Catching up on my reading, I noticed that Evan’s smitten with Anne Sussman too.
If you haven’t read Anne Sussman’s diaryland entries, I urge you to do so. At the risk of making Randy sad, I have to say that Anne’s writing is probably the best of any online journal I’ve read. Besides being laugh out loud funny (”Full, nubile, female college-student nudity (henceforth to be referred to as FNFCSN) . . . was a damn sight more enticing than FNSNEGOWHN (full, not-so-nubile, ex-girlfriend, old withered hag nudity)”), her words have the full range of emotion-induction. I’m finding it hard to describe the effect her writing has on me, which is just one of many reasons why hers is far better than mine.
Sometimes lunch meetings are wonderful things. Especially when I am invited to the “lunch” part without having to sit in the “meeting” part. Even if the lunch is a few pizzas delivered to the office. And especially when I, though sheer laziness, didn’t pack a lunch of my own. So now I’m full of Papa John’s and ready to tackle the rest of the day.
I was already feeling refreshed, rejuvenated, and generally happy thanks to a very pleasant weekend getaway. I got a car almost a year ago with the intention of getting away at every opportunity, but somehow this was the first excursion I embarked on. The setting was Towns County, Georgia, nestled in the mountains of the northern edge of the state. The weather was (supposed to be) perfect for being outdoors all weekend long. My weekend home was The Mountain Room of the Henson Cove Place Bed & Breakfast. That place truly was comfortable. The photos on their Web site do a great job conveying the beauty to be found there. Saturday was spent first walking through the Hamilton Rhododendron Gardens — early for most Rhododendrons, but still full of color. Though the weatherman had promised me clear skies with temperatures in the seventies, it was chilly and threatening rain. The next stop was Brasstown Bald, Georgia’s highest mountain. The literature boasts of a view of over a hundred miles, but after a half-mile hike straight up through 33-degree fog, I was treated with a view (if I looked hard and squinted a little) of about four feet. It seems it’s foggy up there an awful lot, as the trees were covered with mosses and lichens that would ordinarily take centuries to grow. Further below and several miles away, the afternoon was closed with a nice two mile walk along a portion of the Appalachian Trail, where I watched a couple families of wild pigs play in the forest. Easter Sunday saw the nice weather predicted, and after filling up on pecan waffles (topped with pecan ice cream and maple syrup) a walk through the Chattahoochee National Forest was in order. Not the whole forest, mind you, but as pleasant a four mile stretch as I could have asked for. Though I missed the “rare black-barked yellowwood trees” that were in the area, I did see some old-growth buckeyes and a whole mess of wildflowers. It was probably the most perfect time to witness the blooming of the woodland wildflowers that blanketed the forest floor in whites, yellows, purples, and pinks. Another couple of weeks and they’ll all be gone. The teeny tiny wild irises, miniature versions of their cultivated cousins, were particularly cute. Note that I’m not afraid to call a small flower cute.That’s just how it was.
As I said, I returned refreshed. Seeing the last period of the St. Louis Blues’s pounding of San Jose was just icing.