It was 40 years ago this month that I first heard the name of the small creek in Jackson County that would eventually become our home, Moses Creek. Becky and I had been renting a house in Cullowhee in 1984 from a landlady who kept threatening to up the rent on us, even though we’d told her at the get-go that we, newlyweds from eastern North Carolina, had no more ”up” to give. But a year in, after still another monthly phone call from her, I turned to Becky and said, “Let’s see if there’s something we can afford to buy.” 

One of the earliest signs of fall comes in late August, when dogwood and black gum leaves, green since spring, begin to show the salmon and maroon colors they are soon to be, and when Virginia creeper vines, hidden in the canopy all summer, suddenly redden, revealing their upward windings through the tallest trees. But the surest sign of fall for me lies not overhead but underfoot, in the form of acorns lying on our trails. 

It was the yard birds that alerted Becky, “a crowd of them,” as she put it; chickadees, titmice and wrens all scolding their heads off at something under the fringe tree. And when she looked out the back door, there the thing was.