birthday weekends & that time in the mountains

we did not take advantage of tax-free weekend.

which probably would have been a grand idea, since we’ve been in the market for a one-for-all, all purpose high-speed laptop for the both of us.  Mission Consolidation.  One machine for music-recording, photo-editing, and most things creative for us to overflow into.

invest in your dreams.  give, and then invest in what you love.  we deserve to believe in ourselves.  we deserve to not compare that to anyone else.  [and we deserve to not let missing the tax-free extravaganza thwart us on investing in the tools that will help our trade!]

i made john drop buscuits, our favorite bacon, and a pancake cake for his birthday morning.  i am a diehard lover of birthdays.  everyone needs a day to be celebrated and encouraged.  we spent the day traveling north to a little town where we got married, and played on the lake with our family.  Carolina is lush green this time of year, and when you travel north you get to see it all.  Creeks and trees drooping from the weight of their full life, their full fruit, happy to be entrusting us with their shade.

we will be traveling most of the coming weekends in august.  twice to the mountains.  i cannot wait.  the mornings here have been whispering of a coming cooler season, thinner air, brisk against your skin.  the Carolina mountains get to experience that change expedited, and i always get jealous come august, when the Piedmont is still melting in her damp slow-cooker.

i remember one autumn in the mountains – it was just for a visit in September.  we rented a cabin up up up a tiny road, a speck on a map of nowhere.  on our last day, we decided to take a back road into town, instead of going backwards towards the highway.  we went winding, exploring down gravel roads folded in fog and secrets.  we passed little wooden houses and single-wides minding their own business, living as part of the scene like a tree or a creek, standing happy on rich soil and land that is their own.  who knows how long they’ve been there, unnoticed and un-bothered except for the occasional car making its way to town the back way.

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