A day for adventure.........

and I'm not kidding! The day started at 2:00am when we all rose, but alas did not shine, to take Alex to the airport in Atlanta for a vacation with his dad. We left the house around 3:00 am. which as it turns out was not nearly early enough as I ended up jumping out of the truck on arrival at the front door of the terminal (leaving my nephew Adam to sit at the wheel, ostensibly waiting to pick some one up), grabbing a pajama clad Rachel and breaking all land speed records with Alex at my side, to get him checked in and on his way to his flight. Of course, to make matters even more challenging, no one was nice or helpful and out of a long line of six concourses, his was the fifth. Thank you, Hartsfield International and US Air for reminding us all that customer service is not only dead and gone, but apparently buried as well. He did of course, make his flight, and was with his dad about and hour and half after Rachel, my nephew and I got back home to Chattanooga. And they say flying is fast - try flying on I-75 in a Hemi!

After we had a chance to rest, we went out on an afternoon excursion, during which we drove up on Cagle mountain to see my dream home on it's five acres of gorgeous, rolling pasture. The house itself is obviously a nice, little, unpretentious brick rancher, but the land around it......................

I can easily picture myself standing outside on the tiny front porch watching a summer storm sweep across the top of the mountain. Just picturing that in my mind is a religious experience! It would require a lot of work, for there is no fencing or barn, however it does have a nifty cellar off to the right side, which you can just barely see the top of to the right side of the picture. The Sequatchie Valley is famous for tornadoes and the like, so I imagine once a tornado mangages to bounce out of that valley to the top of the mountain, that little cellar could come in pretty handy! There's nothing particularly outstanding about this place other than the view, but I am persistently drawn to it and I keep driving up there to pull in the drive way (the house is vacant) and look around before driving back home again. Is it possible I need professional help? The people across the street from this house probably think so.

Anway, once I recovered from my "moment" , we drove to the Farmer's Coop to get some goat feed and then drove back up the mountain, with a brief stop at the scenic overlook for some more oohing and aahing over the beautiful Sequatchie Valley. And then? Why it was home again, home again!