Purple Mountain Majesties

After church, the hubby suggested we do *something* today besides sit around the house.

Okay. I'm game.

We chose Caesars Head State Park because our older daughter had been there on an end-of-school field trip. The pictures she brought back were amazing. We've lived in Greenville since 1996, and I've known about Caesars Head since then (even driven by it by accident on the way home from a Thanksgiving buffet at an inn in North Carolina once on a foggy, foggy day...) but we've never taken the time to visit.

Today we did.

And wow.





First of all, it was 76 degrees at the top of the mountain. It was 84 when we started the climb. That alone was worth the trip.



At the lookout point, our heads were literally in the clouds. It was completely breathtaking. I've been in the mountains before, but I was just blown away by the view from this particular spot. The pictures do not do it justice. We were so very high above the trees, I felt like I was soaring.



Gorgeous. And it's been about 45 minutes from my house all these years. I gotta get out more.

We went down some steps and ended up in Devil's Kitchen, which is a tight space between two rocks.



The hubby was in a hurry to get out of there, so I couldn't take a lot of pictures (I was in front of him... I've known the man for 14 years and never once have I known he was afraid of tight spaces!)

Funny thing happened as we were walking out of Devil's Kitchen. The family went up some stairs, and I hollered at them to stop and turn around so I could get a picture. Aiden decided to go all Gangsta on me, so he did the crossed arms with the peace signs:



I snapped the picture, and then said, "Aiden, normal pose, please!" As I was snapping the second picture, the hubby fwapped Aiden on the back of the head, because he was still doing the Gangsta thing, as was Quinn (I realized when I was editing the pictures...)



Parent moments. Gotta love 'em.

It started pouring rain as we reached the end of the trail, but I managed to get this shot. I colored it black & white, and I think I'm going to have it printed as an 8x10. I like it.



We left the park, and about halfway back down the mountain road we stopped at Bald Rock. By this time it had stopped raining, so after a safety lecture we got out and explored some more. This rock was really cool, but I was sad that people have felt the need to leave graffiti on it over the years. Who knew my older kids would learn about bongs as a result of a trip to a beautiful state park?

Aiden: Mommy, look! Somebody spray painted a bag of burning money on the rock!
Me (absolutelt NOT thinking):Uh, that's not a bag of money.
Aiden: What is it?
Me, realizing what I'd just said: Uh, um, er... it's just NOT a bag of burning money.

And I should've left it at that, but Aiden is nothing if not PER-SIS-TENT. It didn't help that Camryn was eavesdropping on the conversation. Being highly inquisitive herself, she just wouldn't let it drop.

Me: OKAY. It's a bong. People put drugs in it, light it on fire and smoke it. It makes you act stupid like grown up drinks do when you drink too much.
Them Okay. Yuck!
Me: Just say no to drugs, y'all.

Nancy Reagan would be so proud.

I got these great shots on Bald Rock:





I love that one of my boys standing looking out over the edge of the rock. (Don't worry... it doesn't drop off. It's a gentle slope. It just looks like they're on the edge of the world.) I can't wait to scrapbook it. There's some kind of story to be told there about taking a leap of faith or something inspiring like that.

As we were walking back to the car, I came across this:



I knew I'd make my mark on the world, but I never knew it'd be like that.

Berry Frustrated

My husband is home from work today. My children are home from school today.

What does that mean?

It's time for a Caventure!

(definition: 1. noun. an adventure that usually goes awry simply because we are the ones embarking on the adventure. SYNONYM: Misadventure)

Camera? Check.

Sunscreen? Check.

Hats with wide brims? Check.

GPS? Check.

Adventurous spirits? Check (x 6).

It was gonna be a great day. We (well, really, um, I) decided that our Memorial Day would be spent in the strawberry patch. I read an article about Strawberry Hill USA (Cooley Farms) in the most recent issue of Southern Living, so we (well, really, um, I) thought that strawberry picking sounded like a fun family activity. After all, it was only a short drive from our house. Why not?

Famous last words.

Halfway to our destination Lillian got oh so grumpy and started yelling that the movie playing in the van was TOO LOUD. We turned it down a hair. "IT'S STILL TOO LOUD!" This went on for about 10 minutes. Finally, my hubby stopped the car, turned off the kids' movie and started back towards home. See, once Lillian gets sleepy grumpy, there's no dealing with her. He decided he'd rather try again another day than have to endure her whining. It'd be a LOT easier.

After the groaning and crying and pleas to please turn around Daddy! died down, Lillian fell asleep. Miracle of miracles! We turned the car around and made our way back to the strawberry patch. Lillian awoke refreshed and ready to pick some strawberries.

We drove around this complex of red roofed buildings, but couldn't figure out where we could select our own berrylicious treasures. My husband finally went inside and asked for some instructions, but he was told that the only "picking" we could do was in the market part of Strawberry Hill. You can choose this bag or that bag, but you can't pick 'em out of the ground.

Hmph.

We bought 2 huge bags of strawberries and a large bag of peaches, sampled all the samples there were to sample, and got back into the car. So much for our strawberry picking dreams.

After all that driving and whining and grumping, you know the funniest part?

There's a freakin' "You Pick 'Em" strawberry patch a mere 3.7 miles from our house. Take a right turn out of our neighborhood, drive 1.7 miles, turn right, drive 2 miles and THERE IT IS.

You know how far we drove to Strawberry Hill for what amounted to the world's most expensive strawberries (once you factor in the cost of gas)?

60.2 miles round trip.

The berries are good, though. Sweet and ripe. Perfect for cobblers. Just not worth all that time and gas money.

Next time I'll just pick up a pound for $3 at the grocery store. And I need to cancel my subscription to Southern Living. It costs way too much.

(I did get some great photos. See below! Click on them to see larger versions.)









Oh, and if you own Photoshop and can make Quinn appear in that photo above, I'd be your best friend. He was in the car peeing in a cup when it was taken. Classic Quinn.

We made it!

We made it to the scrapbook store and back without incident. The children were very, very well behaved in the store. I'm now $120 poorer, but it was fun. It was a "caventure" as we say around here. I even splurged on shakes and sundaes at McDonald's.

It was a good day.

Hump Day

It's 11:24 am est and I'm still in my pajamas. Dishes are washed, laundry started, just not dressed yet. How did that happen?

I've decided to mount an expedition to a "local" scrapbook store that's supposed to be the best in the area. It's about 45 minutes away. I've got my Google map and I'm going to program the address into the car's GPS, so hopefully we'll make it without getting lost. The store has a play area for kids (I called to check!), so I should be able to shop without too much trouble, right?

Wish me luck.

They may ask me to never come back.