Make Mine Southern

When did we enter the rural South? Was it when we passed this sign, advertising fried bologna?

Certainly, by the time we barrelled through Nashville and reached the Smokies, we'd already reached the drawled speech, slower pace, and cuisine of pork that frames the charm of the South. The Smokies were magnificent. There really was a smoky haze over the blue hills. We got out of our cars and just gazed.

Our plan was to convene with family members in Great Smokies National Park. We did meet Grandma and Darrell.

We searched for Steve and Camille, but didn't find them. We had high hopes for a picnic...

but the rain washed us out. We chewed on sandwiches and cookies as huge drops of water pelted down. Dave and Lisa fled the deluge and took the little guys to our condo in Crossville, Tennessee, but Mike, Jonny and Jenny, and the Big Flindts bet that the rain would clear and stayed to explore the park. We wandered through and around a church in Cades Cove which was built in 1827. It had gravestones of Revolutionary War veterans.

We drove past other quaint homesteads, all abandoned now.

We hiked along a picturesque creek to a waterfall and swimming hole.

Michael saw five bears along the roadside and in the meadow, and all of us saw lots of deer.

Jonny plunged into the grass to get a better photo of a bear and her cubs.

It was nearly dark when we arrived in Crossville. The next morning I was up early, admiring the perfect stillness of the lake next to our condo. It was so still that trees and clouds were reflected in the water.