Wildfires in Cherokee National Forest sent narrow ribbons of white smoke skyward. Mother Earth is cleaning house.
The French Broad River glistened in the mid-day sun. So clear, the water looked turquoise from the high bridge spanning its girth.
A gentle rolling hill, dotted with horses grazing on deep green grass. A graceful fence framing the scene.
Blueberry bushes groaning under the weight of swelling berries in shades of pale cream, pink and purple. A mockingbird serenading and scolding from a nearby crepe myrtle as ripe berries went plunk in the bottom of our buckets.
Rivers and creeks carrying canoers silently along veins of cool, clear water.
Majestic wings soaring over an interstate, the unmistakable white head of a Bald Eagle and a double-take behind the wheel to make sure it wasn't an apparition.
Good friends sitting around a table, sharing life stories and dreams for the future over ample food and wine.
Long, leisurely naps in a room with soft blue walls. Awakened by the tolling of deep, resonant chimes hanging from a tulip poplar in the front yard.
A feast of tender touches, messages spoken with eyes, not mouths, breathing, moving in tandem.