One of my favorite places is Connemara, the home of the late poet
Carl Sandburg in Flat Rock, North Carolina. It has long been a beloved weekend escape -- a taste of the mountains close enough for a day trip.
In times of heartache or yearning for an adventure to stir the senses,
I'd hop in the car and head that way, letting myself meander. I'd hike mountain trails, stop at bridges to wade in the clear water, explore tiny towns, and poke along in antique stores. Already soothed of soul and awake to nature, I'd then arrive at the peace that is Connemara.
Because of our time living in California, it had been years since I last traveled those roads. Then Brian was going to be busy during the last Saturday in August and the annual Apple Festival in nearby Hendersonville was calling my name. Time to show Eli this special place.
We arrived just as a glorious summer thunderstorm was about to break...
You enter the site through a patch of woods...
Then you come to a small, quiet lake. The hill above it goes up and up. Sandburg's huge old white house sits at the top, still more hills and Big Glassy Mountain as a backdrop.
A winding gravel path leads to a foot bridge and up the hill...
We had umbrellas and shoes that could get wet, but the thunder was constantly rumbling and booming. We sought refuge in the house. The upstairs is open for tours, but we hung out in the gift shop at the bottom. Sandburg wrote many poems for kids too, so we read some aloud while listening to the rain come down. And then to the little covered porch for a snack...
Carl Sandburg's wife was a goat farmer and part of the charm of their farm is the old dairy that still is home to a few goats. If we couldn't reach the barnyard until the rain passed, at least we could buy a square of goat's milk peanut butter fudge. Mmmmm.
As the storm began to lessen, we explored a little around the base of the house, its towers and chimneys equipped with lightning rods. The building is so tall and solid that it felt good to be near it. It has weathered many a storm. It brought to mind the feeling of walking next to my dad when I was a child, safe and nicely small by his side.
The close grounds and flower beds...
Then the storm drifted off towards other mountains and we were off to the barnyard...
More tomorrow...
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