Clouds so swift,
The rain's pouring in . . .
~"You Ain't Goin' Nowhere" :: Bob Dylan
Despite a dismal forecast, I hauled us up to Whitetop for our own little holiday. It was raining, and had been raining, but the air cleared as we sat in the car having some cake. Traipsing through wet grass and huge puddles (moats?), we watched a gentle breeze send the fog away.
See? It was so lovely! There was no chill in the air at all, though I don't guess I could have felt it through the sweater and raincoat. We met up with some guys who were old high school buddies, reuniting on Whitetop after forty years. They loved Roan's stories of knives, cap guns, vintage toys, and obscure mining history.
It was such a good day to be up there. Everyone we met was in high spirits, perhaps because the weather had turned so swiftly. That is the way of it in the High Country. It's hard to make firm guesses about conditions, but I think that is part of the fun, if you are ready for it.
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