Gunfights and glory at Ghost Town in the Sky
From Larry’s Desk… People always ask me ‘What’s there to do in Maggie Valley?’ My answer, with a wink is, ‘Nothing. And we like it like that.’ But truth be told there are a lot of things to do. Unique things that you just can’t do most other places. Like this one. The Ghost Town […]
Horses in the pasture come to greet me
The air is fresh and cool after a good rain. The only sound is coming from the creek. It’s hard to describe how serene it is. You have to just see it for yourself. —Larry
A Hosta, by any other name…
Ok, maybe you can help. I’ve spent endless hours on Google, trying to identify my hostas. These are the ones I have in abundance, planted in the outdoor wedding chapel gardens… but there are others… I’ve learned more about hostas than I ever dreamed there was to know! Margins and leaf shapes and textures, etc. […]
Mid-spring Walkabout
the last of the daffodils, the last of the hyacinth
Daffodils, Lilacs and Hostas – Oh My!
It must be April! The daffodils have already been blooming like mad in an early spring frenzy. The one pictured here is a late-comer (if you can imagine a daffodil being late on the first of April. But isn’t he a beauty, all white and dapper with his pale yellow collar… His name is actually […]
Veteran’s Day 11/11/11
Marriage Ceremonies for our Vets
Keeping my coffee hot…
I like my coffee hot. Not mostly hot, or a little bit hot, or fairly hot. Steaming, piping, right-from-the-pot hot.
October’s Bright Blue Weather
When springs run low, and on the brooks,
In idle golden freighting,
Bright leaves sink noiseless in the hush
Of woods, for winter waiting
The Perfect Coffee Mug
We leaned forward to listen, as one of the ladies prepared to tell us about her requirements for a Perfect Man. He would be tall, she said, and employed. Funny and smart go without saying. She restricted his age to 35-43, and begging your pardon, he simply cannot be a democrat. We sat back and […]
Nothing says autumn like October in the Smokies
When springs run low, and on the brooks, in idle golden freighting,
Bright leaves sink noiseless in the hush of woods, for winter waiting.