Peak of the Week

I came back to the Mecho farm this evening to a most stunning and picturesque display of autumnal Appalachia. I took a couple of pictures, but then I realized I do not have the gear I need to put the pictures on the Mechos' computer. So I'm going to tell you about it. The farm is on a hill, which allows remarkable visibility of the sky and the mountains that border and penetrate Tennessee. (Ooh, I just said "penetrate Tennessee", cringe.) On the top of the hill is the church (see a few posts back for pictures of that). On the hill between the house and the church is a pen with one cow and about 5 or 6 sheep of different colors. When I came home, the pen was in evening shadow, and the top of the church was catching a remarkable a final stream of angled fall light. The mountains yonder beyond the church glowed a stout and bright rusty orange color, which happens to be what I consider to be a perfect color for a sweater. Above it all, the waxing moon was holding its own in a perfectly tinted Carolina blue sky. The only cloud to speak of was a faintly glowing pink wisp that floated close to the horizon. The air held stillness and peace, also hints of memories of the old mountains, season after season. A hefty collection of heavenly blue morning glories bloomed on the garden fence, a perfect contrast to the rusty mountains. The passing of time. The end of the light half of the year.
As night falls very quickly, I sit here in the house warming to a fire in the wood cook stove, sipping Rebel Yell and thinking about it all.