Saturday, December 30, 2006

I'm Getting the Feel Of Hickory Wind

For some reason I couldn't post any pictures while I was still in Tennessee. Probably the security settings on my parents' computer.

I love the drive down to my parents' place in Eastern Tennessee. They chose to retire there because it was a lot cheaper to live there-- they could live very comfortably on their retirement income there-- and the weather is a little more moderate. I like it for it's abject beauty.

Their home is basically on the side of a mountain up in the Smokeys. Here are some pics.

This is the view from their driveway, with the Smokey Mountains right in your face.



I usually sleep with the blinds open when I'm visiting them so that I am awoken with this view in the morning (sorry for the blurriness).



If I've seen a more beautiful sunrise, I'd be hard-pressed to remember it.

My son and I took off this morning. Here's a picture of the three generations together right before we left.



A few weeks ago, I finally broke down and bought the cd of "David's Album," by Joan Baez. When Joan Baez's now-ex-husband peace activist David Harris refused induction into the military for service in Vietnam, he chose to serve a prison sentence instead, like any good civil disobedient. He had a love of bluegrass and country music, so Baez gathered all the great bluegrass and country musicians in Nashville and recorded an album for him. I grew up listening to my father's vinyl copy of the album. Her version of Graham Parsons' classic "Hickory Wind" was the first I ever heard, and remains my favorite.

As we drove out into the Appalachian morning, I hooked the ipod up to the car stereo and put on that album. As we hit Kentucky, the last track of the album, her version of a bluegrass classic, one of my favorites, came on. It set the world just right.


My Home's Across the Blue Ridge Mounains

My home's across the Blue Ridge Mountains
Home's across the Blue Ridge Mountains
My home's across the Blue Ridge Mountains
And I never expect to see you any more

Gonna leave here Sunday morning
Gonna leave here Sunday morning
Gonna leave here Sunday morning
And I never expect to see you any more

My home's across the Blue Ridge Mountains
Home's across the Blue Ridge Mountains
My home's across the Blue Ridge Mountains
And I never expect to see you any more

Goodbye my little Nashville darling
Goodbye my little Nashville darling
Goodbye my little Nashville darling
And I never expect to see you any more

My home's across the Blue Ridge Mountains
Home's across the Blue Ridge Mountains
My home's across the Blue Ridge Mountains
And I never expect to see you any more

How can I keep from crying
How can I keep from crying
How can I keep from crying
If I never expect to see you any more

My home's across the Blue Ridge Mountains
Home's across the Blue Ridge Mountains
My home's across the Blue Ridge Mountains
And I never expect to see you any more

My home's across the Blue Ridge Mountains
Home's across the Blue Ridge Mountains
My home's across the Blue Ridge Mountains
And I never expect to see you any more


4 comments:

Barbara Bruederlin said...

What a lovely post - everything about it was lovely - the beautiful area where your parents make their home, the family photo of the generations, and the serendipity of the music for the trek home.

Mob said...

Beautiful pictures man, that'd be hard to leave behind.

Dale said...

Nice photos, music and sentiment Johnny. But where's Dollywood? :-)

Johnny Yen said...

Barb-
Thank you! It was a nice end to what ended up being a really tough year.

Mob-
Yes, it is sometimes, though after a couple of days away, I am overcome with the powerful desire to wake up in my own bed and cook in my own kitchen.

Leazwell-
Thanks- they certainly do, don't they? The politics of the people there can be a little, um, interesting, but it is certainly beautiful there.

Dale-
Thanks-- and in answer to your question, about 50 miles south, I think!