The place where I live is flat - flat like the kitchen floor. There are very few elevation changes and these are often imperceptible, except during storm tides when mere inches make a great difference. Though I do love living on the coast and am willing to endure the occasional nor'easter or hurricane, I try to get to the mountains whenever I have the opportunity. I remember a post that Joycelyn of The Art Garden published earlier this year about a trip to Telluride, Colorado, and I commented that I would have a hard time getting anything done if I lived there, as I would be staring at the mountains all day. She had to remind me that some people have the same issue when they are near the ocean.
To indulge this love of the mountains and to facilitate a change in perspective, as well as to get a little closer to the wilderness, my son and I headed west for a long weekend in Shenandoah National Park. Although I have been to the park many times, this was the first time I camped there.
I had hoped my timing was right to see the foliage at its peak, but I think we were about a week too early. I am not complaining though, as there was still lots of color, and I enjoy this place no matter the time of year.
I will spare you the history lesson (this time), but what is now a treasure for all of us was once home to thousands of families who were forced to sell their land so the park could be created. There are scant few physical reminders of this before time, and nature has done a remarkable job of returning farms to forest. However, I find it wonderful that after 75 years these people's apple trees still abound throughout the park.
We spent a lot of time hiking while we were at Shenandoah, and I will share a couple of these in the next post.