The 4th of the 4th Challenge

The challenge is to open your fourth picture folder and write something about the fourth photograph in that folder. I did part one and here is the photo ---->

As you can see, the Blue Ridge Mountains are the photo's theme. Herein lies the problem. Everybody, their mothers, fathers, sisters. brothers, aunts, uncles, cousins, grandparents, and all of their friends who have ever visited the Blue Ridge Mountains in Western North Carolina, have written pages and pages of drooling or ogling prose in an attempt to describe the experience of seeing firsthand what you see in the photo on the right.

Despite the remote temptation to be the one billionth person to conceive of yet another boring travelogue saga regarding these fabulous mountains, I say no, not today, not ever!

Instead, let me tell you about why my wife and I stood in a location where the view is enough to give any person a reason to pause and contemplate their existence.

We decided to visit Little Switzerland. The name sounded romantic in an 18th century European way. Okay, to me it did, I'm not sure about Ruth. I pictured chalets, steep A-frame homes clinging to the sides of the mountains where January snow piled high against their red tiled roofs. Yodeling would echo from peak to peak, and the people would speak with a distinct accent (they did, NC southern). Skis would be propped alongside huge stone fireplaces like rifles around fire pits from the days of gentleman warfare.

Kind of like that--------------------->

Sorry, I didn't take a photo of a fireplace, but we found one that was quite satisfactory at the Switzerland Inn (no this is not a commercial plug for a truly cool hotel in the Blue Ridge Mountains). We couldn't find stacked skis or rifles either, but you get the idea. And anyway, it wasn't winter.

Once we'd reached the highest summit, we both felt awed by what the Grand Designer, the Ultimate Creator crafted at that location (okay, I did for sure, but I can't swear to how Ruth felt. She did seem somewhat taken by it all).

Unfortunately, we did not hear any yodeling. I'm afraid it was replaced by the sounds of a G--D---! leaf blower!!!

Sigh, we got back in the car and drove down the mountain, filled with memories and a buzz in my ears.

Would I do it again? Absolutely! In a heartbeat! Would I live there if given the opportunity? How could you ask such a question? Look again at the photo at the top of the page and you'll see the answer.

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Blue Ridge Mountains, Little Switzerland, Western North Carolina, Asheville, Burnsville, Spruce Pines, Mt Mitchell, Larry Schliessmann
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