Wednesday, August 26, 2009

The dark side of the moon

Julia and I just returned from her father's house in the mountains of western North Carolina, a place we affectionately refer to as "the dark side of the moon." Ed hasn't lived there in about 5 years and only occasionally visits so he's had the land line phone, Internet and satellite service all disconnected. There is no cell service in Sam Cove so when you're there, you're pretty much on "the dark side of the moon" from the standpoint of communication with the outside world. It's 14 miles to the nearest town of any size (pop. 2K) and that's on the other side of the mountain so it's not exactly a quick trip.

Sam Cove is a beautiful place with breathtaking views. It's simple, quiet and peaceful. When the sun goes down most nights you can't see your hand in front of your face. Darkness takes on a whole new meaning in that little crevice between the mountains. There's a small stream that comes down the mountain on one side of the property and although you can't see the water from the porch in the summertime, it produces one of the most peaceful sounds you'd ever want to hear as it tumbles over the rocks.

I think these things are especially evident to me because I'm a "flat-lander," one who lives on the lower coastal plain of south Alabama. No mountains or rocky streams here. I live in town so there are no pitch black nights. No views of distant vistas from my front porch. I've grown accustomed to instant communication services, some of which Ed had at one time at his house (Internet and phone service) and some that he didn't (cell service, daily newspaper).

It's a beautiful place to visit as you can see from this picture taken from Ed's front porch but I'm at home here in Fairhope and hope that the mountain people might be able to see the beauty of my place, too.

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