I ended yesterday's post with a mention of Coon Dog Day. We went to Saluda, N.C., ate breakfast at a small restaurant, set up our chairs outside near the edge of the street and waited for the event to begin. Our walk from the designated parking area left no doubt that today was about coon dogs. We saw a number of people walking around with their coon dogs in tow. A bit of baying went on and no small amount of slobber dripping from coon dog jowls added to the ambience. The rain held off for the most part. Small showers passed over. We stayed put as it has rained at some point every day since last Sunday. There was no way we were going to miss the bagpipers who were near the front of the parade.
People watching is a favored pasttime of mine. Sitting on the sidelines before the parade began was fun. Folks were walking down a long hill, up another long hill and, further ahead of us, rounding a bend taking them into the tiny village of Saluda.
The parade began. It was pure americana at it's best. There were the bagpipers, the shriners in tricked out hillbilly trucks, children pretending to pull a truck up the hill and doing a convincing job of it, many firetrucks, rescue squad vehicles and loud, blaring horns and sirens. The queen of coon dog day and the king of coon dog day rode by in vintage cars and the kids from a local summer camp marched, trudged and strolled by waving small American flags and tossing candy to the kids on the sidelines. Then, abruptly, it was over. On the way back to our vehicle we went down into this muddy little valley area and looked at coon dog puppies, hound puppies, and others. I practiced walking away from those dear babies at each stop. I am a sucker for little animals. The occasional baying from a larger dog caught my attention reminding me that no one in our park would find the baying of a coon dog acceptable. Drat! Darn!
The creeks in this area are full from the steady rains. The water rushes over and around rocks. I lived in these mountains for 6 years as a young teen. The rushing of the water with glimpses of rocks beneath took me back to a time long ago when I lived up here. Nostalgia filled me. I have asked God to bring me back to the mountains if it could possibly fit in His plan for me. At this point in time I have brief periods of time to visit. This visit has been different. While I love the mountains and want to live in them I did not experience the yearning and heartache that I have in the past. I realized that I am o.k. with wherever I live. I have a preference but no obsession. This realization sets me free to enjoy where I live on the coast.
Tomorrow is Sunday. This will be the second Sunday in a row that I will miss attending the Intersection. I miss my church family. I suppose I miss home. Home is stressful and busy but it is home. This time away has relaxed me and I am grateful for it. God gave me a gift of a few more days. He knows why and I am cool with His decision.
I am sleepy. Sweet dreams to me and to anyone reading this blog! Jesus loves me. This I know!
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