I have spent two and a half years before this unobstructed view. Every morning for ten seasons, the dawn came earlier and earlier, then later and later… ever the inspired awakening! I’ve healed here. I’ve done some of my best work here, and I’ve laughed some of my hardest. I have loved here. And have duly noted that the name “Windrush” was no coincidence!
Now is time to ride, to explore again, do more good work and laugh harder. I’m going on a kind of sabbatical in another beautiful place not far away.
Funny, I never thought to capture this scene, because it was constantly transformed by an energy far more creative than I. I’ll go now, expecting that some day I will paint it, looking back and armed with my “11,143” photos! 💫 I’ll always be able to close my eyes and tap into the peace and quiet that saturated and satisfied me here.
Two huge Leyland Cypress frame this view and protect it from the world’s busy-ness. They’re like an old, wise, solid, true, standing-the-test-of-time, married couple, those Cypress! Split rail fences line the rolling pastures… a calligrapher must have drawn them. At the bottom of the hill, a long line of deciduous trees makes a diagonal statement before the blue Blue Ridge. Lively or serene skies could tell stories themselves, as if they would ever need language! Maybe that’s what the birds are always singing about. I’ll remember all of this, and all who came and enjoyed it with me.
I’ll remember the Red-shouldered hawk who appeared and sat on the vacant (haunted?) bird house for days while I nursed a blown-out knee. By the time he left, I had forgotten the knee ever hurt. That’s where the healing began.
A particularly pesky squirrel hung around my door all the time… I figured he wanted to move in.
Lightning bugs, a cast of thousands, performed every night in June. FYI they tickle!
Once in a while, Pepé Le Pew visited and reminded me of my Dad taking me for country drives in his convertible on steamy summer evenings in Virginia. There was always a skunk defending himself somewhere in those apple orchards, but we were soaring by, so they made only brief sensory blasts and everlasting memories.
Deer were born, romped, grew up, and moved on. They’d stop and look at me like they wanted to come in for coffee. There were ten that grazed the lower pasture when my painting class gathered to honor Karen Johnston, my first neighbor in Tryon, then student, and dear, dearest friend… who passed away suddenly in the summer of ‘17. Ten deer milled around for two full hours while we celebrated her life that night. I counted them every five minutes, just to be sure, like they were a litter of puppies I had to tend. No question… we’re all in this together, each of us a part of great, great spirit. Many deer have come and gone, but never ever have so many stayed in one place for so long. Godspeed, Karen!
It’s been such a delicious setting for intimate dinner parties, no matter the weather. Smooth wine and sinful desserts. Yes, we always solved everyone’s problems! And evenings out on this hilltop… all in, as elements of the view… have been blessings. The grace, in my mind, is pure appreciation. With good communion in wonderful company!
I aways said that this house, née barn, is dated and quirky but has great spirit… just like me! I go with gratitude for a time well spent and well enjoyed. Thank you, Victoria. It is a treasure!
💫 About those “11,143” photos… we want to save everything that feels good! But what the skies have taught me here is that you can’t hold on; you need only flow. Don’t choose the feeling because of the view (or whatever it is that you’re reacting to); embrace it for the feeling itself. Because even in default mode, the feeling is always a choice. Wake up and choose happily!
~ Tryon Peak, Tryon, North Carolina