This is my first attempt at making my very own video. I think it turned out pretty good. I'm posting this mostly for my daughter Laura, who is spending her first fall in New Orleans. Maybe she can share it with her roommate and show what a beautiful place she grew up. And it is for my extended family, who I hope will get to come up here some fall to enjoy the colors with me. Enjoy.
Hubby and I took a little time to get out in the beautiful fall weather we had this weekend. We traveled up to Norris to the Museum of Appalachia. I have been wanting to take some pictures there and my hubby was so sweet to wait around while I took a little over 100 pictures.
I'll be sharing a few of them over the next few weeks.
The theme of many of the post on Frugal Fridays and other blogs has been about knowing when we have enough and being wise about how much we bring into our homes. That message was brought home to me when I saw this little cabin on display. It is one of the smallest buildings ever placed on the Register of Historic places.
I wish that I had thought to get the name of the man who lived there. There is a picture by the door of him sitting on the front porch. They try to be as accurate as possible when they arrange the inside of the cabins for display. They use photographs as reference and they display all period pieces. This is probably a very good portrayal of how he lived.
I stood in the doorway looking at the house that is smaller than the smallest bedroom in my house and realized that a man lived his life there. Everything he owned was sheltered in those walls. I felt humbled. I was awed by it. I felt gratitude for what I have and at the same time I felt ashamed.
Ashamed of the fact that I couldn't fit everything in the closets of my home in that house. Ashamed that I have a storage building in my backyard almost twice the size of this man's home.
When did we change so? When did "stuff" take over our reason for living? We always seem to need bigger, better and more of it. We expect it. We think we deserve it. We cannot have gratitude for what we have because we expect to have more.
Meanwhile, it consumes us, controlling our lives with longer work weeks to pay for it all, often at jobs we hate but can't afford to quit. It infringes on our free time by requiring constant maintenance and upkeep of our "investments" .
We claim to admire and respect people who are good and honest. The ones to whom family means so much. People who live simple, grounded, purposeful lives. But it is the ones who live lifestyles exactly the opposite who cover the pages of our magazines .
They are the ones who you can't turn on the TV without having to see, everything they do makes for headlines and is talked about on even the news channels. They are the ones so many aspire to be like.
I think if this man were here today, living in his little house, content with the basic necessities of life, I don't think many of us would look favorably on him. I think the labels of lazy, shiftless, and possibly even crazy would be used liberally and often.
Would I want to live in a tiny little house like that? Probably not. Could I? If I had too.
It would be painful. It would take a major shift in lifestyle. I would like to think I could do it. I hope that I could do it. I pray to cultivate the attitude that I would need. That's a beginning isn't it?
“Each of us will one day be judged by our standard of life -- not by our standard of living; by our measure of giving -- not by our measure of wealth; by our simple goodness -- not by our seeming greatness.”
William Arthur Ward
The logging companies set up entire communities similar to mining towns but even less permanent. Once the trees in an area were cut the company moved on. Even so while they were in an area they set up a community for the people who worked for them. They had a company store, a post office and a Doctor. There was a school, through 8th grade, set up in what they called "car shacks", the church usually met there as well. A car shack was a pre-fab portable house that was about 12x12 and could be lifted on and off a railroad flat car by a loader. As the logging operation moved the car shacks could be picked up and moved to the new site and set off along side the track. They would join several together to form a house, bunkhouse or whatever they needed. The company owned the buildings and rented them to the families for $1 per shack per month. The workers were paid between 20-30 cents an hour.
To look at the area now you can hardly tell all that was here. There is some evidence, mostly in decaying concrete structures which are being slowly covered with vines, but really there isn't much to prove they were here. 
We found a creek bank and spent some time relaxing and reading. I got busy taking pictures. All in all it was a beautiful and relaxing day.
We got home to find that the kids had prepared a little party for me. I was truly surprised and pleased. I opened my presents, a beautiful candle and some Bath and Body Works Magnolia Blossom scented goodies, and ate Key Lime Pie, yum.
I couldn't have asked for a better day.
Saturday was my birthday. I'm old. Don't ask. My hubby told me to pick 
where I wanted to go and what I wanted to do for the day. Any guesses? Yep, as usual, the mountains. Pictures of that in my next post.
While we were in Alabama for the family reunion my dh had learned quite a bit about family connections to some early American history.
Tennessee statesman John Sevier had died while in Alabama negotiating with the Creek Indians, and was buried in a family plot there. His body was later removed and buried here in Tennessee.
My husband and his brother did a little backwoods exploration and visited the original site of Fort Decatur. A fort that was used during the Indian wars by the likes of Sevier and Andrew Jackson.
The original Sevier home site is located in Knoxville. We decided to stop by and look around before we headed to the mountains. We had some wonderful conversation with on site historians about details of early settlement of the area. We are history buffs so found it very interesting.
I got to take lots of pictures which made me very happy. Top pic: Original John Sevier home. Restored and on original site.
Second pic: Inside the kitchen of the home.
Third pic: I believe this is Yarrow.Fourth pic: The resident mouser. Loves to be petted.
Bottom pic: Very friendly historians and grounds keeper. They shared lots of interesting info with us.
When I was growing up I was surrounded by quiet. It wasn't the absence of sound. Sound was always there. It was locust heating up in mid day sun, cows lowing in the field, chickens cackling in the hen house, my grandmother's sewing machine clacking as she pushed the peddle while she sewed a quilt top or if I was lucky, a new dress for me.
Maybe it was my sister chattering to herself as she played, or the fan in the window stirring the hot, moist air. There are sounds that will stay with me always. The sounds I heard while lying in the bed in the winter, waiting for the house to get warm, listening to my grandmother make breakfast. Hearing my grandfather come in from gathering eggs, or milking and talk over the day's plans with my grandmother. It was my grandmother pulling out her church hymnal, sitting in her rocker and singing the Shaped Note hymns she had sung all her life. Our home wasn't always quite so these memories mean even more to me.
Quiet wasn't the absence of sound. It was peaceful contentment, something you felt clear down to the soul, and these sounds were part of that. They belonged. They were part of what made life warm and good. These sounds were comfort, they were home.
I think that is why I love the mountains so much. They feel like home. Their sounds surround you and they become part of you. When you leave them the quiet you feel stays with you for awhile. I can't stay away too long because I need that peace.
I've never really liked living in the city. It never has felt right. I guess that is why the time I can spend away is so important to me. When I can't close my eyes and find that peace, when I can't find quiet, I know it is time to go home.
Picture: Cades Cove, my very favorite picnic spot.
Pic 1 and 2: Oconalufee visitor center, Cherokee N.C. 
They have preserved a pioneer homestead there. I believe that the home was moved there and restored. It was built by John E.Davis and his two oldest sons.
The boys, who were very young at the time gathered all the stones used in the chimney and fireplace. The other 3 children were born in the house. .
The homestead there is in a very peaceful setting near an Elk crossing. People often come there in the evenings watching for the Elk to come out and feed. There is a Ranger on duty there to answer any questions. They have activities there and a list can be obtained by contacting the Park Service. .
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How would you like to cook in this kitchen?
Come back soon.
