet wood, not saying a word, listen and learn, observe little things while finding your own slice of time with whispering peace. Get out of the car, out of your mind, and into the woods. Amazing things happen there. You’ll see.
(John Beckman is a builder and gardener who lives in Jackson County. beckmanmtn@yahoo.com.)