Persimmon Glen

When I first laid eyes on it I fell in love. I would own my very own piece of the woods. My own private woodland to wander as I would, sit in a copse and contemplate life. I could make trails to follow even if they went in circles. I only have about an acre.

When I bought it, there wasn't a single leaf on any of them. They were all on the ground. Now, I'm not the most knowledgeable person when it comes to knowing what they are just by the bark.  I could pick out a few. Poplars and dogwoods, of course the rhododendren, mountain laurel and the hemlocks, ( they had leaves ) but the rest remained a mystery. Yet it was still so beautiful it took my breath away.

I could not wait till summer to see what this place looked like when the leaves were fully grown. I waited impatiently to see what kind of plants grew under the canopy of trees. The soil under the layers and layers of leaves was a deep rich loam and smelled primordial.

 No one had ever lived on this piece of dirt before. Whatever I did here would be my permanent legacy to these mountains.

I am a third of a mile from the boundary line of the Great Smoky Mountain National Park, about a third of the way up Mt Cammerer, deep in the heart of the Smokies.As the crow flies, about 2 miles from the North Carolina state line and the Appalachian Trail where the road turns to dirt and you can wander through thousands of acres of wilderness.

 This is Cosby Tennessee, most famous for moonshiners and feuding. I was living in a mountain community. The only thing that could make it any better was if I had a creek or a spring, but hey, you can't have it all. Not on my budget.

As winter turned to spring the greenery started sprouting everywhere. Leaves on the trees were too tiny and too far up for me to recognize, but on the ground, oh my, life was a-stirring!

Fiddleheads were poking through the soil,  vines were showing signs of life,  tiny trees were bursting from the acorns buried under mounds of leaves. The air smelled so fresh and clean and.. alive!

Yes, Spring does bring new life to these mountains. New birds were showing up in the canopy of the trees, the nearby creeks were flowing higher and the bears were coming out of hibernation, stretching mightily after their long nap and hungry for grub.

As Spring slowly stretched out, the dogwoods were the first to show their faces. I had dozens of them, all bursting with large fragrant blooms. I was so proud, you would have thought I created them myself. 

Fiddleheads opened into beautiful ferns under the trees, Solomans seal broke through with their graceful drooping branches, Galax abounded. Grapevines were recognizable, along with Greenbriar and Virginia Creeper. Morel mushrooms poked through the soil under oaks, and before I knew it, it was Ramps season. 

Time to head off for the annual Ramps Festival in Cosby. Bluegrass music abounds in these hills and you can eat your fill of ramps. Ramps and Eggs, called green eggs, ramps and taters, ramps and beans with cornbread, raw ramps, lord, no one gets too close to another this time of year! 

These mountain folk sure know how to have fun. Bring the whole family, including the dog, grab a frisbee and a blanket and a folding chair, sit back, eat your fill and enjoy the music and the glorious view of the mountains. This is living!

This is the life for me....