Local Color

On Saturday, after the festivals, Justin, Eva and Eva's brother Gregory took me up on the Blueridge Parkway so that I could get some photos and really see the leaves. Gregory disdained me as a "leaf-looker", the term the locals reserve for stupid below-the-speed-limit drivers who come to the mountains in droves during the fall. And I knew I was old when I was trying to convince this 13-year-old boy to appreciate the beauty of his hometown. We pulled over at one point and climbed through the woods along a rather rocky path until we broke through the trees onto a flat overlook. And it was breathtaking. Totally worth the 19 times I almost twisted my ankle.

Possibly the best part of the whole weekend was Sunday morning. Eva's parents have a landscaping business and so own a Gator. Justin took me out for a ride through their property and the adjacent drive across Old Spanish Oak. It was freezing cold in the open air at 40 mph, Justin and I were laughing at Gregory's dog who insisted on racing us, and it was gorgeous and peaceful. Justin asked me why I wasn't taking more pictures. "I can't," I said. "It's too beautiful and I can't do it justice. I'm just going to breathe and enjoy it." And I did.