Every good day begins in a fog
When a day begins in a fog
By Timothy Collins
Near Mt. Airy, NC—One of my friends used to say that every good day in the Appalachians begins in a fog. For some of us, at least, this statement is a creed.
In the past month, when I have travelled over these ancient mountains twice—probably the first time in 10 years—the trips have been as much about rediscovery as memories. Much has happened, some for the better, some for the worse. This is the course of history.
My years in Appalachia were formative, with ups and downs. What matters now is the beauty of the land on a hot, humid, and hazy July day. Then, there’s friendliness of the people I have met. As I sit in a family restaurant near Mt. Airy, NC, the Copper Kettle, I am also becoming reacquainted with one food I love—biscuits. This time, I'm not having gravy, but I should have. And then there are the grits, something I miss in Illinois.
So, today's thoughts are simple, like the fog that often shrouds these mountains and valleys as the sun rises. I missed the fog today because I was traveling from Greenville, NC, near the East Coast. Today, it was stormy. But I had fog to celebrate as I left Asheville on July 9.
That was a good day. And it's been two good trips through what used to be—and always will be remembered as—home.
Near Mt. Airy, NC
July 13, 2016
I-40 East pf Asheville, NC