Southern Matters--Supplemental Images

Our family has long had an interest in the beautiful Appalachian foothills, particularly in fall. I started periodic visits to Highlands, NC, during my undergraduate days as a guest of the the parents of one of my college friends. Later, in graduate school, I worked at Coweta one summer and shared a house in Franklin, NC. After that brief stint as a wannabe ecologist, Nedra and I went camping in the area, but we began in earnest our typically bienniel tradition in 1992 by renting a condominium in Cashiers, NC. The Oconee State Park was more to our taste and we settled in on it as a destination.

The park was built by the CCC (plaque), which this statue commemorates (plaque). The CCC strikes a chord with me as I remember stories of my father's first cousin Aubrey Sutton working in a camp in Washington state, and the WPA dug a drainage ditch through Buck Bay (the southern boundry of my farm, and named after my ggrandfather J.S. "Buck" Sutton). The WPA-- known in my hometown as "We Poke Around"--and the CCC have currency in the uncertain economic times when this narrative is written.

	Our family has long had an interest in the beautiful Appalachian foothills, particularly in fall. I started periodic visits to Highlands, NC, during my undergraduate days as a guest of the the parents of one of my college friends. Later, in graduate school, I worked at Coweta one summer and shared a house in Franklin, NC. After that brief stint as a wannabe ecologist, Nedra and I went camping in the area, but we began in earnest our typically bienniel tradition in 1992 by renting a condominium in Cashiers, NC. The Oconee State Park was more to our taste and we settled in on it as a destination. The park was built by the CCC (plaque), which this statue commemorates (plaque). The CCC strikes a chord with me as I remember stories of my father's first cousin Aubrey Sutton working in a camp in Washington state, and the WPA dug a drainage ditch through Buck Bay (the southern boundry of my farm, and named after my ggrandfather J.S. "Buck" Sutton). The WPA-- known in my hometown as "We Poke Around"--and the CCC have currency in the uncertain economic times when this narrative is written.

Our personal favorite is this cabin, which is an original built of chestnut logs.	Nedra, Liz, John and I occupied the cabin to the left, and Will's family used this adjacent and larger cabin.

Both cabins are on the edge of a small quiet lake. . . .quiet, except for early mornings when the ducks are embracing the new day. That hour or so each morning is Nedra's favorite time of the year. When she eagerly jumps out of bed before I do, one knows that there is a substantial reason <grin>. Her mother, who accompanied us one year, likewise liked dawn coffee and the busy sounds of the ducks.	As mentioned, our cabin and Will's were adjacent. The picnic table in the foreground was ours, that in the background, Will's. The path is a public hiking trail around the lake.

Nedra poses by our door, as she has done in years past.	We celebrated Abby's birthday in our cabin. Plugging kids' taste into a seasonal theme, Nedra made a rich fudgy layer cake and topped it with tiny pound-cake cupcakes. The frosting was flavored with peanut butter and sprinkles. Yum. We were quick to eat much of it, and when Nedra started removing it, Julia, not a shrinking violet, demanded of her "Where is Abby's cake going?" This dull screen can't replicate the emotion, so use your imagination, keeping in mind that the location of the remainder of the cake was a serious issue to Julia.

Nothing is more boring--not to mention patently gauche--than to be imposed upon by a bragging grandparent who speaks without the burden of facts. So, I will be brief and stick strickly to the truth. This is the first time that I had seen 26-month-old Julia in more than a year and I was simply astonished by her mind. There might be one or two brighter two-year-olds someplace, but I have not seen them and I doubt that they exist. This situation first came to my attention when Julia was given the top and bottom of a novel heart-shaped container. In no time, she discovered the secret of mating them. I was reminded at once of an occasion when Nedra's father got down on the floor to show Will how to put a puzzle together. Overwhelmingly poor perception of relative talents! Will was polite enough to let him get settled, and then--almost too fast for the eye to follow--threw the puzzle together. No more "help" from Grandpa Norton. Julia is a (cute) little trick, "top heavy" in her mother's words. She's in the bottom 3% weight-wise (don't I wish!!!), bottom 25% length-wise, but comes into her own with head circumference, top 5%. Well, genetics comes into play sometimes. Did I like to see Julia dig into the satsumas!!! (She also seems to have gotten the wild-hair gene from me.) She ate a whole one in no time flat, and asked, "More orange, please." Her mom, Liz, has done a first-rate job with her--J-bird, as I call her, is polite and speaks in full sentences. Her voice is music. Abby was a trooper. She had hurt her ankle a couple of days before the trip, but went about all the vacation activities, like peeling a satsuma above, with nary a complaint.

No time is too early to teach a child about food production and emphasize sustainable "green" methods. To this end, Nedra found a darling book about Annie and her apple orchard. J-Bird consumed the book the first time through. Next time, I'll make sure we get a book that addresses the issues likely to be of interest to J-Bird (rootstock selection, fire-blight resistance, wooly aphids and so forth).	All images reveal that I was running on fumes for the whole vacation. Late this day, J-Bird and I were at the same level. She was struggling--as children do--to stay awake. With a little rest for recharge, though, she was a ball of fire again. With such joie de vivre, she stands in place, does deep knee bends and jumps gleefully (over and over again). Too bad that I didn't take photos of her giggling and tightening every muscle with delight on feeding the hatchery fish (or mimicking the day after OktoberFest, the "Bavarian" dancers twirling and turning).

Abby and Julia go on Julia's first amusement ride at the OktoberFest in Walhalla, SC. Note Abby's stylish new hair cut, which she selected herself.	Abby got a little more than she bargained for on this ride!!!

I was going to be big, so I jumped in to join Abby on this seemingly tranquil ride. To her credit, Liz bumped me. It looks so easy, but after the "strawberry" started spinning as well as circling, I was proud of my daughter for saving the day for me.	Liz next stepped up to the plate and took Julia on a slide. Whee.

Little Julia gets a free ride from her dad. It could be worse--a fellow could have a four-and-one-half year old on his shoulders and a one-year-old in his arms, as was my case at Niagra Falls so many years ago.	The Outlaw girls.

Portrait of J-Bird with THE duck, Aflac. I learned that sometimes a girl needs her duck or her mom and nothing else works.	Julia likes hide-&-seek and Liz adores Julia, so they made a pair. Here Julia's eyes are closed. I wish I could certify that she never peeked, but I promised to stick strickly to the truth <grin>.

The John P. Crawford family (sans our grandpuppies) .	. . . and more yet with the girls (and Aflac). Abby says, "my cool Uncle John and Aunt Lizzie . . . ."

The William M. Outlaw family.	Nedra and Will's family.
. . .another family photo, this time with Abby manning the camera.