On a morning in late April, we rolled from our air mattress beds {we don't miss those} and folded ourselves into our car, along with all the worldly possessions we were taking with us to Asheville, North Carolina.
Our adventure began with a detour across Utah; southwest, instead of southeast. But, the unplanned road often holds the best unexpected things. We passed along a Utahn desert { near Canyonlands National Park }, where the stone had been rain sculpted into a giant's playground, smooth and enormous.
Colorado threw a snow storm fit as we drove the through the Rockies, and then bound the roads in fog and snow/rain as we descended into Denver for our first night.
Kansas. Perhaps in some dictionary, Kansas is provided as a synonym for the word, flat. {ha-ha!} As we raced across the plains, I { Maria } counted the cows, while I { Will } counted the hours till we were no longer in the car. Kansas City gave us shelter that night, and amazing BBQ. It did not give us much rest however, as fellow hotel guests where yelling at each other til 3 am.
Tornado warnings chased us though Missouri and Arkansas. In the rolling green hills, torrential downpours cut visibility worse than a snow storm, and slapped our little Subaru around, threatening to wash us away. When the worst was behind us, and the land was flat again, Memphis, Tennessee stood beyond the horizon as a refuge for tired minds and stiff bones.
In Memphis we found BBQ yet again, and our souls were satisfied. Central BBQ does it right, serving ribs slow roasted to perfection and other meats, alongside a wide selection of beer, in a relaxed, eclectic space. We walked around Old Town in the evening, taking pictures and sipping iced coffee. The neighborhoods of old houses were quiet and peaceful. Giant trees lined narrow avenues and birds serenaded the passerby's from the branches. There's something quite different about being in a city that's 200 years old. A sort of solidness in the bones so to speak.
Our final day, across the green hills of Tennessee. We passed through Nashville and Knoxville, places I {Will} had only read about in books, and pushed toward Asheville.
The sun was low on the horizon as we came into view of Asheville. All you could see were hills and trees. And hills and trees. And some more hills with lots more trees. But nestled among them, on the banks of the French Broad River, Asheville sits in dells and hilltops, a city of eclectic and eccentric beauty, and a new place we call home.
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