I just spent Memorial Day weekend traveling the winding road of the Blue Ridge Parkway through North Carolina, and it evoked the same awakening of the senses that Kim describes.
The scent of sweet grass mingled with the fragrance of honeysuckle has to be exactly what heaven smells like. Mountain air that’s piney clean and sweet, quiet except for the occasional bird caw and tweet, and the wind whispering through the treetops. The views were magnificent – from the mountain meadows to the spectacular vistas of the Great Smokies.
The tulip trees, maples and birches were in dressed in soft spring green, as were the ferns that grew along the roadway hillside. Azaleas in vivid riots of flaming orange, yellow and varying shades of rosy pink contrasted with the purple and lavender rhododendron, a feast for the eyes. (And one that rivals the autumnal foliage show.)
Spring — the hope of man’s soul. It “springs” eternal. It invigorates the spirit.
Thanks for such an evocative piece, Kim, that put me there with you at your kitchen window.
