Ancestral Headwaters

The quandary? What was the best way to end the old year and welcome in the new? What was the best leaf—or in this case—pine needle to turn over and move forward?

I ended up making an emotional leap of faith and hiking into my ancestral headwaters: Baskins Creek in the Great Smoky Mountains NP, having avoided this area since the Firestorm of November 2016. It was just too difficult to think about. But time heals all wounds or that is the conventional wisdom. 

Parking at Cherokee Orchard, I hiked around the edge of Piney Ridge where the wildfire damage is still very obvious and down along Falls Branch to Baskins Creek and the tiered waterfall where Grandma Pearl Bales once took her daily shower. It is only two miles downstream from this location to where I grew up.  

As expected: Nature is reclaiming the ridge. Time does heal, although some wounds more slowly than others. Young table mountain pines grow as thick as grass at the base of their charred parent trees. The new growth was just beautiful. There is a metaphor there somewhere and it's not that difficult to find.

Happy 2019! Let's move forward.  

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