After a full day in the studio with my writing class (who are terrific,) it felt good to wander around and take pictures.
The iconic walk through the woods to the dining hall . . .
The iconic gazebo in the even more iconic garden . . .
The old double-pen/saddlebag cabin with its i. dogtrot . . .
The martin houses . . .
A robin . . .
Squirrel . . .
And what I guess are young bluebirds. (This was shot from a good distance.) There are nesting boxes just across the road from this tree.
I skipped going to watch the after-supper clogging just so I could have a quiet wander around in the evening light, followed by a blissful hour in a rocking chair on the front porch of the house I'm staying in.
This is a wonderful place -- summer camp for grownups, as I've said before -- and there are lots of ways to enjoy it.
This morning, as the breakfast blessing, a woman sang "Amazing Grace." In Cherokee. It was one of the most beautiful things I've ever heard.
And I was reminded of what devout Christians many of the Cherokees on the Qualla Boundary seem to be. And I wondered how, considering all that they had suffered at the hands of other devout Christians, they could be so fervent in their faith.
The same is true for African-Americans.
'Tis a puzzlement. And a conundrum. A believer might say it's amazing grace.